#so maybe we were the dummies all along for believing these people were capable of producing quality tv

[retrograderesemblance]

[nitewrighter]

Hi Nite :) Could use some cutesy Gency fluff rn. Have a quick short or interactions in mind?

I miss them... 🥺

Here's some pre-fall stuff from when Genji was still getting used to his limbs.

----

Genji's arms thudded against the limbs of the training dummy as Mercy stood tensely by with her tablet, observing and taking notes. The impact didn’t feel quite right--he could feel the reverberation of the metal at his organic stubs on impact. He was in a gray training jumpsuit--more of a wrestling singlet, really--that left his organic arms and legs exposed. 

“You don’t have to--” Mercy cut herself off at a particularly loud thump of one of Genji’s blows landing, “You don’t have to go too fast, it’s just about maintaining blood flow and muscle movement, and building up coordination.” 

Genji didn’t respond, mostly just glad he had something to hit now. He let Mercy’s commentary dull to a quiet buzz at the periphery of his consciousness as he fell into the movement of punching and kicking. He heard an audible sigh from Mercy, recognition that he wasn’t actually listening, and just let himself fall into the motions more and more. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. None of the blows hitting right. Get it better. Get it right. How could he avenge himself against the clan and Hanzo otherwise? How could he make them pay if he was just a stupid, pathetic, bloody little science experiment--? He moved to pivot into a devastating back hand strike when a sharp pain suddenly flared along his side and he seized up with a grunt.

“Genji?!” Mercy looked up sharply from her tablet and her eyes widened.

“Nngh--” Genji’s hands went to his side as she briskly walked over and stooped a bit to where his hands were.

“How bad is it?” said Mercy.

“I wouldn’t stop if it wasn’t bad,” Genji said through gritted teeth.

“May I?” Mercy said, her eyes flicking up to him.

Genji scoffed and glanced off, shoving the shoulder strap of his jumpsuit/singlet off and letting Mercy pull it down slightly to examine his ribs.

“No bruising to indicate internal bleeding--skin irritation near the prosthetic is well within normal range...” Mercy murmured, “Where specifically does it hurt?”

Genji pointed at the bottom of his ribs with his thumb with a grunt and Mercy felt at that point for a few moments.

“Is the pain still as sharp as it was when you were moving?” Mercy asked.

The question came so easily to her but Genji felt his ears burning

“...no,” he said a bit stiffly. 

Mercy gave a sigh of relief, “Just a muscle stitch then.” 

“A muscle--?!” Genji scoffed, “No--something has to be--I don’t get stopped by cramps!” 

“Maybe not with your old body, but---” Mercy caught herself.

“There’s--there’s stuff in me now, how do we know it’s not... stabbing?” said Genji.

“If you want, we can stop for the day and I can take a closer look,” said Mercy, tucking her tablet against herself.

A low growl of a scoff rumbled in Genji’s throat and he glanced off. He didn’t want that. He was glad to be standing again, he was glad to be moving again, he didn’t want his own paranoia about all the things jammed into him to leave him bound to an infirmary bed or examination table again.

“Or I could give you something mild for the pain--?” said Mercy

“No,” Genji nearly cut her off with his answer. He didn’t want his rage to be dulled. Didn’t want anything slowing him down.

Her brow crinkled and her mouth drew to a thin line, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her when she was making that face.

“Just---” Genji made a pushing gesture at her, “Give me space. I can handle it.”

“We still need to take it easy--” Mercy started.

‘If it’s just a stitch, I can handle it!” Genji snapped. He remembered Sojiro’s voice. Breathe through it. Breathe through it. He took a few deep steady breaths. “It’s fine,” he said, the pain dulling with his breaths, “I’m fine.”

Mercy backed up a bit and Genji re-centered himself to a ready position. He gave himself one more steadying breath before he threw himself back into punching and kicking again. The stitch was still burning in his side but he ignored it as best as he could, focusing on the breath, focusing on the impact of the punch, the recovery. But he had already begun to feel the creep of exhaustion with that last pause. No, he couldn’t be tired, not yet. Did all those hours looking like an idiot in horse stance until his entire lower body was on fire mean nothing? All those early mornings sprinting around Shimada Castle, racing after Hanzo with the cold damp on his skin and his breath fogging in front of him? All that conditioning, all that work, all of his time that the clan ate up for their own ends, Hanzo had taken it all away from him. And here he was struggling to work up to a fraction of what he was previously capable of. Keep at it, keep at it, let the rage power the limbs. But even rage could only take him so far. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears as he watched his own strikes get slower, sloppier, but still he kept pushing himself. 

“Genji--” Mercy’s voice was distant with the pounding of his own heart in his ears, and the strike of his limbs against the training dummy, “Maybe you should--” But he just kept going, just kept hitting, and she quieted down. She was making that face again. He could feel her making that face, and he kept striking.

Don’t pity me. Don’t you fucking dare pity me.

That burning stitch in his side was little more than an afterthought, but the limbs were slow, heavy. His lungs were burning and he was drenched in sweat. With his prosthetics he smelled like pennies. Smelled like blood.

Metal. Stupid. Useless.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, didn’t want to know how much time had passed, when he finally slumped forward, supporting himself on a training dummy that was just as damp with his own sweat.

“Just--breathe--pushing yourself too hard could make the healing process even slower,” Mercy warned. 

“I know what I can do!” Genji said through gritted teeth. He hated the metallic ring of his own voice now.

"I know it’s frustrating, but even with state of the art prosthetics, you can't expect to get back to your original speed that fast," said Mercy.

Genji let himself drop to his hands and knees, panting.

“You have no idea how frustrating it actually is,” he snarled, not looking up from the floor.

"Your body has lost a significant amount of its original mass... it's going to be a while before your stamina returns, too," she said quietly.

Genji kept panting. She stepped away from him briefly and he looked at his own hands on the floor. He clawed his fingers, both organic and prosthetic, across the mat in frustration.

“Here,” She stooped over and held a water bottle out to him. He glared at the water bottle.

“You’re still human and humans need water,” said Mercy flatly. 

His eyes flicked up to her face and he reached out and sullenly took it. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he drank from the bottle, trying to read her expression. There was exhaustion in her eyes, there always was, but there was something in the line of her mouth now, not quite that pitying pursing, her lips nearly parting like she had something to say, and yet at the same time didn’t. She settled down to a kneeling position beside him on the mat. 

“All these... things I say... I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings. I know you’re angry. I know you feel cooped up here and you want to get out there so you can get to work stopping the people who did this to you.”

Killing. Stopping’s just a side effect of killing, Genji thought but he said nothing still panting. 

“I want you to have your body working the way you want it to just as much,” Mercy went on, “But this isn’t something you just... power through to. You’re angry--I know you’re angry--but the more you fall into that anger, the more cortisol and adrenaline your brain pumps out--the more your body believes it’s trying to survive and shunts down numerous vital functions, rather than putting its energy towards repairing itself.”

Genji was still panting but hearing it put in such technical terms caught him off-guard. The body believes it’s trying to survive...

“Just...” Mercy sighed a little, “Have a little faith. Everyone here wants you at you at full capacity as quickly as possible just as much as you do. Even if we’re all...” she shrugged a little, “Annoying and preachy about it.”

Genji snorted at that before letting himself collapse onto his side and then roll onto his back, his chest still rising and falling with a shudder of exhaustion. Mercy pressed one hand against the mat, then lowered herself, laying down flat on the ground as well, staring at the ceiling.

“...why are you on the floor?” muttered Genji.

“Seemed like the right place to be,” Mercy mused, “...there are multiple times a day I wish I could curl up on the floor, and this seemed like a good chance.”

Genji snorted again. “You’re funny,” he said glancing over at her.

Mercy glanced over at him and smiled.

Genji sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “You want to know a really stupid thing that’s pissing me off about all this?’ 

“What?” said Mercy.

“It’s... hitting me that I really liked my body. I mean, I was hot before all this.”

Mercy snorted.

“I was!” Genji insisted.

“I know!” Mercy blurted out and then caught herself, “I mean--” she cleared her throat, “Yes, it’s very jarring to have your appearance suddenly changed without your consent.”

“...so you agree I was hot,” said Genji, a bit smugly.

Mercy scoffed.

“OKay--Sorry--I’m being obnoxious. What I’m saying is... there was so much about it I took for granted, even with all the training and the conditioning the Shimada clan put me through...” he sighed, “And it’s gone now.”

“Not gone, necessarily. It’s... different. It’s changed. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own,” said Mercy, “That doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful now.”

Genji paused, then gave her an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. 

“Okay, we can work our way up to that,” said Mercy with a slight eye roll, “Just.. in my line of work you see a lot of... nastiness... so you kind of have to look for the things that give you hope. And a lot of the time that can make you come off as...” she huffed, “Completely out of it to some people. Stupid. Ignorant.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” said Genji, “Preachy, sure, but stupid?”

“Just as much of a charmer as your dossier stated,” Mercy said flatly.

Genji huffed and a long pause passed between them on the floor. Genji took stock of the exhaustion in all of his limbs and lifted his prosthetic arm up toward the ceiling, examining it the way the light hit it. “...you think I’ll be able to do what I could do before?” 

“Do you want my honest opinion?” said Mercy.

The question-as-answer made Genji tense slightly and he propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at her. “Yes...?” he said slowly.

“I think you can be even more,” she said, not looking at him, staring up at the ceiling, “I just hope who that is, is someone you like.”

[timelessduet]

For Victor: 2nd Entry

I’d like to dedicate this work to @sayumiht, a co-Victor stan who made this suggestion. Hope you like it. <3

Subtle Jealousy

Victor is a serious guy. As a CEO, he exudes intimidating and powerful aura wherever he goes. You can probably say everyone fears respects him. That includes her. But it was only at first.

MC still has high respect for Victor as a boss and investor of her company but things were different now. Before, she was as intimidated and fazed to the CEO of LFG like everyone else. That maybe he was just all business and nothing else. He wouldn’t waste time on nonsensical things especially if it won’t bring him any good or benefit. But now... she doesn’t feel that gap anymore.

It‘s probably because she's the object of his hidden affections and love. At first, he was indeed annoyed and mad at her for doing things wrong or talking back to him. He couldn’t tolerate such behavior. With her though, that he changed. He tried to be more patient and accept such changes to his once constant and uneventful life.

Victor admits he suppressed his feelings for her because he had a promise to fulfill for someone in his past. Who would’ve thought that the person he searched for the longest time was her all along?

The people closest to Victor know he isn’t a vocal person. He never really tells what he’s feeling. No matter who it was. That is until he admitted all his feelings to MC after confirming she also felt the same.

He was adamant to confessing first. It wasn’t because of pride or fear of being rejected. Victor considered her side and what she’d feel if that situation was to happen. Him telling her what he truly felt which was out of his character and her being put in a tight spot. He knew of all people how kind the girl he fell in love was. If anything, she’d give a dumb face out of surprise but in the end smile.

But Victor also thought how it would be in her shoes. He wasn’t the one who’d be dealing with a confession from him. It was her. She’ll have the burden choice whether she’ll accept or reject it. And depending on her decision, she’ll have to face the corresponding repercussions. He was well aware being linked to him meant the scrutiny of the public and everyone at work.

Luckily, she felt the same and they got together. After all those years of waiting, Victor is finally with her. Although there were slight changes after being in a relationship, one thing hasn’t change: he was still unable to convey what he felt into words properly.

Victor: What are you doing? You’ve been texting on your phone for quite awhile now. Don’t even think about complaining to me that you’re feeling dizzy or your head hurts later.

MC is currently on her way to work together with Victor in his car.

MC: Almost done. I’m currently talking to Professor Lucien and asking his advice about the current program we’re doing.

Considering the field of work, Victor understood MC had to meet and talk to different people everyday. Even he had the same thing going on. But he can’t help but feel a sudden distaste upon hearing another man’s name. He kept his eyes on the road but had a change in mood instantly.

Victor: Professor Lucien? You could’ve just come to me for advice.

MC: Huh? Should I ask advice from you regarding a neuroscience topic for a show? You’re being a bit weird today, Mr. CEO. The topic is Professor Lucien’s specialty. Plus I heard from Goldman you have a very busy schedule these past few days so I wouldn’t want to bother you with such matter. It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry.

The girl explained it to him but for some reason that even he couldn’t explain, he was silently becoming more and more irritated. With the looks of it, everyone at work will be his outlet.

Victor: Can you tell me what this is?

Victor said while looking sharply at the department heads. He was already in a foul mood after what happened while going to work and as much as he didn’t want to vent his annoyance to his subordinates, they weren’t being any help.

Department head 1: Sir it’s... we’ll revise the report as soon as possible.

Department head 2: We’re very sorry about this, Sir.

Victor: As you should. Get back to work. You’re all dismissed. Send me the revised report through email by the end of the day.

This wasn’t a great day at all. Victor was used to having tons of work and meetings but today particularly, he felt stressed and fatigued.

Goldman: Sir, MC called and just informed she’d be cancelling her meeting with you today. She said there was a sudden event invitation from her alma mater that she needed to attend to.

For one, Victor didn’t believe in luck. But why did it seem like he was quite unlucky today? He pinched the bridge of his nose before asking his secretary if there were still things he needed to attend to for the day.

Goldman: The last on your schedule for the day is with Miss MC, Sir. Since she cancelled, should we have the teleconference with A Company moved this afternoon instead?

The supposed meeting with MC was business related and her giving him a report but he also considers moments like that as some time off from his busy schedule. But now...

Victor: Don’t change anything. We’ll proceed to having the teleconference as scheduled. I’ll take my leave early so have the car ready.

Goldman was surprised the CEO would leave work very early which was unlike him but he didn’t say a word and did as he was told.

Seeming as to how he’s becoming more and more restless, Victor decided to give her a call. What happened next made him feel like he’s been soaked with freezing cold water.

Gavin: Hello, you’ve called MC’s phone. This is Gavin. I’m taking the call for her since she went for the restroom and left her phone with me. What’s...

Without hearing any further, Victor ended the call. It was rude and very unlike him to do have such behavior considering his professionalism and objective way of doing things but this...

Goldman: Sir, aren’t you going to Loveland High to meet Miss MC?

Victor: Change of plans. I’m tired. Go straight home.

Victor was sure MC wasn’t doing anything unfaithful or of the likes behind his back but what was it he was feeling? It was very unpleasant and foreign to him that he just couldn’t explain.

After reaching his home, Victor did his usual routines and finally rested on the sofa. He wasn’t fond of watching television but since his girlfriend produced tv shows... he bought a tv for the living area. Opening the tv, the program on was an interview with a famous superstar.

Interviewer: I see. This is a question many of your fans are curious about. Can we know what our favorite superstar’s future dream projects are?

Kiro: I think I’ve been able to do many projects thanks to my management and fans. But now, I really really want to have a project produced by MC. MC if you’re listening lets do a program together.

So even this young superstar knows his girlfriend. At this point, he wasn’t surprised. Coming to his senses, Victor thought this was normal. She was a producer earning her own reputation in the industry. He should be happy and proud about it and yet... he can’t keep his emotions in check.

Turning off the tv, Victor let out a sigh. He was lost in thought. Why was he feeling this way? He opened his phone thoughtlessly and flashed was his wallpaper. It was a picture of him and her the day they became official.

The picture was rather candidly taken to say the least. They were both wet after what happened in the pool but because of happiness and the effect of alcohol, she insisted on taking that photo on his phone. It was a selfie of MC’s tipsy self smiling while Victor instead of looking to the camera, had a look of tenderness in his eyes directed to her. There was no doubt that was the happiest day of his life.

With all the things that happened, Victor dozed off on the couch. He woke up to a warm hand intertwined to his.

MC: Victor, you’re up. Sorry... Did I wake you?

Victor: It’s fine. I think I dozed off for a while. What time is it?

MC: It’s 9 pm. I’m sorry about suddenly cancelling our meeting earlier. That was wrong of me. I promise to make up for it by doing whatever you want!

Victor: Dummy, you’re being too loud. It’s already late.

MC: Seems like Mr. CEO is back to his usual self after a good nap on the sofa. You still looked formal while sleeping though. Just a little less intimidating? Hope your back isn’t aching. I did want to wake you and bring you to bed but you seemed so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb your precious rest.

Victor: Idiot. You were apologizing just now for cancelling a meeting and here you are now blabbering about nonsense.

MC: !

Victor: You said you’d make up for it by doing whatever I want. I want you to just listen to to me and not say anything. I’ll only say or be like this once so listen carefully. Being with you made me into a dummy. You always smile and find meaning in the simplest of things. You’re kind to the point that you’ll unknowingly be taken advantage of. You complain about gaining weight but still heartily eat my cooking. You’re most of the times scared but put on a brave face and stick to your decision until the end. You’re probably the epitome of contradiction to me in every possible way.

Before, I worried how things would be if I told you how I felt. You’d be the object of everyone’s eyes and criticisms. You’d be looked upon differently. The burden of being with me concerned me more than anything else. Who would’ve thought I worried for nothing. You were a dummy who was capable of handling herself without my help or anyone else’s.

You’re probably thinking why is Victor being very outspoken today and if it’s already the end of the world... I know what’s in an idiot’s head that’s why. I felt strange emotions today. At first I couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly but I think I figured it out. You may be all the things I’ve mentioned MC but you are my equal.

You are the only person who worries me and yet assures me everything is going to be alright. You are the balance in my life I never knew I needed until now.

I’m well aware of the fact that being with me has a lot of weight in it. Still you accepted me without hesitation. I’m sure this idiot will meet people... people far better than me and be fascinated by them. They’ll show or make her realize things I may not be able to. She has so much ahead of her and that I know very well more than anyone else. All I could ever do is wait for her and be the support she needs. She’ll stumble and cry but I hope she knows by the end of the day, she has me.

MC: I’m not sure if this is what I think it is but... is this Victor’s jealous side? Hmm...

Victor: Idiot. Think whatever you like. And didn’t I say you were only suppose to listen and not say a word?

[Author’s Note]: The lines above were supposed to be part of the story but since it kinda affects the speech of our dearest CEO...

Anyways, ahhh I hope I was able to do jealous Vic justice. 😭 He isn’t one to talk his emotions so I hope it still fits his character. What’s it like seeing a jealous LFG CEO? It isn’t the usual, right? Of course, he is Victor Li after all.^^

[spencers-dria]

The Basics: Mini Series Part 1

Spencer x GN Reader

School, books, academics...they've always come easy to the young genius. Friendship, emotions, and now the high standard requirements of becoming an FBI Agent- New Agent Training... they are all things he will have to learn in this new stage of life. But maybe, he doesn't have to do it alone.

Content Warnings: feelings of self doubt, negative self talk, feelings of inadequacy academically, physically, and socially (later on: romance, flirting, pining, kissing)

A/N: Part 1 is short but it's more introductory and just to get things rolling!

I watch as my teammates leave the locker room one by one, some giving me a half hearted pat on the shoulder, others giving me a weak smile full of pity. I knew it, we all knew it, that I had been the reason our team had not successfully finished its mission. I had tried my best, truly I had, but this is what happens when you take a twenty something skinny kid out of the library and throw him into new agent training for the FBI.

I had believed Agent Gideon, trusted him when he said I would be able to make it through. It was his belief that my skills were essential to the team, and failing out of the academy was not an option. Now, I’m only a few weeks in and I’m not so sure.

They told us we would build strong bonds here as fellow agents, get through these things as a team. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not exactly high school cliques or anything but, I still feel as though I’m on the outside. Every other agent here seems more skilled, more talented, more physically capable than I. They don’t say anything to me about it, but they all see it. How can they not when I am continuously the weakest link of the bunch.

I take solace in the academic time, the test taking, the moments were I finally feel like I belong. I don’t need to surpass the others to feel good about myself, but it sure doesn’t hurt considering the way I regularly come in dead last in every physical feat.

Some days I wonder if I’m the only one truly struggling. I know it can’t be true but it sure feels that way. That is until I saw them, sitting alone on the floor in a dark hallway behind the classroom. I hear what I can distinguish as a few sniffles and see them wipe their face with the sleeve of their trainee hoodie.

I don’t approach people. I don’t step out of my comfort zone. So why is it that my feet are leading me straight over to this unknown person. I considering moving along, not saying anything, but I miss my opportunity when they notice that I’m standing right over them. I’m met with tear filled eyes staring up at me in confusion.

Come on and say something dummy

“Uhhh hi” I give a small wave before returning my hand to clutch my satchel, my only sense of comfort at the moment.

They look confused but respond, nonetheless. “Hi?”

“You just seemed... I saw y-you a-and… I uh, are you okay?” I stumble over my words, per usual.

Nice going, genius

They take a moment to wipe their face down with their sleeves once again, as if I’m someone they’d need to be more presentable for.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m great actually. Everything is totally…” One deep breath and the façade comes crashing down in an outpouring of tears. I’m not really sure what to do when people cry, especially people I don’t know, but I figure it’s polite to sit down next to them, despite the germ-laden ground. I give them a minute for their sobs to slow and their breath to even out.

“What happened?” I ask with any compassion I can muster, which is difficult considering I don’t know what they are going through and therefore cannot yet relate to their distress.

“I’m a certifiable idiot, that’s what” they say with what they try to pass off as sarcasm but is clearly reflective of how they see themselves.

“I highly doubt that, considering you’re here, training for the FBI that is. What’s making you feel this way, if I may ask?”

“The test, the stupid, stupid test. I bombed it. After I spent all week studying, for hours!” They bury their face in their hands.

“I don’t believe test scores alone should be used to define intelligence. With that being said, I could try to give you some study tips, or uhh help explain any concepts you might be stuck on.”

They avoid eye contact, clearly still embarrassed, but there’s no need with me.

“You don’t have to do that I probably just need to put in more hours.”

“It’s likely that time spent studying isn’t the issue as much as how you are spending it. A lot of common study techniques are not quite as effective as people make them out to be.”

“So what… you’ll show me your magic study skills you use?” I see them crack a smile as they joke with me.

I rub the back of my neck out of nervous habit. “Not exactly…I uhh I don’t really… I don’t tend to need them. But I know several used in academic peer reviewed studies that were shown to be highly effective. Plus I could help you nail down your learning style that works best for you.”

I’m finally met with a genuine smile and I can’t help but return in.

“That sounds great. Thank you so much…umm I don’t know your name.”

“Sorry! It’s Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

[astralkoo]

the huntress | jungkook (teaser)

Pairing: jungkook x (f.) reader

Genre: werewolf au, hunter au, action, thriller, angst, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+ (graphic violence / explicit sexual content)

Estimated Final Word Count: 15-20k??? Maybe more bc it’s already at 7.4k and I haven’t even fully hit on the main plot yikes

Teaser Word Count: 1,780

Summary: You are a hunter. You are a protector. And you are a killer. These are simple facts. Facts that have been drilled into your head since you were a child. These facts are all that you know, all that you can rely on when the world around you is constantly changing. But, what can you do when one of the very creatures you’ve been taught to hunt, taught to kill, taught to hate makes you question everything you once believed?

Warnings: explicit language, descriptions of blood, graphic violence, death, killing/murder, jk is kept in a cage, panic attack, betrayal, sad jk, explicit sexual content; sex in a lake, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), sub!jungkook, dom!reader, virgin!jungkook, lots of whining, light dirty talk, hand job, fingering, jk has a kissing kink, oral (f. receiving), biting, reader calls jk puppy (all warnings are subject to change)

Release Date: TBD

A/N ; ah shit here we go. she’s been coming along pretty smoothly, so I thought it was the right time put the teaser out for you guys! I’m really excited to get the full fic posted and hopefully it won’t be too far in the future, but with my track record... I can make no guarantees. thank you for 1.4K followers!! I hope you enjoy!

You felt it building in your chest, swelling into something large and uncontainable. The sensation creeping up your throat, filling the back of your mouth and forcing open your jaws. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes and your dry lips strained as they stretched open, the monstrous yawn finally breaking free.

Fuck. You are so tired.

It had been an exhausting day to begin with and of course, with your luck, it was your turn to take the night watch.

Around you, the forest was alive: crickets and cicadas singing lazy songs, the warm summer breeze rustling through the leaves, the waning moon casting a cool silver glow over the sleeping earth. Beside you, the dying remains of a bonfire flickers and spits blazing embers, choking and fading with every gust of wind. The darkness is slowly closing in, the eerie shadows of the surrounding trees creeping closer and closer with every passing minute.

Gravity pulled at your eyelids, the sweet lure of sleep all too tempting.

Crack.

You shot upright, eyes wide and alert, ears straining. It was too dark to see past the outer layer of trees, and a heavy silence followed, only remedied by the soft crackling of the singed wood. There’s a familiar prickle under your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It’s dark, but you don’t need to see to know that there is something out there. Call it a self-made sixth sense if you will, something you’ve developed and trained into perfection over the course of many years.

Instinctively, your fingers reached for your bow. The sleek black metal scraped against the large stone it was propped up on as you swiftly and silently fall into position. Unsheathing an arrow from the leather quiver, you pull it back against the string until you feel that perfect tension. The side of your thumb caresses the cool skin of your cheek, and you close one eye, honing in on the dark tree line.

Come on. Give me a reason.

But you’re only rewarded with silence.

After a few tense moments, you slowly lowered your weapon, brow twitching in irritation.

“Get a grip, y/n.” You grumbled roughly.

You were on edge. It’s understandable; you were in completely unfamiliar territory, with no reliable knowledge of the land or its inhabitants to lean back on. The knowledge which you did have, however (that being the knowledge that the nearby town had been getting ravaged by a bloodthirsty beast under the cover of nightfall), didn’t ease the tension in your shoulders in the slightest.

After all, that was the whole reason for your troop’s relocation.

A little over three weeks ago, the head of your troop received a letter from a desperate mayor, pleading for your help. They had a problem. Almost every night for the past month, towns people that wandered the streets late into the evening when the sun had set behind the hills and the moon had risen past the horizon, whether it be walking home from a long day of work or going for an evening jog when the summer heat wasn’t so unbearable, had been getting killed. No, not killed— slaughtered.

You’d seen the pictures.

No human being was capable of doing what had been done to those people.

Ergo, the exigency for your troop’s presence.

This town didn’t need cops, they didn’t need police or detectives searching for some rampant serial killer. What they needed were hunters. More specifically, werewolf hunters. Which is precisely what you were. ‘Slayers of the Supernatural’, some might say. Your job was simple: find the murderous creature responsible for the bloody deaths of thirty seven innocent civilians, and eliminate the problem, once and for all. Pretty cut and dry when you think about it.

And for a troop as skilled and experienced as yours, finding and ending this bloodthirsty beast should be a cinch.

But, that didn’t make sitting out, so painfully alone in the dark of night with a killer werewolf on the loose any less unnerving.

Now, you weren’t afraid of the monster itself, you’d held your own against its kind and worse plenty of times in the past. No, it was the deafening silence that was most disquieting. The stillness. The lack of happening. It set you on edge, made it feel like you had to hold your breath to get the slightest idea of what was going on around you. The wait had always been your least favorite part of the hunt, despite it being one of the most vital.

You’ll admit, you can be impatient. It was your most notable cause of failure back in your training days and in some of your earlier hunts. But you’ve gotten better, become capable of capping your overzealous antics, improved in terms of self restraint. Though, you’d still much rather be in the heart of the action than sitting on the sidelines and waiting with buzzing anticipation nipping at your heels.

Exhaling heavily, you slumped back onto the ground, exhaustion quickly seeping back into your sore muscles once the brief flush of adrenaline drained from your system.

Then you heard the rustling of leaves. But this— it was different from the sound made when the breeze wisps through them. There was a certain force to it, a heaviness in the way the branches clicked and the leaves crunched. It was the sound of a body moving through the heavy foliage. A large animal? Maybe. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Not human. Not an animal. But something in between.

Your hand was around the grip of your bow in less than a second, body swiftly falling into a low crouch.

It was dark. But the moon spilled just enough light over the forest for you to catch a glimpse of a silhouette: a tall, dark shape moving slowly through the brush. You had your mark. Now you just needed a reason to loose your arrow.

Never strike without absolute certainty that you have your eye on the right target. That’s what Junmyeon always drilled into your head during training after you attacked too early and without proper understanding of who (the dummy representing an innocent civilian, in such cases) you’d been aiming at. Because if you somehow mistook an innocent for one of the beasts you hunt— it was a thought you didn’t want to so much as consider.

Teeth gritting, you carefully followed the shadowy figure, feet shifting silently across the dirt. Suddenly, your boot clad toe suddenly knocked a pebble, sending it skittering across the ground. You froze, and so did the silhouette. Then its head whipped in your direction, and the very second you saw the flash of two unmistakable red eyes, your fingers released the taut string, sending the arrow whizzing into the tree line.

A shriek of agony ripped through the calm night air. The figure staggered, doubling over, before quickly righting itself and whirling around, taking off into the dense, black forest.

You didn’t let so much as a fraction of a second pass before you launched yourself off the dirt ground and bolted into the woods after the creature, a delicious combination of red hot adrenaline and childlike excitement immediately consuming you. It was this— this feeling, this exhilaration that you lived for. That you hunted for. It drove you in ways nothing else ever had. The combination of blood rushing through your veins and your heart thundering in your ears created an almost euphoric sensation. It was a high, thrilling and electrifying. But perhaps those weren’t quite the right words to describe it.

Maybe it was the fact that for these moments as you were rushing through the brush, low branches slicing at your arms and face, cool wind winding through your hair, you could clear your mind and focus only on this one thing, on putting every ounce of your energy into this one moment to accomplish this one feat. There wasn’t— there couldn’t be a single invading thought, doubt, concern. There was nothing but boiling determination, molten in your bloodstream.

Ahead of you, the creature rushed frantically through the dense forest, weaving and staggering around the bulging trunks of towering trees. It was trying to lose you. But you excelled when it came to the chase. The fact that it was wounded also helped; the dark red blood stained the leaves and mossy earth, leaving a clear path for you to follow.

You were catching up, the distance between you and it growing smaller and smaller with each moment. You could hear the creature's heavy footfalls, the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs. Within a few strides, you were within arms distance. If you were to reach out your hand—

Just as your fingertips grazed its back, you broke through the tree line. The creature, caught off guard, stumbled. A fatal mistake. Before it had a chance to recover, you rammed your shoulder into its back, directly between its shoulder blades, sending it stumbling forward with a stunned yelp. You hadn’t even noticed the massive body of water until he fell into it. Always be aware of your surroundings, you reminded yourself sharply, before honing in on your target. The water, reflecting the night sky like a mirror, rippled and spat around the form of the creature as it attempted to scramble away from you. But you didn’t let it get far.

You thrust yourself on top of him, pinning his kicking legs down with your own and making a grab for his flailing arms. A sharp hiss rushed past your teeth when you felt something slice into your arm, but you paid no heed to the warm, familiar trickle of blood. It only fueled the roaring fire of determination inside of you further. He was bucking up, thrashing wildly, trying to throw you off, but you held fast, angling yourself in such a way that you had the upper hand. Icy water splashed across your face, seeping into your clothes as you used all your strength to keep him down. But it wasn’t easy fighting a werewolf with your bare hands. Not even a wounded one. And you were quickly growing sick of feeling the piercing sting of his claws cutting through your clothes and biting into your skin.

In one swift motion, you unsheathed the silver blade hidden in a pouch sewn into the inside of your boot. Every muscle in his body froze up at the feeling of cold metal pressing threateningly against his vulnerable throat.

Panting through clenched teeth, you pinned him with a chilling glare.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”

[chemmerson]

experiment #46

i wrote this in honor of @annabethwithabook who gave me the idea. i hope this is everything you dreamed it would be.

read on ao3

———

Based on a True Story

“Zelda, are you sure this is going to work?” Link yelled up at her.

Zelda checked the breaks one last time where Link had showed her on the bike.

“Don’t worry Link! I believe I calculated everything correctly…” She trailed off, making sure her feet would be firmly planted on the foot pegs when she was riding. “Plus,” she started again. “I think this will be our best chance of finding out the Master Cycle’s true potential!”

While Zelda excitedly made sure all last preparations were in place, Link, feeling extremely unsure, stood on a wooden raft in the Hylia River.

A wooden raft that was connected by rope to the back of the Master Cycle, which Zelda was currently sitting atop of.

When Zelda first saw the Master Cycle after they had defeated Ganon, she was astounded. She actually took it apart to see how the engine system worked and thought about designing a guardian part mechanism to make the engine run faster, but she claimed that project could wait.

“This experiment is much more important”, she said. “It was number forty-six on my list, but now it’s bumped right up to number one!”

Zelda wanted to see just what the Master Cycle was capable of. What could it be used for? How efficiently can it run? Can we make it even more efficient? She had a million ideas she wanted to test, jotting all of them down in her journal, and this one, she decided, was the best. So, she made Link find one of the old, wooden rafts that floated around the various rivers and lakes of Hyrule, tear off its sail, and connect a rope from the wooden post to the back of the Master Cycle.

Link wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her that this experiment wouldn’t work, because he had tried it before with some of the stable hands one night after a few too many drinks.

But he didn’t have the heart to tell her. She was so excited. Zelda had calculated everything out and if it worked, this concept along with all of the other Divine Beast technology could advance Hyrule into a technological revolution.

So, he just kept his mouth shut. And thanked himself for taking off his shirt and shoes because he was definitely going to end up in the water at some point.

Zelda sat in the Master Cycle a little further ahead of him along the path of the Hylia River, skin glowing in the summer sun while in a tank top in shorts. Her short, glowing hair waving with the breeze made her look like sunshine. Link gulped and looked away, pretending the nervous feeling in his stomach was because he could possibly die from this experiment and not how beautiful Zelda looked.

“Alright, Link! I think we’re ready!” She turned around, smile bright with anticipation. “Are you okay?”

Link gave a thumbs up and an unconvincing smile.

Zelda turned around with a huff. “He should know by now I can see through those constipated smiles of his. Oh well, might as well get this started…” she muttered to herself.

Zelda revved the engine, the loud noise making her jump but fueling her excitement tenfold. She giggled and did a little dance as she could barely contain herself, and then turned around once more to see the signal from Link.

Link could practically see Zelda vibrating with excitement as she looked back at him on the Master Cycle, and he gripped the makeshift handle tied to the wooden post in the middle just a little tighter.

“Ready!” He shouted.

He was not ready.

“Alright!” Zelda squealed. “Here we go—“

The Master Cycle jerked forward as Zelda did not ease into pressing on the gas like Link told her too. The rope pulled taut and the Master Cycle didn’t go anywhere for a moment. The wheels spun around in the dirt, dust flying everywhere.

And then, Link was moving.

Zelda was moving.

Zelda was pulling Link.

It was actually working. Zelda rode along the path next to the river, pulling the raft that Link was standing on. It was slow moving, but it was working nonetheless.

A smile quirked onto Link’s face.

“Wooooooohooooo!!” Zelda cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

It was one cheer too soon.

It happened all too quickly. One moment, Link was gliding across the water on the raft, Zelda safely on the side of the river, and the next moment, Zelda was off the Master Cycle, falling into the river.

Link dove into the river immediately, panic burning in his chest.

He was so, so thankful for the water safety mechanism that the Master Cycle had. He knew that once it hit the water, it would dissipate into the air and Zelda wouldn’t be crushed.

At least he hoped.

Link swam as fast as he could, keeping an eye on Zelda and hoping she wasn’t hurt. He saw her head bob out of the water and her arms flapping to help her stay afloat.

“Zel! Zel, hold on!” Link swam faster, hoping to god she wasn’t drowning.

Zelda’s head popped out of the water once more and stayed up this time. Link grabbed her shoulders to help her steady.

She was having quite a coughing fit before the coughs turned into pure laughter. Link was too busy checking her for injuries and keeping her afloat to notice.

“It actually worked!” She beamed. “I knew it would. I believe what went wrong was the shape of the raft, maybe if we could—“

Zelda paused at Link who was scanning his eyes all over her, brows furrowed with a displaced look of worry she didn’t often see from him.

“Link.”

He ignored her, gliding his hands all over her shoulder and arm. She frowned.

“Link.”

He ignored her again. Zelda huffed in frustration, grabbing his face in her hands.

“Link, you big dummy, listen to me!”

Link froze, big blue eyes snapping to up to her face.

“Are you even listening to me? Link, it worked.”

This time, Link frowned. “Yeah, barely. Zel, you almost died.”

Zelda’s mouth gaped open. “I did not almost die. Link I’m fine—“

“Your arm.”

Zelda looked down at her right arm where Link’s fingers were gently brushing against it, examining where her arm had gotten skinned against the ground when she fell. His deep blue eyes were alert with worry.

Zelda moved her hands down from his face and onto his shoulders. “Link, I’m fine. I can’t even feel it. Don’t you see what this means? If we can perfect this mechanism—“

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Link stared at her, the water reflecting light against his tanned, sun kissed skin. The look of worry didn’t falter, he just waited for her to give her a reassuring answer.

Zelda then realized their proximity. Link held her up with his arms, treading water to keep them both afloat. Zelda was holding on to his shoulders, her chest inches away from his bare one. She could see his face so clearly, the water dripping down from his hair and onto his cheeks. The water made his blue eyes sparkle.

Zelda swallowed.

“I-I’m fine, Link.”

Link’s faced stayed twisted with that worry for a moment before relaxing back to what Zelda was used to. She felt herself relax too, and brought the smile back to her face.

“We need to make several adjustments, but I think this could be the start of something.”

“First,” Link said. “Let’s get out of this water and dry off. Then, what adjustments need to be made exactly?”

Zelda grinned. “We need a different raft. And more people.”

———

“Uh, a-and what do I do again?”

Link watched Yunobo’s hands shake as he sprawled out on the new and improved aerodynamic raft attached to the new and improved Master Cycle—Master Watercraft as Zelda called it. Which wouldn’t have been possible without the help of their friends.

They enlisted the help of Sidon, who demonstrated just what makes Zoras swim so efficiently, and Zelda decided they needed a new raft that was smaller, lighter, and more aerodynamic, mirroring the way Zora’s glided across the water on their stomachs. Then, to fix the problem of the Master Cycle tipping over into the water, Zelda completely deconstructed the Master Cycle and reconstructed it with a more powerful, guardian powered engine along with floating devices to keep it above the water. She added floating devices to the raft too, for extra measure.

They needed people of different body statures to test it out, which was why Yunobo was now shaking like a leaf as he laid stomach down on the raft, holding onto the front for dear life. Link smirked.

He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

“All you have to do is hold on!” Zelda yelled from the side of the river, standing next to Sidon and Riju. Sidon was present as a research partner and consultant, while Riju had come for “the entertainment”.

“You’ll be fine, my dear Yunobo!” Sidon’s encouraging words rang out. “I guarantee it!”

“You definitely won’t die,” Riju yelled.

If Link looked back at Yunobo’s face again, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make the poor guy go through with it.

“This is extremely safe, Yunobo!” Zelda yelled again. “I’ve calculated all of it! And Link will go slow!”

Link smirked again. No promises, he thought to himself.

“Okay, Yunobo, are you ready?” Zelda threw a thumbs to Yunobo.

“I-I-I guess,” Yunobo stammered.

Link caught Zelda’s fiery green eyes. They were eyes that said don’t go too fast and please definitely don’t do anything stupid.

Link just smiled and revved the engine.

“Three, two, one!” Link yelled. And then he floored it.

The rope pulled taut under Yunobo’s weight, but once the engine adjusted, Link was flying across the water, the engine roaring in his ears. It almost drowned out Yunobo’s screams of terror as they made their way down the Hylia river. Link was having a blast.

It was going so well that Link went under every bridge that stretched across the river and all the way around Lake Hylia. He didn’t bother to look back at Yunobo, whose screams were letting him and all of Hyrule know he was still alive.

Once Link made his way around Lake Hylia, he went all the way back down the river to where they had started. He could see Zelda from a distance, jumping up and down with her hands in the air. Link slowed down once he made his way back to the starting point.

“It’s amazing!” Zelda yelled, beaming from ear to ear. “Goddesses it actually worked!”

Link came to a stop in front of them, feeling joyous as well from all the adrenaline and excitement. How could he have ever doubted Zelda’s genius in the first place? This right here, he thought, this has potential.

“Yunobo!” Sidon shouted. “Are you alright?”

Link turned around to find Yunobo still clutching to the raft like it was his life line. His face might have been a little pale, but then he spoke up.

“T-That was actually fun!”

They all laughed, Zelda shouting in victory again. Link watched her face light up with her smile and thanked the goddesses his wish came true.

“Alright,” Riju spoke up. “I’m definitely going next.”

They used the Master Watercraft all night, taking turns riding and driving and racing Sidon well after the sun had finally set.

Experiment #46, check.

[omiscurls]

for eternity and one day more

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader soulmate au (the last words your soulmate will ever say to you are written somewhere on your body)  content warning: general angst, major character death, mentions of funeral, car crash, hospital

you wish you could’ve said tears made your vision blurry. but after all these days, your eyes were perfectly dry, no little rivers were streaming down your puffed cheeks, and you were forced to stare directly at your wrist, and the words tattooed there by some idiotic magic. some cursed, freaky foolery that made you rethink your life the past two days at least ten times, searching for even one mistake, for even one moment you could feel something wasn’t right. 

but to your dismay, there was nothing. everything in your life fell to pieces so perfectly, as if you were the princess in a dream of every five year old girl in the world, only now could you realize, it was all too good to be true. well, except one part. 

the words stared back at you, burning into your flesh, your glance holding them into place, as if they were to disappear if you did as much as blink. 

“and one day more”, the tattoo said, directly and clear, never changing tint painted your skin black, no matter how desperately you wanted the letters to shift into something else. you wished to be hated right now. you wished for it to be an insult, and yet, the words remained as cheesy and painfully romantic as the first day you saw them. 

so he wasn’t your soulmate after all. 

all these years, never once had you doubted that. since the moment atsumu introduced him to you, since the moment he said “oh and i guess this is omi-kun, but it’s not like you’re gonna have a conversation wi—”

and since the moment he interrupted. 

“i am perfectly capable of introducing myself, miya.” since the moment he glared at him, fingers constantly running through his hair, all messy from practice, by which he was visibly annoyed. 

“hate to break it to you, but my actual prefered name is a bit more mundane than that cursed nickname” 

“hey, i came up with that! it’s not cursed!” atsumu pouted, half mockingly, half serious, 

“precisely” he mumbled, making the setter narrow his eyebrows even more, before huffing and proceeding to leave, “i’ll be coming back to practice. it was so nice of you to come! just yell at me if you want me to rescue you” he winked, and soon was gone. 

“so? are you actually going to tell me your name?” you asked, one eyebrow raised, as his eyes focused back on you.

“please, like you don’t know” he chuckled, internally surprised with himself that somehow, his usual anxiety and disgust wasn’t kicking in, instead he felt relaxed and in place when talking to you, even if it was no more than thirty second since you met each other. 

“oh, so you consider yourself a celebrity, huh?” you laughed, causing him to shake his head. 

for a second he didn’t respond. you were starting to feel startled with the way he started at your smiling lips, but then he blinked finally, and answered. 

“i have places to be and balls to spike, smiles. let’s just say...”

and that, that was the precise moment since which you knew. since the one line he said before running off, a smug smile you should never be able to see, and yet you did. you were sure and certain. this was your soulmate. 

“... i only share that information with people i actually like”.

“sure you do, omi-kun!” 

since that moment, your heart began to settle and as much as you pushed that thought away, saying that you were too young to know, and after all you just exchanged a couple of truly meaningless sentences with him, you couldn’t deny the fact that you knew. knew for a fact, that you’ve found your own person. 

it was so random and sudden, so casual, countless evenings did you stare at your mirror and let your mind wonder, trying to find answers as to why you were feeling so strongly so fast. it was uncharachteristic of you, even if you were ever in love, you didn’t believe it could happen on such first sight, and yet there you were. was it the magic your parents always told you about? the one so inexplicable that they always stated that “you just have to feel it”, and “you’ll know when it comes”?

you thought it was just your lonely brain pulling tricks on you, until that one night you decided to hang out with the MSBY team, and went to tsumu’s apartment, waiting for hinata, meian and sakusa along with tsumu and bokuto. 

you didn’t pay much attention to their talk, it was mostly plans for the upcoming season, until they shifted the subject. 

“hey, did you ever read what was on omi’s wrist? he never covered it, but maybe that’s why i didn’t pay attention” the blonde wondered, his fingers playing with the edge of his glass. bokuto shook his head. 

“no, i think it’s too personal to check. why’re you curious? you hope you’re his soulmate or what?” he laughed in his usual, loud way, and the word “soulmate” called for your attention. 

“no you weirdo, it’s just he started covering it recently, and i just wonder, did he meet his other half?” 

“my ma’ always said that there’re no other halfs, because you’re a person on your own”

“yeah yeah, cute, but not the point here, bokuto” atsumu sighed. “and he didn’t even tell me... bastard.”

there was comfortable silence between the three of you for a few brief seconds, before the blond setter started the topic again:

“hey, you’re oddly quiet, where’s your tattoo located?” he asked with genuine curiosity in his eyes, as you glared at your wrist, covered loosely with the bracelet you wore over it ever since you got the tattoo, it being something so intimate you didn’t want to share it with the entire world at once, concealers didn’t work on the ridiculously black tint, and the bracelet made it harder to read. 

“you didn’t notice? thought you were observant?” you teased, making atsumu roll his eyes and take your hand into his, pushing the piece of jewelery away to read the caption. 

“it’s on your wrist too? awh, maybe you’re omi’s soulmate!” he exclaimed looking at the writing from every angle possible. 

“what’s written on there?” bokuto asked, not wanting to shift from his seat across the table. 

“oh, it’s and—”

“we’re here!” hinata yelled at the same moment, giving you an opportunity to move your hand back. 

and so it stayed a mistery. 

you shifted onto the bed you shared, still messy after you both woke up those couple of days ago, earlier than you were supposed to, because of a text he got from his mother. a text that set him off for the entire day and finally caused everything that happened next. 

your heart couldn’t stay still when you put your head over the pillow, the familiar scent of the other side of the mattrace hitting you no matter how hard you tried to hold your breath. 

you noticed a small package laying on a nightstand next to your fiance’s side, and you went over to grab it, eyes getting hot when you realized what it was. 

a set of band aids. 

omi wore band aids on his wrist for as long as you could remember, but according to atsumu, he only started wearing those after meeting you. they were always on the inner side of his wrist, and after a while putting them on was his routine, it grew on him so much he didn’t even really think about it - just bought a pack once a week and put it on 2 times a day, for it to stay hygenic. didn’t make it a big deal or anything, but if you asked, he’d turn really gloomy, while also trying not to worry you too much. 

“hey, weirdo, let me see what’s under that band aid. you of all people should know that if you get a cut, you can’t have it covered all the time, it won’t heal like this” you muttered against the couch you were laying on, gently grabbing his hand by the little finger, only for him to jerk it away, not even moving his gaze from the book he was reading. 

“it’s not a cut” he just mumbled, eyes following the printed letters in utter focus. 

“then why do you cover it?”

“i don’t want you to see it” he explained straight away, in the blunt way he always would, not finding any reason to keep it away from you.

“why?” you asked sincerely, apparently enough to bring his eyes away from the book. he reached out to grab the tips of your fingers into his and slowly rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand, a soft smile wondering on his face but never actually reaching to lift up the corners of his lips. 

you couldn’t help but grin a bit yourself, making him raise an eyebrow. 

“quit smiling at me, i can’t stop messing up what i’m saying if you look at me like that” 

you giggled. 

“like what?” 

“nevermind, dummy. just... don’t worry about it. just trust me and don’t check, okay?” he pulled your hand to his chest so you’d come and sit beside him in the armchair. you curled up against his chest, hair still wet from the shower damping his t-shirt, enjoying the smell of his perfume and the delicate, intimate aura of the moment, even though curiousity wouldn’t let you out of its hold. 

“is it your soulmate mark?” you asked, remembering the conversation between you and atsumu, about how he started to cover it. 

“thought i told you not to worry, didn’t i darling? can i trust you that you won’t check?” he mumbled against your hair, and let out a breath when you nodded. he trusted you wouldn’t, and you didn’t.

although now you wish you did. 

“what’re we reading?” your sleepy voice ended the silence in your living room after a while, your eyes too tired to see for themselves. sakusa shifted and relaxed in his position, taking a breath before he started telling. 

“it’s called the orange girl. it’s a story of a boy reading letters from his dead dad, who wrote them while terminally sick, about a love story he shared with a girl, whom he met on the tram, she got his attention because she was holding a basket of oranges. she then disappears and shows up at random places at random times, acknowledging him but never actually talking, and they continue this hide and seek until she gives him a riddle, which he solves. they can’t be together for long, since he’s sick, but they had to, since their love was so true they couldn’t stay away from each other without falling into pieces. they were like the glue holding each other together, the mistery being the only shared link they had for a long time” he kept lowering his voice as he felt your head growing heavier and heavier against his chest, to the point he practically whispered. 

“that’s... sad” you mumbled, half passed out, and he tried so hard to surpress his laugh, so it doesn’t bring you out of your blissfull state. 

“i don’t think it is, no. see, they didn’t have much time with each other, but that was enough for them, they cherished every moment and would much rather spend so little together than eternities alone. no matter how long she’ll have to spend alone before meeting him again, she’ll love him forever, and so will he, even though he’s not physically there, i think it’s poethic.” he stated, getting hair out of your face, gently leaning forward to put the book down. 

“just as i’ll love you.” he added, now thinking you were asleep completely “even if you’ll hate me. come on, big baby, let’s get you to sleep” 

come to think of it, he always said he’ll love you forever. never an eternity, always forever. in his proposal, it was “always and for always” and whenever you fought and made up it was “for as long as the sun shines in the morning”

never an eternity. 

it’s not like it was something bad, he could be really a master of his words if he wanted to, and if he ever used that one, you’d obviously get scared and tell him to quickly say something else, not to tease fate too much, but he never did. 

as if he knew. 

you wanted to show him just as much you respected him and his privacy after that night, scared by the last sentence he said, and thought you didn’t hear, and made it your goal to find a new set of band aids for the both of you. it was often “look, omi! i found ones with elza, from frozen! she reminds me of you, so here. take these” 

“excuse me? if i get elsa, you get swen”

“why the hell would i get swen?”

or that time when for your anniversary you had ones custom made with some of his favorite song quotes. it was an inside joke, not much of a joke but much of an inside between the two of you, that always put a smile on your faces while still reminding you that before love, before passion and before even friendship, there was always trust and respect between the two of you. 

and that reminder was often needed. 

he could be a sappy romantic, at times, but it was still the sakusa kiyoomi you met that first day, still a blunt jerk, accents on jerk, still closed off, still a bit egoistic and cold at times. you two had similar tempers, and it often resulted in fights. very often. 

you loved his fierce attitude, you adored his honesty. appreciated the straight forward notices when he didn’t like something you did, and liked the way he always spoke what was on his mind when around you. but sometimes what was on his mind didn’t exactly cover what you wanted to hear. 

as you put away the box of band aids, your hand grazed over the photoframe still damaged from the one time he had to glue it back together after one fight, after he threw it on the ground to let out his anger in some way. 

you yelled at him for your fair share of over twenty minutes, and only when your voice started to get sore, did he start talking, but whenever he wanted, venom could cover those sweet words he’d so often whisper, as if his sentences were sharp enough to cut through glass. 

“why can’t you just let someone care about you?” you’d shout, voice cracking at the end, causing you to put a hand over your throat, realizing it’s time to stop talking. 

“because you won’t understand! you’ll never understand! that’s the thing, y/n, you may try as hard as you want to, but in the end, you’re too—” he’d manage to bite his tongue before saying something he didn’t mean, and yet your eyes widened. 

“too what? too stupid? too much of an idiot to mit the intelectual standards you have set? is that it?” you’d drag and tease, as every muscle in his body would tense up, fists curling as he’d take the frame and smash it onto the ground, soon realizing how much of an overreaction that was, but not just yet. 

“stop putting words in my mouth! i never said you were stupid, for fucks sake—” 

the door closing behind you would wake him up from his thoughts, as he whispered a quiet “fuck” under his breath, and go after you. 

nevertheless you’d never leave, you always went to the bathroom, put some water in your face, take a few deep breaths, and by the time you were ready to go face him, he’d already have calmed down and would be ready to talk, apologize if it was his fault, forgive if it wasn’t. 

cause after all, you were soulmates. 

you were meant to be with each other. you wouldn’t survive with each other. two puzzles of the same picture, fitting perfectly, and not with anything else. 

right?

he’d mutter the lyrics to can’t help falling in love while he’d occasionally do your hair, he’d come behind you while you were cooking and rest his chin on your shoulder. leave notes in your lunch. 

he was the most thougtful person you ever met. the most precise in his actions, most affectionate in what he was capable of doing for you, most selfless in giving his all into bringing a smile on your face. 

one night, he came home from practice, and there was just something so weird about him, you remembered, about the way he smiled almost like he was fifteen again, all excited and hyped. 

you lifted yourself up from the bed, finding it hard to move, since the ache in your heart was roaming throughout your entire body,leaving you tired and defenseless. however you managed to get to the dresser, and search for one through your shirts. 

“so, you know how i’m not the biggest fan of merch, right?” he said, his eyes lit up as he turned around to grab a nicely wrapped, loose gift from his bag. 

“i know? you don’t understand the hype people get from wearing things that have your surname on it, you’ve told me countless times”

“yes, but—”

“you’ve also told me that doing figurines of living real people is somewhat creepy”

“yeah, that too—”

“and that the plushie they made with you scares the living shit out of—”

“i know! i know! but listen” he’d say, handing you the package. as you began opening it carefully, he continued “you know that because of privacy policy they can’t make the merch jerseys the exact same as the real ones? the merch has the surname and number smaller by 2 centimeters, and the space between each letter is wider by exactly a half of a centimeter. and since we’re redoing the shirts with a slightly different design, i ordered—”

“you ordered one more for me” you whispered as you held the soft material in your hands, the paper laying somewhere on the ground, by your feet. 

“i ordered one more for you.” he finished, scratching his neck in a nervous gesture “i know that i’m not the best boyfriend—”

“fiance” you corrected. 

“fiance, when it comes to letting you wearing my things, so i hope this makes up for it in a way?” he suddenly flinched as if he remembered something right in that moment “oh, and...” he reached to his bag again “these are my perfumes. if... oh my god, this is so pathethic, why was i so—”

you took the bottle out of his hand, and, since he didn’t like to hug right after coming home, you gave him the brightest smile you could. 

“it’s perfect. you’re perfect.” you muttered, hand moving upwards to ruffle his hair and mess with him just a little bit “come on, go clean up, dinner’s almost ready”

would it be a violation of your agreement if you just wore his shirt now? it’s not like he’d come check. you didn’t need your own-his shirt right now. you didn’t need to have “the one original that no fan will ever have”, you didn’t give a fuck about those 2 and a half centimeters of difference that meant so much to you. 

you hastened to open the bottom drawer, and then, folded nicer than your version, was the real, real sakusa kiyoomi number 15 MSBY shirt, the one and only, a little harsh from being used and washed a lot, but right now, there was no softer fabric in the world. 

you hid your head in the folds of the jersey, begging for the tears that you knew damn well were building up to finally come out. 

“you idiot” you whispered, “you idiot, you idiot, you fucking idiot!” louder and angrier every time you began wailing, the black material being the only thing covering your screams. “why’re you always so stupid? so... so fucking precise? couldn’t you spend one night, one night without me? one night in anger? you’d still be— you absolute, fucking idiot, sakusa!” 

only anger and frustration came to your heart as you recalled all the things he did with you. 

all the dances to classical waltzes at three in the morning in the small light over your oven. 

your walks with his dog, faces white and noses red from the winter cold. 

all the events you’d go to along with him, when he’d dress up all pretty and would ask you to do his tie, even if he was the master of the art himself. 

the time he actually taught you how to tie a tie, while you were both drunk talking in your bedroom after a college party. 

all the things he did for you. the good morning forehead kisses, the cups of hot tea with the exact amount of additions you liked, the way he always wrapped your scarf a little bit tighter around your neck, the way he’d remind you to wash your face if you were too tired to motivate yourself to get up and do it. 

why would he do all those things with such ease, how did he memorise every single line of your character, every single habit you ever developed, if he

wasn’t your soulmate?

your sharp breath began to even out after a while, as you recalled the most recent events. 

he was very set off that morning. his mother, who he hated with all the hatred available in his heart, texted him something about an alledged family dinner he had to go to that evening. 

the text woke you up at six in the morning on a saturday, not making a great start to a day full of nerves. ever since that text, he’d been more irritable and annoyed than the usual. he didn’t finish his morning coffee, he got splashed with rainwater by a car while on his run, everything was wrong. 

everything was wrong. 

you left the stage of your relationship where you were afraid of making each other mad long behind you, and yet you were kinda afraid to ask for the basic things that day. like, what did his mother text him? why did it annoy him that much?

you didn’t know that at the time, but what woke him up wasn’t a text, it was a burning feeling under his band aid. he lifted it, noticing you were still sound asleep and looked at the writing. nothing had changed, but it was burning hot, and didn’t allow him to stay asleep. 

“what the hell?” he mumbled, rubbing the skin, as if that was supposed to help, but there was no result. 

“mm?” you mumbled, asleep, and he just glued it back on and laid down next to you again. 

“nothing, don’t worry about it.” 

nothing, don’t worry about it was a phrase he overused. not that he wasn’t comfortable with you, no, it was the complete opposite, but as he was raised in a very traditional way, some things were just meant to remain a secret.

it was a sort of protection he’d give you, protecting you from his dark thoughts, his mind that often didn’t listen to his commands, from himself, putting it short. 

little did he know, all you ever wanted was to see those parts of him that he kept caged from you. 

that was the one difference between the two of you that nothing could get over, but, even in a puzzle, elements have to be different in order to fit, right?

right. 

you called yourself stupid as you recalled that now. 

turns out you would fit, just... not together. but why would someone be so perfect for you, why would your heart jump out of your chest every time you saw him, if it wasn’t meant to be? why did it feel so right if it just wasn’t?

as simple as that. he wasn’t your soulmate, after all. 

that night, you got into a fight. you finally told him how many fucks you give about him wanting to protect you, how secretive he is, how dumb and idiotic, and weak it makes you feel. how you hated it. 

you glanced at the delicate ring placed on your finger, and sadly didn’t recall the moment he’d put it there with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, but the moment you almost took it off the other night, driven by emotions and stupid, selfish motives. 

if only you knew then... if only. 

you wouldn’t say “do i even truly matter to you, kiyoomi?” you wouldn’t laugh sarcastically, you wouldn’t stare at him as if he was the worst person on earth. you wouldn’t make him feel so worthless and so pathethic. 

“of course you do. that’s why i don’t want to get into it, what’s so hard to understand about that? why is so hard for you to accept, that i may just have things that i’m not gonna share with you? where is that privacy and respect you so like to talk about, huh?” 

“kiyoomi, respect for privacy is one thing, you’re just isolating yourself from me! what, did you get bored of me? did you realize i’m not fit for your fantasies anymore? is that it?” you did know you shouldn’t have said that in the first place, you knew you did it purposely and only to hurt him, but emotions have taken over your brain completely. 

“what the fuck! i know you’re just trying to make me more mad so i say something i regret, don’t think i didn’t catch up with your sick methods already, mrs smart!” he turned around to face you, a heartbroken look in his eyes, as if the trust he had for you was disappearing by the second. instant regret hit you, but that was just the deal between you two, nobody knew when to zip it and back off. 

“oh so i’m suddenly so bad, huh? so hard to deal with, is that so?” 

his face went all white, blood rushing away as he heard those words. 

“that’s right. i heard you talking with atsumu.”

“hey no, you’re taking it out of context, i would never mean it like that and you know it damn well”

“do i? do i know it damn well, kiyoomi? or do i just try to believe in something about you that just isn’t quite there?” tears appeared in the corners of your eyes as you realized it wasn’t about the text anymore. 

“no. no, no, no, no, don’t go there. you need to calm down, you’re being ridiculous!” 

“i am being ridiculous? I AM being ridiculous? you’re the one that makes me hate you right now!” you shouted, as you turned around, grabbed your keys and phone and left the apartment. 

it’s fine, he told himself, you just went over to the bathroom like you always do, but minutes and hours flew by and he realized you truly... left? he searched everywhere, and you just weren’t there. he began to panic. 

especially with his tattoo burning it’s way into his skin even more. 

it doesn’t matter where you went, it doesn’t matter for how long. what matters is when your phone finally rang from someone else than sakusa kiyoomi and you picked up, it was the worst possible call you ever got. 

he was at the hospital. 

car accident. 

drunk driver. 

it was so obvious, it was so basic, it was so... idiotically predictable. 

you obviously rushed there, obviously with fear at heart, but you didn’t fear him leaving you forever. he didn’t say his “and one day more” yet, right? he couldn’t go. 

you checked every document, talked with every doctor, with every relative already present, even dealth with his hell sent mother and overprotective sister, and dismissed every single bad news, every single “he might not make it”, every “i don’t know wether he’ll wake up, it would be a miracle.”

and when you entered the room, he did look as if he was he was one foot in his grave already. you were careful to reach out to to his forehead over all the little cables and tubes, and get his annoyingly curly locks out of his eyes. 

“why did you follow me, dumbass?” you whispered, eyes set on his closed lids. “you know i’ll always come back to you. i love you too much to leave, you know that, right? you’re aware? why did you do such a dumb thing? you’re smarter than this! we’re smarter than this!” you whined and whined, but to no response. 

his mother gently informed you that it might be time to say goodbye, but you didn’t listen, you didn’t care. it wasn’t the day he’d die. 

you stayed in his room alone for a little while, gently rubbing his hand with your thumb, mentally apologizing for being so, so difficult, and stubborn, and—  and stupid! 

you didn’t know what it meant when all the devices started beeping suddenly, you had no idea. 

but even you would recognize that line that was supposed to jump at the speed of his heart rate going straight. you’d recognize that awful beep. that deadly calm on his face.

“hey. hey, hey, hey!” you started shouting. “don’t you dare leave me yet, you idiot! we still have so much to do together, no, no, no start working! start fucking working!” you screamed at his still heart, looking at the dark screen. 

“no. no no no no no, i refuse, i won’t let you do me like that, sakusa, you hear me? you’re not allowed to—” you began panicking as you shook your fiance’s body desperately, barely managing to even move him a bit. 

“wake up, you idiot, wake up!” was the last thing you said before your words started blurring together and becoming an incoherrent mess, before the doctors got into the room, before some nurse escorted you out. 

that was the last time you’ve seen your boyfriend.  

and now you were supposed to be getting ready for the ceremony, you were supposed to act like the composed, grieving partner, his never-to-be spouse, picture perfect form of sadness, yet you couldn’t pick yourself up from the floor, where you were sobbing in the material of the damn jersey, ironically, cause he’d be so mad for it, if only he was there. 

honestly, anything would be better. any screams, silent treatment, any fight, any tears, anything. would be better than this. 

because not only were you incapable of picking yourself back up after loosing your only love, you were also painfully reminded that this man, the man that meant the whole universe to you, he wasn’t your soulmate. he was never in the plan for you. and you were so mad, at whoever was up there, at fate, at god, at whatever, you couldn’t believe it, you felt like a glitch in a system. 

he had to be your soulmate. 

and yet the last words you heard and are ever gonna hear from him were “you’re being ridiculous”. 

as you tried to get up from the floor, hands clenching around the material, you realized you have no idea what time it is. 

you had no idea where your phone was, at that. you didn’t check it in over three days, you didn’t have the nerves to read all the “oh my god, are you okay? i’m so sorry for your loss” bullshit. 

they would never understand “your loss”.

so as you finally found it somewhere in your purse, it was all out of battery. it took a while to charge it, and after you realized how little time you have until the funeral begins, you received a ton of messages all at ones, just as predicted.

you didn’t mean to go through them, you truly weren’t in the place to do so. but there was a chat that was always pinned at the top of the list. 

your eyes widened. 

1 new message from:

omi <3

your fingers and breath both shook endlessly as you pressed the highlighted font, eyes watering finally when you realized, 

it was a voice message. 

it took a while before you pressed it open. 

sounds of traffic were heard, as if someone was calling you from inside a car. “hey there, smiles, it’s me, your favorite douchebag of a boyfriend! no, without all the jokes, we all acted on impulse, didn’t we? i’m sorry for all i said. you know i am. just let me explain it to you in person, okay? i’m driving around here, but you’re nowhere to be found, and your friends don’t know anything about where you are, neither does atsumu. you can be mad at me all you want, but please come home, okay? it’s getting late. we can fight but i won’t stop worrying about you ever, i won’t ever stop caring. please, baby, please tell me where you are? you’re not picking up, so that’s why i’m leaving you a voice message...” 

your heart was beating like crazy as you listened to your boyfriend’s voice, realizing this will be the last thing you’ll ever hear him say.

“... anything is better than not knowing if you’re okay, y/n, any screaming and yelling you have planned for me, truly. i didn’t mean what i said, and neither did you. but i do mean that i will really try to be more open with you, if that’s what you want. i’ll try to make up for every mistake i’ll ever make. and remember, i’ll love you

for eternity, and one day more” 

after that, his speech was interrupted by a loud noise, him saying “what the fuck” and some sounds of metal being smashed. and after that, there was a whole minute of silence. 

a scream left your throat as you realized, 

he was your soulmate, after all, 

but you lost him forever. 

*

after you finally made it to the funeral, greeted by your friend and hugged tightly by sakusa’s sister, coldly glanced by his mother, you realized, the cascet was open. 

why the fuck. would they leave it. open?

“hey, sakusa-san?” you asked your fiance’s sister, and she turned around with a tired smile. 

“please honey, call me by my first name” she said gently, playing with your shirt, as if she had to do something with her hands. 

maybe it ran in the family. 

“why did they... why did they leave it like that?” you pointed towards where your boyfriend surely was, and her smile disappeared suddenly. 

“mother wanted it like that, honey. do you want me to help you go see him?” she grabbed your hand tightly and smiled, as much as she could, and when you nodded, she leaded the way. 

it was hard. it was very fucking hard. you wanted to run, you wanted to disappear, to not be there anymore. he looked as if he was sleeping. as if he was going to wake up any moment. you swore his eyelid twitched at one time. 

maybe you needed to do something with your hands too, because you noticed something wrong about his suit. 

“who the hell made that?” you asked while reaching over to his hand. 

“who do you think?” the woman sighed, pointing towards her mother. 

“he has his sleeves uneven. he’d hate that” you chuckled under your breath, adjusting said sleeves, when suddenly, your fingers grazed over the black ink on his writs. you looked, even though you knew you shouldn’t.

wake up, you idiot! said the writing. you let out a breathy sigh as you reached over to your purse, and glued one last “frozen” themed band aid over the tattoo. 

“you’re my eternity. and my more, too”

[laur-rants]

Schrodinger’s Game Theory: The Fate of Daud

Ever come up with a theory, and then halfway through creating it, the evidence changes and so you’re stuck with a lot of well-put-together ideas but nowhere to go with it?

Anyway, I did that with Daud. Lol.

I just rediscovered a whole ass rant in my drafts (which is now in the link above for private viewing and judgement PLS read it, if you’re missing some context to this post) that I clearly spent a lot of time and energy on, where I came to the conclusion that Daud in Death of the Outsider is actually a imposter/doppelganger, and it was because of the writing from the book contrasted the writing in DotO so poorly, that I came to believe this. I was like, VERY convinced prior to Billie’s book coming out that this was, in fact, a viable game theory. !00%. There was a chance that out there, somewhere, Daud was still stuck in his mind, and needed someone to come rescue him. Stranger things have happened to explain characters coming back from the dead in a video game, okay?

Somewhere along the line, though, it stopped being game theory and was more like, a fan idea. I had collected enough evidence to come to the conclusion that my theory wasn’t sound. That, and Billie’s book released, and there’s no way I could argue that. Instead, imposter!Daud moved to Fan Theory, something I could fictionally, write about, put into an AU.

But... Just because it’s probably not true in the scheme of the game doesn’t stop me from thinking about it, from wanting to talk and share those ideas with others. Even if, at the end of the day, they hold no water and it wouldn't matter because, well. If Billie’s book is to be considered post-DotO canon, then there’s no reason to believe my theory would hold weight. It wouldnt matter, because Daud well, he was left for dead either way. Nobody was coming to rescue him. I’m sure there’s plenty of questions people have in response to this, the most chief one being

“If its not Daud how is he in the Void talking to the Outsider and Billie at the end of DotO??”

And my usual response is: the end of Return of Daud saw Daud becoming trapped within his own mind, through a trap laid by witches from the very beginning of the book. That meant, even if his physical body was still, well, physical, he was trapped inside his mind.

I proposed that out of survival, well, a sliver of his mind would hole itself up in the Void, maybe even be stuck there (this is not so uncommon as it appears; think of what happened to Jessamine in the Heart). Once the spell on his mind and the Outsider were gone, the sliver could return back to his mind. And he’d still be alive.

From a gamer perspective, looking at the mechanics of the game, and everything else, it makes sense. I’m sure some people would say this theory would ‘cheapen Daud’s death’ and I would refute that by simply saying ‘all of DotO cheapened Daud’s death, and despite being a playable character in the franchise he dies unceremoniously off screen and we just take Billie’s word for his death to heart.’ Nothing cheapens a death faster in my head than ‘time to renege on this character’s entire past arch and have him die off-screen.’ His death was ruined far before they went into the Void. If anything, this would give Daud a change to explain himself. 

But I digress. I actually did do a stupid amount of research on this. And what it all really boils down to is that there was bad writing involved in DotO when it came to timeline consistency and quality checkers not checking for that, + the book having been rewritten like, twice, to keep up with what Arkane was changing in DotO in real time.

That’s post marked 9/25/18. I’ve had this theory sitting around for a long time. I enjoyed it. I find it compelling. But ultimately, it was me trying to save Daud, in my mind. Would it be cool for the witches to have stolen Daud, replaced him with a dummy body Eyeless/Envisioned, given that dummy body his memories, and then, when it had outlived it’s usefulness of sending Billie astray, the magic broke and it perished? Hell yeah it would have been cool. and honestly, according to the books, it was a viable option! They could do all those things. You can’t tell me that

Billie can steal faces,

Emily can create copies and

They witches had access to a gemstone that can make prisoners of their own mind/see the thoughts of others,

and NOT immediately think that they’d try and replicate one of the strongest Marked to ever live. The one that TRAPPED DELILAH, no less. And because the witches messed with Daud’s dreams at the beginning of the book (it’s subtle, but its there, its like, you see it on the reread sort of thing), that’s the whole reason he thinks the Outsider is supposed to die, so of course the double would fervently believe the singular obsession that brought Daud into a trap in the first place...

I’m digressing again. Anyway.

What does this mean for Dear old Daud?

It means Daud canonically died, and it was shitty and poorly written and I’ll be salty about that until the day I die because some schmuck on twitter wrote one singular essay and Harvey Smith decided ‘you. you’re the one who needs to write this story’ and then we got Corvosider fanfic in a Dishonored game and I wanted to die. It doesn’t help that this writer was notoriously pretentious and shit-stirring in the fandom at-large BEFORE their hiring-- anyway, this isn’t a salt piece on that. I AM SALTY ABOUT IT, but I’m not the person to discuss it at length. Just know that that’s why some of the narrative decisions in DotO are so out of fucking whack, and we all have to deal with it.

MOVING ON....

There is still... a very slim chance. To save Daud.

Realistically speaking, this chance will never occur. It’s clear and obvious that Arkane has no plans on returning to the Dishonored universe, so despite all these loose ends that Arkane left and all these pieces that need to be picked up and all this lore that’s been reneged on, there’s really not much of a chance that we’ll see, say, Billie, return in a game that is specifically designed to save the timelines. Which, honestly, would be fucking baller. I want a game where I play as Billie, where the shattered timespace of Dunwall is saved by her capable hand, and Emily is free to rule for decades without having to fear that the Isles will fall into the Void like it’s Deimos falling into Hell in DOOM. We KNOW the timelines are saved because we KNOW that Emily has a long and Just (or unjust, if you went high chaos lol) Rule over the kingdom. That can’t happen if, just three years down the line, Billy is running all over the place trying to make sure time doesn’t break at the seams.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Because of how Daud meets Billie in RoD, we know that a Billie three years into the future (’YOUR future,’ she tells him) is trying to save his life. There are other timelines she’s saved already, for sure. Including saving Daud in the past, saving Corvo and Emily in the past, saving Granny Rags in the past -- basically, saving all the Marked from coming to an untimely end. And then, after all that, she goes back in time and tries to save Daud, tries to save him from being poisoned by witch magic and falling into a trap that is triggered when he touches her Future version of the Twin-bladed Knife. She goes through a sort of Groundhog Day scenario, where she confesses that she’s tried hundreds of times to save him, and she couldn’t save that Daud.

But why show us Billie failing to save Daud, if she was destined for failure? Because, eventually, she must succeed.

And therein lies Daud’s (potential) salvation. Is it realizing the other Daud is an imposter? Well... let’s think of it this way. Is the Billie who regained her arm and eye an ‘imposter’ where the ‘real’ Billie is in a timeline where she lost those body parts? Is the Aramis Stilton who went mad in the basement of his mansion the imposter? Or is it the one that Emily saved and was able to keep lucid? These people aren’t ‘imposters’ to their timelines, but they kind of are to the timelines that are saved. Which means DotO could be an entirely separate ‘timeline’, one that we manage to play through and see the ending of. But the ‘true timeline’ may never be known. But at least, we know it happens, and we have Billie to thank for that.

FIN.

[sharkboygirlish]

Chapter One

There must be something there that wasn’t there before.

‘It felt like she was dreaming.

For the last eight years she’d been living in sheer hell. Hope was a foreign concept when hers had been gunned down right in front of her eyes. At ten years old she was forced to grow up and take on the role of protector that Bellemere had previously played. Freedom became a legend she could no longer afford believe in.

Still, Arlong would offer it to her; keeping it just barely out of her reach so she’d obey his every order. If she drew enough charts, if she saved enough money -she could save her village. There was only a slim chance that she’d be successful and it would take a long time - but she didn’t care. She would do it. She had to, or else her mother would have died for nothing. 

Her future looked bleak, with only the tiniest pinprick of light shone at the end of the tunnel. Then... A teenager with devil fruit powers quite literally fell into her life bringing with him an explosion as bright as the birth of a star and suddenly - she was free. For the first time ever, somebody had showed up to defend her; to slay the monsters she never could.’

Nami sighed quietly, leaning one of her shoulders against the alley wall, observing the party her villagers had thrown to celebrate. The last time they’d felt joy like this she had only been as tall as Genzo’s knee, and their family was still whole. It felt indescribably wonderful to know that she would never have to worry about her home again. The Arlong pirates had been defeated and the prison she lived in destroyed. ‘She was safe now.’

Her gaze swept along the crowded street from face to smiling face until they landed on Luffy.

‘Luffy.’

Her heart surged into her throat like it did when she thought about Bellemere. How could she ever hope to express to him how grateful she was for what he did? ‘He would probably say, just buy me lots of meat.’ 

Nami’s lips quirked into half a grin. Luffy was so noble, and brave - and yet at the same time he was the goofiest human being she’d ever met. He made her smile. He’d protected her when she thought that the only person capable of that had been killed a long time ago. She didn’t have to fight alone; she’d never have to fight alone again so long as she had her friends.

‘Her friends… She had friends now.’

The navigator searched for them. She spotted Usopp standing on top of one of the tables near Luffy with his hands on his hips. He seemed to be spinning one of his less than truthful tales to entertain anyone who would listen. 

She found Sanji a little way further doting on Nojiko who looked amused. Her head shook side to side but she was grinning to herself.‘So typical of them.’  

Continuing her search, as there was one more crew member that she hadn’t seen since the battle, she frowned when she couldn’t find Zoro. ‘Maybe he was still being treated… He had been injured pretty horribly before he even got to Cocoyashi-“ 

Nami winced when the memory of her socking him in the gut and stomping on his chest flashed through her head. The look on his face, and his labored coughing as he doubled over... He must have been in an unimaginable amount of pain. ‘But that hadn’t stopped him from fighting with every last ounce of his strength to save them. To save her.’ 

She should apologize…

The navigator went to snag a bottle of sake from one of the tables laden with food and drink, then made her way towards Dr. Nako’s infirmary. The doctor probably didn’t want him drinking but it would make the swordsman happy – and she loved to see him smile.

                                            ***

Zoro was resting his eyes when he heard the clinic door open, but paid it no mind since he assumed the old man had come back to check on him. He listened to the footsteps as they crossed the room, but they were a lot lighter than the doctors. Click-clack, click clack, click clack.

‘They sort of sounded like heeled sandals.‘

“Zoro? Are you awake?”

‘Oh. It was Nami.’

His stomach did a little backflip, and his heart thundered just a bit faster. But he couldn’t let her know the effect she had on him or else she’d use him like that stupid cook. He pretended to be sleeping deeply but she didn’t leave. ‘Maybe he should say something mean to make her go away-‘

“I brought you a present.”

Now he was interested. Zoro cracked one eye open to see what she had for him and then grinned stupidly. “Sake!”

“I knew you were faking it,” she wrinkled her nose, lowering herself beside him on the mattress as he sat up to take the bottle from her. Almost instantaneously he cracked it open and gulped a couple mouthfuls down. “Jeez, would you have acknowledged me if I hadn’t brought you booze? You damn alcoholic.”

He narrowed his eyes at her because she better not have only come here to pick a fight with him – sake or not. “Don’t you try and guilt trip me, woman- hey!” Zoro yelped when Nami pinched his cheek, though it didn’t really hurt. He grabbed her hand and yanked it away from his face. ‘Knock it off.”

“I was only teasing you, dummy.” Her eyes shifted to his bare chest and traced their way down the length of the freshly stitched wound that crossed his entire torso. She still couldn’t believe he’d fought so valiantly in this condition. Sometimes the intensity of his ambition and determination were almost frightening.

“Do I need to put a shirt on, Nami? You look like you’re getting distracted.”

The smirk that dressed his face was so arrogant that she wanted to pinch him again but when she went to move her hand – he was still holding onto it, ‘Why did that make her feel like there were butterflies fluttering around inside of her?’ Nami turned her head to the other side as her face flushed with heat, hoping some of her hair would hide it.

Zoro gave her a quizzical look before he noticed his grip on her fingers. ‘Oh, shit. He was such a fucking idiot.’ Clearing his throat and bringing the bottle to his lips, Zoro let go of them hastily. ‘Just pretend it didn’t happen,’

“So… Why’d you come all the way over here to give me this, anyway?” He asked to change the subject, leaning towards the side table and setting the sake onto it.

Nami clasped her hands together in her lap, not yet turning her head because it felt like her face was getting hotter. “Well… Um. Actually…” she peeked at him, and he had one eyebrow cocked, “I came to say I’m sorry.”

“…..Sorry for what?”

‘Was he being serious?’ Nami finally looked at him and his expression was still stumped. “For punching you! And…” Her head bowed in shame, shoulders rounding as she went on, “And stomping on you, while you had an injury like this,” a deep frown began to settle into her mouth and forehead, “I should have known better, I should have guessed that you were injured pretty badly-”

“Nami.”

“-you were covered in bandages, after all, but I was so worried that they’d kill you if they thought we were friends-“

“Nami.”

“-so I hurt you to make it seem like I didn’t care about you, but I shouldn’t have hit you so hard, maybe if I’d been gentler you wouldn’t have been in so much pain-“

“Nami.” Zoro cut her off firmly and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her in a delicate manner and pulling her towards him. She finally lifted her head back up and looked him in the eyes, but hers were welled with tears that she was trying desperately not to shed. A sharp pang stabbed all the way through his heart. ‘Was she really crying because she felt so bad about hurting him? Did… She care about him that much?’

“It’s fine,” he murmured, sliding his hands down to her triceps and squeezing them tenderly as if to reassure her, “I’m fine, okay?”

Nami didn’t believe him for one second, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. Especially not when he was gazing at her with so much genuine concern written into his brow line. It surprised her. ‘Did he care about her so much that he was lying about the pain to ease her guilt?’

A tidal wave of intense affection crashed over her entire being. “Oh, Zoro-“ she cried out and tossed both of her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she possibly could. Her chin found a perch on his shoulder. Tears squeezed out of her blinking eyes to clear her vision and dripped down her cheeks onto his skin.

Zoro sat there, frozen, having not at all expected her to do something like this. When she didn’t let go of him - he curved his arms around her waist, pressing one of his palms against her upper back. His head bowed slightly. and he leaned the side of his face on her hair, eyelids slipping closed. He wasn’t very good at comforting people with words, but he knew how to be a warm shoulder to cry on thanks to Luffy and his occasional night terrors.

For a few minutes no one said anything… They just held each other. Until Nami whispered something in a voice so quiet that he almost didn’t hear her. Almost.

“You’re my hero.”

His heart started to beat unevenly and his stomach did a double backflip. ‘Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?’

“…Nami,” she started to pull away from him but stayed close enough to rest her elbows on his trapezius muscles. His fingers splayed between her shoulder blades and pressed into her shirt. For some reason his voice rumbled like thunder when he spoke, “I’m not a hero...”

“You are to me.”

“……” The way she was looking at him stirred up far too many feelings for him to account for. Zoro’s gaze flickered down to her mouth then back to her eyes. ‘She was such a beautiful person. Not just her face, but the content of her character. Her soul. Kuina had been beautiful like that, too.’ 

Even though he knew he probably should, he didn’t want to let go of her. A burning flood of passion captivated him with the urge to kiss her. ‘Wait - kiss her?’ His heart jumped into his throat. ‘What?? Had he turned into the damn cook?!’

She was sitting so close to him, closer than she’d ever been in the past. He could count each of her freckles and draw constellations on them. If he tilted his head down, they’d knock foreheads. And she smelled so sweet… ‘Like freshly peeled tangerines.’

Nami watched his expression shifting steadily from one emotion to the next. ‘What was he thinking? Why hadn’t he pushed her away yet?’ Not that she wanted him to. Quite the opposite, actually. Her gaze darted to his lips when he wet them, then moved back up to find his eyes half-lidded. He unconsciously bumped the end of his nose against hers.

“Nami, I…”

Was... He going to kiss her?

“I..”

It certainly seemed like he wanted to. ‘Did she want him to?’ Nami shivered but not because she was cold. She’d never thought about kissing Zoro prior to this moment but now that she was… ‘She kind of wanted to kiss him, too. She kind of wanted to kiss him a lot.’ All he had to do was lift his chin a few more centimeters. 

He closed his eyes and started to, slowly...

WHAM! The clinic doors burst open followed by a shouting voice they both recognized.

“ZOOOOOOOROOOOOOO!”

Nami shoved herself off of her crew mate and the mattress at the same time that he practically ripped his arms from her torso. She took a step back just as their captain came bounding in holding a large plate piled with food.

“Oh hi Nami, why’re you here?” Luffy noticed her standing somewhat awkwardly beside the bed but his gaze shifted to Zoro and he forgot all about it. “Oh yeah, look Zoro!” He beamed at his first mate, scrunching both of his eyes closed and holding the plate up, “I brought you meat.”

The navigator chose this moment to slip away. Her heart was beating so fast that it felt like a hummingbird was trapped in her rib cage. ‘What had just happened! Well - what had just nearly happened?! Were they about to kiss?? If Luffy hadn’t run in, would Zoro have kissed her?!’ It had happened so slowly yet so quickly at the same time.

‘But they were just friends… Right?’

Question after question danced through her head until she shook it violently to clear it. She told herself that it must have been the sake that made Zoro act the way he did, because they were just friends. If he had another chance to kiss her she was certain he wouldn’t take it.

‘And yet… A small part of her wanted to give it to him anyway.’

                                                                          ***

Zoro had trouble settling down after Luffy left him to find more food(he’d eaten almost everything that he originally brought for his first mate.) He just... Couldn’t stop thinking about Nami - about what he’d almost done. ‘What the fuck had come over him? He’d never wanted to kiss her before tonight, so where the hell did he even get that idea from?’

“I’m drunk,” the swordsman said out loud to the empty building, like he was trying to convince himself, even though he knew it took at least two bottles to get him tipsy – and he’d barely drunk half of the first one. “I’m drunk,” he repeated, glaring at the foot of his bed where Luffy had left the mostly empty plate. All that was left were a few tangerines. 

‘He and Nami were friends.’ 

Zoro picked one up and held it in front of him, expression unreadable.

‘What had happened tonight was a fluke, and there was no way it would ever happen again.’

With only a few rays of moonlight seeping through the curtains above his head, he could just make out the normally much brighter orange sheen of the fruit’s skin.

‘They were just friends. But… Was that all he honestly wanted them to be?’

[doing-all-write]

don’t be a baby

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a nurse who’s brother falls into the Sky Walker crowd. After he gets injured, Billy takes it upon himself to look after Reader’s brother and calm Reader’s nerves as they get ready for their next job. But when the job goes awry and Reader can’t keep Billy safe, how does she cope? 

Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut (only 18+ interact please!), swearing, blood and softness bc we love two idiots pining over each other but refusing to acknowledge their feelings for each other!!

A/N: I wrote this in a caffeine fueled burst of inspiration after talking to @mrhoemazzello​ about how much of a baby Billy would be when he gets injured and you have to patch him up and it made me so soft and shoutout to @itsabenthing​ for helping me flesh out this idea and for always being such a great cheerleader 💖but this bad boy is DEFINITELY going to be a two parter so keep an eye out part two coming soon!

Also the first part of this story takes place before the events of 6Underground and the job they’re planning and go on is the one in the movie just to give everyone some context. 

💖💖As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💖💖

There was a thump at the window. 

She ignored it. It was close to midnight and the idea that someone could be knocking on her (three stories high) window at this time seemed ludicrous. She groaned, shifting in the chair she had curled up in hours ago, reaching out for the sweet release of unconsciousness to claim her before her anxiety kept her up.

She knew Billy was most likely gone. She didn't want to admit it to herself but the relentless loop in her head was a broken record of he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone.

There was still a part of her that hoped Billy had gotten away unscathed. She had seen him in action, she knew what he was capable of and she sent out a wish that Billy would come running into her apartment like the day he came running into the hospital. 

~~~

She had been working in the Emergency Room, taking over a fellow nurses night rotations in exchange for a few extra days off, when a man had limped in, blue eyes frantic, blonde hair damp and smashed to his forehead, carrying what looked like a dummy in a hoodie, both of them covered in dried blood.

She raced around the desk to them, looping the arm of the prone man around her shoulders as she helped steer them to the nearest room. The blonde kept babbling on about how the man between them had hurt himself while they wrestled the man into a bed. Once the unconscious man was laying down, she pulled back the hood obscuring his face and felt her soul leave her body.

Her brother's face was the one staring back at her.

Now is not the time. Pull it together. You know what to do. Her Nurse Brain kicked in and she shoved the blonde to the side as she hastily started taking care of her brother. Once he had been stabilized and diagnosed with nothing more than a nasty bump on the head, a broken ankle and a badly bloodied nose, she had shoved the shadow who had been following her around into the hallway, crowding him into the supply closet and demanding answers. 

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Oh, careful there, love. You keep talking dirty to me like that and I'll fall in love with you."

"Why the fuck were you with my brother?" 

"Taking him out on a date because he spoke to me with the same dirty mouth you both share apparently." 

He was obstinate, shifting between smart ass answers and flirting as she tried to get any scrap of information from him. She finally hit her limit and spat out, "He's my fucking brother and if you don't tell me what happened, I'll assume it was you and have you thrown in jail. I don't give a fuck about you," She had jabbed a finger into his chest and he winced, "but I do give a fuck about my family." 

Her Nurse Brain activated again when she saw him wince. Eyes zipping over him, assessing, she took in his bloodied face and hands. "Unzip your hoodie."

"Interesting. I'd always heard that angry sex was the best. Can't believe I'm gonna find out if that's true in this supply closet."

Rolling her eyes, she'd batted his hands away as he tried to prevent her from unzipping his hoodie. Fixing him with her if you don't let me do my fucking job I'll kill you and make it look like an accident stare, he had held his hands up in surrender. 

Metallic ticks were the only noise as she pulled the zipper down, revealing the red tank top underneath. 

"Wait, was this originally white?" 

A huff of breath was the only answer she received before she pulled him back into the room with her brother, patching him up while she kept up a running commentary of grumbling about how he had endangered not only her own brother but also himself.

"I mean, what kind of stupid, reckless, idiot would do something like that! Jesus, you see one too many Marvel movies and think, 'hmm, that looks easy. I can do that too!' I mean honestly."

Her monologue was interrupted by the feel of a rough palm grasping her forearm. It seemed like trying to get the next words out were more painful than sustaining the injuries he had already taken that night, "I was protecting him. He works with our crew well and I told him not to come with us but he insisted. Said he needed these jobs so he could help his little sister pay off her student loans." 

That had shut her up. 

~~~

He didn't remember falling asleep but he stirred as he felt his arm being moved.

"It's okay, it's just me." 

"I'm sorry, I don't know a 'me'. I only know the hard ass nurse who I had incredible sexual chemistry with." He heard her huff out a breath, could almost hear her eyes rolling as well. Her fingers were gentle as she made sure the IV drip in his arm was still firmly in place. She saw his lips quirk and rolled her eyes, again, "Go back to sleep. I like you more when you're unconscious."

"Great bedside manner you have there, sweetheart. You got a name?" 

There was silence, then, "It's (Y/N)."

He sighed, "Well, (Y/N), it's nice to meet you. I'm Billy, and that guy in the opposite bed? That's Mark. Though I'm assuming you two already know each other since you're related and all."

"If you weren't in a hospital bed, I'd smack you."

"There's that bedside manner that keeps the patients coming back."

~~~

Billy didn't remember when he drifted off again but when he came to, the light on the other side of his eyelids was the dull yellow of the beginning rays of sunlight welcoming another morning. Eyelids fluttering open, Billy had seen her, curled up in a hospital chair right by Mark's bed, hand cupping her brother's as their chests rose and fell in tandem. Feeling like he was encroaching on a private moment, he closed his eyes again, praying that the tear he felt running down his cheek would dry before either of them would wake up. 

~~~

"Hey. (Y/N). Wake up. C'mon. I've got him from here, go home and shower. Grab some food." 

Her eyelids flickered open and a groan came flying out of her mouth as she slowly started rolling her neck around. As she did so, she couldn't help her eyes from straying to the bed across the room. But it was empty. 

~~~

Her brother had been discharged the next day and she'd been keeping a close eye on him since. A few days later, she kicked open the door of his apartment, yelling out a greeting as she tried to balance the two large tote bags of food, games and movies she had brought over to help keep him entertained and fed as he healed up.

"I know you're a purist when it comes to Star Trek but I brought over the reboots because one, Chris Pine is very easy on the eyes and two, Star Trek is Star Trek I mean, as long as someone says 'live long and prosper' you're good, right?"

Her voice trailed off as she padded into his living room only to be met with four pairs of eyes staring back at her. Everyone, including her brother, was wearing black athletic clothes making them look a bit like a goth gymnastics team, she felt like a toddler amongst them in her over-sized sweater and leggings.

Her eyes sought out her brother's in hopes he would explain. Mark's eyes pleaded with her to be understanding and it wasn't until she heard someone clear their throat that she realized she recognized the blue eyes staring back at her,

"I'll, uh, I'll just come help you unpack those bags. Okay, love?" The steel cutting along the edge of his words gave her no time to argue as she felt Billy's large hand pressing into her lower back as he shoved her into the kitchen. 

Tripping over her feet, she flung the Star Trek DVD back onto the counter as she rounded on Billy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the words were pulverized through her clenched teeth. Her hands curled into fists to prevent them from shaking. She was terrified that these people were back in her brother's life, and only a few days after he had left the hospital because of their recklessness.  

"It's so lovely to see you too! I missed you and your warm bedside manner so much darling." He snarled back as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now is not the time. Last time you showed up in my life you almost got my brother killed. You better explain yourself now or I'm grabbing the broom and beating everyone in that room out the door and then breaking the broom over your head personally."

Blue eyes widened till she could see the whites all the way around them, "How are you allowed to take care of people? You should be locked up by the pigs not me." He swiveled around, grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top off by putting the lid of the bottle against the rim of the counter and hitting it with the heel of his hand. 

Peering out of the corner of his eye he saw her eyes widen, a flush building in her cheeks. She hated how that simple action had sent a flash of warmth through her. 

Smirking, he turned back to her, bringing the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip as she shook herself from thinking about what other things Billy could do with his hands. 

So maybe she had noticed how handsome he was after he had fallen asleep in the hospital. She was only human. 

"While I'm so glad you're enjoying my brothers hospitality, maybe you could dignify me with an answer?" She knew the sarcasm dripping from every word was poisonous but she couldn't help herself. Just because she had seen dried tear tracks on Billy's face when she had woken up to check on him in the cool dawn morning and, alright, maybe she had checked the medical records in the hospital for information on him ("It's like Facebook stalking!" her voice rising as she quickly tried to close his records after her co-worker called her out on it.) and maybe her heart had twisted in on itself when she woke up the next morning and he was gone and maybe she had spent a few thousand hours thinking about him and wondering if she would ever see him again didn't mean she wanted him in her life. 

Right? 

Sighing, Billy leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as the bottle dangled between two long fingers, "We're planning another job and we asked your brother to do surveillance. All he'll be doing is sitting on that couch," he closed one eye, pointing towards the sofa Mark was currently residing at, "watching security cameras and making sure none of us get caught and warning us of any potential baddies around the corner. It's easy, it's harmless and you could even be sitting next to him babysitting if you're really that concerned about my safety."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward to start unpacking the bags, needing something to do with her hands and eyes. Looking right at Billy was like staring at the sun. She feared looking at him for too long would result in permanent damage from his eyes boring into hers, or that the fluttering in her stomach would get stronger the more she talked to him.  

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't seen the group Billy ran with around the city. Walking along, earbuds in, minding her own business, she'd hear a thud, look up and instead of squirrels scampering along the telephone wires, it would be people. Executing flips, yelling, jeering, she'd watch in awe while Nurse Brain would be calculating what kind of injuries they'd sustain and how bad said injuries would be if they fell, but they never did. 

They looked more comfortable walking in the sky than on the ground. They were flying. Confident. So sure that there would be something there to catch them. She had started calling them "Sky Walkers."

Every time she saw them from then on, she always had an ache in her heart for the rest of the day. She craved the security and confidence they had. She'd looked down at her feet encased in Nike's, cursing them for staying ground to the tiled floor of the hospital. 

"All I know is, last time my brother got mixed up with you guys, he showed up at my hospital, bloody and unconscious." Her shoulders hunched forward as anger drained from her body thinking about how frightened she had been. "Can you blame me for being scared?" 

This last sentence was almost missed by Billy. But seeing her look so defeated, Billy's heartstrings tugged. Mark talked about his sister a lot. It was clear they took care of each other. He had always wondered what it would have been like to have that consistency.

Placing Tupperware on the kitchen table, the silence stretched out as Billy sized her up. Finally, her eyes rose, meeting his underneath the harsh fluorescent light. The eyes staring into hers were calculating but not cold. They weren't the eyes of a doctor, sizing up a patient and only seeing a maze of veins, arteries and organs that with the right snip or stitch could be fixed. His was a gaze that peeled back the layers of skin and bone, seeing right into the most vulnerable parts of yourself. 

"You've noticed that your loans are almost entirely paid off. Haven't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Billy had been the one to walk Mark through the steps to help pay off her loans without it being suspicious. He had heard her on the other end of the line when she called to tell Mark how much her loans had gone down. The voice on the other end high-pitched, tinny, but the love between them so palpable he had to leave the room. 

Her eyes darted down as she busied herself carrying Tupperware over to the fridge, her hair a curtain over her profile as she leaned down to place it in the fridge. "He loves you, you know. A lot. That's the only reason he took the gig." He took a sip of beer, watching her frame, way too still to not be listening, peering into the fridge but not seeing anything. "He's friends with Jean, the mastermind, out there and when he complained about how unfair it was of you to have so many loans, Jean offered him a cut of the benefits if he helped us with the job." 

She didn't feel the coolness of the fridge air wafting over her, she felt nothing but enormous guilt. She was the reason he had been injured. That he was mixed up in this crowd. She was the reason he was putting himself in harms way and if he died? It would be all her fault. 

Billy, chuckled to himself as she was gripped in the throes of an existential crisis, "Jean's a good guy but I think he mainly knew having a nurse in our good graces would be immeasurably helpful."

His eyes widened as she turned to face him, flecks of mascara caught in the tears moving down her face but she didn't seem to notice them streaking down. It seemed like she barely noticed him, "You have to keep an eye on him. Please. If anything happens to him-because of me-I-I don't..." her voice trailed off.

Billy crouched down, cupping her shoulders as he pressed his forehead into hers, "Hey. Hey, love. Love? Look at me, focus on my voice, okay?" He pulled back so he could look into both of her eyes. With enormous effort she pulled herself back to this moment, in her brothers kitchen, crouched on the floor with a Sky Walker. "I'll keep an eye on him. He's one of us now. We look after our own, got it? We always do." She nodded, searching his eyes for any sign of lying but there was none. Just warm, blue skies, promising her that from then on out, everything would be fine. 

~

After their rendezvous in the kitchen, Billy had gone back to the living room to plan while she had splashed cold water on her face and pulled herself together. By the time she slunk out of the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, everyone was leaving and Billy had his arm around a brunette girl who reeked of sexual experience and danger. 

She was pretty sure she reeked of "Christmas Cookie" hand sanitizer and sexual frustration. 

Billy caught her eye as he strolled out of the room, winking at her as he walked past. 

Her heart caught in her throat at the action but remembered how his girlfriend was someone who flew through the air with enormous ease and she was someone who was locked on the ground. 

~

Patching her brother up came easy to her. She wished it had been the first time she had fixed him up but that would be a lie. She went over to his apartment a few times a week. Sometimes the other Sky Walker's would be there, sometimes not. Most of the time if they were over, they spent their time planning the next big heist. Maps and blueprints covered every available surface and surveillance footage became a comforting background noise as she would prep dinner or check Mark's ankle and help him do physical therapy.

Sometimes it would just be Jean hanging out, playing video games with Mark. The first dinner he joined them for, she found she could barely look at him. The resentment towards him still a solid rock in her stomach. 

A few meals later, Jean gently tugged her into the living room after she had gotten Mark set up in bed, "Alright. I know why you won't look at me. Let me have it."

He had sat on the couch for over an hour, hands folded in his lap, nodding as she ripped him a new one, getting out all of her fear and anger. Once she had run out of steam and was standing in front of him, he had taken her hands in his, making the same promise Billy had. That Mark was one of their own now. He would do everything he could to take care of him. The eyes peering back up at her were full of nothing but sincerity.

Glancing down, she sniffled, peering at their hands intertwined, "You have questionable tattoos." Jean barked out a laugh, "You think mine are bad? You should see some of Billy's."  

From then on, she looked forward to having the Sky Walker's around. Whenever she entered Mark's apartment in the weeks leading up to the mission, her heart would speed up in anticipation.

Sometimes it would come crashing to the ground when she saw no sign of Billy. Other times, she was positive individuals could see her heart beating through her shirt when her eyes caught his from across the room. 

The only downer was, if Billy was there, that usually meant his girlfriend, Cassandra, was there as well. 

She had tried, a valiant effort in her opinion, to make nice with her. Most of the time, they were the only girls around. Working to find common ground with Cassandra was proving to be a difficult task, mainly because Cassandra would fix her with a blank stare until she slunk back into the kitchen to restock Mark's fridge.  

The last straw for her had been when she had walked into Mark's apartment, yelling hello only to look up and see Cassandra fixing her with a blank stare and sharpening a knife

She quickly found that anyone who carried their own knife sharpening kit was someone she didn't particularly trust. It made her nervous then, that Billy did so much. 

But she didn't want to interfere. She didn't want to think about all the lethal ways Cassandra could injure her with that blade if she found out she had meddled in her relationship.

When Billy was there, she could hardly stop the grin that threatened to split her face as she busied herself in the kitchen making food for everyone, jumping every time someone came into the kitchen, waiting for Billy to come in under the guise of getting a beverage but always stopping to chat with her. 

Those stolen minutes in the kitchen with Billy were quickly becoming her favorite times. 

She hadn't meant to develop a crush on Billy, but, how could she not? Other than the physical reasons, (she had once seen him take his shirt off to try on a new one and she almost dropped a whole bowl of soup into Mark's lap) he was genuine. Ever since he had looked into her eyes and promised to take care of her brother, he had kept that promise. 

When plans would change, he'd come into the kitchen and update her. He'd tell her all the different contingency plans they had. And while she knew her brother wasn't going on this mission, she still felt a sense of peace wash over her as he walked her through the plan. 

There was one night she asked him, "How did you even get into the Sky Walker stuff?" Coughing on the sip of beer he'd just downed, he made a choking noise, "The what stuff?"

Blushing, she realized she had let slip the private name she had called them ever since she first saw them leaping through the sky, "Umm, Sky Walkers? It's dumb, I know, but I saw you guys months ago leaping over buildings and wires and to me, from the ground, it was like you were walking on the sky, like you had mastered the force and the elements and I've called you that ever since..." her voice trailed off as Billy sat down next to her.   

Laying his arms on the table, a smirk played across his lips, "Well, now that I know you're a huge Star Wars nerd, you're even cuter." his eyes dancing with mirth.

Her heart sank at that. She knew Billy didn't feel the same way about her (why would he when he had Cassandra slinking around out there waiting out for him to join her in the sky) but her heart still leaped at the knowledge that he thought she was cute.

His eyes fixed on an unseen spot as he mulled the name over, "I gotta say, I like the name Sky Walkers. Might bring that up to the whole team. Give you full credit and trademark rights of course." He winked and she giggled as she pulled her mug of tea closer. 

"Why don't you join us in the living room? You're always welcome. And I have insider intel that when Jean's over, you two hang out like you're best friends. So why don't you want to hang out with me?" He made an exaggerated pouty face at her as she struggled to not lean over and bite his exposed bottom lip.

"Because you annoy me" she said primly as she lifted her mug to her mouth, then before she could stop herself, "and I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much." 

The tea was scalding but she forced herself to take a long sip so she wouldn't have to look at Billy's face. 

Billy sat there, studying her, she seemed so out of place with the dark clothes that were rotating in and out of Mark's place. They'd all be caught up in planning, then she'd come bursting into the apartment and it was like she was bringing sunshine in with her. 

She painted her nails with pink sparkles, she watched romantic comedies, she told him about the little kids she played with in the hospital on her rounds, she laughed easily, she engaged with the other members of the crew, pulling them into her warmth, her goodness. She had patched all of them up at one time or another. The more she got to know the whole crew, the more she relaxed and the more she relaxed, the more Billy found sunshine spilling through her cracks and coaxing him towards her warmth. 

But then, Cassandra would lazily lift an eyebrow at him, nod her head and he'd leave with her. He'd known Cassandra since he joined the Sky Walkers. They'd just recently started...well...he wouldn't call it "dating" so much as he and Cassandra would do a job together and then have mind blowing sex after when adrenaline made them both want to explode out of their skins. 

He was starting to realize though that he and Cassandra didn't...talk. Not like how Billy talked to (Y/N).

He laid out his hands on the table, looking at his fingers. They were calloused, rough, covered in tattoos. Her hands were soft despite having to wash them a million times a day. ("I use lotion every day, multiple times a day, how do you not own lotion Billy?" He had walked into Mark's apartment the next day only to be met with a bottle of Bath and Body Works hand lotion being thrown at him by Mark. His heart had squeezed in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.) and her nails were adorned with pink sparkles. His own nails were busted and, he was pretty sure, had dried blood under them.

He had no business thinking the butterflies that erupted in his stomach every time she smiled at him meant anything more than she was cute and he liked cute women. Never mind that if she said Cassandra didn't like her he was on the verge of saying he'd dump her. 

"Yeah, well. Cassandra doesn't like too many people. I wouldn't worry about it too much." He slapped his hands on the table pushing himself up. Lifting her eyes from her mug she watched him retreat back into the living room, the muscles of his back moving and shifting as he made his way back to the Sky Walkers, slipping easily onto the arm of the chair Cassandra was lazing in.

She really hated how good they looked next to each other. 

She finished her tea, listening to them finalizing plans and making arrangements for the job, which would happen the day after next.  

She had been hoping she'd have a shift scheduled at the hospital but no such luck. 

Sighing, she stood up to rinse her mug out. In less than 48 hours she would be back here, sitting with Mark, trying to keep herself occupied and to not care too much that Billy was out there and she couldn't do anything to keep him safe. 

~~~

The job went awry so quickly. 

She didn't know what to make of it. One minute she had been sitting on Mark's sofa, curled up with a book as Mark sat at his desk, surrounded by monitors. Listening to him call out commands, chuckle softly at jokes, the sharp tap of keys as he disconnected security cameras or diverted them away from where the Sky Walkers were prowling.

For a while, she had been standing behind him, watching all of this happen as the group slipped through the halls of a lavish hotel. Tapping Mark's shoulder, in an over exaggerated whisper, she told him to tell the team that she said good luck and that if any of them got injured she "wouldn't patch them up because then they wouldn't learn anything." 

Mark rolled his eyes and obliged, reaching a hand down to squeeze (Y/N)'s in a reassuring gesture.

Through Mark's headset, she heard the team giving their thanks, promising her that this job would do away with the rest of her loans and they'd be back to her before she knew it. Billy had looked dead set into the nearest security camera and winked as he promised he'd come back in one piece.

A gasp flew form her parted lips as her brother cleared his throat, reminding Billy to get his ass moving and to stop flirting with his sister. 

Then, shit hit the fan.

It started with her hearing Billy's roughly accented voice piercing through Mark's headphones, yelling about the jewels being fakes.

Mark talked him through it, as Jean yelled back at Billy which is when Mark started yelling. 

That's when she had heard gunshots. 

Everything was a blur after that. She ran to the monitors and thought she was looking at a video game. There were so many men with guns running towards where the Sky Walkers were she assumed it was an army of some sort. She saw the flash of guns discharging and people she knew, people she had come to love, fall to the ground where she hoped like hell they would get back up again. 

Part of her wanted to call her hospital, pull some strings and help as many of them as she could but Mark had pulled her into his chest, telling her it was no use. 

In the confusion and mayhem she thought she had seen Billy, necklace clamped firmly between his teeth, jumping through a window but she couldn't be sure. 

So, she and Mark had to sit and wait. Till Jean came back. 

Just Jean.

He explained what had happened as he and Mark sat at the kitchen table, nursing a bottle of whiskey. She had stayed for one drink but the grief didn't feel like one she could share in. 

She finally left, as she walked away, each step thudded to the ground while the only refrain that carried her home was billybillybillybillybillybillybilly. It wasn't until she found herself standing outside of her front door that she realized her body had carried her home while her thoughts had been in the sky.

Her body felt heavier, though she knew that a part of her heart had died in Mark's apartment that night and she wasn't sure if it would ever be whole again.

Her body was on autopilot as she stepped into the shower but each drop of water hitting her back felt like a knife.

She knew Cassandra and the rest of the team were there to help him. No matter how she felt about Cassandra personally, she knew she was part of the team. They were there for back up but so many people were in the fray.

So many people gone.

The water had gone cold by the time she stepped out of the shower. Not that she could feel it anyway.

Braiding her hair, she settled down on the chair by her window. It overlooked the fire escape she would lounge on with a glass of wine on nice summer nights.

Tonight it was empty, utilitarian. Only reminding her of how many Billy had fallen through as he tried to get away.

She leaned her head against the window, feeling the glass pushing back against her skull. Easing the dull ache that throbbed within as she closed her eyes. 

~~~

That's where she had been when she heard the first thump.

Sleep had been within her grasp when she heard the second thump. 

Groggily reaching into her sweatpants pocket, she pulled her phone out and saw it was 3:14 am. 

There were no texts or calls from Mark.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering if it was her neighbors making that noise. 

The third thump rattled her window causing her to jolt out of her chair.

Slowly, she reached her hand forward, nudging the blinds back, letting her eyes adjust to the nighttime as the lights from street lamps below worked to permeate the darkness that covered the world. That's when she saw the dark lump of something on her fire escape.

Squinting her eyes, her first thought was, why would someone throw their garbage bag onto my fire escape?

Flicking on the lamp she had by the window, it cast an uneven glow over the lump revealing dark clothes and athletics shoes spattered with blood.

The figure raised its head and time slowed down in those moments. The wan light drifting up from below barely illuminated the eyes staring back at her but she'd know the color anywhere. Those blue eyes, the color of her sky, was the only way she knew it was Billy.

The rest of him resembled a man who had scrabbled his way back from hell. His face was covered in scraps and tears. His visage and hands covered with dried blood. There was a wound on his neck that was slowly leaking blood but had started to congeal into a nasty mess.

His hair was matted to his head. His right eye was ringed in the blues and blacks of the beginnings of a nasty black eye. Sweat shined on his face as he blearily took in her face. He did his best to fight the smile breaking over his lips but he was so grateful to see her he barely noticed when his lips cracked even more.  

As she opened the window she heard someone panting "thank god thank god thank god" and it took her a minute to realize that the prayer was falling from her lips. She bundled Billy into her apartment, setting him down on the chair by the window, still warm from her body. 

She locked the window, drawing her curtains closed and rushed over to the front door, double checking it had been locked as well. For extra security she pushed one of her kitchen chairs underneath the door knob. 

Hearing a snort she turned, "You watch too many bad gangster movies as a kid?" 

Fighting against the lump in her throat, her voice came out thick as she tried to match his snark, "Yeah, well. You'll thank me later when the bad guys are stopped by my Ikea chair."

He heaved out a sigh that she supposed was as close as he could get to a laugh in his state. Sinking deeper into the chair, hissing as he finally allowed his body to relax. Nurse Brain kicked in as she took stock of his body, where he was holding tension, where he was avoiding putting pressure, assessing how old the cuts were. After a quick run down, she raced to her freezer.

Filling her arms with every bag of frozen veggies she had, she quickly wrapped them in paper towels, briskly walking back over to Billy's form. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, listened to the rattle of every intake, so grateful for each shuttery breath. 

The grateful feeling was quickly overcome by anger. This asshole. 

This was the second time he had shown up to throw himself at her mercy in a horrific state. She almost wished he were dead. She felt her knees shake, betraying how grateful she was that he was alive and in her apartment. 

Instead of telling him all that though, she slapped a bag of frozen peas on his eye.

Yelping, his body curled inward as his hand reached up to catch the bag, pressing the peas back into place, "What the fuck? These are bloody freezing. I barely make it out alive and you're trying to kill me with frost bite from," he pulled the bag back squinting at it, "frozen peas?"  

"Oh I'm so sorry that the frozen veggies I slapped on your busted face so you don't swell up like a fucking balloon aren't to your liking. My sincerest apologizes your majesty." She hissed out as she slapped another bag on his side as he let out a grunt.

He pressed a hand to the bag against his side as she mumbled, her fingers dancing over his form as she poked and prodded, trying to feel what the damage was, what she could do for him here and if he needed to get to a hospital. 

"Couldn't make this experience a little more pleasant could ya?" He didn't mean to be a dick but in his defense, he had had a hell of a day. The job didn't go at all like they planned, he'd lost friends, Cassandra turned out to be a backstabbing thief, he didn't get the necklace, he'd fallen from the top of a building and then, to really just make the day fucking wild, when he'd come too, some weirdo had offered him the strangest proposition he'd ever heard after pretending he was going to kill Billy.

So, yeah. He was a little grumpy. 

"You're lucky I even let your sorry ass into my apartment. How do you even know where I live anyway?"

"I've been having you followed by my top men."

"You asked Mark didn't you."

"Fuck."

Her lips quirked up for a second as she finished rotating his foot around checking for any swelling or broken bones. Standing up she declared, "You don't have anything seriously wrong or broken on you which is a fucking miracle. Just some bad scraps that I can take care of here." She made her way to the hall closet where she kept a first aid kit and other medical accessories. Ever since Mark sliced his hand open one Thanksgiving which had been dubbed the "Bloodiest Thanksgiving Since The Pilgrims Landed" she figured she'd better be stocked. 

Billy sank lower into the chair. Leaning his head back he let out a sigh, hearing (Y/N) mumbling to herself, rattling around, he could almost pretend that he had come over under normal circumstances.

Hearing the soft thud of her footfalls, he cracked an eye open as she pulled a stool closer to his face. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she started pouring something on a cotton ball, "If you thought the frozen peas were bad you're really gonna hate this." 

"What could be worse than-" his sentence was cut off by a strangled cry as she pressed the cotton ball onto the scrap by his eye. Slamming his fists on the arms of the chair, he felt his body seize up as he fought to keep control, "Fucking hell (Y/N). Seriously, they should revoke your nurses license."

"You keep disrespecting me like that and I'm just going to dump this whole bottle on you." She snapped at him. Billy pried his eyes open as he took deep breaths. He turned his head to face her, opening his mouth to fire off another comment when he glanced down at her hands and stopped. 

She was getting more of the disinfectant on the floor and her legs than she was getting on the cotton ball held in her hand. Her voice managed to be strong and sure but her hands told a different story. One of anxiety, one of worry, one of relief.

"Were you worried about me baby?" His voice was so soft that for a second she wondered if someone else had entered her apartment. Locking eyes with him, she thought about how just hours before, she had been certain she would never see his face again.

Never joke with him again, talk to him, share a quiet moment with him, never learn everything about him, never sit with him at their own kitchen table one day.

She wanted that. She wanted hours and days and months and years of kitchen table talks with Billy. Feeling the relief at having him back with her, she didn't even think about her next actions. 

She leaned forward and kissed him...only to pull back immediately, "Oh my god I'm such an idiot. Your lip is so busted, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have done that, that was so dumb and what if I had hurt you even more? That would have been terrible-" 

Billy's hand reached up, cupping the back of her head and pulling her into him. Her lips were soft and he bet a hundred bucks that she used chapstick every day. He knew his lips were chapped, cracked and probably coated in dried blood but he didn't care. Feeling her pressed against him helped take away the fear he had been trying to tamp down ever since the maniac in the garage had pretended to kill him. 

Finally pulling back he let out a shaky laugh, "Were you really that worried I wouldn't come back to you, love?" 

"No, I was worried that you wouldn't help me pay off my loans. Fuck your safety, I needed money." She was trying to get them back to their usual banter but the big gulps of air she was taking betrayed how she was really feeling. 

"You were worried about me. You wanted me to be safe and come back to you in one piece. Don't deny it." The smugness of his voice made her smile as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear, "You ever tell anyone I said this and I'll deny it but, yes."

She pulled away, placing the cotton balls and bottle on the floor, giving herself some time to collect herself as Billy reached his hands toward her, grabbing her own and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands, sending sparks up her arms right into her heart. 

Her heart ached for both of them. They both had lost so much today but they were lucky enough to be able to come back to each other. Billy heaved a sigh and looked up at her, "You were right." 

"I usually am but what specifically was I right about in this instance?" 

"You're a giant pain in my ass. About Cassandra. She wasn't trustworthy. Left me hanging off the edge of a building, stole the necklace and left the rest of the team behind," he brushed a piece of her hair out of the way, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, "should have listened to you." 

Blushing, she leaned her cheek into Billy's palm, "Hmm, I could get used to hearing you tell me that." Billy chuckled as she straightened up and fixed him with a glare, "You just have to keep promising me you're going to come back to me in one piece." 

Billy's eyes darkened, shifting in the chair as he remembered the deal the man in the room had proposed to him. Being able to go completely off the grid. Everything wiped clean. He would be a ghost. 

But being in (Y/N)'s apartment, holding her hands in his, having her smile, kiss and hold him...he wondered if he had made the right decision. 

"I'll do my best, darling." He muttered, purposefully not saying promise because he knew, some day soon, he would break that promise and he didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself knowing he had broken her trust. 

Placing a soft kiss on his lips, she stroked the side of his face with her thumb. Sniffing she shook her head slightly, "Alright. Quit distracting me, I need to finish patching you up." 

He chuckled, "Would it kill you to be nice to me? I mean, we just had an incredibly tender moment and I did have a pretty rough day..." his voice trailed off as he widened his eyes in an attempt to gain sympathy. She scoffed as she grabbed the cotton balls and disinfectant again.

"I suppose falling from the top of a building would kind of ruin your day. Now hold still. And don't be a baby." She dabbed the soaked cotton ball on the scrap on his neck, intertwining her fingers with his as he hissed out a breath. Squeezing his fingers, she murmured apologizes and encouragement, "I'm sorry my love, it's okay. Breathe. You're doing great."  

After slapping some band-aids on the worst of the cuts ("What, no Spiderman Band-Aids?") she helped him to the shower, leaving him to wash off the day as she went to her room to find some sweats for him. Luckily, she had nicked plenty of Mark's sweatpants over the years so she laid those and a shirt out for Billy to find when he came into the room from his shower. 

Hearing the door open, she looked up only to be met by a shirtless Billy, hair slicked back, chest damp, towel riding low on his hips. She didn't mean for the sharp intake of breath to be so audible but it was worth it when it earned her a smirk from Billy as he crossed over to her. 

"Even beat up all to hell, still not a terrible sight, huh?" 

Swallowing thickly she just nodded her head in agreement. Not trusting herself to speak she quickly turned and grabbed the clothes she laid out, shoved them into his arms and left, the sound of Billy chuckling following her out into the living room. 

Settling onto her couch she fiddled with the end of her braid, contemplating why she had seen anguish flash through Billy's eyes when she made him promise to come back to her in one piece. She had definitely noticed the lack of the word "promise" when Billy answered her request. 

The timeline of what happened since he fell didn't make much sense either. If Billy had fallen from the building, then where had he been for so long? There was no way somebody would have ignored a body laying unconscious in the street, especially with cops swarming the building. 

"Baby? Hey. I can sleep on the couch. I don't mind."

Jolting out of her thoughts, she blinked as she came back to the present moment, Billy standing over her, "No! You shouldn't be sleeping on a couch. You can sleep in my bed."

"I've been waiting for an invitation to your bed for a long time baby." She flushed as she pushed herself off the couch. Grabbing Billy's hand, they walked back to her bedroom. Settling themselves under the covers she was gripped by a sudden wave of anxiety, should she try to cuddle with him? Would he want space now? Did she want to give him space? He was the one sharing her bed.

The anxiety melted away when she heard a voice in her ear, "Come here, love. I won't bite. Unless you're into that." She giggled she turned her body to face his, nuzzling her face into his chest, breathing in the smell of him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head.

Stroking her back, they drifted off to sleep. Their breathe synching up as they finally felt safe from the world as they created their own little one in each others arms. 

~

The light streaming into her apartment caused her to stir. Stretching her body out she almost forgot that she had shared a bed with Billy last night. When she remembered, she was gripped with panic when she realized he was no longer there. Leaping from the bed, she raced into her living room, making sure that the door hadn't been busted down and Billy had been taken while she'd been sleeping. She knew it was illogical or she'd have to be the most sound sleeper on the planet but she still exhaled a breath when she saw her door was still locked and the chair underneath it still in place. 

"Gotta say, I did sleep better knowing that we were protected by your highly sophisticated security system." She turned at the sound of his deep voice, he was standing at her stove, cooking eggs as he smiled at her, "Did you really think I'd leave you like I did the first time we met?"

Shaking her head she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, exhaling as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, using his other arm to keep stirring the eggs. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you got taken and I'm not Liam Neeson. I have no skills to use to find you." His chest rumbled with laughter, "Well, Liam Neeson isn't as pretty as you but you're crafty. I'd trust you to find me."

Placing a kiss onto his chest, she giggled, "Do you want coffee?" he nodded, "Also, how are you feeling today?"

"Sore. Like I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete." 

"Huh. Interesting. Did you do anything out of the ordinary yesterday?" Faux innocence lacing her voice as she measured out coffee grounds.

"Yeah. I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete." Was Billy's deadpan response which had her cracking up which made Billy laugh at how hard she was laughing. 

They finally pulled themselves together and stared at each other, him smiling, her hiccuping as she wiped at her eyes, "We're some pretty sick fucks for laughing at something like that, huh?"

He shrugged, "Probably. But it feels good to laugh. Especially with you." 

~~

After breakfast had been cleared away, Billy had stretched out on the couch, more bags of frozen peas on his various injuries. She came out of the kitchen, taking a moment to enjoy the peace before she broached the inevitable, "So, we should probably see Mark and Jean at some point. They're going to want to know you're okay." 

Billy grunted in agreement, tipping his head back to look at her, "Yeah. That's not a bad idea. They're going to be pissed I came to you first before them though." 

"I don't think so. I think they're just going to be relieved that you're alive. Plus, I am a nurse. It'd make sense to come to me and not those two chuckle fucks." She padded over to the couch, standing over him. "If you had gone to them first they would have just brought you to me anyway."

"That's true." He gazed up at her before grabbing her hands and tugging her down. Resisting, she giggled, "I don't want to fall on top of you and hurt you more, but I'll lie down next to you if you want."

He nodded eagerly, shifting his body over on the couch to make room for her, she curled up against him. Their legs intertwining as she splayed a hand over his chest, the rise and fall of his chest a balm to her anxiety and helping root her to him. 

Inhaling deeply, then instantly regretting it at how it caused his ribcage to feel like it might crack, Billy felt more content here than he ever had in his entire life. He wanted to capture this feeling, bottle it, find a way to make it permanent. Make it stick so he wouldn't have to do what he knew was coming. 

Sighing, (Y/N) snuggled closer, and his heart broke at how cruel he was being, how selfish. But he couldn't help it. He had asked for 24 hours and by god if he wouldn't make the most of them. 

"Hey." he murmured into her hair, she made a noise in the back of her throat that made his heart skip a beat. He brought two fingers to her chin, tilting her head back so she'd be forced to look at him. A slow grin traveled across her lips as he drank in her face, memorizing every part of it so he'd never forget. He had done it so many times in Mark's apartment in shitty lighting that in good lighting, it was like seeing your favorite painting in person instead of through a computer screen.  

Leaning down, he brought his lips to hers. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she kissed him back, relishing in how good it felt to be able to do this instead of just imagining it. Pulling back she smiled, resting her forehead against his. 

"What is it, baby?"

"It just...you have no idea how long I've wanted this. And to finally be able to do it...I don't know. It feels really good to have you here, with me. Like this." Widening her eyes she pulled back, "Not like, you being injured but like being with you in this, way." Her voice trailing off when she became bashful at how vulnerable she had just been. 

The wave of love, adoration and warmth he felt for her crested over him, causing his eyes to fall closed to keep the tears at bay. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve her. But, fuck, he would make the most of this time with her and make sure she knew how much he loved her. 

Tilting his head back down, he locked their lips together. She moved her lips against his, memorizing their curves, their slopes, how they fit together. Her hand cupped his cheek, being mindful of his black eye and the various scraps covering the planes of it. 

Feeling her hands caress his face with care, Billy became overcome. He was upset, guilt-ridden and worried he had made the wrong decision. Fighting to keep himself in the moment, he deepened the kiss, gripping her waist with an intensity that startled her. She jolted forward, causing Billy to groan when her heat made contact with the bulge that was growing larger by the second. 

"Damn baby, we've only been kissing for a minute, quit trying to get into my pants already." 

"You wish I was trying to get into your pants." her lips brushed against his with every other word and she could feel him smiling. He nipped at her bottom lip, causing her to gasp which allowed him ample time to connect their lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Their hands drifting up and down their sides, exploring as they got more comfortable with each others forms.

Dancing her fingers down his arms, she felt the muscles clenching and unclenching as his hand found her hip and squeezed causing her to moan involuntarily. Smirking, he ran his hand up and over the rise of her hip, trailing his fingers down into the dip of her waist. She snuggled closer to Billy, breathing in coffee, disinfectant and the unmistakable scent that was Billy. 

Draping his arm over her waist, he pulled her even closer to him. Feeling his hardening length in his sweatpants she tested the waters by circling her hips against him. Causing a moan to erupt from his mouth and throw his head back in ecstasy. 

"Baby, what's the professional nurses opinion of having sex when someone's injured? Asking for myself because if I don't have sex with you tonight I just may toss myself off another building."

Giggling, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead so she could look in his eyes, "In a nurses opinion? Probably not. But in (Y/N)'s personal opinion? Who gives a shit I've wanted to fuck you since the first day I saw you." 

Locking his eyes onto hers, her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. His normally sky blue eyes were the color before a storm and his hand was locked onto her hip with a strength that she couldn't wait to explore later. 

"Then get up here, baby, and fuck me how you've always wanted to." 

Swinging her leg over, she found herself straddling Billy, placing her hands on his chest, she felt the large planes of his chest expanding as he took a shaky breath in, his eyes glassy. Flicking her hair back she leaned forward to kiss him deeply, "What baby?"

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, "Nothing. Just, dammit baby. You look like a goddess." 

Blushing she bent down to nip at his throat, causing him to buck his hips up, causing his hard length to rub against her clothed cunt causing them both to dissolve into moans. Pushing herself up, she started rocking her hips teasingly along his cock. 

Whining in the back of his throat he begged, "Please, love, I don't care, just fuck me. Please." 

Shocked at the control she had over this man, she ripped the t shirt she had been wearing over her head, exposing her tits and black underwear she had been wearing. Billy keened and grasped her tits, causing her to push her chest forward, the feel of his calloused palms teasing her nipples caused her eyes to roll into the back of her head. 

Billy reached his hands down, shimmying his sweatpants and underwear down far enough so his cock sprang up between them, her mouth watering at how thick it was. Stroking her center through her panties with two fingers he cocked an eyebrow at her, "I can't exactly fuck you through these so they'll have to go. I don't care how sexy they are."

Laughing, she stood up on the couch, resting one hand on the wall as she shimmied the panties down her legs, kneeling back over Billy's exposed length when Billy stopped her, "Wait, hold on a second baby." He teased one finger, then another into her dripping core, pumping in and out slowly as she rocked her hips forward trying to get more of him into her. 

Billy slowly dragged them out, popping his fingers into his mouth and holding eye contact with (Y/N) as he sucked his fingers clean, relishing the sweet taste of her, "Okay, baby. I think you're wet enough." 

"Damn right I am." She murmured as she sank down onto his hard cock, taking his full length, resting her hands on Billy's strong chest pushing her tits together in the most delicious way Billy had ever seen. His hands found purchase on her hips as she started rocking back and forth, working his length. Feeling his cock stretching her walls in the most amazing way, she tilted her pelvis in that way she knew would have his cock nudging her g-spot, getting her closer to where she wanted to be, which was total ecstasy with Billy. 

Billy's eyes screwed closed as she found her rhythm and worked his cock, trying to reach her orgasm. His whole body felt like an exposed fuse, bursting with energy and if she touched him in the right way he would combust. 

"Billy, please, rub my clit..." she panted as she rocked her hips faster, Billy could feel her walls clenching as she went faster and he reached down, rubbing the sensitive nub with his calloused fingers, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she chased her high, "Is that what you want baby? Yeah? You wanna come all over this cock?" Billy mumbled as she stared up at the angel fucking herself over on his cock. He almost came seeing how blissed out she was but then he rubbed a little harder on her clit and it pushed her right over the edge. She came with a strangled cry of "Billy!" and her walls clamped down as she fell forward into his chest.

"There's a girl, such a good girl. My best girl. My only girl. Oh my love, taking me so well..." Billy mumbled as he stroked her hair, "Now, let me take over." She nodded as Billy grasped her hips and started slamming his hips against hers, causing her to moan out, feeling her pussy tighten again as he brought a hand down to her ass, the sound of the sharp slap reverberating through her apartment.

Distantly, in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was good for him in his current injured state but being so close to a second orgasm left her with one thought but to cum around his cock again. 

Finding a rhythm, their hips met as she pressed her lips to his, catching his moans and hoping to mute her own as they fucked each other into oblivion. All too soon, she felt the familiar catch in her stomach as her second orgasm came around, "Billy..I..I'm so close."

"I know darling, me too. Can you wait? Can you cum with me? Please baby." She nodded as Billy fucked her harder, she rocked her hips faster and then suddenly, Billy let loose a string of expletives and she chanted billy billy billy oh god over and over again like a prayer as she felt him fill her pussy with his warm cum. 

After a few minutes, she pulled away from his sweaty chest, pushing her hair behind her ears as she grinned down at him. Grinning back up at her, he tickled her waist, "Normally I can last longer but that sex has been building up for several months."

Throwing her head back she let out a laugh, "Don't worry. I don't plan on stopping having sex with you anytime soon. We have all the time in the world to build up a tolerance to each other." 

A dark look washed over Billy's face as he contemplated how little time they had but instead of answering, he pulled her down into another kiss, "Let's just focus on today, love."

~~~

They spent the rest of the day entwined on the couch, mixing it up between lazy make out sessions, sex and her standing up to get the door when the delivery person rang the door to drop off food and beer. 

She had asked if Billy wanted her to text Mark and Jean but he just told her he would deal with it soon. So she didn't push it. She knew she was being selfish but she wanted to keep living in this world that consisted of her, Billy and the pizza they ordered alive for as long as she could.

Unfortunately, it ended all too soon as all good things are wont to do. Soon enough, Billy was pulling on his shoes, as it grew dark out, she had been getting comfortable when he knelt down next to the bed. "Listen, love. I need to drop off something to Mark and Jean. Don't wait up for me." He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead as she lifted her head up to meet him halfway. 

"It's late babe, are you sure they'll still be up?" He fixed her with an incredulous look, "It's Mark and Jean. Of course they're still awake." She shrugged as she considered who they were talking about and conceded defeat. "Just come back to me in one piece okay? If you want," she hastily added as she realized he may want to go back to his own home "It's an open invitation. I'm sure you want to go home." 

He smiled at her with melancholy in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to one cheek, "With you?" then a second kiss to her other cheek "I'm always home" Biting her lip to contain the smile threatening to break her face in two, Billy decided he had never seen a more beautiful woman and wanted to alway think of her like this. 

~~~

She woke the next morning to 25 missed calls from Mark and 33 from Jean. Blearily, she called Mark. Once he picked up and started rambling, she hung up and stared straight up at the ceiling. 

It wasn't until Mark came to get her after not hearing from her for hours did she register how damp her cheeks had become. She was numb. Time didn't mean anything, nothing meant anything anymore. 

Billy was dead. 

He had broken his promise. 

~~~

Standing at the edge of a gaping hole in the world, she contemplated throwing herself into it along with the empty casket they'd be burying. She barely registered the low rumbles of a priest talking but not really hearing anything. Billy had gone to Mark and Jean, told them he needed to run a quick errand and gone back to the hotel they had just robbed from. He had been running along the roof, where it overlooked the rocky ledge of the ocean. He had jumped, thinking there was a platform there but there hadn't been. There was Billy, the air and the jagged rocks along the coast the only thing to greet him.  

The coast guard searched for hours but had found no body. Just the black rubber bracelet he always wore around his wrist. 

Twirling the bracelet between her fingers now, she decided that since the casket was empty, there was no point.

She had been numb since she got the news. Not moving from her couch unless Mark or Jean came to propel her into the shower, make her eat some food. but she really didn't see a point in doing anything anymore.

He had promised. 

And now he was gone. So what did it matter what she did? People left, they broke promises, and words and promises didn't mean anything to anyone she guessed. She may as well do anything she wanted.

Lifting her head she saw Mark, Jean and two women who had introduced themselves as Billy's mother and sister. Mark had introduced her as Billy's girlfriend and they murmured how much Billy talked about her but it was all too little too late. 

She didn't want to know anyone else other than Billy but that had been ripped from her. Standing at the edge of his grave she felt Mark and Jean grasping her shoulders, telling her they were going to give her some space. So it was just the three of them and as his sister looked at her, she smiled a thin smile, "You're just as pretty as he said you were." 

She fell to her knees. It was all too much, She couldn't support herself without Billy. What did it matter? All her skills, all her knowledge about keeping people safe when she couldn't even save the person that mattered most.

~~~

"Oof, there are three certified hotties just weeping over your grave dude. How doe that feel?"

Billy's stomach clenched as he saw (Y/N) fall to her knees at his grave, watching his mother and sister race around to help her. It wasn't until One clapped a hand on his shoulder did he register that he had involuntarily moved forward to help her. 

"Nuh-uh bro. Not anymore. Don't even think about doing a Christmas Carol Ghosts of Christmas Past bullshit. I spent way too much money for you to blow this whole operation."

Billy nodded mutely. Keeping an eye on the women around his grave he swallowed around the lump that had been stuck in his throat since he had left (Y/N)'s apartment.

What One had suggested to him had been too good to pass up. And when One had promised, in writing, that (Y/N) would always be kept safe and comfortable, it was a no brainer. And he knew, in his heart of hearts, that she deserved someone better, more stable than him. Not some Sky Walker who always had his head in the clouds. 

Who one day may not come back to her.

Taking a deep breath he turned his back on the trio that were surrounding his grave. Sending up a prayer, he hoped she would be safe and would get over him soon. Because he knew he would never get over her for the rest of his short, harrowing life. 

[sparrow-flies-south]

Cursebreaking For Dummies

Fandom: Sanders Sides Rating: Teen Pairings: Virgil and Remus (either platonic or pre-romantic) Summary: Janus and Virgil had a good thing going, running the only magick shop in town. Even if they don't believe in magic themselves, there are plenty of people who do.Unfortunately, they might have done to good a job selling it, because now there's a guy asking for Virgil's help breaking a curse.  Notes: Written for the prompt “15: So you need to break a curse” sent by @theeternalspace, thanks so much!

Read on AO3 - My Masterlist

The Yellow Serpent was, according to the local paper, ‘the best occult shop around’. Janus had told Virgil this with the same smile he had worn when he had explained that he’d managed to get the answers for Mrs Bakers test – it was the look of a con carried out well.

No one was surprised when Janus left town as soon as high school was over. Everyone knew that Janus was destined for something more – though what that something was depended on who you asked. What was surprising was that Janus had come back, rented out the shop space left empty since the sewing shop closed, and started selling incense and magic crystals.

The way Janus had explained it to Virgil (and probably only to Virgil) was that there were two kind of people who ran magick shops (the k was important, apparently). The first kind was the true believers, the kind who probably had an altar in the back and had tested all the spells they talked about. The second were people who saw how much people were willing to pay for this stuff, and decided to take advantage of it. Janus was one of the latter.

Virgil and Janus were the only two full time employees, though with Janus managing the business side of things, Virgil was usually the one in charge of the shop itself. They had one part time employee, a high schooler named Elliot who seemed to have imprinted on Virgil since the moment they saw him.

It was the middle of the week, which meant it was quiet. Janus would be in soon, which at the very least would give Virgil someone to talk to. So far, there had only been two customers, so Virgil had started making up the herb bundles out of sheer boredom.

He’d just finished the last of the True Love Bundles (put it under your pillow while you sleep, or use as part of a spell) when the bell over the door jangled.

Virgil left the backroom and went into the shop itself, where the new customer had already reached the counter. He was dressed in a green crop top, a large backpack slung over his shoulders. There was a streak of white in his hair and he had a handlebar moustache. He didn’t look like the kind of person you’d expect to find in a shop like this, which made him a perfectly average customer.

“Quick,” the man said, “I need to break a curse.”

If Janus were here, he would ask the man what kind of curse it was, and direct him to a certain kind of incense which would ward away bad energy or something. Unfortunately, it was only Virgil, and Virgil was terrible at thinking on his feet.

“Is that a pickup line?” Virgil asked. The man just looked confused, and Virgil’s mouth kept talking without his brain’s permission. “You know, like true loves kiss to break a spell?”

Damn it, Virgil, stop talking.

The man suddenly looked interested. He leaned over the counter. “Do you want it to be?”

Virgil was sure his face was probably the colour of a tomato. Fortunately he was saved from either answering or being swallowed up by the earth by something barking in the man’s backpack.

“We don’t allow dogs,” Virgil said, taking the distraction and clinging on for dear life.

“Oh, it’s not a dog.” The man fished a creature out of his backpack and set it down on the counter. “It’s my brother.”

Virgil looked at the animal in front of him. The animal looked back. “Your brother… is a Pomeranian.”

The dog barked.

“Well, he is now,” the man said.

“Let me guess,” Virgil drawled, “A witch turned him into a dog.”

“Yes!” – The dog barked – “Well, a Dragon Witch, but close enough!”

Virgil was pretty sure not even Janus would be able to go along with this one. Of course, this would never happen to Janus, because Janus was a bastard who never had to deal with karma for his actions. No, instead the universe had decided to punish Virgil for the scam they were running.

“Okay,” Virgil said with a sigh. “You need to leave.”

The man had the audacity to look surprised. “What for?”

“How about everything?”

The dog growled, and Virgil took a step back. Sure, the thing was tiny, but Virgil wasn’t taking any chances. It still had teeth, didn’t it?

“You’re pretending your dog’s a person,” Virgil pointed out when the man still looked blank.

“He is!” the man protested, at the same time as the dog barked.

“Look,” Virgil snapped. “I only work here because my friend asked me to. None of this stuff is real! It’s all mass produced in some factory somewhere. So why don’t you find another audience for your hilarious joke and stop wasting my time.”

The man stared at him. If Janus had seen that, he’d probably start yelling. Not because Virgil shouted at a customer – Janus would have his back on that one – but because Virgil had said that it wasn’t real. Janus had a thing about never stopping the illusion.

Suddenly, the man tilted his head back and burst into loud, cackling laughter. The dog shot the man an irritated look, or at least, a look that would have been irritated, if it was capable of that. Which it wasn’t, because it was a dog.  It was probably just wondering when it would get to continue its walk.

“I don’t believe this,” the man said. “You sent me to a fake shop.”

The dog barked once, and Virgil must be losing it because he could swear the dog looked indignant. The man waved his hand.

“Sure, sure, anyone could have made that mistake. Hey, while we’re at it, why not try homeopathy?”

“We don’t sell homeopathic treatments,” Virgil said automatically.

Conning money out of gullible fools was one thing, Janus had said. Conning money out of desperate sick people was better left to televangelists and the health care system.

Speaking drew the man’s attention back to him, which was probably a mistake. He grinned, and lean over the counter, giving Virgil a good view of the purple eyeshadow he was wearing.

“So, know anywhere that sells real magic shit?”

There was probably a lot of ways Virgil could answer that. Unfortunately, the one his mouth chose was, “What the fuck is real magic?”

“I’m glad you asked! What’s your favourite animal?”

Virgil had no idea if he was witnessing a strange attempt at flirting, a far too elaborate prank, or a breakdown.

“You’re mad,” he told the man.

“Please,” the man said with a wave of his hand. “My father is mad. Call me Remus.”

Virgil snorted, and then tried to hide it with a cough. The man looked delighted. The dog very much did not. It tried to tug on Remus’ arm, which, since Remus wasn’t wearing sleeves, mostly involved biting Remus.

“So,” Remus said, apparently unaware that he was being mauled. “Favourite animal?”

Fuck it. What was the worst that could happen?

“Spiders, I guess.”

Remus looked Virgil up and down then nodded. “Goes with the aesthetic. Alright, Spiderboy.”

He cupped his hands together on the table, palms up. Virgil was about to ask what he was doing, when the air above his hands seemed to flicker, and a spider appeared.

Appeared was the only word for it. One moment there was no spider, and then the next there was one. Like when a video lagged, so the enemies just seemed to pop up.

The spider leaped out of Remus’ hands and towards the dog, who yelped and leapt backwards, falling off the counter. Remus laughed. Virgil should probably leap back too, but he was rooted in place.

“What the hell?” he cried.

“Tadaa!” Remus said. “Magic.”

Virgil shook his head, staring at the spider, which now stood in the middle of the counter. He reached one hand out, then immediately thought better of it and pulled the hand back again.

“Is it real?”

“Eh,” Remus shrugged, “Define real. You can touch it, though. Put your hand out.”

Virgil hesitated, because just because he liked spiders didn’t mean he instantly trusted them, especially when they appeared out of nowhere and were bigger than any spider had the right to be. Still, he figured that Remus probably wasn’t trying to kill him, so he placed his hand palm up on the surface.

The spider scuttled over. It stopped next to his hand for a moment, and when Virgil didn’t pull his hand away, it slowly stepped on.

“It’s solid,” Virgil said.

“Maybe,” Remus said. “Or maybe you just think it’s solid. Am I affecting the world or everyone in it?”

It was way too early for philosophical discussions, so Virgil just watched the spider crawl up his arm. It had reached his elbow when what was happening fully set it. Virgil jerked back with a cry.

“What is it?” Remus asked. The spider disappeared into nothing.

“This is real,” Virgil said. “Magic is real.”

“Uh, yeah,” Remus said. “Hey, are you okay?”

Virgil barely heard him, just like he barely heard the jingle of the door open and close. The world was spinning around him, and suddenly something seemed to crush his chest.

“I think I’m going to faint,” Virgil muttered.

The dog barked, sounding alarmed. Distantly he was aware of someone saying his name, someone taking his arm and leading him away. When the arm let go, Virgil sank down to the floor. Something nudged his leg, and he jerked back, in case it was another spider, but it was just the dog. Someone was counting, up to four, then seven, then eight. Breathing patterns.

Virgil matched the counting, and slowly felt himself come back to himself. He was sat in the back room, with Janus crouched in front of him, frowning. The dog sat by Virgil’s legs. Virgil had put his hand on the dog’s fur at some point. The dog looked slightly confused, but seemed okay with it.

“When did you get here?” Virgil asked.

“At the start of your panic attack,” Janus said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Virgil answered.

“It’s been a while since you had one,” Janus said hesitantly.

Virgil shrugged. It was true. High School had been the worst. Virgil had lost track of times Janus would pull him out of classrooms and into some quiet part of the school no one else knew about. No matter how often the teachers tried to stop Janus from going with him, Janus would refuse to leave his side until Virgil was better.

“Guess it was just a bad day,” Virgil muttered, because there was no way he was telling Janus what had just happened.

“Did the customer-?” Janus began, but was cut off by the dog barking.

“He didn’t do anything,” Virgil lied.

Janus’ frown deepened, because he could always tell when Virgil was lying. Virgil sighed.

“He wasn’t being a dick or anything,” Virgil said, which was true. “It just kind of… happened.”

“Alright,” Janus said at last. “Do you want me to deal with him?”

“No, I should do it. Plus, I kind of kidnapped his br-dog.”

If Janus noticed the connection, he didn’t say anything, just nodded and helped Virgil to his feet. Virgil went back to the counter, where Remus was still standing, drumming his fingers on the top.

“You alright, emo?” Remus asked. “Roman didn’t bite you, did he?”

The dog – Roman, the dog was Roman and was a person looked indignant at the suggestion.

“I’m fine,” Virgil said. He shook his head. “Not, scratch that. Magic is real.”

“I… don’t see why that would be a bad thing?”

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, but Janus wasn’t around. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“You could come with us,” Remus suggested.

“What?”

“Well, we do still have to break the curse. You could help!”

Virgil and Roman looked at Remus with matching incredulity.

“I don’t know anything about magic,” Virgil said.

“It’ll be a learning experience!”

Virgil shook his head. “You only just met me.”

“So? You’re cute, and you seem fun. And I know I’m fun.”

He should say no. Magic or no magic, he didn’t know Roman and Remus, how did he know they weren’t serial killers or something? Magical serial killers. And even if they weren’t, breaking a curse sounded suspiciously like an adventure, and apparently getting cursed by a dragon witch was a normal part of their lives.

Virgil really, really, didn’t want to know what a dragon witch was.

All he had to do was say no, and Remus and Roman would leave, and Virgil would go back to his life and probably never see them again. He’d keep selling incense and crystal balls, and pretend he didn’t believe in any of it. He’d finish work, then go back to his shitty apartment, then go to work again.

Funny, he’d never thought of his life as boring before.

“Janus,” Virgil called. “I’m taking a break.”

Remus’ face split into a grin. Roman rolled his eyes, which was quite impressive, for a dog.

“Okay,” Virgil said, once they were all outside. “How do you break a curse?”

“I have no idea!” Remus said. “Why do you think I came here?”

“Great. So none of us have any idea what we’re doing.”

“Hey! You’re getting the hang of this.”

Well, even if he died, at least it wouldn’t be boring.

[wellhalesbells]

fic help

i recently finished a fic project that got well out of hand and i’m having trouble jumping to my next.  since this last wasn’t sterek, or even tw, i would very much like to scarper back there but i cannot seem to settle on a project that does it for me (or, well, they kind of all do it for me, hence the problem).  

if you have the time and inclination and want to help me choose, i would very much appreciate it!

1. 

He opens his eyes to sharp sunlight, rays that’ve had time to hone themselves, coalesce, and start stabbing at strategic places in the apartment.  Like the backs of Derek’s eyelids.  The comforter around him is rumpled up, bunched in places from a restless sleeper.  Which he isn’t.  He frowns before it comes back to him.

Laura’s bed.

Stiles.

He’d woken up earlier in the pitch black with Stiles’ forehead pressed into the valley between his shoulder blades, breath a warm and reliable puff through his thin t-shirt, his hand clenched on the hill of Derek’s bicep, snagging him, pulling him back against him.

Derek hadn’t brushed him off.  Though it had given him a moment’s pause, strange without the swell of breasts between them, fingers digging and pulling him close to an unmistakably masculine chest.  But only a moment’s; he’d been asleep again minutes later.

He scrubs at the rough brillo on his jaw, the scent of coffee finally breaking through the haze of exhaustion.  He swings his legs out, toes flexing on the warm floorboards, and squints out the window at the brilliant day.  “Rain finally stopped,” he says, voice scratchy and breath foul.

[notes: a total au set in new york. laura’s been murdered and stiles was laura and derek’s emissary, though never that close to the grumpy younger brother. now they have to work together to find out who killed her, while coming to terms with the fact that the piece that made them work is gone.]

2.

“You’re letting demons possess you.”  It should come out scolding, furious, but Derek is too numb from the revelation.  Too willing to be wrong, to believe he’s misunderstood Stiles’ meaning.

Stiles squints, that slow roll and stretch of his muscles shifting his weight, clenching and unclenching his fingers on his forearms, an absentminded exploration of his regular capabilities now he was back in control of them.  “Can we really call it a ‘possession’ when I’m calling more shots than they do?  I advertise like an Air BnB and run the place like Alcatraz.  If I enjoy the power bump of my fire rose, well, isn’t that just a reward for doing the dirty work?  It’s all win-win on this side of the negotiating table.”

[notes: this is wholly because of the exchange between stiles and a recently met liam in canon, when stiles explains he was possessed by an evil spirit, and liam asks, “what are you now?” and stiles says, “better,” instead of ‘human.’ and i had a ‘well, well, welllll’ moment.]

3.

After a week or so, his mail’s transmuted from warm air and a spattering of dirt into a flyer for a pizza place roughly five miles away and an offer for a credit card.  He walks back up, the stairs offering a little less protestation, papers gripped tight in his hand and slips through the half-open door, rolling it closed behind him.

The heartbeat that knocks against his eardrums is sudden and unbalancing.

His head whips up, fangs dropping.

“Total cry for help, didn’t need a warrant.”  Gloved hands with bare fingers walk up the underside of a dried, brown leaf and the sick-sweet scent of decay slides into one of freshness and health.  The fern blossoms above the scratch of blunt fingernails along spidery veins.  Green belches out, overflows from the small clay pot.

[notes: um, definitely a derek returning to beacon hills fic and an uber powerful stiles, beyond that... ??? but i can make it a thing, heh ;)]

4.

Stiles rubs the pads of his fingers together, wiping the sticky residue off on his jeans.  Goes back in with his teeth.  A piece of electrical tape from the handle of his bat tears away.  It’s lost some of its adhesive but it’ll work for his purposes.  He catches the call before the last of ‘Good Old Days’ can fade out.

“‘Sup, Growls?”

A disappointed whuff of breath greets him.  “Your camera’s blocked because—?”  Scott cuts him off before he can even attempt a reply.  “Injured, lying, or underground?”

“You know one day I’ll score that entire trifecta and then?  Then I’m going to Disney World.”  Scott doesn’t bite and Stiles sighs.  “Busted it chasing those lady-hyena-things.  On the upside, I’m only one phone away from filling up my punch card.”

[notes: a harder, living-away-from-beacon-hills-after-he-and-derek-broke-up stiles in this and hunting down supes on his own, because he’s reckless and terrifying and an emotional landmine waiting to explode.]

5.

“No.  No, no.  Hey, no.  I see what you’re doing over there and I don’t ap—”  The stack of books leans too far and cascades down the front of the dresser, hits his floor, and explodes in every direction.  “What did I just say?”

His door whaps open, knob meet wall, and Scott stands there with a baking sheet held aloft in his hands.  “We don’t have renter’s insurance,” he offers, swinging it wildly in front of him.

“You say that as you put a knob-sized hole in my wall?”

Scott opens his eyes, which he’s scrunched closed as he pendulumed the baking supplies around.  He frowns at the flung door.  His stance goes from ‘making cookies my bitch’ to ‘depressed egg.’  “In my defense, I assumed we were being robbed.”

Stiles pats his head now that the baking sheet is no longer a weapon.  “And you also thought the robber would be compassionate enough not to rob us if he knew we don’t have renter’s insurance.”

[notes: i have literally no clue, i don’t remember the impetus for this AT ALL but i could definitely work with it, lol.]

6.

Stiles had finally arrived home for the holiday break, two days after he’d initially promised and with a half-hearted, what-can-you-do sort of shrug that offered little by way of explanation or excuse, and he’d flung himself out of the Jeep with his arms uncovered.  Derek had frowned hard seeing it for the first time.

He’s still frowning now.

Galaxy black ink bands both of Stiles’ wrists like delicate bracelets and creeps up his forearms in curving, flowing lines that vary in size and width.  It might look something like seaweed dancing in an underwater current if not for the fact that, well — Derek glances down at his own bare forearms —

If not for the fact that it looks like pain.  Pain the way he knows it, secondhand and agonizing.  Pain that is tarry black anguish glutting his veins and poisoning his blood.

He’s not going to analyze why Stiles would choose to etch that into his skin.

Mostly because he doesn’t need to.

Derek knows what the nogitsune did to him, and he knows Stiles hasn’t come close to putting that behind him, or done much to try to.

[notes: long after stiles has contented himself with being the token human of the pack, his spark manifests, unfortunately not... well and doubly unfortunately, long after deaton has left town. scott will only accept one emissary now so stiles has to try to figure out how to properly become one.  it’s not going well, and not only because no one can seem to figure out why his spark ‘works’ the way it does but also because, after the nogitsune, power hardly rests easy on stiles’ shoulders.]

7.

It’s really fucking with his head how much Derek’s whole creature-of-the-night thing isn’t jiving with his sleeping-until-noon existence.

And it’s not just that Derek can’t seem to grasp that Stiles’ skin is a living record.  That when there’s the clear afterimage of a mouth on his neck, he and his dad have to valiantly pretend neither one of them notice it for the next week.  It’s not just that though.  It’s also—

Stiles has secrets.  He likes them.  Collects them.  It’s a comfort thing, a control thing maybe.  Sometimes they’re big, sometimes they’re not, but they’re always his.   Theories, actions, thoughts, things of his own that will only ever be his.  

Except.

Except he doesn’t have secrets, not anymore, not around a fucking werewolf.  Derek can smell them through his pores, hear him chasing them down from across a crowded room, cock his head and listen to the lie in his pulse.  There’s nothing sacred anymore, nothing private, and Stiles can’t anymore.

[notes: okay, it’s just... i never see this? and, being honest, i could not date a friggin’ werewolf. i’m not even a secret person as much as i just enjoy being alone and you would have to make sustained EFFORT to be alone - you’d have to go farther, mask whatever you did if you didn’t want it known, have someone who wouldn’t ask why or what you were doing (which is just like when people ask me NOW what i’m doing and i don’t want to say ‘writing explicit gay sex, thanks for asking, mom’).  i’m not on board. i could totes see stiles not being on board and, of course, he’d rather magic a ‘solution’ than have a conversation, my dumb little dummy. this one would definitely need the most work since i would probably rewrite everything i’ve already got, it just doesn’t... gel well.]

[tracybirds]

@kenzie-running-free prompted me last week some time with:

Maybe a 'what-if' story based on "The Man From TB5" where the Hood recognized John in the scene when he makes himself known (Instead of John stuttering). Just an idea

mate what a STUNNER of an idea, I fell in love, have been lowkey obsessed for a week and I guess this is the result!! I hope you enjoy!! 

Any recognisable dialogue I stole from the episode itself but it’s a fairly loose interpretation bc what else are what-if stories are for?

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It was taking all of John’s considerable willpower to keep his arms locked down by his sides instead of allowing them to creep up and cross over his chest. He’d gotten several lectures from the last party he’d attended, Penelope telling him gently but firmly that it was unacceptable for him to stand glowering at her guests from the corner. Lady Penelope didn’t ask – she demanded – and John had always known that when enough time had passed, he’d be expected to make another appearance. She had never understood, or perhaps never tried to understand, the way his skin crawled when people sidled up to him, the way his body flinched away from the bursts of laughter that spilled from other people’s lips. The idea that he kept his hands clenched to stop them shaking was foreign to her, and that he crossed his arms not out of anger or impoliteness, but because they allowed himself enough personal space to stop and breathe despite the crowd trying to crush his lungs, was not something that ever crossed her mind.

He took a step back and tried to smile weakly at the newest patrons who were taking an interest in him, discreetly breathing through his mouth. The strong scents that people insisted on wearing were making his nose run and made his difficulty breathing much more than an imagined reality.

He should have taken Scott up on his offer to swap roles earlier, or even allowed him to spill the beans strategically in the hearing of his younger brother – Gordon’s delight at the thought of attending a party with Penelope had come much too late to be of any use to him. John poked at the lapel on his jacket, excusing himself from the gossiping group with another grimace and a wave of his hand. Even if he was stuck, he knew he could call on his brothers to help ground him when it all became a bit much and all the noises around him began to crash together in a cacophony of sound inside his head while the bright flashes of colour made him want to back away and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Scott, I’d like to report a situation,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, nodding absently at a waiter who passed by him.

There was a faint beeping in his ear and John frowned.

“Scott, come in.”

Still silence, and John could feel the panic bubbling in his chest at the thought that his brother had abandoned him.

“Scott?”

The words were whispered helplessly, his back firmly against the solid wall and his eyes starting to feel wet. He shuddered faintly and suddenly, there was a hand hovering hesitantly over his shoulder and clear, calm eyes looking into his.

“What’s got you into a tizzy, now?” murmured Parker, and John nearly collapsed at the sound of someone familiar.

“I’m fine,” he gasped.

Parker snorted.

“I told milady that this would be too much,” he said with a sniff. “She should have warned you.”

John startled at the confession of disagreement between them. He was touched that Parker would go out of his way to even pass a comment on Penelope’s decision, firstly to bring him along, and then to lie to get him to agree.

No, not lie. Lady Penelope never lied. She left out details, she exaggerated, she understated, but she never lied.

Parker was still eyeing him with considerable concern and John realised his head had fallen into his hands, arms no longer trapped by his sides.

“It’s Scott,” he said. “He’s been checking in, so has Brains, and the others. I can’t get a hold of them.”

“That’s not like them,” said Parker with a frown, and John felt cold relief spreading through him that his fears weren’t entirely unfounded.

“Try h’again.”

John poked at the lapel, feeling a little silly, and called out softly. “Gordon? Alan? Can you read me?”

Crickets.

“EOS, is this another of your jokes?”

More silence.

“Scott, please,” he whispered, looking desperately up at Parker as he did so. He knew rationally something deeper was going on, something much more sinister than a family abandoning a brother to his fate, but still the old anxieties of being too much and not enough for people to stick around reached down into his gut and knotted his intestines together.

He felt sick.

“H’allow me to speak to milady,” said Parker. The serious tone grounded John more than he expected, and he nodded. Parker walked off and John watched his movement across the auction floor to the group of socialites Penelope had gotten caught up in, her tinkling laugh heard clearly throughout the room.

Parker whispered in her ear and Penelope looked up sharply at his words, her eyes catching John’s pinched gaze from across the room. She nodded once, dismissively, and Parker slunk away to patrol the perimeter while Penelope extracted herself from the group with a gracious inclination of her head and a charming smile.

“You can’t get a hold of your brothers?” she asked quietly, as she slotted into place beside him.

John shook his head.

“Do you think there’s been a communications failure?” he asked, hoping for some external reassurance.

Penelope narrowed her eyes as she considered the situation.

“John, are you willing to believe that Tracy Island has experienced a communications failure knowing what your family does? Are you willing to believe that of Five?”

He could never, and he knew she knew that.

“I very much doubt this is a mere comms failure, John.”

Penelope eyed up her guests carefully, appraising each of them as they walked by and searching for any sign of foul play.

“I can’t imagine any of the guests being involved. I invited them because they had have more money than sense and that’s what really sells at an auction – two fools in a bidding war.”

John looked at her, wondering at the way she perceived the people around her.

“So you think it’s serious?”

“John, I think everything is serious.”

She looked up at him, slightly frustrated.

“I have to start the auction. Will you be all right?”

John smiled tightly at her and Penelope’s frown deepened.

“That is not reassuring, John.”

“Can’t help it,” he replied in a low voice. “When you’re worried, I can’t help but think everything’s about to go to hell in a basket.”

Penelope pursed her lips together and scanned the room one last time.

“Find out for me what’s causing the comm jam. And if you can, find out why.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode up towards the podium, charming façade firmly in place.

Penelope never asked, she demanded.

It was helping, having a problem laid in front of him, tempting and waiting to be solved. John narrowed his eyes, allowing the parameters to define themselves in his mind.

The faint jingle of glittering bracelets and dainty earrings. The luxury of satins and silks. The rich colours and the haughty looks. The exclamations over recent purchases and loose connections to the even more rich and the even more famous.

Wealthy, airheaded patrons.

“The reception here is positively dreadful,” complained a woman as she walked past.

No communications in or out.

“Welcome everyone,” called Penelope warmly from the stand. The chatter began to die away as everyone gathered around her.

An isolated auction at a secret location.

A thief then, a pickpocket as Parker had idly mentioned before.

“Our first auction item is a gracious donation from International Rescue.”

A thief with a vested interest in International Rescue’s London agent. A thief with a vested interest in International Rescue themselves. A thief with access to a sophisticated computer system capable of hacking through the firewalls he’d set up personally around Penelope’s network.

No, he thought, more likely the invitations sent out to the people gathered here was at fault.

Surprised murmuring at the outrageous bidding happening around him broke his focus for a moment, but John quickly dismissed the background noise.

He didn’t have Penelope or Parker’s experience in the field by any means; John had always preferred to keep his sleuthing restricted to impersonal companies that had condemned themselves with unethical actions that the barest tweak of data leakage could wreak havoc over. But he was no dummy. He could add two and two together.

“The Hood.”

“That’s exactly right.”

A gasp rippled around the room as the snooty man Penelope had steered him away from earlier stepped forward and revealed himself.

Penelope’s eyes met his, determined and unsurprised at the intrusion. No doubt she’d worked it all out before him.

There was another gasp as the serving staff stepped forward, armed with cruel smiles and tasers. John was pulled roughly from his position and half led, half dragged to the front when the facial scanner drew a negative.

He wasn’t certain whether he should curse Brains or thank him.

“This one doesn’t show up on the system.”

The Hood paused and shot the man an irritated glare, cut off mid-gloat.

His eyebrow raised as he looked John up and down.

“Now,” he said with a mocking smile. “Who exactly are you?”

“Me?” asked John. in faux surprise. His eyes glanced around the room wildly, spotting the mirrors that reflected Penelope and her hands, spelling out a message to him.

“Uh, nobody,” he said, now concentrating on the rapid motion of Penelope’s hands.

We can’t let him get away with this, she was signing frantically. That, John could agree with.

“Uh I… won a ticket!” he exclaimed, seizing upon a flash of inspiration. “At… uh, work.”

John gave the Hood his best bemused look and waited with bated breath.

The Hood narrowed his eyes. Then he straightened his posture with the satisfied air of someone who had just snagged a major prize.

“I’m afraid, John Tracy,” he said in a silky manner. “That I just don’t believe what you have to say.”

The world crystallised around John in a moment of sharp understanding. The Hood knew who he was. The Hood had not come across the auction by a chance view of the invitation spread amongst the global elite. The Hood had hacked Penelope’s datastream, sidestepped his security and gathered enough information to know who he was to Penelope and who he was to International Rescue.

The Hood wasn’t here for pocket change.

The Hood was here for him.

“How delightful it is to see you in the flesh,” he said. “How long has it been since you’ve stepped out into the light? Seven years? Eight?”

His tone was light and conversational but John could see the malice glinting in his eyes. The Hood leaned in and he flinched away at the breath that brushed against his ear.

“I know,” the Hood whispered. “I know about your experiments in programming sentience. I know about the AI.”

He laughed as John twisted away from him, revulsion, anxiety, desperation in his eyes.

“Let me tell you what is going to happen, Lady Penelope,” he said turning his sickening, parasitic smile back on his host. “I am going to take your dear friend John away with me for a while. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other, and I’d like to get reacquainted.”

“No,” breathed Penelope, struggling in the grip of the goon that held her.

“Oh, yes,” said the Hood with relish. “John is coming with me, and in the meantime you are going to call International Rescue and keep them busy for me.”

He smirked, and John felt the heady rush of goosebumps breaking out across his body.

“After all, we have so much to discuss.”

“What makes you think I would call International Rescue to the scene?” demanded Penelope, drawing herself up to the full height her heels afforded her. “I could just as easily give them your coordinates.”

The Hood casually withdrew a tablet from his jacket pocket and showed her display.

“Because I have set up laser cutters on each of the cables that holds up this fine establishment.”

He pressed a button, and there was a large jolt as the hotel settled on the suddenly weakened cable. Penelope’s eyes flitted between her panicked guests and the cool turquoise of John’s gaze. Parker was struggling with the man who held him, furious at the mark that John being kidnapped would leave against his professional record. John looked at them both and took a deep breath.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, thinking of the scared people that filled the room. Thinking of how his family would be able to reach them if he left, how the Hood would give them a fighting chance.

“As long as he has control of those laser cutters, he calls the shots,” he said in an undertone to Penelope. “I’m sorry, I have to go with him.”

“You damnably noble idiot,” she hissed back as he was roughly pulled away. “Of course you do.”

“Put this on,” said the Hood with a triumphant smile.

John put on the harness, wondering for a moment if the Hood was really so arrogant as to allow him to leave under his own power. Perhaps it was the image of betrayal he was hoping to leave behind – the idea that he might have left willingly. As if his brothers would ever believe that.

He was roughly thrown from the window and a startled yell escaped his lips as gravity – always gravity – pulled him down towards the surface of the earth. There was a whirring sound and faint laughter above him as his descent came to a sudden halt. The Hood fiddled with his screen again and John felt himself accelerating upwards until he was level with his captor.

“I’m in control now.” He jabbed one finger at the tablet again and John heard the low humming of powerful lasers and rotating machinery deep in the pit of his stomach.

“I wish you luck, Lady Penelope,” he called. “To you and your guests, and to International Rescue. Let’s see them pull off another fantastic rescue in your honour.”

John was dragged away by mechanical wings, Valkyries carrying him away from the battle he’d rather stay and fight.

He had one last thing he could give, one ace up his sleeve.

“Penelope, catch!” he cried, and pulled out the laser cutter Brains had hidden away.

He could see where it landed, clattering at her feet and she stooped to pick it up.

He hoped it would be enough.

[Part 2]

[pastellarts]

To the edge of your sky - Chapter 2: Hope is what we need now

Warning: Scenes of violence, death and grief in this chapter.

A big THANK YOU to all my readers! Words fail me to express how happy I am for all those who have taken the time to read Chapter 1, to follow/like my story and of course to leave a comment.

Special thanks to @bustedflipflop​ for her beta reading. I love you lady!

Chapter 2 has 6 scenes separated by ~oOo~ The author recommends listening to the following music tracks for certain scenes:

For scene #3 (Battle), listen to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80VIgVJor_4 For scene #4, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eDTRkCcMmE For the last scene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kSOWfFrw_0

“Does it trouble you?”

Cassandra’s question caught him off-guard, but it was enough to break the awkward silence. He might have pissed her off last night in the tavern. He didn’t exactly regret it because he had to make it clear he was a free man now, not a Circle mage.

But his attitude could become more temperate. If he were honest with himself, she had treated him better since the battle with the demon at the big rift, fairly even. His gut told him he was dealing with a decent and honorable woman. He couldn’t recall any negative rumors circulating about Cassandra back in Ostwick so she definitely wasn’t one of the infamous Seekers.

“It’s stopped spreading, and it doesn’t hurt. I just wish I knew what it was. Or how I got it.” Alexander replied with honesty. No point in withholding any information about his mark. It was the most valuable weapon to the Inquisition.

“We will find out.” Cassandra’s voice came with a certainty of conviction. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?” Alexander dared to retort in a sarcastic tone.

“Hold on to that sense of humor.” Cassandra’s lopsided smirk surprised him even more than her concern.

Well. It seemed the Seeker was quick of wit under all this armor. He could work with that.

They entered the War room where Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine were already waiting. After a brief explanation of the roles and responsibilities, Cassandra went straight to business.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.” Cassandra said.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana offered.

“And I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well.” Cullen suggested. A shiver ran through Alexander’s veins.

“We need power, Commander.” Cassandra intervened fast. “Enough magic poured into that mark—”

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so—” Cullen pressed on. He couldn’t be suggesting…

“Pure speculation.” Leliana cut Cullen off.

“I was a templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Alexander bit his tongue. He could not let his nervousness show. Didn’t Cullen know he was talking to a rebel mage?!? How could he ever suggest they should appeal to the templars for help?

Remember, cooperate. Calm yourself.

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.” Josephine managed to ease the tension and pull him back to the meeting.

Cassandra remained silent. Did she also share Cullen’s opinion?

They continued with their planning for the upcoming trip to the Hinterlands to meet Mother Giselle. Scout Harding’s report was grim and left no doubt about how harsh the situation was. It looked like both apostate mages and templars had become far too aggressive, not giving a care about hurting and killing innocent people as a result from the clashes between them.

If Cullen had read this report, and Alexander was certain he had as soon as Leliana had received it, there was no doubt he proposed to seek the templars for assistance.

Alexander left the room, followed by Cullen and Josephine who went straight to their working posts. He looked back at the war room only to see the darkened silhouettes of Cassandra and Leliana engaged in a deep conversation.  Cassandra listened with her head and shoulders hanging downward. Her right hand kept rubbing the lower part of her face as she nodded once, twice to the what Leliana was telling her. Leliana stopped talking and ran a palm along Cassandra’s arm in a comforting way.

The moment ended when the Spymaster noticed him. She got lost in the shadows and Cassandra straightened herself and exited the war room. There was a somber light in her eyes, and her lips were slightly trembling, but she walked towards him with the determination and the unyielding posture he had come to know of her.

He would not ask if she was ok. He didn’t feel entitled to share her troubles and what led to that moment of weakness. He was an agent of the Inquisition because he could close the Breach.

“Herald, please visit Master Harritt to acquire a pair of gloves. Your hands need protection from weather and other threats. I have already spoken to him.” Cassandra said in a professional tone. A pragmatic suggestion from her side.

“I… thank you Lady Pentaghast.”

He spent the rest of the day preparing for the trip to the Hinterlands, choosing supplies and potions, trying on the gloves from Master Harritt, and getting to know more of the people who had also joined the Inquisition. It was a welcome revelation that most of them were determined to overlook their past prejudices and biases against mages but not to ignore the threat of the Breach and contribute towards their common goal.

Before sunset, he exited the gates of the village to the training grounds where Cullen was still running drills to the recruits. He was not yet ready to talk with him, even though the Commander had shown no signs of animosity against him. He should remember that not all templars were bad people, and Cullen had left his order to be part of the Inquisition. Perhaps another time.

A familiar grunt grabbed his attention and he noticed Cassandra whacking at a training dummy with a sword, displaying what looked like the collective force of ten soldiers. Her moves were most impressive; however, he wouldn’t dare a compliment at her current state.

“I think you need practice dummies made of sturdier stuff.” Alexander commented from a safe distance.

“That would be nice.” Cassandra rolled her shoulders and gave another hit.

“Like maybe iron.”

Cassandra walked to the next dummy. “Did I do the right thing? What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I revered my whole life.” She paused her training and her voice cracked with emotion. “One day, they might write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right.”

“What’s going to happen now?” he asked.

“Now we deal with the Chantry’s panic over you before they do even more harm.” The grit was back in her words, accompanied by a good hit on the dummy. “Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can.” Another hit. “After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos, and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high.”

Cassandra was willing to sacrifice her entire career and lifepath to the Inquisition. She made him feel like his own level of commitment to the cause was lacking passion and honesty. But her steady and resolute guidance was indispensable. Any doubts from her were a luxury the world could not allow.

“You didn’t have any choice.” Alexander attempted to reassure her.

“Didn’t I?” Cassandra hit the dummy with two precise blows, and it smashed in pieces. She dropped her sword to the ground. “My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.’ I see what must be done and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

Her apology and regret were welcome like a deep breath he had forgotten to take, but his gut guided his response to her. Again. “It wasn’t like you had no reason to suspect me.” Alexander couldn’t but acknowledge the fact.

“I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone.” She started for the gates but paused. “I’m curious… Do you even believe in the Maker?” she asked.

Her question was simple, yet it felt like he was about to give a loaded confession and he could not lie to her. “I think so. I am not certain about many of my beliefs lately.” Alexander replied.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter now. I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not. Now it simply remains to be seen where it leads us. See you tomorrow at sunrise at the gates, Herald.”

~oOo~

Two and a half days later Alexander, Cassandra, Solas and Varric reached the Hinterlands by horse relay, making use of the staging posts for Leliana’s scouts. They left their mounts at an Inquisition post with some soldiers to avoid attracting any attention from the conflicting parties and headed for the Outskirts Camp on foot.

“It occurs to me that I don’t actually know much about you.” Cassandra was walking by his side and was once more the one breaking the silence between them. Her bluntness should disconcert him, and yet the simplicity of her ways made him less tense.

“What do you want to know?” Alexander said.

“I’m… not sure. Where are you from?” Cassandra asked.

“I thought you knew that.” He was taken aback by her inquiry.

“I suppose I could ask Leliana. She has collected a frightening amount of information on you. But I don’t want to ask her. I want to hear it from you”, insisted Cassandra, kindly. This was not the ‘take-heads-first-questions-later’ Seeker, this was his companion and bodyguard.

“I was born in Ostwick, and that’s where most of my family is.” Alexander said. No point in hiding personal information that she could access elsewhere.

“The Trevelyans, is it not? A large clan with a rather clever coat-of-arms. Tell me, do you consider the Free Marches your home? Are you eager to go back?”

They spent the rest of their trail talking about their families and the places they grew up. He shared some facts about his Circle that he was certain she was aware of already. Nevertheless, she showed genuine interest. She claimed her own story about becoming the Right Hand of the previous Divine Beatrix ‘isn’t as exciting as some drum it up to be’ but he wanted to hear the longer version from her perspective. Perhaps another time, when they would not be rushing to stop the fighting between mages and templars from getting any worse.

The Inquisition banners of the Outskirts Camp became visible and a dwarven woman, apparently Lead Scout Harding, came to greet them. According to Harding, the situation was dire, with templars, apostates and bandits striking anyone, making it impossible for everyone else to travel any distance with safety. Harding’s clear and urgent tone made Alexander extremely nervous about what they could discover.

As they took the path down to the Crossroads, he cast a protective spell on their party and readied himself for upcoming attacks, wishing for enemies that did not bear any familiar faces.

~oOo~

The apostate mages were desperate. They had hired mercenaries for their protection and had setup ice mines everywhere. Despite his calls and Cassandra's pleading to listen to the Inquisition representatives, they seemed to consider any mage who wasn't openly allied with them as their enemy that should be killed. Their party had just located the apostate stronghold in Witchwood and things had gotten very ugly.

Avoiding stepping on an ice mine just in time, Alexander saw a spellbinder preparing to cast a fire mine upon Cassandra who was fighting against two other mages. He took advantage of the cave setting and cast an energy barrage spell to lower his opponent’s resistance. The projectiles bounced across the cave walls, sweeped across like whisps and hit their target. Seeing the barrier down, Varric fired an explosive arrow and finished the job.

"One down!" yelled Alexander and cast a protective barrier on Cassandra before turning his attention to Solas. Trevelyan was running out of mana and there was no time to catch his breath. Perhaps he should join Cullen's recruits for some morning drills to improve his stamina. The explosion and closing the rift had taken a lot from him.

Physical strength had never been his forte. Spells, potions, knowledge, studies, those he could do well in the Circle of Magi in Ostwick. The Circle was no place for restless mages and his conscientious personality and noble birth allowed him to have a relatively uneventful life there. He had grown into a strong and promising scholar senior Enchanter who could still raise a mean spirit blade if he wanted to. But as soon as the mage rebellion started, he turned into a survivor, a protector of the weak in a time of need. A battlemage for the rightful fight against years of oppression.

Until the Conclave.

"I need some help here!" Solas yelled.

The elven mage's call caught Alexander unprepared. The battle was endless. The barriers by Solas were getting shattered by two very formidable spellbinders. Alexander drowned a lyrium potion and cast a dispel and a barrier on Solas. Sweeping his sweat, he turned to Varric who was aiming for a long shot against a mage hidden behind some bushes. Alexander felt the veil changing in a familiar pattern and focused on the hidden figure. The aura and the robes were... No, it couldn't be...

"Varric, no! Stop!"

Too late. Alexander abandoned the battle and ran towards the injured apostate. The arrow was impaled in her stomach. Blood was spurting everywhere.

Shit.

"Olivia! Olivia! It's me, Alexander!"

Cradling her in his arms, he opened a healing potion. The wound was fatal, there was no way to control the blood loss, but Alexander prayed the potion would give her a bit of pain relief and some time to say goodbye.

She coughed weakly, twice.

"Trevelyan... Word spread only you survived the explosion in Haven. I'm glad..." Olivia regarded him with a sad smile.

"You should have come with us Olivia, you would be safer." Alexander stroked the hair out of her face.

"I got to see the world Alexander, the real world. It's beautiful..."

Olivia coughed some blood spots on his sleeve. Not much longer. Not the time for regrets.

"Were you with Rian?" he asked her.

"Templars in red killed him last month..."

"I am sorry."

Olivia took hold of his hand and focused on him. "I am with child... Love is easy, beautiful, lazy, free... We were free Alec... Finally, free…" 

The fighting sounds had stopped. Cassandra seethed her sword and ran to them. She immediately pulled out a handkerchief from a pouch and applied pressure to the wound. Alexander nodded to her to leave it be. Olivia started shaking. Any time now and the pain would be over.

"Tell me about the child. Where would you raise it?" He smiled down to her.

"If it were a girl, we would name it Leanna, after my late sister. If we had a son, Rolf. We wanted to reach Orlais... Alec, you got some strong magic now... Be that Herald if you must, but live my friend, live... and love... You can do so much good..." Olivia uttered between violent coughs.

Gone was the colour on her face, and blood started to flow from her mouth. Alexander kept stroking her hair.

"I would never be alive without you Olivia. Maker bless your soul, old friend."

He didn't cry when her last breath came out of her body. He eased her eyelids down and stayed for a while like this, holding softly her lifeless bloody torso, praying silently for Olivia, for Rian, for their unborn child.

Cassandra was still there, silent and calm, keeping some kind of vigil. Her demeanor offered him a comfortable sense of safety and support. It felt strange but not unwelcome. 

"I would like to bury her before we leave. Properly." Alexander uttered in a wobbly voice.

Cassandra got up and went to meet the others.

"Of course, Herald. You have my support. I will send for a Chantry sister."

"Thank you, Lady Seeker."

Exhaustion overwhelmed him and for the first time since the explosion that ended the Conclave, Alexander wept.

~oOo~

 Cassandra dismounted her horse and after nodding to Master Harritt, she made a break for Leliana's tent outside the Chantry. She glanced back at the Herald who kept mostly silent since the fight in Witchwood. He had turned out to be a fierce mage in action and left a positive impression on her about his skills during their travels. 

The Left Hand of the Divine was talking with two of her agents but dismissed them as soon as she acknowledged Cassandra.

"Welcome back. I take it your trip was successful, based on the reports I have received."

"We made contact with Mother Giselle who should be arriving later or tomorrow and refugees should be safer now. The Herald's actions have been rather effective so far." Cassandra affirmed.

"But?"

Leliana grabbed a paper parchment and a small pouch from a table and motioned towards the Chantry. This was a conversation that had to be done in private. 

"Nothing bad. On the contrary, I am quite pleased so far. We have allied with 3 agents, the fighting between templars and mages is much less and the refugees are no longer in danger, Master Dennet will probably agree to provide us with horses as soon as we build some watchtowers and there is promise for further support." 

But he was close friends with a blood mage. 

They entered the war room and Leliana shut the door behind her. 

"Spill it Cassandra, I don't have all day."

"One of the apostates we fought was a friend of his from the Circle. The Herald called her Olivia and mentioned she had saved his life. Varric shot her and Lord Trevelyan only managed to give her some comfort before she died. I sensed a blood magic spell on the making before she got shot."

"My agents have mentioned nothing of blood magic practices for Trevelyan." Leliana frowned.

"I also don't believe he is one. He didn't even yell at Varric. He said he never believed in this war and Varric couldn't have known."

"Sensible and matter-of-fact. Good." The Spymaster smirked with satisfaction. “Has he mentioned if he belonged to any of the fraternities?”

“He did mention the Aequitarians but he could be a Libertarians sympathizer as well.” Cassandra knit her brows.

“Pure speculation at this point. It will come up sooner or later, especially if he decides to meet with the rebel mages in Redcliffe.” Leliana remarked.

"He brought back with him some of her possessions. He claims them to be notes and books on magic and astronomy. Could you—"

"Of course."

Cassandra breathed a relieved sigh and nodded. How she had wished for Leliana's presence in this trip. Her insight and ability to see though everything and everyone was uncanny and the Seeker needed the reassurance of her old time companion and friend. She turned for the doors.

"Cassandra. A moment."

Leliana's hesitation was very brief but enough for Cassandra to guard herself against the news she was about to hear. The Spymaster left the pouch on the table and unfolded the parchment.

"While you were away, we have managed to identify some more victims of the explosion. I have their names here if you want to take a look."

Cassandra reached for the list. Leliana never took her eyes off her.

"Still no sign of Justinia's body or what is..." Leliana trailed off.

The Seeker felt her legs give away and leaned on the table. Her hands trembled. One drop and then another fell from her eyes and stained the parchment. She pushed it away. Leliana remained by her side.

"We recognised him from the seal and the blade he carried with him. It was as you had described it to me." 

Cassandra let a sob and broke down. She had no idea how long Leliana comforted her but she was grateful for doing this away from everyone. They could not see her as weak, helpless, lost, alone. She was Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, the founder of the Inquisition. There was no time for mourning. There was nobody left to mourn. Every person she had loved was dead.

"I will leave first and keep away anyone that might give you trouble. You‘ve had no time to mourn for Regalyan and Justinia. You have now. Take as much as you want, my friend." The doors closed with a soft click when Leliana left.

Cassandra opened the pouch and took the blade in her hands. It was her last gift to Regalyan, to protect him against any danger whenever they parted ways. It was part of every single staff he had owned since that day. 

But the blade had not saved her former lover from the explosion. Nothing could have saved him from it. 

The Divine, Galyan, her brother, her Order, her purpose. All gone.

For the first time since the Conclave, Cassandra let her tears and her loneliness beat her.

~oOo~

"What about the supply caches?" Alexander pointed at the map where the Crossroads were located.

"We received news yesterday that they were distributed immediately. Again, thank you, Herald for looking into this matter", Cullen nodded at Alexander.

"It was just the right thing to do and I wasn't alone. But before we go," he exhaled heavily and paused before addressing Leliana. "Did you have any luck locating the bodies of my fellow Enchanters?"

Cassandra turned to look at Trevelyan. All these weeks she had been so focused on the Inquisition matters and her own grief that she had forgotten to ask him if he had lost someone close to him in the explosion. He had not been there as a spy or out of curiosity, he had been a member of the delegation from the Circle of Magi of Ostwick. They were working together with a man who had lost people who mattered to him and yet he had not hesitated to cooperate with their cause and do the right thing even if they had treated him as a mass murderer at first. He wanted to be a free mage, but he also wanted the war to end and the Breach to close.

“We have recovered two bodies that bore the seal from the Circle of Ostwick. Sister Jeanette can tell you where they are.” Leliana informed him.

“Lord Trevelyan.” Cassandra ventured to interject. “Some clerics will perform a burial for many of the victims. It can include your friends. Of course, if you wish for a specific ritual, it can be arranged.”

The Herald gripped on the desk with both his hands and let his head hang low for a moment. He then pushed himself off and focused on her. His gaze exposed a conflict of emotions, vulnerable and determined.

“I appreciate that, Lady Seeker. Thank you, thank you all.” Alexander cleared his throat and when he spoke again, his voice was no longer brittle. “I will go see researcher Minaeve.”

The door closed behind Cassandra’s back and Josephine began to speak.

“We have received some letters from the Trevelyan clan about—“

“It is a matter concerning the Herald’s family and it is only fair he should be present as well.” Cassandra interrupted her. She- They had to show him respect.

“I suppose you are right, Lady Cassandra.” Josephine acknowledged her and checked her tablet. “One last thing before we leave. Marquis DuRellion…”

~oOo~

Cassandra held the urn with Regalyan’s ashes as she looked for a place to bury them. Long after his pyre had died out, she simply stood staring at it for a while, tears coursing down her cheeks. She thought of scattering them, but then she recalled how the terrible smell after the explosion in the Temple had burned her nose. She should write to his friends in the White Spire—

If there was anyone left alive. Or had they joined the rebel mages in Redcliffe..? Perhaps they had become apostates. She didn’t know.

‘Cassandra, you are the bravest person I've ever met. And the most beautiful. ’ (*)

Many had called her brave, but nobody had called her the most beautiful person ever again. At least not like him. The young love they had shared for years never ceased to warm her heart and the remembrance of their relationship gave her courage in dark times. They had eventually drifted apart and remained distant friends since Justinia’s appointment as the Divine. Had he survived, she doubted they would ever become lovers again. Nevertheless, when she had learned he would attend the Conclave, she had looked forward to meeting him. It was the best news she had heard for a long time, an opportunity to catch up with each other, listen to his vivid laughter, shove his arm at his insatiable need to flatter her any time anywhere, make fun of the wrinkles around his bright green eyes, hug him...

His loss would ache for the rest of her life.

She spotted a tree that reminded her of the adventure that brought them together, placed the urn on the ground and started to dig with her sword and her hands. Each jab was loaded with anguish and the urge to revenge for his death, for all those deaths. She was so lost in her mourning she never heard Trevelyan approach.

“Need any help?”

She gasped and almost lost her balance. Alexander raised both hands slightly up and made an apologetic grimace.

“I am sorry if I scared you. I was just passing by.”

“It’s alright.” Cassandra gave an indifferent nod with her head and continued with her digging. She was soon joined by the Herald who used a small shovel to help her finish her task.

“Where did you find the shovel?” she asked him.

“Master Harritt gave it to me when I asked if he had any. Apparently, he made a few due to the circumstances.” Alexander replied and stood aside when the hole was large enough.

Cassandra took the urn and placed it in the ground. Trevelyan’s presence had distracted her from her sorrowful thoughts, and she finished covering the urn with soil without shedding any more tears. Not in front of him.

To his credit, the Herald had stepped aside to give her the privacy the moment needed. She used a blade to carve Regalyan’s initials on the tree, taking a silent oath to make a proper grave for him as soon as she found the time. When she finished, she placed her palm on the trunk of the tree and whispered her parting words and a quick prayer. And just like that, it was done.

She met the Herald and they started walking back to the village.

“Have they found the Divine’s body?” It was Alexander who broke the silence this time.

“No and I don’t think we will find anything. If your memories from the rift were right, she was at the center of the explosion.” Cassandra replied.

“Have you lost many people at the Conclave?” She appreciated his tactful inquiry; she could not handle talking about Galyan now. And Trevelyan wasn’t her friend to share more.

“People who I knew from the Chantry, as well as templars and some Enchanters.” Cassandra gave a vague response. “And you, Herald?”

He looked at the shovel and sighed. “Derrin and Amethyne, both Senior Enchanters, both good mages. I was friends with Derrin, not so much with Amethyne.” Alexander paused and his face broke into repressed laughter. “The irony is that those two hated each other’s guts so much, they couldn’t stand being in the same room for more than what was necessary. And now they lie next to each other in ashes inside their urns in the ground, forced to coexist in peace, both in the Maker’s side.”

His words brought a small smile to her face and she began to snicker. “I am sorry, I should not be laughing, it is not the right time or place.” Cassandra attempted to restrain herself.

Alexander wore a wide grin and amusement danced on his eyes as he watched her fighting her own smile. “I am sure our friends would laugh with us too, if they were here.”

Galyan would. And he would coax her to relish the moment, in his unique dashing way.

Cassandra followed Alexander in the tavern, hoping to wash away the sorrow of the day with some rye. When Flissa came to take their orders, Cassandra asked her to leave the bottle.

“Was Olivia a good friend of yours?” Cassandra let out the question that had been troubling her the past days. The mist that covered his eyes could have been from the large gulp of rye, but she suspected that was not the case.

“She was like a sister to me in the Circle. She saved my life when I got there. There was— I would never pass my Harrowing without her. I owe her my life, literally. The war broke us apart, I remained with the rebellion and she and Rian joined the apostates, eager to fight in the Mage-Templar war.” The Herald kept his gaze fixed on his drink and didn’t look up. It was noticeably difficult for him to speak about her so the issue of blood magic would have to wait. She would get her answers some other time.

“What about the rest of the Enchanters from your Circle?” Cassandra changed the subject. What roused him in lowering his guard only appealed to her curiosity. She did not want to let his mood for sharing go to waste.

“All Senior Enchanters are dead. Two of them were killed when the rebellion started, along with First Enchanter Lydia. The other three you already know. I assume some mages have joined the other rebels in Redcliffe.” Alexander professed with a grim expression.

“I wish the Seekers and the Chantry had done more for the mages.” Cassandra admitted.

“What will happen to the Chantry now?” Alexander asked her.

“It is difficult to say. They have no templars, no leadership, and no one left who is worthy of succeeding the Divine.” Cassandra finished her glass with one gulp and served herself a refill. “It has fallen apart when everyone needs it the most. I ache to think what this will mean in the days to come.”

“I’m surprised you rebelled against the Chantry.” Alexander was now leaning on his left arm, his eyebrows pulled slightly together.

“I left my own Order when they took the wrong path. It is no different. But in neither case did I stop caring. Indeed, I care so much that I feel drastic action is necessary. I suppose history shall one day judge my actions.” Cassandra hoped she didn’t sound like a zealot.

“Would you serve a new Divine?”

“That depends on whether she would have me. I’m a rebel now, remember? And even if she would, I… do not know.” Cassandra stared at the rye as she swirled it in the cup. She started to contemplate her life so far. Would she remain the Right Hand to a new Divine? Would she return to the Seekers? For all she knew, it could be time for a new direction in her life.

“I first met Divine Justinia two years ago when I was presented to her as a newly appointed Senior Enchanter in a ceremony in the Grand Cathedral. She left a positive impression to me, aside from her speech. It was a bit boring.” Alexander interrupted her musings and she took a peek at him. He was still leaning on his arm, looking to his left as if reminiscing.

“She was never a big fan of speeches.” Cassandra assented with a half chuckle. “I think I was absent from that ceremony…”

“You weren’t there.” Trevelyan said quickly and leaned towards her. “If you were, I would definitely remember you.”

Cassandra stared at him with mouth slightly open. Did he just..?

“You flatter me.”

“I’m trying.” Trevelyan shrugged with a pleased expression and leaned back on his chair.

Cassandra let a disgusted noise and took a large sip. He had done it again, set her off-course and let her trip on incredulous notions that she had absolutely no need of right now.

“Lady Pentaghast.” The Herald dispersed her confusing thoughts, his voice fearless and crisp, his gaze clear and hopeful like a fresh breeze. He straightened his pose and raised his glass. “A toast to all the rebels who never stopped caring and will always care to do the right thing, who defy chaos and hope to make the future a possibility.”

She should be more wary of that silver tongue of his. Yet, at that moment, she couldn’t help it. Cassandra’s face lit up with a small smile that he returned in full. “To allies that join causes with honorable goals.” She raised her own glass and they both savored their drinks without breaking eye contact.

He was not her friend, no. But he was earning her respect with each passing day and she dared to have faith that he would be a kindred spirit in the struggle against these troubled times.

His fetching smile made it also not so terrible.

_________

Note: I always wondered what happened to other people that were along with the Inquisitor in the Conclave, no matter the race. There was no cut scene or mention of any loss, so I decided to give Alexander some backstory with friends from his Circle that died in the explosion or in the Mage – Templar War.

(*) It bugged me that they didn’t mention anything about Regalyan’s death and how it affected Cassandra. It was not only Justinia that she lost. If you don’t know who Regalyan is, “Dawn of the Seeker” is an anime movie and I love the penultimate scene where Regalyan and Cassandra look at each other with those dreamy eyes of young love. This quote is from that scene.

[olyia-stories]

A response to @teasockschocolate ‘s AU about the soulmate AUs in the PJO universe. Since this is a companion piece it doesn’t matter which one you read first, but make sure to check out @teasockschocolate and @demigodsanswer out.

Annabeth hated soulmates.

Ever since her dad met his, Annabeth’s life had just gotten worse. Admittedly, she and her dad hadn’t been particularly familyish, but it had been the two of them. He used to let her fall asleep in his arms while he worked on his thesis paper, he took her out for icecream in the park after his classes, and he would ask her opinion on which human models to put on his battle of the Somme replica. They had been fine on their own. They didn’t need Lori.

The only reason her dad even liked Lori was because the first thing she said to him was written on his arm. And not in the “he tattooed it on because he loved her” thing, but because it was a silly soulmate mark. Annabeth just couldn’t understand why her analytical father would rely on a process for choosing who he loved as flimsy as “the universe decided for us.” And clearly, the universe got it wrong. Lori was awful.

All Lori ever did was complain about everything Annabeth ever did: “Frederick, tell Annabeth to stop playing “science” in the living room.” “Frederick, tell Annabeth to stop drawing on herself.” “Frederick, tell Annabeth to go to sleep.” “Frederick, if you don’t tell Annabeth to stop getting out of bed, I will.” Lori only saw Annabeth as a stain that needed covering up.

Then the monsters started attacking. Of course, they were attacking because Annabeth was a half-blood, but it’s not like she wanted them to come. But Lori blamed her.

“There must be something you can do,” Lori was talking to Annabeth’s dad. Annabeth should have been asleep, but the spiders were too much for her. Lori went on, “Don’t look so shocked, I know you tried to get her mother to take her back, all I’m saying is that maybe someone more like her could take her off our hands.” Annabeth stood very still, she had not known that her dad had tried to get rid of her, she thought he loved her.

“Lori, I don’t know what to do, Athena sai-“

“Athena isn’t here!” Lori cut Annabeth’s father off. “Even Athena didn’t want that girl. I think it would be best for our boys if we found a new living arrangement for Annabeth.” Annabeth didn’t wait around for her father’s response; she knew he would give in he always gave in to Lori.

Annabeth was not going to give Lori the pleasure of sending her away, and she didn’t want to live a moment more under the same roof as her stepmother. Annabeth decided to leave.

She didn’t know where she would go, so Annabeth wanted to be prepared. She grabbed a marker and made a packing list on her arm. With the list on her arm, she quickly packed her backpack. She pulled on a hoodie and snuck out her bedroom window. It was on the second floor, but the window opened onto the porch roof and from there she shimmied down the gutter. And just like that, Annabeth was free.

--

“Child, in order to be a successful demigod you must be skilled in a wide-range of activities.” Chiron studied Annabeth from where he stood on the porch. Annabeth had come to complain. She didn’t understand why the camp made them climb lava walls, and swing swords at straw dummies. She just wanted to spend time in the Athena cabin’s library. She had never seen so many books, and she wanted to read them all.

“But Chiron, knowledge is power! Therefore, I should spend my time learning as much as I can.”

“Ah but knowledge is power; you must learn as much as you can, which includes being knowledgeable in fighting and survival tactics. Now I believe your cabin is going to the forge for arts and crafts, you should hurry along.” Annabeth thought about what the centaur had said while she walked to the forge. She decided She would start by learning archery. She wrote it on her hand, so she would remember to ask her siblings to teach her later. For now, she was going to create a masterpiece.

--

Annabeth lived year-round at camp, so she had independent lessons during the school year. Chiron trusted her siblings to educate her, but they quickly realized that she was capable of teaching herself so long as she had the right books. So, they let her alone. Annabeth would read, and write notebooks full of her discoveries, and when she came up on things she wanted to study further she would write a note on her arm to look it up later.

--

Finally, she met him. The person she had been waiting years for. This boy was who Chiron had told her about. He was going to take her on a quest. Well, he would once he stopped drooling in the med ward.

Percy Jackson would get a quest; Annabeth was sure of it. He was the son of Poseidon, one of the major gods, that was the deal. Chiron told her she would go with him on a quest. She HAD to go with him.

So, when Percy was taken to the big house she was right behind him. She had on her magic Yankee’s hat, a gift from her mother when she made it to camp the hat made the wearer invisible. She listened to Chiron explain to Percy the war brewing among the gods. She watched Percy enter the big house and listened for his footsteps recede up the stairs before she took off her cap.

“Blah ha ha!” Grover yelped. “You can’t sneak up like that Annabeth! You’ll give me a heart attack!”

Chiron sighed, “I suppose you were listening to all of that?”

“Yes,” she respected Chiron too much to lie to him. “I want to go on this quest.”

“Annabeth, you know that it’s Percy’s right to choose his companions,” Annabeth was in the middle of formulating a convincing argument when Chiron added, “But, I will tell Percy that you have volunteered to go, and if he wants to choose you, you may go. Child it will be dangerous, and I would rather both of you would stay at camp and train. I fear, however, that peace will only return to the Olympians when the bolt is returned. The quest must happen.”

Annabeth nodded. Satisfied with Chiron’s promise she waited for Percy to come back down. She was going on a quest

--

Annabeth still didn’t regret volunteering for the quest. It quickly went up, down and sideways and veered left from there. They have so far blown up a bus, wrecked a statue garden, ruined a national landmark, almost died by mechanical spider, and now they were heading south in the smelliest truck on the highway.

The animal fumes must have gotten to Annabeth because she found herself talking to Percy about her dad. She plucked at her dad’s college ring as she talked. “I guess my dad never really wanted me. He met Athena while he was working his way through grad school. She admired his dedication and helped him develop his thesis. To reward him, she pulled me out of her thoughts. He wanted her to take me back. But he took care of me. Once he met his soulmate, Lori, he decided he didn’t want me.” Annabeth glued her eyes to the ground. She found it easy to talk to Percy, but she couldn’t look at him and tell him what had eaten at her heart since Lori said those stupid soulmate words. “He had her and then they had their kids and they were that meant-to-be family. I was just in the way from them being perfect.” Annabeth stopped. She needed to collect herself, she hadn’t talked about her dad in years.

“I’m sorry.” Just two little words, and yet they made her heart soar. Percy put so much emotion into his voice, it was clear that he had experience with family issues. “My mom had a soulmate, but I don’t know who it was. It’s not my stepdad, that’s for sure. I think it could’ve been my dad.”

“Gods don’t soulbond.” How could he believe in soulmates when his mom had to put up with his stepdad? Poseidon couldn’t have been his mom’s soulmate. She winced, “sorry, that was mean.” She hadn’t meant to be rude, but she struggled to be anything but critical about the soulbond.

Percy shrugged, “S’fine. It’s true.”

Annabeth thought for a second, then asked. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Do you have a soulmate?”

Percy clutched at his wrist. “Yeah, I do.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but this confession still surprised her. She looked into his eyes and asked, “Really?”

“Do you?”

“No.” at least, she never thought enough about soulmate marks to check. “What’s your mark? Do you know your soulmate?” Annabeth didn’t know why she wanted to know, she just had to learn all she could.

“Uh,” a blush crept up his face. “it’s a writing one and no. I’ve, uh, never talked to her.”

“Why not?” If it had been Annabeth, she would have found out who it was. Even if she didn’t believe in soulmates, having someone you can communicate with without speaking or technology, that could be useful.

Percy shrugged, “I don’t know…”

“You should.”

“Maybe someday. I’ve got enough going on now.”

“That’s true.” She paused, then added, “I think soulmates are pretty dumb.”

He gave her a strange look. “Why?”

She felt his defenses rise. “Believe in them all you want. But wouldn’t you rather choose who you be with? The universe shows you one person and that’s it. And isn’t it doomed to fail? The expectation of who someone wants their soulmate to be is always going to be so big that they’ll never live up to it. It’s just setting both of them up to be disappointed.” She had thought this argument through more than once.

“But it’s the one person that the universe is saying is perfect for you. I think that’s pretty amazing.”

Annabeth knew she wasn’t going to change his opinion. “Good luck. I’ve never seen a soulbond work out.” Feeling like her last sentence was a bit gruff she offered, “I don’t mean to… discourage you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, that doesn’t encourage me.”

She knew it, she had let her bitterness show. “Maybe the people I’ve seen just haven’t cared as much about it. You haven’t given up.”

He smiled. “I’ll make sure mine works. Even if it’s just so you can be wrong about something.”

--

Annabeth didn’t think much about that night on the zoo truck. The summer passed, and the school year came. She decided to try living with her dad again. She studied like she was back at camp, writing notes on her arm, reminders, and doodling to pass the time in class.

San Francisco felt calmer than when she was little. Her dad’s house felt normal. No monster attacks at first, but Annabeth couldn’t help but feel on edge. She was just waiting for the bubble to pop.

She was in her Algebra class when she felt it, a burning sensation on her left palm. It felt like she was bitten by a spider. Annabeth yelped. The classmates gave her a weird look, but that was normal. She was the only seventh grader in a high school class.

Annabeth looked down at her hand and saw a little blue dot on her palm. It looked like a pen mark, but Annabeth hadn’t put it there. Annabeth thought back to the summer, when she had shared a hay-filled ride with Percy, and he had shared what his soulmate mark was with her.

Annabeth couldn’t be sure, but perhaps she did have a soulmate. She needed more evidence; a stray pen mark didn’t prove anything.

Perhaps she should pay Percy a visit.

--

Getting up to Percy’s fire escape was the easy part. Calculating which window was his based on the outside of the building was more difficult. Annabeth climbed the fire escape ladder and peaked into his window, she had her Yankee’s hat on, so he wouldn’t see her watching. She had to know.

Annabeth pulled the cap off her pen and drew a little flower on her arm, while she drew, she watched Percy’s arm. There it was, her little four petaled flower. She smiled. Why did this knowledge make her happy? Percy was her best friend, but she didn’t like him like that… did she?

--

Stupid! Annabeth that was stupid! Why did she charge the manticore? All she had on her was her Yankee’s hat and her dagger, and she jumped a monster. She should have known better, but when she left the gymnasium and saw Percy there. His shield up and his sword out, she knew in that moment that if anything happened to Percy, she would never forgive herself. She did the only thing she could and distracted the manticore. She didn’t realize that he would simply take her. That Luke wanted her, but he didn’t want her like Annabeth had always hoped. He was using her as bait. She was how he would catch a goddess.

Annabeth needed a plan. But she could barely breath, let alone think. The weight of the sky was literally threatening to crash down on her, and all she could do was kneel under the pressure and hope Luke would come to his senses. She felt a prickling on her arm, when she looked the words were written out in red pen, “We’re coming.” Her arms surged with strength. Suddenly the weight of the world felt lighter. She knew who that was writing on her arm. Percy knew she was alive. He was coming for her. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t.

--

Annabeth knew Percy was in trouble from two blocks away. She could see the smoke billowing up from Goode high school. Annabeth and Percy were supposed to go on a date to the movies, she had taken the LIR from camp into the city that morning to meet Percy after his high school orientation.

Unfortunately, plans were void whenever Percy was around. She saw the smoke and hurried up the block just in time to see Percy jump out onto the street from a window, followed by a red-haired girl. She had freckles everywhere, and paint stains on her clothes. Annabeth wondered who she was while she watched the girl pull a marker out of her back pocket and felt the tingling sensation as the girl wrote her number on Percy’s arm, and Annabeth’s right arm copied it.

She stared dumbfounded at Percy, before turning on her heel and leaving the red-haired girl behind. She hailed a cab and waited for Percy to catch up. She crossed her arms, hoping to hide the thick black numbers. The cab came. They sat in silence.

How could she be so stupid. Soulbonds never worked out. She was a fool for thinking maybe they could overcome all the evidence she had collected saying otherwise.

Percy cleared his throat. “Could I… call my mom?” right, she had probably heard about the fire, his mom would be worried. Annabeth wished she had someone to worry over her. She fished her phone out of her pocket, careful to keep her right arm at her side. He quickly finished the call and handed Annabeth her phone. She again kept her arm close to her side. “Cold?” His voiced broke through her thoughts.

“What?”

“Just… since you’re…” He gestured to her folded arms.

She had hoped to quickly pass the cab ride in silence. “No.” she answered truthfully, hoping to stop the conversation there.

“Oh.” Percy continued. “I, uh, have a jacket in my backpack if you want.”

“No.” she couldn’t let him see the stupid number on her arm, and she didn’t want to talk to him. She turned towards the window and watched the familiar landscape of Long Island to take shape.

As soon as they got to camp she ran to her cabin. And pulled on a sweatshirt. She only hoped the marks would soon be gone, and that she hadn’t been too obvious.

--

The mountain exploded behind Annabeth. She didn’t let herself cry. Percy was a powerful demigod, and resourceful, and just plain lucky. He would make it out. She was sure.

She made it back to camp on her own. Hoping the whole way that Percy had beat her there. But no one had seen him. She tried not to notice her friends giving her pitying looks and hoped every day to see her seaweed brain crest the hill or walk out of the ocean. It got harder to hope as the weeks came and went. Annabeth pretended she was fine. She led her cabin through their activities always glancing towards the ocean, hoping to be the first to spot him. He didn’t show up.

The day with its tasks kept her mind busy, but the night was hard. She couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, trying to make a plan that would bring Percy home. She decided to write him a note. She put the pen to her hand and tried to think of what to say. But everything she wanted to write down seemed to swirl in her head. She instead wrote, “Hello?” That’s as far as she got before she couldn’t see with the tears welling in her eyes.

Two weeks passed, and still no word. Chiron decided to hold Percy’s memorial, to send him off properly. Annabeth stood at the fire pit and put the green silk cloth on the flames. She choked on the words, “He was probably the bravest friend I’ve ever had.” And the stupidest, “He…” she looked up at that moment and saw the impossible. What she had been waiting to see for weeks. “He’s right there!”

Annabeth vaulted up the amphitheater steps. And hugged him tight. He was alive!

--

It was August eighteenth. Percy’s birthday. Annabeth paused for only a second before writing out on her arm, ”Happy birthday.” She knew who was on the other end of this connection now, and she didn’t care about her data that said otherwise. She wanted Percy to know, she wanted them to work out.

“Thanks.” Was all he replied, and somehow that was all she needed. She couldn’t wait to see him again; they were going to make it through together.

--

Annabeth couldn’t believe this boy! How could she have ever liked him. They were standing near the tetherball court. She couldn’t believe he wanted to talk to her about his mortal friend Rachel. Sure, last summer she’d been helpful in the Labyrinth but that didn’t mean that she and Annabeth were friends. “What do you want me to say?” he seemed to put a lot of trust in this Rachel girl. How could he be so ignorant. She was a mortal, mortals don’t have visions. And besides he was just using this as an excuse to run away. She looked him in the eyes and spat out what she was thinking. “You’re a coward, Percy Jackson!”

Why had he never said anything. She was certain he knew, and their world could end any second. Beckendorf was proof of that. Why couldn’t he just talk to her! Why did every conversation turn into a shouting match? Why did she open her heart and let him in, when she knew that soulbonds never work. She couldn’t look at his green eyes anymore, she stormed away towards the strawberries, giving the tetherball a good whack as she passed it.

--

The war was over. They had won! And Rachel was now the new camp oracle. More importantly, Percy had turned down immortality. She was sure. She wanted to him to be her soulmate. She found him in the pavilion, lost in thought. She got out a pen and wrote out, “Hey.” He looked down at his wrist, then turned around to find her.

“Hey.” He had a little grin on his face, she smiled in return.

“Happy birthday.”

“What?” he looked puzzled.

she silently cursed herself, did she get the day wrong? “It’s August 18, You’re birthday, right?”

He nodded, and she let a breath out, she offered him the misshapen lump of birthday cake. It was delicious.

After a few minutes she couldn’t keep herself from asking what had been on her mind all summer. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“About what?” Annabeth couldn’t look at him, she was too scared. “I… I didn’t know for sure. If I was yours. And then last year… There was just so much else going on.”

Annabeth finally looked at him, she softly said, “I know, I thought I didn’t have one. I mean, I wrote on myself all the time when I was little.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Why didn’t you write back?” She had to know. “When you said you had one… I thought it was someone else.” She didn’t say all that she was thinking, that she had hoped he didn’t have one, that she had liked him even all those years ago in that truck.

“I didn’t know what to say. But no, it was always just you.” Those words, the same way she had felt. Now she knew, Annabeth through away her caution and kissed him. He tasted like salt.

**Edit: I read the original fanfic on @demigodsanswer‘s blog but the AU “Whatever Souls are Made of” is by @teasockschocolate

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers III (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: Sometimes I wonder like, maybe you guys don’t care about the plot and just wanna see some dorks fall in love? but I have to warn you, I’m planning on making this pretty much a slow burn, probably something I should’ve said since chapter one lmao anyway, please leave some feedback after you’re done reading! we appreciate it lots :)

Words: 1,900

Warnings: Swearing, hands going down ghoulie’s throats, descriptions of violent deaths and blood. 

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I had spent the majority of that hour just walking in circles trying to find a solution to our current problem when Angelica came back telling us about the security Eli had put on the place. Not gonna lie, I was impressed. Suddenly, another of those horrible screams echoed to remind us that we’re not alone. And after Angelica mentioned how we could always kill whatever it was the source of the noise, Josh was very reluctant about it.

“We’re not killing anyone. This was the last place where Sam was seen. She’s the only kid I knew who loved the mall.”

“You didn’t know a lot of kids then,” I snort.

Josh stares at me in annoyance but continues his speech anyway.

“What if she’s this Witch?”

“You think she turned into a ghoulie?” Angelica scrunches up her nose.

“You said it yourself, we have no idea what’s going on. If there’s even a chance, I have to help Sam”

“Eye roll, you only like Sam ‘cause she may have touched your dick.”

I snort again, totally amused. Josh’s frown only grows deeper and I raise my hands in defeat.

“My bad. Gonna go and... I don’t know, get snacks or something.”

While I’m walking away I still manage to hear a few sentences of what Josh is saying.

“This is not about getting some handy from some rando. This is love.”

“Is he listening to himself?” I shake my head, “this guy’s crazy...”

Don’t misunderstand. I do believe in love. The thing that I don’t believe is Josh’s speech of true love and loyalty. How can I, when I know that he met Sam for only a few months before the nuke? Do I think it’s impossible to fall in love in such a short notice? Nah, I think it’s totally believable. The thing is... okay, don’t judge. But the thing is that we’re teenagers, right? I mean, hormones are wild right now, you can be crazy in love with someone and still look at Chris Hemsworth and wish he would crush your head with his thighs or... whatever it is that you dream, I definitely don’t think about that. I’m more of a Chris Evans lover.

So yeah, I’m sorry if I don’t fully think that Josh, a seventeen-year-old boy, would have zero attraction to anyone who doesn’t have Sam Dean’s face. We’re all human, for fuck’s sake. I dated a guy while still completely whipped for Alex. And Alex dated several people too. And he had a talent for that, believe me.

Listen to this: don’t fall in love at all. If you wanna feel loved, get tons of friends: mutuals on twitter, tumblr or fucking facebook for that matter. They’ll always tell you pretty things. Or hug your parents. Your siblings. Literally, do anything but fall in love. I know it sounds like this beautiful thing from heaven but love is far from being the solution. 

Crap. I’m sounding like a bitter asshole, aren’t I? I’m sorry. The apocalypse it’s taking a toll on me. Maybe I should take some time away from Glendale, go to a far land and never come back, maybe I should- HOLY FUCK THE WITCH IS HERE

I stand there, terrified of moving in a way that might warn her of my presence. I gather enough courage to walk away, little by little without turning my back to her so I can make sure she hasn’t noticed me. Unfortunately, it also means I can’t see Josh behind me, holding his skate like a shield with one hand, and a long stick with a chord at the end with the other. 

“Don’t freak,” He whispers, and I react the only way anyone would react if a voice talks to their ear when they’re alert: I scream.

The woman stands up and I quickly stand behind Josh’s body. Hey, he’s the one holding the shield! I have nothing. Luckily though, she doesn’t attack us and instead, she walks further into the store.

“Sam!” Josh calls her out.

“You don’t know if that’s Sam!” I hiss.

Josh doesn’t listen to me and keeps going, so I keep going as well. We lose her after a few seconds and turn around just to see her standing right in front of our faces.

“Fuck!” I jump so high that in a different context I’d have been embarrassed. But right now I’m just praying to any god ‘please, let me make it to next month’.

“Sam?” asks Josh, and I wanna reply with ‘Stop calling her Sam, can’t you see she’s got curly dark hair, you blind shit?!’

But someone else starts singing behind the witch and when she turns around I can see Angelica standing there and I’m both, thankful and pissed that even a twelve-year-old girl has a way to defend herself and I only got my skates. She cuts her hand and the witch immediately rushes over to attack, leaving us safe. Of course, now it was our turn to chase down the two so Angelica wouldn’t get eaten.

“Angelica!” Josh stops in front of a store and I hear him mumble, “dummy...”

I get there a moment after and I see the woman leaning over a small body. I gasp, covering my eyes and asking with a thin voice, “Is it bad? How much blood is there?”

“Dummy” I hear him say again, this time in a more flat voice.

“Hey, dummies!” And that’s definitely Angelica, and she’s definitely not where I thought she was, so I uncover my eyes and I get to see when she pulls down the metal curtain, trapping the witch inside the shop, “so, is that thing your girly-friend?” 

He steps closer, “Sam? it’s me. It’s Josh.”

I’m about to reply that there is no way in hell that’s Sam when she talks back.

“Josh,” Her voice is weak and dry, “Josh Wheeler?”

Josh softly laughs beside me, nodding at the girl, “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Josh Wheeler?” She stands up and walks towards the curtain, removing the hair from her face and smiles wildly at the boy. Yup, that’s definitely not Sam, “Present.”

“That’s not Sam! That’s not fucking Sam at all!”

Yeah I know, I called it.

The woman repeats his words and smashes the doll’s head against the curtain.

“Wait,” I raise my voice, suddenly recognizing her, “isn’t it...”

“Ms. Crumble?” Josh and I ask in unison.

Yes, she was. Holy shit. Angelica goes off about how this is an amazing discovery ‘cause Crumble is capable of saying more than two words. Then Crumble goes off on how much she hates the new world and decides to walk straight into one of the mannequins. After a while of watching Angelica make goggling eyes at our former teacher, Josh and I decide to move on.

“Look I gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say, crossing my arms, “I’m not wasting more of my time with any of you”

Angelica tries hard to convince us, but her speech does the opposite effect on me. She says that there’s a mind with functional thoughts in every ghoulie. That our parents aren’t totally gone, and I refuse to believe she’s right.

“Ghoulies aren’t good. And they certainly aren’t people, Angelica. Not anymore.”

I’m one to know, I learned that the hard way with pretty much my whole family. I went to my house after the nuke exploded and boom! My parents were suddenly trying to eat my face. I had to lock them in their room before going over to Grandma’s. And grandma had turned out to be fucking vicious as hell, even for a ghoulie. So I set her on fire along with my uncle, aunt, and her entire house. 

Anyway, I left Glendale to reunite with my sister Katie, more prepared than the last two tries. Part of me prayed for all the precautions to be unnecessary at the end, cause I was tired, and all I wanted was a goddamned break. I just wanted to see my sister. When I had to smash her head with that chair, it felt like I was the one agonizing. 

But I convinced myself it wasn’t Katie anymore. That thing was a monster and I had to get rid of it so my sister could rest. You can understand why then, hearing Angelica say those things kinda made me want to run away and never look back at any of their faces. 

“This isn’t gonna bring your parents back,” replies Josh, “I need to go and find Sam. Soon as I figure out how to get past Eli’s locked and booby-trapped doors.”

“I can get you out,” Says Ms. Crumble, “I have a key.”

She frantically searches through her stuff while talking to some dusty doll heads and I know, I know this has to be a bad dream. I’m not actually here, I probably fell asleep on the couch after eating too much. Crumble says she put the keys on a clapper and she (of course) starts clapping, dropping the doll heads on the process.

“I remember now. I ate the keys” Crumbles laments, “I needed the iron. Hold on.”

“I was wrong,” I whisper, “every time she opens her mouth I feel like I’m having a stroke”

Josh quietly chuckles beside me, and we share a look of complicity. Glad to see I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a clue of what is happening right now.

Crumble sits on the chair closest to her and in a matter of seconds opens her mouth impossibly wider than any mouth should be allowed to. Then she puts her hand inside.

“Shit, shit, shit...” I cling to Josh’s arm and hold it tight with both hands, “I’m in hell. This is the worst thing I have ever...”

“This is the best thing I have ever seen,” Angelica cuts my comment, “and I once saw a robot kill a monkey in a knife fight in Thailand.”

“I’m never sleeping again,” I can practically feel my soul leaving my body and fleeting to another continent. Crumble pulls out her hand and... it’s another fucking head. How many dolls has she beheaded?

Crumble lets us know that she can’t reach the keys and Angelica offers to help. She says no, then asks Josh to do it instead.

“Are you gonna eat my arm?” His voice is fearful, I can tell he really doesn’t wanna do it.

“I don’t know,” she says, laughing right after saying it.

“Josh?” Inquires Angelica.

I grab him by the shoulders so now he’s looking at me.

“No,” I say, “that’s crazy Josh, you can’t put your arm inside a Ghoulie’s throat!”

“Just a sec,” He looks at me with wide eyes, but takes a deep breath and shakes his head, not really answering to me, “okay.”

“Josh!” I insist, “please, we can find another way to get out, just don’t do it!”

“I have to,” Even if he doesn’t say it, I can complete the phrase with what I know for sure is going through his mind: For Sam.

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