#they’re so in love i will slam my head against a tree

[soup-scope]

But you know I'd stand on the corner

Embarrassed with a picket sign

If it meant I would see you

When I die

gavin and freelancer

avior and starlight

sam and darlin

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian: #1

Signing up for an alien breeding program should be scary, considering the aliens are ruthless barbarians. On the upside, they won’t hesitate to give it to you as rough as you like it. 

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian is part of a smutty novella collection, Petra Palerno’s Filthy Shorts, that features otherworldly love interests. 

In this installment, you’ll find: alien romance, size difference, double dongs, submission, bratting, breeding, will it fit, rough play and pregnancy.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, fisting, overstimulation, anal play, gagging, violence, birthing, science fiction medical procedures and murder.

PREORDER NOW!

The heat radiating from the crowd, along with the smell of sex, hits me in the face as the door clicks open and the pilot bot dumps me unceremoniously into the dirt.

My heart thuds in my chest, but it’s not the excitement I thought I would feel.

I’m scared shitless.

But this is what I wanted, this is what I signed up for. 

“Mates needed for Volkroth spawning season. All expenses paid for biologically compatible species.” 

You wanted someone to be rough with you, to be a fucking barbarian with you.

Maybe it was too much to expect an orientation before being dropped off at the spawning pits. I figured after the extensive medical testing to ensure biological capability, they’d ease me in.

I was so wrong.

Besides the chorus of fucking masses that surround me, there’s the guttural noises of males as they slam their fists into each other’s bodies.

Something I didn’t realize from the holo communication is that the aliens are fucking huge. They tower over me as one purple brute rips the other male off a yellow alien female, who arguably looks like she’s having a great time. She even laughs as the male turns and clocks the attacking alien on the jaw.

His bones snap, sounding like a lightning-struck tree, as he crumples to the ground. I’m not sure if the breaking noise was his jaw or his neck—but I don’t think anyone cares.

They’re barbaric! They kill soldiers deemed too weak to fight. How could you want to mate a Volkroth? My roommate’s disgusted face flashes in my mind as I wonder if the alien on the ground is dead or not. 

“If you’re too weak to fight, you’re too weak to carry on the bloodline,” the victor yells.

The last male standing drips with the perspiration of sex, his body slick and shining. Unlike the one I saw on the holo comm, he’s completely nude.

More importantly, the big beast has two massive cocks resting on one heavy set of balls. They twist around each other, almost looking like they’re prehensile. I must gasp, because I draw his attention.

I scramble to stand when the alien’s eyes fall on me. His thick black hair, falling free of his topknot, spills over the four horns. There are two on either side of his head that curl proudly away from his face. 

“A human?” He almost laughs as he says it. “I’d have thought your kind too soft, too exotic to be in the spawning pits with the rest of us.”

His voice is deadly smooth as he approaches me, a predator stalking his prey.

I freeze, even though my brain is screaming to flee, that I shouldn’t let this monster near me.

But there’s a broken part of my judgement that wants him to grab me by the neck and fuck me into the dirt. So I stay still, stuck between two desires, my heart in my throat.

I crane my head up to look at him. He moves one very deliberate step closer. He’s so close now I can feel his breath on my face.

His eyes darken, and he licks his lips.

“You should run.” His voice is almost a whisper as it leaves his mouth.

The logical part of my mind wins, and I bolt. But I don’t have time to worry about where I’m running to. His huge hand shoots around my midsection, pulling me back against his body.

His enormous cocks strain against my ass, the thin fabric of my jumpsuit doing nothing to protect me from the heat of his body. He brings his free hand up to my neck and squeezes rough fingers against the column of my throat. It sends sparks down to my weeping pussy and I squirm in his hold.

“I want you full and dripping with my seed, and only mine, human,” he breathes into my ear.

I bite back a moan. 

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You want a beast to breed you, to make you submit?”

“Yes,” I manage to eek out. The first words I’ve spoken on this planet are to agree to be some space barbarian’s plaything.

His hand rips the neckline of my jumpsuit, exposing my breast to the planet’s humid air. My nipples pebble instantly as he drags his rough hand over the sensitive flesh.

The hand on my neck weaves into my hair, grabbing my ponytail and yanking my head further back until my cheek rests against his. His stubble rubs my cheek raw.

“How do you want it?” he asks.

“Rough,” I groan as his fingers pinch my nipple. I arch my back, searching for some friction as my hips lift. I want him to fuck me.

Suddenly, there’s a flash of pain and I yelp as his hand comes down hard, sharply smacking my tit.

“Can you handle rough, with all this softness?” His palms smoothes over the agitated skin of my red breast, the stinging melting into something blurred with an intense pleasure.

“Only one way to find out,” I say, with some shocking boldness. “Fuck me.”

His breath catches at my change in tone.

This is what I wanted. My body sings with joy. I want him to use me; I want him to fucking breed me.

I look back at the alien, and his brows knit. A look of resolution crosses his face.

“I won’t share you,” he says before throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

[phfenomena]

❝i’ve been in love with her for ages.❞ || jack champion x f!reader

requested - nope! self indulgent!

a/n - he’s so cute :3 him and the 1975 is just *chefs kiss* i also got very carried away sorry!!

warnings - drinking, marijuana consumption, romcom ass storyline, jacks lowkey an idiot but it’s okay she’s also an idiot, swearing, mentions of egging homes, also mentions of blowing a car up, let me know if i missed any!!

THE HOUSE was lively and loud with chatter, music, and the stomps of the party guests walking upstairs. her hands were filled a large red solo cup full of foul smelling liquor and a joint in her opposite hand. she took a swig of her drink and grimaced as it was going down, burning. she passed the blunt to her left and stood up.

jack was standing off in the opposite corner of the living room with his hometown friends, answering the never-ending questions about acting and how much money he makes. his reply trailed off and his eyes caught her. the only one who didn’t welcome him home last week, and the reason he’s been moping around.

their eyes locked as she was walking towards the hallway, towards him. his heart beat picks up and he takes a drink to feel more confident. she walks right by him, maintaining the staring contest until she was out of sight. he embarrassingly looked down at his shoes and pretended that he was fascinated with the view of his dirty converse.

she closed the bathroom door and leaned her back against it, slamming her head back. her veins feel as if they’re pumping molten lava into her heart, everything burns, including her cheeks. she gazes at her flustered and flushed reflection, wondering why she couldn’t just talk to him without feeling as if she’ll randomly combust.

unbeknownst to them, but they had the same night routine. stare at their bedroom ceiling and think of each other, waves of regret and sadness flowing through them. connecting them by an invisible string. jack wishes it could go back to how it was before he left to pursue acting, how it was when they were kids, how it was when you talked to him. well, why couldn’t it be? he quickly pulled a hoodie on and slipped out of the back door, heading for the house next to his and picking up the small pieces of gravel in the garden.

she swears she hallucinated it, the sound of the rocks battering against her window. hallucinated pulling her curtain back and her worst fears becoming a reality. her bedroom lamp is on, he can see her when she looks down at him. he stares up and mouths the word ‘lake’. she should’ve shook her head no, she should’ve closed the curtain and went to bed, but she nodded and got dressed.

the night air felt fresh against their skin as they walked the short trail throughout the trees behind their houses to the lake, their lake. they haven’t been since he left, and she still hasn’t spoken a word to him. their steps synchronized and he kept glancing up at her, only for a fleeting second.

as the pair of the teenagers sat on the dock, all they could hear was the crickets song and the melody of wind against tree branches. “why won’t you talk to me?” it almost sounds like a whisper, like it should blend in with the wind. she lifted her head up and starting fiddling with her nails. “i don’t want to welcome you back into my life just for you to leave again, jack. it sounds stupid, but you left. and you stopped texting and calling.” he had a solemn expression and his eyebrows were furrowed. “i’m sorry, i was really busy and i didn’t have any time. i didn’t mean to ignore you.” she nods softly and scoffs.

the sun had rose long ago and was now in its zenith, she was still in bed. she wasn’t sleeping or trying to, she just hadn’t gotten up all day. if she looked out her window she’d see jack and his family in their backyard, circled around the grill and laughing. she hates his perfect laugh, his perfect face, but most of all she hates his voice. the way it carried throughout the air and everyone recognized it. but she’s grown to despise it throughout his absence.

‘please just come with us. idk if jack will even be there.’ she stared at the text for what felt like hours. she decided her anger towards him couldn’t ruin her last summer before she went to college, she could have fun and still hate him.

the beach was already littered with cans of varying liquids and the bonfires were at their peak. she was waiting in the parking lot for her friends to meet her there but they insisted she came down to them. she was scanning the sea of bodies, trying to find a familiar face. the second she’d approached the group a drink was shoved into her hand and the music was turned up, which was already deafening.

he sat on the shore with a few friends, drinking. away from the crowd so he could breathe. then he heard her laugh. the sound he’d grown to miss so ardently, but it wasn’t even directed towards him. his mind starts racing at the thought of a random guy making her laugh that loud. she was probably drunk and stumbling on the sand. he stood up, ignoring how light headed he was, and walked towards the sound of her.

she leaned into the boys embrace, his name was ‘tanner’ or ‘tyler, she couldn’t remember. tanner-tyler almost felt like jack if she focused on it enough, but her mind was already fuzzy. her head was thrown back laughing at another funny story from their younger years. the closed her eyes and listened to the group, feeling very tired and not wanting to engage in the party anymore.

his eyes laid on the unholy sight of her with a guy who wasn’t him. his hand all over her, a smile plastered across her face. he approaches the group and accepts all hugs and greetings thrown his way, but his eyes didn’t leave the girl sitting on the sand. he took a seat in a break of the circle of teens, right across from the scene that would possibly haunt his dreams tonight, and forever.

her eyes opened after hearing his name and hearing his voice piping into the stories and adding small details the rest forgot about. her half-lid gaze was flickering between the hands on her waist and thigh and the beautiful boy across from her. she felt as if she’d might throw up, no, she actually had to throw up. she stood up quickly, throwing the hands off of her and mumbled out ‘feel sick’ and beelined for the bushes by the parking lot. jack watched the scene unfold and began following her, calling her name and asking her to slow down.

she dropped to her knees and starting coughing into the sand, he approached quickly and pulled her hair behind her head and starting rubbing small circles in the middle of her back. she couldn’t even be mad at him, not when he was being so gentle while she was throwing up her guts.

she rolled over and sat down on the sand, wiping her mouth. he was squatted in front of her, waiting for something to happen, anything to happen. “thank you.” she managed to croak out through her hoarse throat. he nodded and hummed. “can i take you home? i think you need to go to bed, drank too much.” she nodded and tried standing herself, ultimately depending on jack pulling her up and walking her to his car. gently placing her in the front seat and buckling her seat belt. “i’ll be right back, i just need to tell them i’m taking you home.”

the surprised and confused expressions amongst the group as jack explained where they’re going. the boy who was wrapped around her like an invasive species of vine piped in. “why don’t i take her home? she was all over me, i could’ve gotten real lucky.” his friends pipe in telling him to shut up and hurling insults towards him. “she doesn’t wanna go home with you. trust me.” a small smile on his lips as he walks back to his car.

as he started the car and handed his phone to her to pick a song, her knees were pulled up to her chest and she was staring out of the windshield. “m’ sorry for making you leave. i can take myself home.” he laughs and it surprises her, her eyes moving to him. “absolutely not, you’re too drunk to even know if the light is green.” she smiled in his direction. watching him as he puts an arm behind her seat while reversing out of his parking spot. she hadn’t looked at him much lately, just throughout instagram posts and whatever tiktok edit decided to show up on her home page.

the car ride was filled with music and a tension that felt as if it was absorbing all the oxygen in the vehicle. the car came to a small stop in between of their houses. they just stared at each other. “i know we just got here but i’m really hungry.” she says with a small smile and he laughed, but she didn’t seem to hate it.

the drive through at the taco bell was wrapped around the restaurant. “are we willing to wait half an hour for tacos?” she nodded and went into detail about what she’d do for a taco. they were laughing, together. he remembered the first day he got his drivers liscense and they went out for taco bell, and ate at the top of the hill that overlooks the city. he almost didn’t hear the crackling of the work out speaker through his daydream of memories.

“i can’t believe you remember my order, that’s so funny” it’s sweet, but she couldn’t say that. he laughed as he began turning into the road for the hill. he prayed she wouldn’t notice until they got there, but the way she got quiet and stared at him, she knew. she had focused her gaze on the passing trees and houses. as he turned off the car and pushed his seat back to begin eating, she looked at the city lights. “i haven’t been back here since you…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence that hurts her own feelings.

“i really missed you, it’s so hard looking at our hometown and going by our spots but i’m not with you. the guys had to pull me out of bed tonight so i’d go to the bonfire. i really am sorry for being an absolute asshole and not talking to you.” his voice was shaky but his eyes were gentle and almost looked inviting. “the reason i was so mad that you were leaving is because i had the biggest crush on you since middle school, and we had this great summer and then you just left. i mean, i’m glad you’re back, don’t get me wrong. it was just really hard.” it was the residual alcohol talking now, no filter on her thoughts that reel against her own borders.

“…do you still?” his expression almost looked like he was begging. “do i still, what?” “have the biggest schoolgirl crush on me?” she fought her laugh at his wording but went silent. “i’m sorry, was that the wrong thing to say? i was just joking-” “can you shut up for one second and let me think about what to say?” he went silent and slightly widened his eyes at her outburst. “sorry, that was kinda mean.”

they sat in the suffocating silence for a few more seconds before she opened her mouth to speak. “even if i say yes, at the end of the day you’re still leaving. i’m starting college in new york and you’ll go back to california. but…” she bit her cheek, debating if she should keep talking. “but i do. that’s why i was avoiding you, i thought it would go away after you left but it didn’t.” she turns her head to him and he looks confused at her drawn out answer. she laughed and puts her hand on top of his. “i still have a super schoolgirl crush on you.” he smiled, she leaned closer in and he had to roll himself to pull back. “maybe we should do this another time, when you’re not drunk.”

“dude, i don’t know how i keep fucking up with her! it’s like everything i do is wrong and now she’s pissed at me again right when i just got to her to talk to me.” jack laid on his bedroom floor with his friend sitting on his bed, above him. “she tried to kiss you and you said no, man. you rejected her! she’s obviously gonna be pissed at you.” “she was drunk, she wouldn’t have even remembered it and i’d be the idiot all over again.”

“yeah! i was like ‘i still like you’ and he looked at me with those stupid eyes and when i tried to kiss him he literally said no. who the hell asks if you like them and then rejects you?” she paced the length of her bedroom with her best-friends sitting on her bed watching her vent. “i was so fucking nice to him when he didn’t deserve it and he does this to me. we should egg his house and blow up his car.” her two friends look at each other and begin to try calming her down.

their bedrooms faced each other, but she’d closed her curtains. her friend had opened them while trying to explain how badly she wanted to not egg his house and blow up his car. he was sitting on his bed with his friend, seemingly talking about something important as he was motioning with his hands a lot. the two boys looked towards the movement they saw and they both freeze.

“okay, fine. but i swear to god if one of the boys invited jack, i am going to dump a milkshake on his head and beat his ass.” she’d been convinced to go out for dinner with their friends.

the young group was laughing and eating their meals, the diner was fairly busy so she wasn’t focused on the people moving around her. until she saw him, and he sat in the empty chair next to her. she pressed her lips together and looked at her best-friends with the fury of one thousand hells. they smiled sheepishly and pretended to be very interested in the story being told. he muttered a small ‘hi’ and she ignored him. until he pushed his chair closer to hers and his thigh was touching hers.

he called after her in the parking lot, she tried to ignore it and get into her car before he could catch up but he grabbed her arm, instantly letting go when he got her attention. “please, just hear me out.” his voice was low and fought the urge to hit him. she sighed and turned to face him. “you have one minute before i walk away.” he scrambled for his words and stuttered out a “you were drunk and i didn’t want to kiss you, well, no! i did want to kiss you but when you were sober and i didn’t even think you’d remember enough to even remember but clearly you did so, um, i’m really sorry. every time i get close to you i just go fuck it up.” her eyes widened at his rushed words and panicked behavior.

“did you drive here?” was all she said. he shook his head no “no, i rode with chad.” she motioned towards her car and started opening her door. looking back at him standing there. “get in the goddamn car!” he quickly ran to the passenger door and climbed in.

“so, does this mean you forgive me?” “it means you’re on parole and if you fuck up again i’m gonna egg your house and blow up your car.” he nods and smiles at her as they pulled up in front of their houses. “i’ve been in love with you for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. let me take you out tomorrow, and if you didn’t like it, you never have to see me again.” she smiled and turned in her seat. “i could never not want to see you, jack.”

he turned towards her and looked down to avert her gaze. “it’s kind of my turn to confess and spill my guts, but i think i already have.” he lifts his head up and slightly leans in, testing the waters. he’s almost expecting a punch to the face, but instead his lips are met with hers. he feels as if god himself had bestowed a piece of heaven right in front of him, and he wondered what he did to deserve something this good.

[circle-with-me]

sunshine in my eyes

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x reader

tags/cw: domestic nicky, lots of fluff, very mild nsfw conversation, swimming

word count: 1k

tag list: @malice-ov-mercy @baddestomens @sitkowski @somebodyels3 @broken0mens @tearfallpixie @cookiesupplier @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants @sammyjoeee @collective-heartbreak @agravemisstake @catharsis-in-darkness @to-be-written @collapsedglasshouses @itsafullmoon @lma1986

author’s note: after i posted my cute beachy Will blurb yesterday it got my wheels turning. i’ve been wanting to write something fluffy for my beloved @deathblacksmoke so i thought why not continue the summer trend? also, the cringe is intentional bc they’re cute and in love thx 🫶🏻

The lawn mower roars outside while you get a large glass of ice ready. You look outside the kitchen window and see Nick hard at work in the yard. Sighing, you grab the pitcher of lemonade from the counter and pour some in the glass. He had been working outside all day in the heat while all of your chores were inside and air conditioned. You figured the least you could do was bring him something cold to drink.

It wasn’t all for nothing, at least. This is the first summer in your new house. You had brazenly planned a get together with the guys and a few others later that evening. Both of you wanted to make sure the house looked perfect for your guests.

You fill your own glass and push your way onto the back porch, carefully sitting them on the table. Yelling at Nick, you realize it’s useless as the mower is far too loud. You wave your arms around and finally he looks up. He gives you a confused smile and turns off the machine.

“What is this?!” He yells, waving his arms around in a mocking manner. You roll your eyes at him as he laughs.

“Come get your lemonade, jerk!” You yell back playfully.

Nick accepts the drink with a smile and a kiss on your cheek. He doesn’t need to say much about the taste—the smacking of his lips and soft mmm’s as he drinks serve as a positive review. It’s impossible to say no to him when he asks for another glass… not that you would ever say no to him in the first place.

“How much more do you have left, Nicky?”

He sits his drink down, scanning the yard and considering your question. If you said you thought the boy you met seven years ago in a cramped venue in Richmond would be sitting on a porch with you now gauging how much yard work he had left, you would definitely be lying. Domestic bliss wasn’t even on your radar then, but now, you can’t imagine life without it.

“I’m almost done with the back. I just have to do some shaping around those trees over there,” He says, pointing. “I gotta make sure I didn’t miss anything in the front. I should be good after that.”

“God, you’re so hot when you talk about yard work.” You tease, fanning yourself. Nick whips his head to face you, smirking.

“You think so?”

“Mmhmm… It gets me all hot and bothered.” You lean across the table, touching his arm and winking.

“What are you going to do about it?” Nick responds teasingly.

“Probably go take a cold shower. All by myself.” You dramatically drag out the last few words and stand up to head for the patio door. The chair screeches behind you as Nick scrambles out of it to catch up to you. He grabs you by the arm and turns you around, pushing you against the door. All attempts at being serious are gone now as you can’t stop giggling at him.

Nick pins your arms above your head, planting quick pecks all over your face. His face is slimy and covered in sweat. You try to squirm away from him but he holds you tight—committed to making you miserable. He whispers filthy comments in your ears as his hands roam and you quickly realize you’re losing control of the situation. You manage to sneak out of his grasp, opening the door behind you and slamming it shut.

“Don’t you dare take a shower without me!” He groans.

“Sounds like you better hurry up and finish that yard work then.” You giggle.

The party goes off without a hitch. The guys took it upon themselves to handle the grill so you didn’t have to. You sat and listened to them argue over whose technique was best for what seemed like an eternity before you announced your famous jalapeño poppers were ready. They all swarmed the table, picking the plate clean and thanking you in their individual ways. Nick stayed at the grill mouthing a silent thank you. You winked at him and brought him a special plate you had saved just for him.

Later on, everyone decides to go swimming once their stomachs have settled. You lose count of how many times Noah throws you in the pool, but you get your revenge in a heated game of chicken and a devastating pool noodle attack. Looking around to share in your victory, you catch Nick laid out on a pool chair. His head is lulled against the top of the chair. He’s chuckling at all of the chaos—the arm lazily draped across his bare stomach jumping as his soft belly shakes. The happiness radiating from him makes your heart flutter.

He’s alone though, and you can’t have that.

Nick keeps his eyes on you as you step out of the water and pad over to him. You grab the towel placed over the other chair and dry off with it. When you’re done he coaxes you into his lap and you happily oblige, curling into his arms with your head on his chest.

“You okay, Nicky?”

All he does is hum in response and the vibration you feel through his chest is bliss. His entire body is warm from laying in the sun and he wraps the towel around you tighter, kissing the top of your head.

“Then what are you doing over here all by yourself?”

You feel him take a deep breath but it’s not from anxiety or discontent. His heart beats next to your ear calmly. You know there’s nothing to worry about.

“When we first met,” He starts, dragging his hand up and down your arm. “Did you ever think we’d have all of this?” He waves his arm and you look around. You see a backyard you’ve both worked so hard for full of friends that you would trust with your life. Memories of younger versions of the people you love so much creep into your mind. It’s all a little overwhelming how far you’ve all come.

Seven years. Seven summers. This one might just be your favorite of them all.

[sophrosynesworld]

Black and Blues (Pt. 3)

Part One:

My feet slam against the trail, each step pounding out a futile rhythm against the crushing silence. The rocks crunch beneath my sneakers, a temporary distraction from the storm inside my head.

But my mind won't quiet.

“You don’t need to quit. You love your job.”

“Katsuki, I have to.”

Was it my fault? I replay every conversation in my head, dissecting every word, searching for signs I missed—clues that could have warned me, things I could have done differently. But there’s nothing, just endless questions with no answers. My lungs burn as I push harder, vision blurring with the tears I refuse to let fall. I could run his business, I could do the interviews, but on this side of the glass, everything feels impossible.

Helpless. That’s what I am.

We know the risks—we train for this, every single day, to make sure those mistakes don’t happen. But it’s been over 24 hours, and we still don’t even know his last steps. Katsuki was always the strong one. He was supposed to be the one fighting for me. We knew what we were getting into; we understood the dangers

Mina opened her home to me without hesitation, convinced it was the safest place for me to be. But she’s taken on so much—organizing meal trains, managing a steady stream of heroes who come and go, each one more exhausted and defeated than the last. They all tell me how sorry they are, how they’re doing everything they can.

But Mina’s house, my second home, full of laughter and late-night drunken conversations, feels emptier than it ever has. Every casserole dish and dessert left on her counter is a reminder of someone’s love, but it all feels hollow. Their words are kind, but registers as white noise. “He’s strong,” they say, “He’ll get through this.” But it only twists the knife deeper. They don’t understand—none of them do.

Nighttime is the worst. When the apartment goes quiet and everyone is gone, the weight of his absence suffocates me. I curl up in bed, clutching his hoodie, burying my face in the fabric that still smells like him—smoke and sugar, Katsuki—and I cry until my body feels empty. Every shadow in the room reminds me of him, and I want to scream until my throat bleeds. But I can’t. I can’t even turn on the lights.

Izuku tried to protect me, to shield me from the worst of it, but I saw it anyway. He looked… gone. The fire in his eyes snuffed out. I didn’t recognize him. The Katsuki I know would have fought, would have torn the room apart with his bare hands, but this version of him—he didn’t even flinch when they hit him.

He didn’t scream.

“Why’d you stop?” Kirishima’s voice breaks through the noise in my head, and I turn to see him jogging up behind me, his face tight with concern. He’s trying to be strong for me, but I see the cracks.

“oh, sorry,” I say, my voice trembling. I pick at my nails, my head bowed, staring at the ground. “I just… got lost.”

“In what?” His question hangs in the air, and I can’t bring myself to answer. I don’t have the words. I don’t even know how to start explaining the mess inside me.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Eijiro,” I finally whisper, my voice barely audible, strangled by the tears I’ve held back for too long. “I don’t know how to help him.”

He steps closer, reaching out, but I recoil, the fury boiling over. I whirl around and slam my fist into the nearest tree, the bark digging into my skin, but I don’t care. It’s nothing compared to the pain that’s eating me alive. “I’m tired of the lies, of people treating me like I’m going to break. I need to know the truth.”

Kirishima flinches, his eyes brimming with a sadness that makes my chest ache. “I’m sorry. I wish I had answers. I wish I could do more.”

“Then why don’t you tell me anything?” I shout, tears streaming down my face. “You’re all in those rooms, making decisions. You know where he is, what they’re doing to him, and no one tells me a damn thing. I’m his wife, Eijiro. I have a right to know.”

I pace back and forth, every breath a struggle, every word a plea. “I can’t keep pretending. I’m losing him, and I can’t even fight for him. I saw the video. I saw what they did. He didn’t even look like himself anymore. They hit him, and he just… took it. Katsuki never just takes it.”

Kirishima’s gaze meets mine, and I can see the pain mirrored in his eyes, tears threatening to spill. “You really think I’d let them keep my best friend if I knew where he was?” His voice cracks, thick with emotion.

“I’d tear this city apart to get him back if I could. We’re doing everything we can, but we don't know anything. They’ve benched all of us, not just you.” He pauses, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. “I’m still a hero, but right now, I feel just as powerless as you. You’re not the only one drowning in this, soldier.”

I shake my head, my voice breaking into a sob. “I'm sorry."

Kirishima closes the distance, pulling me into his arms, and I let myself crumble. “I just want him back,” I whisper, my voice lost against his shoulder. “I just want my husband back.”

We stand there, holding onto each other as the world continues to spin without him, every second feeling like a lifetime of heartbreak.

Part Four:

[noxturnalnymph]

Believer

Dave York x F!Partner(FBI), Chubby Dave York vs Tractor Beam (2.3k)

Summary: Submission for Beef’s October Fic Prompt Challenge - Dave York Made Me Believe:

Someone must be a non-believer (reader or Dave)

The following wording: Dave was not one who liked to be influenced to do anything, let alone that.

The X-files must be mentioned or referenced at least once.

Warnings: spooky pacific northwest vibes, all-around silliness, no sex, references to tall blue vibrating aliens (iykyk) A/N: Thank you to @strang3lov3 for green-lighting this premise and for editing away all my many mistakes. I love you @beefrobeefcal. I told you I would only write about aliens of the Ice-Planet-variety and I think this fits the bill. Happy Halloween!

Dave’s partner simultaneously snaps shut her flip phone and guns the engine, causing the car to lurch forward and the Big Mac he’s holding to slam against his chest. Special sauce dribbles down his tie as Dave shoots her a deadly side-eye.

“That was the division director we met on Tuesday,” she offers by way of explanation, typing in an address in the GPS as she drives, oblivious to the burger collision she’s just caused. “He gave us this location he wants us to check out,”

“Is there a lead on the shipping container theft?” Dave mumbles with his mouth full, as he smushes a napkin to his tie, smearing the greasy sauce further into the fabric. 

“No, it has nothing to do with that, but we’re the only critical incident response unit in the area so he wants us to make contact right away.”

She finishes speaking and then immediately turns her music - an Alanis Morissette CD she’d shoved into the deck - up as loud as she can. Dave has only been working with this agent for a week and even though she came highly recommended, he finds her to be quite irritating. He tries to dab more sauce away from his tie as he finishes his fast food dinner, opting instead to remove the tie completely by the time the car comes to a halt behind a sole forest service cruiser on a long, foggy stretch of road.

“We’re here,” his partner says, grabbing his milkshake and taking it with her out of the vehicle.

“We’re-, where the fuck are we?” Dave says to an empty car as she closes the door and starts walking towards the woods.

Dave exits the vehicle and trudges into the tree-line where he saw his partner disappear, his footsteps crunching on dried pine needles and the crisp air of the approaching evening creeping down his open collar. He wishes he had worn his suit jacket today but since he’s put on a few pounds it doesn't fit him very well anymore, so he left it at the hotel.

He emerges in an eerily still clearing to find his partner standing alongside a forest ranger who appears to be speaking with two hunched figures, huddled under thick blankets. She swivels her head, eyebrows climbing up her forehead as she spots him, and heads towards him with bounding steps. As she approaches Dave grabs the milkshake container out of her hands only to find it empty.

“That was mine,” he grumbles.

“You can afford to share,” she snarks, motioning towards his distended belly. “This is really interesting; see those two girls over there?” she points to the only two people besides government employees in the small field. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Dave mutters sarcastically.

“They’re claiming they were abducted by aliens,” she exclaims.

“Aliens?” Dave repeats.

“Isn’t that awesome?”

“What the-, like little green men, aliens?” Dave huffs, incredulous that they’d be pulled away from a major port theft investigation to be sent to the middle-of-nowhere north of Seattle for this insanity; a couple of local kooks claiming they were probed by space men. 

“Hopefully big blue aliens,” she replies excitedly.

Before he can ask what she means she is practically skipping back towards the small group, and Dave doesn’t have it in him to join. He knows she’s experienced enough to handle this kind of call - a complete waste of his time - and so instead he shuffles around the clearing. He takes a small flashlight out of his pocket to fight against the encroaching darkness settling as the sun dips behind the evergreen treeline.

Flashing his light on the ground he notices the tall grass is still wet from the morning dew, as if the sun didn’t get a chance to touch this little clearing in the woods today. He walks around the edges of it, noting how odd it is that there seems to be a perfectly oval patch of trees missing among these thick woods. As he rounds the circle he approaches the group and can see now that the huddled figures are two women, both pale and shaking. 

He makes eye-contact with the forest ranger - an older gentleman with a graying mustache - each of them giving the other a subtle nod as he passes by. He watches as his partner writes on the small spiral-bound bound notebook she keeps in her blazer pocket. He can’t say she’s not a good agent, she’s been very knowledgeable and thorough so far, but she’s just so-. Dave loses his train of thought as he tunes into the conversation.

“I’m not sure,” the young woman with glasses whispers. Dave spots floral tattoos cascading across her chest before she draws the blanket closer together. “Colette would have had a better view of them since I was face down on the table the whole time.”

His partner - eyes down and still writing notes - turns to the other woman, whose long, dark hair is unbound by the blanket she is bundled in and is gently blowing in the breeze.

“So, how would you describe them? Were they tall, maybe over seven feet? Would you describe their coloring as a shade of blue or steely gray? Did you notice any horns on their heads? Or fangs?”

“Well- Ummm,” the woman stammers.

Dave puts his hands on his hips and gives his partner a look that he hopes communicates the ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ thoughts screaming inside his head. 

Before he can give voice to any of his thoughts he notices the long-haired woman has stopped speaking and is staring at him, slack-jawed. His partner looks back over her shoulder and sees his pissed-off look, mouthing ‘what?’ and then beckoning him forward. He shook his head. Dave was not one who liked to be influenced to do anything, let alone that. He would absolutely not be participating in this charade. His partner turns back to the conversation and since she got no response from the second woman - Colette, apparently - she turns back to the tattooed woman.

“Did you hear them speaking any kind of words you could understand?” his partner questions.

“Actually, yes, but I don’t think you’re gonna believe me,” she answers. 

“What did they say? Maybe you heard a kind of humming or a vibrating resonance too?”

Dave rolls his eyes and sees the second woman still staring at him, her eyes glazed over. He feels like he’s being punk’d, that this trip out to the damp, darkening woods is someone’s idea of a poorly-executed practical joke. Annoyed that his time is being wasted when he could be back at the hotel with his feet up and his pants unbuttoned, he turns away from the group and continues inspecting the area. He shines his flashlight back and forth as he walks, seeing nothing but his shoes getting more muddy with each step.

Suddenly, his light catches on a small, shining piece of silver. Bending over with a huff, he picks it up, turning it over in his hands. It’s a cylindrical shape the size of two of his fingers with a rounded end, like an oversized rivet. He doesn’t think aliens would use such primitive technology and tosses it into the air, chuckling to himself as he catches it and tucks it into his pocket.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a small light flashing inside the forest that continues beyond the small clearing. He turns to say something to his partner but she’s busy talking and he’s a bit creeped out by the fact that the long-haired woman is still staring at him with heavily lidded eyes, mouth still slightly ajar. He ducks into the dark provided by the heavy tree cover and heads towards the strange blinking.

He continues walking, the light farther away than he initially thought. He has to heft himself over a large fallen tree trunk that spans left and right as far as his eyes can see and then hop a small creek that runs through the low point he’s come across. On the other side of the running water he sees the blinking light, larger now that he’s up close. The only problem is that it’s about 10 feet up in a tree, making it almost impossible for him to see exactly what it is. 

He can’t hear his partner talking this deep in the woods and any leftover sunlight from the opening in the forest behind no longer reaches him. He’s thinking how glad he is to have his flashlight with him as he draws the beam of it up the trunk of the tree to the flashing device. He halts any movement, sucking in a breath when the trembling light reaches it and his eyes grow wide at what he sees. 

The device is being held in tiny hands between two small, yellow, cylindrical-shaped beings wearing what look to be denim overalls, who stare at him with large eyes blinking behind silver-rimmed goggles. One is about two feet tall with one eye and the other is over a foot taller with two eyes and a stalk of hair that sticks straight up. 

They are all frozen in place, staring at each other until he hears a sound behind him, like tiny feet shuffling on dried pine needles. He slowly turns to look back and sees an even smaller two-eyed being holding something out in his hands towards Dave.

“Bah-nah-na?” it asks, in a high-pitched nasally voice.

Dave doesn’t have time to think about how much whoever put him up to this must be laughing, he only thinks about getting the fuck out of there, and he immediately turns and starts running away. He doesn’t scream when both legs go ankle-deep in the cold creek or when he catches a foot under a root, twisting his leg at an unnatural angle. He does, however, let out a loud grunt when he slams his overweight body into the forgotten fallen tree trunk, prostrating himself against the ground, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

He begins to mutter curses but freezes again when a bright light beams down on him from above, illuminating a blinding circle around him. No fucking way, he thinks. Then he feels it, a force drawing him upwards towards the light. It lifts his arms first, then his legs, his head leaves the ground and he begins to reach out, belly still touching the forest floor, clawing at the ground in a desperate attempt to find something to grab onto.

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath his hands, his futile attempt to clutch onto something failing as his heavy middle is lifted several inches off the ground. He puts his arms and legs beneath him and then - on all fours - scrambles out of the beam of light. It seems to take a moment for the light to find him again, he watches as it zig-zags around the ground, before finally locking onto him several feet away. 

He hasn’t been able to get very far and he’s panting, winded at the physical effort, when the force begins to draw him up again. This time he does cry out, he screams for his partner only for the sound of his voice to be sucked above him, like screaming into the raging wind. He is lifted fully off the ground now, several feet up, and he’s still shouting and pawing wildly at the air.

He hears a metalling ‘clunk’ sound and hears several items drop onto the ground beneath him. Before he can wonder what they are he sees them float past his face, more rivets like the one in his pocket. The light dims for a moment as the force lessens slightly, dropping him halfway back to the ground. When it resumes its upward pull on him it appears to struggle, moving even slower than before. He hears several more clunking noises and then the light goes out completely, the invisible force dropping him back down to the ground.

He lets out another groan as he hits the hard ground once again but this time he doesn’t waste any time, jumping to his feet as quickly as possible and heaving himself forwards. He bursts back into the clearing - now completely dark - and two flashlights point at his red, damp face.

“York, what the hell?” he hears his partner’s voice from behind one of the flashlights.

He heads towards the voice as she moves the flashlight along his body, most likely seeing the evidence of his time scrambling in the dirt and his mad dash through the dark woods. He feels the bones in one of his feet throbbing and knows there are scratches all over his face from branches he ran into during his escape.

“I-, there-, it-, they-”, with each word he manages to get out he stops to take three gulping breaths.

“York, relax, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack, big guy,” she says, as the ranger offers him a canteen of water, which he gladly accepts and begins to swallow down.

“I- I saw them,” Dave finally sputters, the canteen rattling in his trembling hands.

“Who?” she asks, brows knitted together.

“Them,” Dave whispers, eyes wide as he looks upwards at the sky.

“Very funny, York, ha ha,” she says, dripping with sarcasm.

“No, I-”

“I know this isn’t your thing but don’t worry, there’s two other agents who just showed up and they’re gonna take this case off our hands.”

“What? Who?” he says, eyes scanning the treeline in the dark - for people or creatures unknown.

“I dunno, some hot guy and a pretty little redhead. Let’s get back to the car, we can stop at Dairy Queen on the way back to the hotel and get you another milkshake.”

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

A Snack by the Lake, Part 3

Summary: Sebastian and MC have a nice ending to their picnic 

Pairings: Sebastian and f!MC 

Warnings: 18+, public sex, unprotected sex

Word count: 684

A/N: Huge thanks to @pugsnotdrugs92 for inspiring this entire thing. It was a joy to write and a greater joy to share.  Part one and two ICYMI

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

“Fuck, Princess if I had known this is what you had in mind when you suggested this picnic, I wouldn’t have told Ominis ab - oh fuck.” His words were cut off as she sunk down on him, her walls squeezing him the whole way down before she relaxed in his lap.

“You told him? You better hope he doesn’t come looking for us.” 

“If he does, I'm not stopping.” He had already begun slowly thrusting into her, the soft flesh of her ass just barely lifting from his body. Pressing on his legs she propped herself up, giving him room to thrust harder, faster, his hands gripping hard at her waist, holding her up. 

Sebastian kept up his quickened pace, dipping his head to rest on her shoulder, groaning against the skin of her neck, running his tongue along the shell of her ear. Her loud moans, her nails digging into his thighs, and the heavenly view of his cock disappearing into her were quickly pushing him closer to the precipice of his orgasm.

Lost in the pleasure Sebastian was giving her, her mind barely registered the sight of a blonde form making its way to them, the green of his robes shining in the sun, followed by a small group of figures distinguishable only by the peeks of the other houses' colors as their robes blew in the slight breeze. 

“Fuck, Sebastian, they’ve found us.” 

He froze for a few seconds, his head lifting off her neck, looking in the same direction as her. 

“Sebastian, keep going. They’re far enough away, I know you’re close, baby, I need you to cum inside me.”

It didn’t take much, the idea of being caught by them and her pleading sending him over the edge in less than a minute. His teeth clenched in an attempt to muffle his deep guttural groans as he spilled his load inside her, his hips never ceasing their movement. 

Sebastian didn’t bother to look over to see how close their friends were now, the pace of his thrust increasing. He knew they were getting very close, but so was she, her uncontrollable moans getting louder by the second.

“Listen to you, Princess, moaning so beautifully for me. You don’t even care if they catch us, do you? Come on baby, be my good little slut, cum on my cock in front of all our friends.” 

It was a demand that she happily obeyed, his name slipping from her lips as he slammed himself into her. Whimpering as her orgasm began, her eyes rolling back, Sebastian quickly threw his hand over her mouth, knowing the whole fucking castle would hear her screams if he didn’t. 

He fucked her through wave after wave, cooing in her ear as he did. “Good girl, such a good slut for me.” As she fell back against him in a boneless heap he spoke again.

“I know you’re tired but they’re getting too close, Princess. If I don’t pull out of you now I won’t get the chance, and then I really will have to fuck you again, right in front of them. You’re not ready for that are you, love? Me neither. No one else gets to know what a good girl you are for me.” He lifted her up, slipping out of her, setting her down in the grass between his legs, using the pleats of her skirt to cover his lap as he hastily tucked himself back into his pants. Around the tree, their friends settled down in the grass, absorbed in their conversations. Sebastian leaned forward, curling his body over MCs, wrapping her in his arms, pressing soft kisses to her face. 

“I love you, Princess.” 

She felt a breeze across her legs and realized she hadn’t had time to fix her panties before their friends had arrived, feeling Sebastians seed dripping out of her, pooling in the grass underneath her as he whispered to her. Blushing hard, adjusting her skirt to cover herself a little more, she whispered back. 

“I love you too, Sebby. I’m glad we had this picnic today.” 

[cigarcloud]

The Sun Hardly Touches Me

Word Count: 1200 Ao3 Link Summary: “That man is a menace to the future of humanity!” Sengoku’s voice rang out over the loud crush of battle. Crocodile smirked to himself as he pushed his way through the bodies. He had to agree, that little brat was a menace. His body melted into sand as he was hit with stray bullets. The grains slid over each other seamlessly to reform him. “He grew up with Ace! They’re like brothers!” Crocodile was only half listening as the Fleet Admiral rambled, his target was growing closer with each second. “As for his bloodline, he’s the son of Dragon the Revolutionary!”

The world stopped in its tracks. Author's Note: Poem at the beginning is an excerpt from Lamium by Louise Glück

This is how you live when you have a cold heart. As I do: in shadows, trailing over cool rock, under the great maple trees.

The sun hardly touches me.

-

Another husk hit the ground with a thud, another Marine who thought he could survive Sir Crocodile. It was a mistake many others had made. It was always their last.

“That man is a menace to the future of humanity!” Sengoku’s voice rang out over the loud crush of battle. Crocodile smirked to himself as he pushed his way through the bodies. He had to agree, that little brat was a menace. His body melted into sand as he was hit with stray bullets. The grains slid over each other seamlessly to reform him. “He grew up with Ace! They’re like brothers!” Crocodile was only half listening as the Fleet Admiral rambled, his target was growing closer with each second. “As for his bloodline, he’s the son of Dragon the Revolutionary!”

The world stopped in its tracks.

No.

“Can’t believe I let you kick the shit out me for so long, brat. No one else would get away with that, you know.” But there was no malice in his voice.

NO.

“Look at you, so handsome! Somebody gave you good genes, huh?” Arms wrapped around his back, a chin landed on his shoulder. Crocodile snorted.

“Hope you’re not referring to yourself, uggo.” Dragon laughed, peppering Crocodile with kisses, ignoring the performative disgust that followed.

“Never, Wani.”

NO!

It couldn’t be the truth. Crocodile raged on, reckless in his pursuit of Whitebeard. He could barely respond, barely think when that annoying pink bird intervened in his fight. In his head all he could hear was a mad chorus of denial, slamming against the walls of his skull.

“What did we do for the heavens to send down the sun itself?” Crocodile rolled his eyes at Dragon’s attempted poetic ramblings. “Well, at the very least you certainly didn’t get your joyful nature from your mother.”

He shouldn’t care, he had buried that loss long ago. He had given his sunshine to Dragon, and he had never let affection or love rule him since. It shouldn’t matter now, but denial could only get him so far. Deep down, a vicious instinct had already reared it’s ugly head, all gnashing teeth and throat rending screams. Crocodile was made servant to its calls.

My baby, my baby, my baby!

When the blades were ready to land on Fire Fist’s neck, he succumbed. His son had been through enough. He wouldn’t let anything else happen to him. The executioners were dead long before their bodies hit the ground beneath the scaffold.

“Crocodile!” Sengoku’s dismay was written all over his face, sounded in the sharp intonation of his voice. Crocodile couldn’t bring himself to care much. He rolled his eyes, and gave some vague excuse of not wanting Sengoku to win. A truth perhaps, but not the truth. The navy certainly didn’t need to know that Monkey D. Luffy’s bloodline was criminal on two fronts.

Doflamingo also took offense, although Crocodile knew he didn’t care if the Government had their way or not.

“Oh come on, Croc!” He heard as his head fell off of his shoulders. “You rejected me and now you’re joining Whitebeard? I’m jealous!” Crocodile scoffed once he had a mouth to do it with, his head rebuilt.

“I’m not joining anyone.” Not anyone he wanted Doflamingo to focus on, at least.

The battle raged on, his son at the center of it all. Enemy after enemy piled on, seeking to be the one who took out the Revolutionary’s son. But for as many adversaries he attracted, he lured in allies just as effectively. It was a trait Crocodile found irritating, when he had fought the kid. He had arrived in Alabasta, Princess already in tow and wrecked years of planning like it was nothing. In the wake of this revelation, he couldn’t be surprised. How could he complain of being burned when he had stood in the path of the sun?

“Mr. One!” He barked out, turning to his right hand man. “Keep an eye on Straw Hat.” An order he was thankful he gave, when only a few minutes later Mihawk raised his blade to Luffy. Daz blocked his path, but only for a moment. Thankfully a moment was all Crocodile needed to catch up with his son. He shielded Luffy from Mihawk’s second swing, his hook and Yoru screeching as they collided.

He wanted to pull Luffy away, to take him and run. He knew how foolish it would be though. The kid’s enemies and allies alike would target him, and Luffy himself would be fighting. So he swallowed his bile and watched as the battle raged on, as Luffy lost everything. As Crocodile failed to protect his baby, again.

His heart clenched as he heard his son’s wails. His baby screamed in agony, and if Sengoku’s announcement hadn’t clued him in he thought that cry would.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. I’ve got you.” Crocodile looked down at the little bundle, barely bigger than his hands. He watched in fascination as the wails died down and his baby smiled up at him. His face wasn’t one known for its calming effect, but the baby didn’t seem aware of that.

Luffy would find no comfort in him now, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting him out safe, alive. He could atone later, he could hand his son the world on a platter, but only if he made it out alive. A scream tore itself from Crocodile’s throat, his cool demeanor shattered as Akainu punched through Jinbe and into his son. He hurled himself forward, knowing nothing but the war drums of blood pounding in his ears.

He blocked Akainu’s second attack, and turned to his son. He was lost to his shock, completely unconscious. His body was limp in Jinbe’s arms. All Crocodile wanted to do was take him and cradle his baby like he hadn’t in seventeen years. Instead he whipped his hand out towards them, throwing a sandstorm with it.

“Sables!” He cried out, turning towards their retreating allies. “Somebody catch them and put them on the ship!” He turned towards Jinbe then, locking eyes with the fellow ex-Warlord. “If you want to protect something, do it right! Don’t let them have my son!” Crocodile’s eyes widened at the same time as Jinbe’s, realizing what he’d said. What he let slip in the heat of his rage. He whipped his head towards Akainu, but thank whatever Gods were watching the Admiral was dealing with several other allies. No one else had heard.

Luffy and Jinbe eventually made it to the Submarine of another new pirate. The Surgeon of Death. Not the most comforting name, but Crocodile would have to accept it. He saw Luffy’s injuries. They needed treatment right away, there was no time to find anyone else.

Once the submarine disappeared, it was time to leave. Crocodile shifted through the battlefield, locating Daz and making his escape. There was a lot of work to be done, if he wanted to gift the world to the sun.

[lauronk]

happy birthday to my friend @stillboldlygoing. this once - and only this once - will i participate in your wish fulfillment of fixing my fic there's nothing surgery can do.

so i give you this tumblr exclusive ficlet, just a dream

word count: ~3.4k tags: ellie pov, joel & ellie, nightmares, 'it was all a dream' trope, blood, minor injury, no beta we die like david

“But no matter what, no matter all the time you have spent hating me, I love you, Ellie. Okay? No matter what, I would always have loved you. And I have never, not for a goddamn second, regretted my choice.”

Ellie’s eyes flutter open, Joel’s words still ringing in her ears. Her eyes are crusted with the remnants of her tears, cheeks still damp, and as she sucks in a shallow breath, Ellie realizes she is still crying.

She might never stop, at this point. She doesn’t see how she can, not with Joel gone, not with what feels like her entire life upended. What the fuck is she supposed to do, with his words and the echo of that gunshot reverberating non-stop in her head? That image of him walking off into the trees is forever seared into her mind.

Another ragged sob slips out of her lips, and Ellie pushes herself upright on her bed, chest heaving –

She freezes, hands gripping the edge of her mattress. Her bed. She didn’t – she fell asleep on the floor after getting back, she fell asleep there and she stayed there. She stayed there, on the cold ground, still in her jeans and flannel and boots, and yet…

And yet she’s in her bed, in her pajamas, boots shucked off messily by the door like she always does. The door’s still locked, and Ellie whips her head around to check her window, to look at the curtains she knows she closed, and yet they’re wide fucking open. Joel’s house is framed behind them, trees swaying ever so slightly and Ellie –

Ellie bolts.

Doesn’t bother with her shoes, just twists the lock and yanks the door open, doesn’t shut it behind her. Runs full tilt across the yard without slowing, even when she steps on a rock or a twig or something that has her swearing and her right foot radiating pain, but she doesn’t stop until she’s up the steps to his porch and outside his door. It’s fucking locked - who locks their goddamn doors in a place as safe as Jackson? - and Ellie jiggles the knob fruitlessly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She gives up trying to turn the handle in favor of banging on the door with her palm, not stopping even when it starts to sting, when the pain is ricocheting up her arm, not caring that she probably can be heard from around the front of the house, that the sun is barely up, that her foot is hurting something awful, just keeps slamming her hand into the door until she hears a noise from behind it and the handle turns and the door swings open and –

Joel is standing there in front of her. Joel, whose expression morphs rapidly from annoyance to surprise to trepidation to worry. Joel, with his graying hair and increasingly wrinkled face, faded shirt and bare feet, and Ellie can’t help the noise that slips from her and has his eyes going wide.

“Ellie, what –?”

But her hands are scrabbling for his arm, his right arm, rotating it until she can see his forearm, the skin unmarked and unblemished and un-fucking-bitten.

Her oh my god comes out wet and garbled, and she slumps forward until her forehead meets his chest. Joel staggers - steadies - and wraps an arm around her shoulder as she twines her fingers into the sides of his shirt and sobs her relief out against him.

“You’re alright,” she hears faintly above her, his hand rubbing a slow path up and down her spine. “‘S alright.”

They stand there together until Ellie’s sobs subside and she leans back, peering up at him as if she can’t quite believe he’s here. And she can’t, not really - the dream was so vivid, so life-like, she can still smell the dirt, can still hear the echo of the gunshot, can still feel the tightness of Tommy’s arms around her, pulling her away from him permanently.

Joel’s staring back at her almost the same way, uncertainty and confusion and hope all warring visibly across his face. He cups her cheeks, thumbs brushing away stray tears as they still fall, and his brows tug together.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” He asks softly.

“I –” Ellie’s throat closes, head turning enough to catch sight of his bite-free arm again. “I had a nightmare last night, I guess. But it was one of those nightmares that feels so real, everything about it was so clear, I can still remember every little detail of it, I –” She shifts her weight, a hiss escaping when her right foot flares with pain. “Jesus fuck,” she breathes, looking down.

“What –” Joel follows her gaze down, his hands tensing on her face. “You’re bleedin’.”

Sure enough, there’s a small pool of blood on his back deck, her foot throbbing and tacky with it when she lifts it to examine the damage. It’s a deep gash, right through the middle of her foot, and a glance backwards shows a few bloody footprints across the deck.

“Yeah,” Ellie replies quietly, looking back at him, “I think I stepped on something in the yard when I was coming over here.”

Joel shifts to the side of her, hooking an arm under her shoulders. “C’mon, inside.” He nudges her forward, supporting her weight as she hops awkwardly on one foot.

“No, I can take care of it,” Ellie protests weakly, even as she lets herself be led over to the couch. “I don’t wanna get blood on your floor or anything.” Joel props her foot up on the coffee table before disappearing into the kitchen and reemerging with his first aid kit, a dented white case that had been in the house when he’d moved in.

“Yeah, well, you showed up here freaked the hell out and bleedin’, so humor me for a minute and let me fix you up, alright?”

Ellie sinks a little deeper into the couch, watching as he cracks it open and pulls out a wipe and some gauze. She doesn’t know how there’s even anything left in it at this point, after years of bandaging up her cuts and scrapes, not to mention his own. “Alright.”

She leaves him to work in silence for a moment, eyes skating over the room around them curiously. Not really anything has changed since the last time she was here other than a couple more wood carvings, maybe some new books. The clock on the mantel ticks loudly in the silence, right next to the drawing of him she’d made. She can still see his face, gone all soft and pleased in the way she only ever saw from him rarely, staring down at the drawing with his hand over his mouth. Eyes glassy as he’d immediately gone to get a frame for it.

The drawing he’d done of her in turn had been taken out of its frame and shoved in the middle of one of her books. She hadn’t been able to make herself get rid of it anymore than she could stand to look at it.

“So…” Joel draws the word out, glancing up at her briefly before returning his attention to her foot. It stings as he carefully wipes it clean, a towel resting under her heel and slowly darkening with blood. “You gonna tell me about this nightmare of yours?”

Ellie starts to pull her leg back immediately, but Joel’s too quick - his hand clamps around her ankle to keep it in place like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” she says sullenly, crossing her arms over her chest and feeling for a moment like the fourteen-year-old she had been when they met.

Joel hesitates, hand squeezing her ankle and then releasing it in favor of pressing a bandage to the sole of her foot. He keeps pressure there for a long moment, shifting her foot to rest on top of his thigh to hold it better. “You don’t gotta tell me about it if you really don’t want to,” he says eventually, eyes still on her foot. “I just know it had to have been pretty bad if it had you runnin’ to me all panicked like that.” His voice fades into something a little more forlorn, like he recognizes how out of the ordinary it is now for a tear-stained Ellie to be showing up on his doorstep. For Ellie to be on his doorstep at all, after a year and a half of careful avoidance.

Ellie tilts her head back to rest on the back of the couch, eyes on the discolored ceiling. It’s easier than looking at Joel and seeing all the layers of him as she’d known him overlapping. The utter asshole of a man she’d first met that had flung her into a wall and pointed a gun in her face; the softer version he’d become after their argument in this very house, teaching her about football and how to shoot; his face as he’d admitted to lying to her, to ruining any hope of a cure; the face from her dream as he’d prepared to go off into the woods and die; and the man now carefully bandaging her foot with his head hung. There were too many versions of him that pulled too many of her heartstrings and had her feeling entirely too many different ways.

But her eyes slip shut and the vision of him walking towards the trees with a trembling arm and two patrolmen swims behind her eyelids, and the words fall out.

“You died.”

Joel’s hand stills on her foot, the gauze half-wrapped around. He doesn’t say anything, and it’s like all the air has been sucked from the room.

“You died,” Ellie repeats quietly, swiping a stray tear from her cheek. “You got bitten out on a patrol, and me and Tommy had to go say goodbye to you, and then I watched you walk off to go kill yourself.”

His hands resume their ministrations, but even without looking at him Ellie can feel them trembling. Fuck, she’s already said this much, so she might as well keep going.

“Tommy came to get me,” she whispers, eyes still shut, “and told me you got bit. And so I went out with him to see you before you – before.” Her throat goes tight, and Ellie forces herself to sit up and look at him again. Even feeling him securing the ends of the bandage isn’t enough - she needs a visual reminder that he’s still here, that it was all just her brain’s idea of a horrendous joke.

Joel finishes bandaging her foot but makes no move to stand or to return her leg to the coffee table. One of his hands stays wrapped loosely around her ankle, his gaze on the ground between his bare feet. He’s still in his pajamas, Ellie realizes for the first time. She must have been banging on the door hard enough to wake him - there’s not even the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.

“Was there more to it?” Joel asks when she doesn’t continue, and Ellie swallows.

“Yeah, it –” she blows out a breath, fingers knotting together in her lap. “We got there and you’d…you’d gotten bit on your arm. Same place as me.” Joel’s right arm twitches slightly, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers. “And…we –” Ellie clears her throat. “We said goodbye.”

“What did we say?” Joel asks quietly, a note of fear in his voice like he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“Well,” Ellie takes a deep breath, resituates herself a little but doesn’t pull her foot from Joel’s thigh, “I got really pissed at you. Told you it was all your fault because of…because you –”

“Because of what I did at the hospital,” he fills in for her. There’s no recrimination in his voice, no guilt or anger, just understanding. He’s holding her gaze steadily, encouraging her to keep going, something sad lurking in the depths of his eyes that Ellie doesn’t want to try to name.

So she keeps going, spills out all of it - all the things they’d said, the puns, the way she still hadn’t been able to let go of her anger but the way his death had all but destroyed her from the inside out. By the time she stops talking, her throat is dry and her cheeks are damp again. So are Joel’s, his hand still cradling her ankle.

Silence envelops them, the air in the room leaden and heavy with a grief that still feels too real, too raw and present. Ellie still can’t believe how clear the whole dream was - how clear it still was in her mind even now - and she still half expects to blink and be alone in his house. Blink, and he’ll be gone, out in an unmarked grave beyond Jackson’s walls, and she’ll be here with only grief and resentment and fading memories of his laugh to keep her company.

But Joel remains solid in front of her, tangible, his calloused hand still keeping her tethered.

“D’you want some tea?” He finally asks, looking up at her a little uncertainly. “I’ve got some things I’d like to say about your nightmare, but I think maybe we might need some kinda fortification for that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

Joel steadies her as she stands, hands hovering nearby as she limps to the dining room and settles into the chair by the window. It doesn’t hurt quite as bad to walk with the cushion of the bandaging, but she knows she’s gonna have to let Tommy know and probably get herself taken off patrol for a couple weeks.

Ellie sits there, watching as Joel busies himself at the stovetop, pulling down an extra mug to go with his owl mug, digging out a tin of tea that she’s pretty sure she left here after she moved out, pacing back and forth until the kettle whistles and he can pour both of their drinks.

Joel brings both mugs over to the table and sets them down, turning back to dig a small jar of honey out of one of the cabinets and carry it back along with a spoon.

Clearly, he still remembers how she likes her tea.

The smell of his coffee permeates her nostrils as she stirs in the spoonful of honey, and for once she doesn’t recoil from it. She’ll never admit it to him, but the smell had grown on her over the years. Not the taste - never the taste - but the scent of coffee was something Ellie came to associate with Joel, and with safety. Coffee and sawdust and whatever oil it was he used on his wood carvings. She’d forced herself to stop seeking out the smell of it when she’d cut Joel out.

This morning though, Ellie just lets herself take a deep breath and inhale it as Joel settles himself across from her.

“‘M sorry you had that nightmare,” he begins slowly, staring into the depth of his coffee mug like it’ll have all the answers. “And I’m glad that you came here and I could help you out.”

“Like old times,” Ellie can’t help but say, thinking back on bandaged blisters and cut hands, and Joel gives her a brief, wry smile.

“And I don’t expect anything to change, even with how scared and upset you were.” Joel takes a sip of his coffee, setting the owl mug back down with a thunk. “‘Specially once I tell you that I agree with everything the me in your nightmare said.” His voice wavers a bit, but his gaze is steady as it joins with hers. “I don’t regret what I did. I’ll never regret it.”

Ellie’s jaw clenches, but she doesn’t interrupt. This was what her mind had been trying to tell her with that dream, right? Hearing Joel out, letting him say his piece and deciding where to go from there, before it was too late to do anything.

When she stays quiet, Joel’s shoulders lose a little bit of their tension, dropping from around his ears. “I know that’s probably not what you wanna hear. But after I lied to you about what happened at the hospital - what I did,” he clarifies when Ellie’s fingers twitch on her mug, “I told myself that if I ever got the chance to talk to you again I’d be completely upfront about it. So I’ll tell you, I’d do it again. Anything to save your life, kiddo.”

Ellie sits, sips her tea, lets the silence envelop them once more. What he’s saying is nothing new to her - she’s always known he didn’t regret it, wouldn’t change his mind, would kill anyone he deemed a threat to her without a second thought. And it still pisses her the hell off, the way that he’d taken a crucial choice from her, ruined the one thing she was supposed to be good for. It still makes her want to toss her tea in his face and storm out.

But even as she thinks it, she hears the Joel from her dream murmuring I gotta go, baby and sees him vanishing into the woods. Feels the gaping wound left by his death, filled only with her anger and resentment, and Ellie knows - she doesn’t want that. This world they live in now…anything could happen. He could get bit; she could get shot. At his age, he could have a heart attack or a stroke or just fucking die.

And Ellie doesn’t think she’d be able to live with herself if he died thinking she hated him.

“I’m still mad,” she says slowly, and Joel nods, not really looking at her. “I might always be mad. I don’t know how to forgive what you did.”

“Yeah,” Joel says sadly. He rotates his mug between his hands, thumb running over the lip of it almost absently. “Yeah, I know.” He says it like he is already expecting a return to the way things had been, to distant and polite greetings, to separate lives.

“I think I’d like to try though,” Ellie manages, her voice barely a whisper. “Like I think…” The table in front of her blurs slightly and she blinks away the fresh round of tears to look up at Joel. He’s watching her with guarded hope on his face, his own eyes glassy. “I think that if something happened to you, like in my dream, and things were the way they were, I think I’d regret it the rest of my life.”

Joel swallows, hands white-knuckling his owl mug. “I’d like that,” he tells her hoarsely. “I’d really…I’d really like that.”

“Okay,” Ellie says, letting out a breath and feeling like a hundred pound weight has lifted from her chest. “Okay, good, that’s…good.”

They finish their drinks in a quiet that feels less tense and weighted than anything else that’s been between them…all the way back to that ridge overlooking Jackson, if Ellie really thinks about it. Him lying to her there had been the biggest crack in their relationship, made wider and wider by every time he doubled down on it.

But now it felt like maybe it could be fixed, like things between them could start to shift back to how they had been on the road.

Ellie washes their mugs in the sink despite Joel protesting that she oughta stay off her foot. He hovers - nice to know nothing has changed - one hand perpetually outstretched like she’s about to suddenly topple over. He escorts her to the door too, asking only once if she’s sure she’s alright to walk across the yard to her place. He doesn’t ask her to stay - they both know that would be too much, too soon - but he watches from the porch as she hobbles carefully down to her home. She gives the offending rock a wide berth, eyeing the sharp point of it - smeared with her blood - with distaste.

Joel’s still on the porch when Ellie gets to her door and glances back. He gives her a wave and starts to step away like he’s gonna head inside.

“Hey,” Ellie calls impulsively, and Joel pauses. “Wanna watch a movie tonight?”

Even from across the yard, she can see the way his face lights up.

“Yeah,” he’s grinning from ear to ear, “yeah, kiddo, I’d love to.”

love you rocky, hopefully you're having a delightful birthday 💗

[64yrsold]

you know where the city is

a bit different today! we're doing write anything that you want to week with @imightgetbetter <3 today's theme is early matty, so i decided to write about hearing "the city" on the radio for the first time :-) hope you all enjoy! - love, 64

I watched his hands jump over each other on the steering wheel, driving us around another winding curve. It was almost a spectacle, watching the light expose his bare arms, travel up his black t-shirt and crawl up his neck, then disappear before it could illuminate his mouth. Then he’d be covered in darkness again, until we reached the next street lamp.

“You can drop me home, if you’d like,” I offered, turning down the radio so he could hear me.

“Come on, stop it,” he frowned, glancing over to me, “We can stay out as long as you want.”

“I think my parents-“

“They’re fine,” he interrupted, reaching a hand to squeeze my knee, “They like me, don’t they?”

“Maybe not after tonight,” I quipped, rolling the window down. The air here always felt like a childhood memory, like after-school walks and first kisses. I liked the way it blew against his curls, frizzing the ends. He pushed a few strands behind his ear.

“I’ll get you home soon,” he sighed, hand firmly planted against my thigh, “Just wanted to show you one thing.”

"Oh, are you surprising me?" my voice wavered with excitement. He nodded, bottom lip wet as he smiled.

"I was out driving with the guys-"

"I don't want to know," I said quickly, earning a boyish giggle.

"No, it was very innocent, babe. I'm behaving, I promise," he stated, but his grin said otherwise. He looked at me from the corner of his eye, finding me unconvinced, "Whatever, I'll just show you."

"You boys need to focus on the band," I scolded, fingers tracing his cuticles.

He scoffed, "You know how committed I am."

"Mhm," I hummed, "You're very good, you know."

"I know," he half-joked. His palm opened around the steering wheel as he turned a corner. Trees were thick on either side of the road, the pavement transitioning to gravel.

"Where the fuck are we going," I whined, "Is this where you finally murder me in the woods?"

"Yeah, I've got the axe in the back," he nodded, slapping my thigh playfully. The radio was cutting out, fizzling with static as we drove further into the wooded area. I changed the station, trying to find one that was intelligible. We approached a clearing, and I switched the station once more, hand frozen when I heard a familiar punctuated bass drum. He slammed on the brakes. I lurched forward, hand against the dash.

"Is this..." I paused, staring at him with parted lips. He threw the car in park, tangling his hands in his hair.

"Holy shit," he whispered, stars in his eyes, "Holy shit!"

"What the fuck!" I yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"What the fuck!" he returned, jaw hanging open. I could see the tears rimming his waterline, and he quickly covered his face with his hands. "I sent this song to every fucking station I know, but nobody got back to me, I-" He interrupted himself with a guttural scream. I screamed back at him, the car reverberating with his voice on the radio.

He dropped his hands to my neck, searching my face wildly. My face was aching from my splitting grin, my pulse crawling up my ears.

"This is it," I mumbled, tears stinging behind my eyes, "This is really it."

"I can't fucking believe it," he cried, grabbing my jaw and pulling my mouth to his. He laughed against my lips, emotions swirling between us. He kissed every unspoken word into my mouth, and I could taste the excitement like pennies on my tongue. He pulled back to scream the chorus, and I joined him, chanting the words wholeheartedly. I dropped my head on his shoulder, finding a sky of milky stars mirroring the faint lights of the city below.

"Don't forget me when you're all rich and famous," I whispered, wrapping my fingers around his.

"Couldn't if I tried, love," he smiled, "How could I ever forget this?"

[streakyglasses]

Girl, I feel like every one of those injury dialogue prompts has already been written by you 😂 but I’ll throw #23 at you!

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

I picture Street doing something idiotically heroic and Chris is maaad when she shows up to pick him up from the hospital. Obviously all out of love, but he will probably always be the Street she met five years prior.

Hello love!!

In one way or another, probably 🤣 BUT I’m nothing if not a h/c lover. This was a lot of fun, so thank you! (Will be posted on ao3/ffn later tn!)

prompt from @promptsbytaurie “injury” prompts!

also features Tan & Street friendship! minor description of a car accident, and hospitalization. set post S5, but before street goes to Long Beach full time. & mentions of Chris’s mom 🌝

feel free to send any other you’d like my way! 🩵

Patrol day. 

Never an easy day, but considering their usual level of disaster, Street normally doesn’t mind a few hours of pulling cats out of trees and building community connections. He’s paired with Tan, and left sulking in the passenger seat after losing the coin toss. 

“Just try not to lose your radio this time around.” Street smirks, earning a smack on the arm. 

“It was six years ago. But hey! Maybe you can teach me something you picked up during all your extra patrol time.”

“Oh,” he plays wounded, “below the belt.” 

“Whatever, Man,” Tan smiles back and turns over the engine. “West Side, here we come.” 

They’re almost to their first neighborhood, the sun shining and the streets blessedly quiet, when a blue sedan runs a stop sign and cuts them off. Sharing a look, Tan hits the lights and sirens, but it does nothing to stop the driver or their swerving. 

“There’s too much traffic to cut them off here. We can grab ‘em at the next light.” Street says. Tan agrees, spending up to keep track of the vehicle as Street takes down all the info he can see about the car. 

But the vehicle swerves right instead of stopping. 

“Fuck,” Tan murmurs. 

“Fuck!” Street’s eyes widen and then darken at the playground at the end of the street. 

Children and their caretakers laughing and playing. Too many bright colors to count and endless strollers and benches filled with people in imminent danger with nowhere to go. His blood boils, eyes darting away from the mulch and plastic just long enough to see a college kid getting off his motorcycle. 

“Stop the car!” He shouts, and he’d wince if it were any other situation. Tan slams on the brakes without question as Street jumps out before the wheels even stop turning.

“Hey!” He waves at the college kid, not bothering to flash his badge. “LAPD; I need your bike.”

It’s not a question. He’s already jamming the helmet on his head and snatching the keys despite the protest.

The bike revs to life right away. Smoke blows from the exhaust and Street makes light work darting onto the sidewalk to catch up to the car. White knuckling the clutch, he demands the wheels turn faster. He can barely hear it over the engine, but a quick glance shows him parents and babysitters starting to look towards the road, concerned, and he breaks left before he can think anything better.

He thinks he also hears Tan screaming his name, but pain overtakes him too soon to make heads or tails of it. 

Cells explode as the car rams into the motorcycle and sends him flying. They die as his body slides against the road like a ragdoll before coming to a lifeless halt. But the car doesn’t hit him a second time, and in the haze of agony and tears he hears doors slam and boots on the ground and something like jangling metal. It’s enough to make the fire burning him up worth it. 

“Street!” A voice calls, followed by a hand on his shoulder. Gently, they lift the visor of the helmet to see cloudy eyes and wide pupils, but a self-satisfied smirk that Tan wants nothing more than to knock off his face. 

“What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve been killed. Jesus, can you even move? Do not try to!” 

“Tan,” he coughs harshly, the slight jolt of his body pushing more gravel into his raw back. It’s the first time he’s taken notice of how there’s nothing between his skin and the blacktop, and how he can’t move his shoulder at all lest an excruciating wave white-out his vision. Still, he tries. “Tan, he would’ve killed them. ‘M gonna—gonna be fine.” 

Tan nods, frantically searching for anything he can do to ease some of Street’s pain but coming up short apart from yelling at the crowd to stay clear for the oncoming ambulance. He can already hear the sirens, and he debates if the paramedics will be able to revive Street if he kills him first. Street’s raspy voice brings him back, fingers curling for something to hold onto, so Tan fills the gaps with his own hand. 

“P—promise me some—something,” Street groans in pain, struggling out a high-pitched breath as Tan promises. 

“What?” 

“Don’t t—tell Chris.” 

With that, the ambulance arrives, as do Hondo and Luca, and Tan wonders if the doctors at the hospital will be able to save him from whatever Chris might do if someone doesn’t call her.  —————————————————————-

She storms into the hospital waiting room like a hurricane and beelines for the group of men she could strangle, she’s so angry. Her heart hasn’t stopped racing since Tan called her. Told her they were already at the hospital and they had been for an hour. That Street was in an accident. 

“What do you mean an accident?” She demanded through grit teeth, throwing her backpack into her truck and turning the key. That’s as far as she got before her world stopped. 

“He commandeered a motorcycle to stop a drunk driver.”

Air shot from her lungs as every cell seized, no function flowing through her. Tan kept talking, her brain luckily able to catch “conscious” and “alive” and “Shaw Memorial,” but her hands ended the call without another word as tears flooded her eyes and panic struck her like a timpani drum. 

The memories came before she could stop them. 

“Christina Alonso? I’m Officer Andrews. I need you to come with me.”

“All dead.” 

“Drunk, probably.”

“Who the hell knows; they’re probably scraping up the highway hamburger now. I feel worse for that guy.” 

“We’re so sorry for your loss.” 

The world comes into focus again the second she hears Luca’s voice, but she doesn’t care to hear whatever he has to say, cutting him off. 

“What the hell happened? When did they last update you—where is Street?” 

And, well, there goes any semblance of remaining calm. The team looks amongst themselves against her sharp eyes. In the end, Tan speaks. 

“He stopped a drunk driver. The last we heard is that they needed to get a CT to assess for internal bleeding, and they started to give him painkillers the second they got his medical history and knew it was safe. I’m sorry, Chris.” 

Part of her wants to bite back that he should be sorry. That six years ago, they all made an unspoken pact to keep Street safe, and she always kept up her end of the deal. But then reality rushes back to her, and she falls heavy into an uncomfortable gray chair as everything except for terror drains from her body. 

Slow tears roll down her cheeks of their own volition. Someone sits on either side of her offering reassurances and soft, soothing hands on her back. None of it matters. They fade away as her mind replays every second of her and Street knowing each other from the moment they met to kissing goodbye that morning. 

“I can’t lose him.” She whispers, raw. Deacon pulls her in, she only knows from the cool metal of his cross necklace pressing lightly into her forehead, but it’s a comforting sensation. 

“You won’t,” he promises with a kiss to her head. “You won’t.” 

They offer to get her snacks and water as the clock ticks by, but she stays like a statue against Deacon’s shoulder until a new voice glides over all the other chatter in the cavernous room and her head. 

“For Jim Street?” 

Chris shoots up like a rocket, abandoning her backpack and the group she left it with. She rubs her arms and feels the knot in her stomach tighten to an unbearable pressure. 

“Yeah—yes.” She chokes out. “How is he?” 

The doctor smiles, but she won’t, can’t let herself believe anything until she sees him with her own eyes.

Still, the relief hits immediately when she hears it.

“Office Street will be okay.”

Her eyes widen, and the doctor continues, beginning to walk in the direction of his room.

“His left shoulder was dislocated, but we set it. He also has severe road rash on his back and left arm, and bruising on his ribs. All things considered, he’s extremely lucky. Whatever kind of helmet he was wearing protected his head extremely well. We’re going to keep him for a day or two to monitor pain and make sure no infection develops in the skin. A few weeks of rest and a few of rehab, and he should be back to one hundred percent.” 

“Great,” Chris says, coughing at her dry throat. “That’s great news. Can I see him?” 

“Of course. He should be awake, although he may be groggy. Visiting hours end at nine.” 

The doctor leaves her with a smile, and Chris turns to see the team a few steps behind her but obviously giving her privacy to go in first. She doesn’t wait another second. 

Street is sitting in a hospital bed, propped up against pillows. His gown is folded down to his waist, chest and arms exposed and covered in thick white bandages. There’s a plastic bag in the corner with what remains of his uniform, and a low, constant beeping from his heart monitor. A small tube under his nose helps get him oxygen; she sees how each deep breath makes him wince. 

He looks up at the sound of her footsteps. When he sees her, he smiles. 

Smiles. All dimples and stars in his eyes. All the anger that left her before comes back with a vengeance. She has the wherewithal to keep her voice down, but it’s no less intense.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” She bites, ripping a chair across the floor to sit right next to the bed, her knees hitting the plastic edge. 

“Tan didn’t keep his promise,” he mumbles. Confusion flickers across her face, but she’s not stopping the train now. Not until he tells her what was possibly worth leaving her for. 

“Do you have any idea—you could have been killed! There is absolutely no reason to do something so, so fucking stupid.”

The tears come again, washing over her too fast and too heavy to stop. They thicken her voice and she takes his right hand in a vice grip, clamoring to feel the life in his veins. 

“What happened to rule number one, huh? Never being in a hurry to die?! I thought we were past the impulsive recklessness. Did you even consider—“

“It was kids, Chris.” Street interrupts her, but he squeezes her hand back with every ounce of strength he can muster. “We had to move fast, and that was the only option I saw. I’m sorry I scared you. I love you.”

There it is. The endearing, self-sacrificial, infuriating Jim Street that she fell in love with. It’s funny, layers and layers below how utterly terrifying it is, how easily he calms her down. Puts everything into a perspective that makes her believe he really will be okay, even if it takes time. That his recklessness was only ever for the greater good. Her gaze drops to her knees in shame and exhaustion and every other too-strong emotion that’s coursing through her.

It makes her hate even more that she isn’t there to protect him anymore. 

“You dumbass.” She whispers. One last failing attempt to get the last word. “Don’t do that. Ever again.” 

He pulses her hand to bring her back to him. He’s still smiling. 

“Okay,” he whispers back, even though they know, if he felt it necessary, he would. He will. He adds for good measure, “It’s Tan’s turn anyway.” 

“Okay,” Chris accepts. Her body starts to relax enough to give him a small smile, and she carefully leans over him to brush a hand through his hair and kiss him. It pains her not to hug him, but she refuses to let him push himself. Sitting back in the chair, his hand still in both of hers, she kisses his bruised knuckles. Her lips are soft against his skin, breath warm when she speaks. 

“Are you okay? Is—is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?” 

“Just you.” 

“Yeah, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

“Mm, I’m good with that.” 

They fall into a silence that only gives Chris’s mind the opportunity to run wild with all the horrific what-ifs that have been playing since she answered the phone. Taking notice of her thousand yard stare and the increasing tremor in her hand, he says her name, wincing when she starts. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, giving her a look he knows she can’t lie to. Her head shake answers before her mouth, the words hard to find. 

“No. I was so scared. When Tan called me…” Sighing, she looks him up and down and gives into him. “This all reminded me of my mom. We can talk about it later, when you’re feeling better. But I will be, now that I know you will be.”

“We will be.” He swears, and she believes him. 

Brown eyes lock onto green until everything that needs to be understood has been, and then steals another kiss. He smiles and she sees the exhaustion mounting in his eyes. Swallowing, she sets his hand back on the bed and traces a tender hand down his good arm. 

“I know you need rest. Let me get the team so they can see you’re alright. I’m staying until they kick me out.”

Nodding, Street yawns, heart fluttering when he watches her walk. Right before she opens it, she turns back to him, a questioning look on her face. 

“What did you make Tan promise?”

He gets that bemused smirk she never likes, usually because it means antics, but his stomach flips at the reaction he knows he’s going to incur. He gets it out in one go. 

“Not to call you.” 

It fills her with an entirely new rage, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Unbelievable.” She mutters, opening the door for the team to enter and resuming her position in the chair, taking his hand. “We’re talking about that, too, the second you’re better.” 

“Looking forward to it.” He smirks, words starting to slur as the team piles in. “Talking. Not talking. Two weeks with you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she placates, but gets a soft smile of her own. “Me, too.” 

[skylarmoon71]

Castiel (Supernatural/Grimm) - Short Story - Chapter 2

“So you’re saying she’s from another universe and over there these ‘Wesen’ are like the monsters we hunt here but they’re inside of people.” 

You nod at Dean's analysis. 

“I know it sounds crazy but everything Castiel told you is true. I can’t believe she actually blasted us into another universe. When I get a hold of Diana I’m gonna kill her.” 

Dean grins. “It’s still sort of crazy the way you stood against Crowley.” 

“It’s like he couldn’t touch you.” Sam adds.

“It’s probably because my mom is a witch.” 

“Seriously!” You nod at Dean. 

“Wait, I thought Grimms hunted these Wesen. If your dad is a Grimm then how did he end up shagging a witch?” 

“Hexenbiest, by the way, thank you for that mental image. That’s exactly what I want in my head.” 

“Sorry.” Dean just shrugs.

You just let out another exasperated sigh. 

“My parents were in a complicated situation, but they love each other and that’s all that matters. Right now my family tree isn’t the biggest issue. My sister is missing. She should have ended up here with me but she’s not. If we’re in some different universe then I need to start looking for her. Even Diana is going to have some difficulty navigating through here. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” 

Sam nods. 

“Alright, maybe if you tell us exactly what spell she casted we can figure out what it did or where she is. What were you trying to do?” 

It’s a logical question, but going back over the entire conversation with your sister earlier that day, you feel a bit embarrassed. 

“Diana, I’m exhausted, what are you doing?” 

You’re laying on the couch in the trailer. The training had gone on a lot longer than you anticipated. You were still wearing some of your gear. Diana was hunched over a book missing something. 

“I told you I’m tired of you fighting me on this. You won’t listen to logic so I’ll just have to show you.” 

You groan. 

“Are you really going on about this whole love thing again? I told you I’m fine. Stop messing around. Dad told you to stop playing with those spells. Mom too. I’m not getting in trouble again. I’m too old to be getting scolded by my parents. I’ve got to be at the precinct bright and early tomorrow anyway so I don’t have time to run through some cleanse at Rosalee’s like the last time.” 

Diana laughs awkwardly. 

“That was a minor miscalculation, but this time I’ve perfected it.”

“Perfected what?” 

You finally lift your head just in time to see her drop something into the bowl. A fire sparks up and you gasp, but she just smiles. 

“D-Diana stop!!” 

“Too late, hold on!!”

Her excited yell was the last thing you remember before the room went white.

Lifting your gaze, you chance a look over at Castiel who already seems to be staring in your direction. He’s all the way across the room, standing awkwardly at attention. You shouldn’t feel a thing, but whenever you look at him it just..

“Hey, earth to Supergirl.” 

Dean’s snarky remark pulls your attention back. 

“The spell doesn’t matter, we just need to find her. We should start with any reports of weird occurrences in the area. If I landed here she can’t be far behind. I’m gonna grab something to eat.” You stand before they can speak, grabbing the change on the dresser. 

“Hey, that’s mine!!” Dean calls.

The door slams shut and Sam holds back a smile. 

“She’s like a version of you Dean. Even the machete.” 

“Shut up Sammy!” 

Castiel’s eyes are trained on the door. 

“She’s hiding something.” 

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. What I want to know is how did her dad bang a witch.” 

“Really Dean, that’s your big question?” 

“It’s a pretty big one.” 

At this point they shouldn’t expect any different. 

Castiel is still standing a bit protectively at the door. 

“We shouldn’t let her wander off on her own.” 

“Relax, demons can’t touch her, honestly I’d feel sorry for any sad sap that tried anything.” Dean assures. 

“Still, she should not be alone.” 

Castiel’s words had Dean squinting. 

“What’s with you, you're acting like a guard dog.” 

Castiel shifted in place avoiding eye contact and slowly a smile began to form on Dean’s face. 

“No way, you like her don’t you Cas.” 

He didn’t respond, but they both saw the way his cheeks flushed at the insinuation. 

“If you want I can give you some tips lover boy.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and Castiel disappeared. 

“Stop messing with him.” Sam scolds. 

“Come on, it’s cute, he’s got a crush.” 

Sam had a feeling Dean was only getting started. 

[fuckmeyer]

Come Nightfall deleted scenes: Hunting with the Boys

[in which Bells seeks answers about the Cold Ones...and the mysterious Sam Uley]

We jostled over steeper, windier, narrower roads until the shoulder gave us just enough space to park. Charlie slowed to a crawl and pulled over. For a moment, even the engine’s growl stood no chance against the sounds of the forest; the chirping, buzzing, the fluttering tree leaves drowned everything else out.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” The crawl turned to a halt. Charlie jerked the steering wheel to twist the tires. The engine died. All of our silence got swallowed by the forest looming over us.

I looked at my father.

Yeah, the stress of chasing a serial kidnapper had put more salt in that salt-and-pepper hair, deeper wrinkles in his forehead. But I couldn’t help but notice that that the rings under his eyes had faded to a light lilac. How his thinned face looked slightly rounder.

I couldn’t help but notice how he had been humming most of the way up here. While we listened to golf on the radio.

Charlie was undoubtedly okay. For once, a plan I had had worked. That small lining of relief—despite the fear and anxiety and pain and danger and isolation—made this ugly foray into the paranormal world worth it. For now. And I didn’t have time to regret what could have been or what might be.

My loved ones were happy. Even though I didn’t live with him, Charlie and I still hung out Wednesdays and Sundays. I had balance.

It was enough.

“I’m okay,” I said as he got out of the car. “Just tired is all.”

“You talk to your doctor?”

“Yeah.” No. “They’re not gonna do anything until I’ve been on the new meds for a while, so.”

Charlie threw the driver-side door open. “Speaking of doctors,” he said, “we might wanna take it easy on Harry today, huh?”

“Sure, how come?”

“Just some stuff going on with his heart,” said Charlie. “He’s fine, but this isn’t gonna be some ten-mile hike like you n’ Jake are used to. Probably do a loop, check the traps, break at one of the stands.”

“I can circle back.”

Just as he got up to exit the car, Charlie halted and turned to me. “I want you to stick by us, Bells,” said my father, voice stern. “I mean it. Just last week we had another disappearance ‘bout twenny miles north of here. Better we stick together.” His door slammed shut.

I chewed the inside of my lip, not moving. “Megabear?”

The back door flung open and he poked his head in as he grabbed his gun case. “Could be, I s’pose. I’ll leave it to the forest rangers to decide. ‘Course if anyone’s gonna catch ‘em, it’s gonna be your old man and Harry. —You get something to eat this morning?”

Crap. I just made a sentimental speech about Charlie; now I had to lie to him? “Yeah, no worries. I got breakfast.” I struggled out of the passenger door to wheel around to the back. My bow case—or, really, Billy’s bow case—sat on the floor of the backseat. I wriggled it out and set it on the seat.

With his door still flung open, my father tossed something that crinkled across the seat. It hit the flat side of my bow case.

A granola bar.

When I looked up at him, he gave me a curt nod. “Have more breakfast,” Charlie gruffed.

He slammed the door shut.

*

“Your old man’s been on the bear’s path for over an hour, still hasn’t even taken the first shot,” Harry complained, breathless. “Can’t keep up with me like he used to, that’s for damn sure.” And this old man cackled.

We’d already set most of our stuff down in the clearing, opting to talk a short loop with our weapons while waiting for Charlie to get back. It made me nervous, thinking he was walking out all alone. But Harry had reassured me that Charlie “knew what he was doing.” So Harry and I stuck together, walking in silence.

“Just likes to be sure of his shot is all,” I said. Though I was sure the real reason had to do with tainting the meat by making two shots. He only said it a billion times. “One and done.”

It felt a little awkward, considering I’d kinda pissed him off last night at the fish fry.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Harry chuckled. We faded into silence. Then, as if reading my mind: “About yesterday,” said Harry, and my heart sunk.

“Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I forgot that Sam and—er, I mean, I didn’t think—”

“I know you want to help,” he said, talking over me in a grizzled voice. I shut up. Harry cleared his throat and continued. “And the way Billy’s been talkin, you’d think the whole damn sky’s about to fall down.” My heart sunk. “But I just want you to rest assured, we’ve got everything under control. Okay?”

The unease filling my stomach like sand made my lips twist into a grimace. Why reassure me about something I’d never expressed worry about? “Yeah. Right. I just—if I can be of any help, in any—”

“Protecting yourself and others is what you can do to help,” said Harry. “We’ve got everything under control, but only if everyone works together to play their parts. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” No.

“Sometimes,” he said, “for the good of the community, we gotta stay disparate and isolated. We don’t want to appear too unified. It gives the opportunity for our enemies to get to know us. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.” No.

Was that to say that Sam was part of some disparate, isolated group, as I was? No, that couldn’t be true. Sam spent all his time with his second- and third-in-command, Jared and Paul. He wasn’t isolated like I was.

“You’ll have your chance to get to know everyone,” said Harry. “But for now, you know, we’ve gotta pick the right moments to help each other out. And we gotta think long and hard about who we choose to be around,” said Harry.

We looked at each other.

“I...don’t understand.”

“We pick up the scents of our loved ones,” he said. “That affects who the cold ones target.”

Oh. An icy anxiety gripped me. Still, I found myself blurting out “What?”, unable to finish my thought. “We—but—we’re with Charlie right now.”

“Charlie’s as safe as anyone could be,” said Harry. “We don’t need to worry about a veteran cop. Being the chief of the force means he’s less likely to be a target to anyone. He’s too visible. And a good shot.” Harry stared at me, as if hoping I’d jump in with another name. But I didn’t. So he did. “I’m talking about Jake.”

“J—Jake?” The defense came faster than my brain could think. “I—well, I always keep a knife on me. And we, we’re not, y’know—it’s not like we’re going vampire hunting or anything.” Where was this coming from? Why hadn’t Billy said anything to me?

“He’s a boy,” said Harry. “He’s young, he’s vulnerable, and he’s going off to college in a few months. We need to keep in mind that when we spend time with him, he becomes a target.” Beat. “And if you hang out with Jake...you can’t be around Sam.”

My heart sunk. Chills scattered slowly up the veins of my hand, my wrist. My fingers went numb. Why didn’t Billy mention it? “So when you say ‘we,’” I said as Harry frowned, “does that also inclu—"

“Shh. Hang on,” whispered Harry, clasping a hand on my shoulder to halt me. His eyes searched the area. With his free hand, he steadied his gun. His stalking steps were silent--even to my ears.

I froze. Fragments of my dream floated around my head and made me shiver.

Harry’s safety clicked off.

I pulled my bowstring back.

Threads of icy air that I had passed off as cold morning wind made my skin prickle at the back of the neck. The heavy unease that I had dismissed as uncertainty from last night settled like a huge stone in my stomach.

Vampire.

My grip tightened. I swallowed a shallow breath.

But the feeling wasn’t as acute. The smell didn’t permeate the air.

Whoever had crossed through here hadn’t done so recently.

“Hm.” Harry gestured for me to look at the ground, several paces from our feet. Still panting, he squatted down on the hams of his legs with a grunt. “Here’s what you’re looking out for,” he said, pointing to the ground.

I relaxed my grip, arrow unknocked. When I bent over him, Harry was tracing the deep half-moon divot in the soggy ground with his finger. Chills swept the nape of my neck.

My breath caught. Is that…?

“These kinda markers can be easy to miss, so be careful. It’s a footprint, see? The cold ones take less steps when they run. They don’t run like you n’ I do, see, they land more forward, on their toes. They’ll dig these deep sorta divots in the ground for leverage. See how this round part is facing us?” I nodded. Harry, breathing deeply, turned towards where we came from, and I mirrored him. “That’s its direction,” he said, pointing.

My veins iced over. The panic in my chest never rose above a simmer. The smell of vampire had become too faint to consider it an active threat. I frowned and turned back to Harry, saying as if it wasn’t actually a panicked confirmation, “Yeah, but they didn’t come through here today.”

“No, they’re not here now,” he said. “Musta came through ‘bout a day ago or so. See, the mud’s had time to set and dry.”

I nodded, turning back to the path we took anyway. As if we’d see one now, on this rare sunny day. I spun back around again to face him. “How d’you know all this?”

“I could ask you the same,” he said with a wry grin. “I saw you pick up on it. The smell.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, ignoring him. “You and Billy both…” I hesitated. It sounded accusatory: You and Harry both know how to track vampires. Why? How?

“For some of us, our relationship with the paranormal stretches way back,” he replied, arching a brow. “Reckon it’s the same for you.”

I looked back down at the ground, if only to look at something else.

Anything else.

Instead of concentrating on the horrific notion that I, like Caitlin and Billy and Harry, had always had a relationship with vampires.

Besides the thought being terrifying, it also meant that the last several months of Edward leaving meant nothing. It prevented nothing, solved nothing, did nothing. My relationship with vampires, with or without Edward, would always stretch out into the infinite.

That sucked.

Examining the half-footprint left in the dirt, it looked bigger than what I imagined Victoria’s footprint to be. “Who d’you think it is?”

“We’re working on it,” he said.

“You and, and Billy?” I said. Harry nodded. “And Sam?”

Harry side-eyed me but said nothing.

He told me we had to be an isolated, disparate community. If that were true, why did he keep saying “we”?

Why couldn’t “we” include me?

“Here. See. When we see these tracks,” he continued, pulling out a crumpled receipt and a pen from his shirt pocket, “you mark down the location. We have markers set up on Old Quil’s place that correspond to coordinates--coordinates are written on the markers. You remember that map we gave you last summer? You use that. Mmkay?” Harry did the same, clicked, the pen, put the materials back in his pocket. “Then we erase it.” His foot stomped into the sinking mud, then smeared the print with his boot heel. “Got it?”

If I ever wanted to be part of this “we,” it was clear that I had to know something. Provide something. Do something. I had to become too invaluable to ignore.

Not that I had anything worth of value. My bow skills were okay, and I guess the porcelain white-tipped arrows Billy gave me, like the knife, were presumably to fight vampires.

But who knew if the arrows were fast enough for them? Who knew whether I could hit a vampire on the move? Whether vampires could even die with human weapons in the first place, being so indestructible as they were?

Who knew if I would ever be good enough?

“Is it a girl?” I asked him. “The cold one?” Harry looked at me but said nothing, just gestured for me to walk back to the clearing with him. It felt awkward to talk about what I knew. As if it wasn’t the biggest secret of my life. “It doesn’t seem like it’s her this time. Victoria. I—” But I hesitated at telling him the truth, why I thought it wasn’t Victoria. The smell. The lights. All it would do was out me as a freaky human hybrid. “I dunno. The Cullens chased her into Europe several months ago,” I said, hustling to his side. “If she’s back, she’s probably looking for them. Or—me.”

“Doesn’t seem to be the motive,” was all Harry said.

I pressed on, desperate, at least, to be useful. “She has this neon green light power,” I said. “That’s how she lures her victims.”

Now Harry didn’t look at me. “I know.”

Where I hoped he couldn’t hear me, I sighed. I kept my eyes pinned on the trail as we walked, thinking to myself.

“Why can’t I?” I asked him. “Know.”

“Not the right time,” said Harry.

“But when is?”

“When I—we—say so.”

This would have to be my new project. Being valuable enough to be included. Learning enough information to—

“Whoa,” I said, gazing down at the huge paw print in front of me, like a gaping wound in the earth. The thing was massive! It was like if two of the biggest bears in the world got together and atomically fused themselves together into one giant— “Megabear.”

That made Harry swerve around. He never smiled. Never answered me. With that same firm, somber look, he went up to where I stared, frowned at the sight of it. Then he rubbed out the huge paw print with the heel of his boot. Fresh overturned soil erased the print.

He turned. “Better be getting back.”

“Aren’t you gonna write down the coordinates?”

“No need,” he said, and he didn’t speak again.

[immergladsss]

Moonacre Week 2024- Chp 2: Isolation

“You’re on thin ice,” the Coeur De Noir growled as he towered over his daughter. Robin was not a short lady by any standards, but she was certainly not the towering height of her father. 

From over the Coeur’s shoulder, she could see that Dulac was clearly enjoying this lecture. After all, it was no secret that he desired the De Noir Clan. He was always against the idea of a female heir. He was practically foaming at the mouth with anticipation that today would be the day she’d finally be disinherited.

Robin bit her tongue and schooled her features. No, she could not afford the growing ire of her father if she were to remain heir. She took in a calming breath before responding, “The pearls were not on the Merryweather nor in his room. Servants were crawling about the place, packing things away. Alerting them did nothing more than rush our exit. We were set to leave either way.” 

The Coeur De Noir leaned back and studied his daughter. It was a cold look, one that once sent chills down her spine, but she had grown accustomed to it. She wondered if he would have looked at her any different if she had been born a man. 

“You’re dismissed,” her father said. “There are some matters I need to discuss with Dulac.” 

Robin took a step, about to say one last thing, but then she clenched her fist and shook her head as she turned back and left his study, slamming the doors behind her.

“Did you tell him?” Richard asked, rushing to her side. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” asked David, joining at the other side. 

“I don’t need to add to my growing list of disappointments should I fail again.”

“You can’t think like that,” Henry admonished from behind. Robin had to suppress an eye roll as he continued, “You’re already setting–” 

“—How far are they?” she interrupted. 

Henry sighed before responding, “They’ll be at the gates within the hour.” 

“Then let’s not waste any more time.”

The gang quickly traversed the forest they knew so well, providing Robin a bit of respite from the worrying looks of her mates. She knew they were only looking after her, but at times like these, those looks did nothing more than make her feel more different than she already did.

More isolated than she already was.

Female births were already so far and few in between the De Noir family that she couldn’t help but stick out like a sore thumb, especially after her sister left. 

But that thought only darkened her mood. Despite their thirteen-year age difference, she and Loveday were once as thick as thieves–that is until five years ago when Loveday betrayed them by falling in love with a Merryweather. Loveday had worked so hard–sacrificed so much just to prove to their father that a woman could lead the clan, only to toss it all away for a man. And a Merryweather at that.

“They’re coming!” David broke her thoughts. 

“As we planned,” Robin commanded. “Henry, you’re with me. The rest of you hide amongst the trees until we’ve overpowered them.” 

As the carriage came to a stop, Robin stealthily led the way to their enemies. She motioned for Henry, then gave the signal. Together, they each took a side and the ambush began. 

Robin ripped open the carriage door, coming face to face with wide light-brown eyes and reddish-tinged hair. Freckles delicately painted his face and lips were parted in an affronted expression. His face contorted, ready to let out a call for help, but Robin never gave him the chance. She lunged for the young man, and yanked him out of the carriage with all of her force.

She suppressed her groan as his weight drove her into the ground and sent them rolling against the gravel. She clasped her trembling hand over his mouth, muffling his protests. She steadied her nerves as she hooked her legs around his waist and an arm around his neck while her other hand scoured his neck and pockets for pearls, but they were empty. 

Then the Merryweather ripped his face free of her grip with a triumphant yell, only to cut it short as his teeth clamped down on her hand. 

Robin screamed as the Merryweather tossed her over his shoulder. She heaved a breath, feeling all the air leave her body upon impact, but she forced herself onto her feet and whipped out her dagger. 

Robin studied the Merryweather who was groaning as he shakily stood up. A sleeve of his coat had ripped apart, pulling his tunic to the side and unveiling a broad shoulder with nicks and scrapes. She averted her eyes from the tear down his front that revealed a firm abdomen cut down the middle with a faint line of curly red hair. The dirt that now darkened his beige-colored clothes did nothing to hide his elegance. To smother the fact that he was taller than her, and showed the signs of someone who still had more to grow. 

Even his manner of dusting himself off appeared graceful.

Then he finally took a good look at her. Whatever shock he could have felt at her appearance was quickly replaced by a displeased disposition. 

“You’re rather small for a Highwayman,” he said disdainfully, ignoring the shrieking lady struggling against Henry’s grapple. The coachman was still busy with the gate’s lock. Completely unaware of this debacle.

“Reckon that's not important now, is it?” Robin snarled. “Give me the pearls.”

“What pearls?”

“The pearls! The Moon Princess’ pearls!” 

“We don't have any pearls!” 

“Well then, guess I’ll have to see for myself,” She said as dashed forwards, her dagger leading the way, only to be stopped short by the barrel of a gun. 

“Well go on then,” The Merryweather gestured with a smirk. 

“He has a gun!” Robin shouted to Henry. Then she glared at the redhead, “This won't be the last time you see me.” Seething with humiliation, Robin sheathed her dagger and ran back into the forest with Henry at her heels. She was determined to overpower him.

Previously

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 48]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

-

Nia and Tobias reach Shivergleam. However, they may not be ready for the information Edme has to offer.

-

Nia kicks her legs over the side of the boat, tucked securely against the railing. Evening sunlight is filtered weakly through cloud cover, but still warm on her back. The river below her is as swift and swollen as it has been the whole trip, rocking the ferry in uneven motions, but she finds it oddly soothing.

Her curious eyes are trained on the crew working to navigate the dangerous waters. Beck and Nori are swimming ahead of the ferry, sleek flashes of orange and blue weaving back and forth to check for underwater obstructions that could hinder their travel. Occasionally, Nia sees the two Pokemon work together to push a downed tree aside and clear the way.

The captain, Cordelia, is steering them slowly through the treacherous waters, staying to the outside of the river to keep to deeper channels. Well, at least that’s what Cas said she was doing when Nia talked to him earlier. The little duck clearly admires the brash crocodile, and proudly answers all of Nia’s questions about the ferry and how it’s run. Since they’ve been riding for a little over a day now, they’re finally nearing their destination of Shivergleam, at least according to Beck when he was on break earlier.

Nia has honestly enjoyed their trip downstream. Traveling by boat is new and exciting, and she loves watching the crew work around one another like a well-oiled machine. And last night when they’d had to stop as darkness set in, Nia had enjoyed getting to talk to the crew over supper.

Cordelia is a bit brash, but it’s clear she loves her job and her crew—plus, she tells one heck of a story. Nori the golduck, on the other hand, rarely speaks, instead communicating in dry looks. Cas seems more like a little cousin tagalong than an actual crewmate, too young to do much heavy lifting, but the rest of the boatsmon clearly love having him around. Even Ignatius, the quiet, sarcastic old torkoal is grounding in his own way.

While none of the crew have been unwelcoming, Beck the floatzel has been Nia’s favorite to get to know. The older Pokemon is clearly the most sociable of the bunch, asking Nia and Tobias about where they’re from and where they’re heading with genuine interest. When Nia had mentioned the Lexym Guild, the weasel’s brows had lifted. He’d explained with a smile that the guild is just a bit west of his own home, where his wife and daughter live taking care of his grandkids.

“I’m a bit of a wanderer,” Beck had explained as he helped himself to a second bowl of stew. “My heart always leads me back home, but I wouldn’t be happy staying in one place. This job gives me the chance to travel without leaving my family for too long.”

Nia likes the older man’s demeanor. It’s warm, friendly but calming. His surprisingly deep voice is nice to listen to, and Nia is endeared by how fondly he mentions his family.

Nia liked him even more after the weather was mentioned and Ignatius made a sarcastic comment about humans that made Nia freeze and Tobias glare. Beck was the first to scoff, whipping the turtle playfully with his twin tails. There was no real fire behind the torkoal’s words or the floatzel’s gesture, but Beck had cast Nia and Tobias a concerned look regardless.

“Sorry. Natius doesn’t have the best sense of humor. We know the humans have nothing to do with the weather being out of sorts.”

Cordelia had snorted, slamming her drink down on the table. “I wish humans were the problem. They’d be a lot easier to corral than the gods apparently seeing fit to dump rain across the whole region.”

Nia and Tobias had relaxed, and Nia couldn’t help the way she immediately grew fond of the ragtag little group.

Now, nearing their destination, Nia feels a familiar sting in her heart. She’s only known the crew for a day, but she hates that they have to part so soon. Tobias likes to tease her about how quickly she gets attached to people, but she can’t help it! She thinks she vaguely remembers her mom telling her she had a heart too big for her body. Tobias would likely say she’s got a heart too big for her brain.

Tobias.

Nia frowns, absentmindedly looking into the reflections in the river’s surface for a sign of Giratina. She hasn’t seen the banished legendary since the tunnels, though that doesn’t mean he isn’t there.

It’s not enough to distract her from thinking about her partner. About how they’d found one of his family’s killers, only to find him too late. About the family the crobat had left behind. About Tobias’ grief, a relentless sort of sorrow she’d never had to face so head-on before. It’d been so powerful she’d sworn she could feel it herself, at times.

And she tries not to think of Tobias’ voice on their ride over. The way his words choked as he mentioned her leaving for the human world.

Nia swallows against a lump in her throat and closes her eyes. She leans her head forward to bump against the railing, listening to the loud, constant rush of the river.

She’s leaving, once Will or somebody else finds them a way home. She has to. Every time she thinks of Clay’s bright grin or her Mom’s tight hugs or Toni’s laughter her chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. She knows it’s not an option to not go back.

But she let herself get attached. Of course she did. And now she has Tobias. Tobias and Maggie and Xander and Andyn and Val and Avery and—

Tears burn at Nia’s eyes, so she takes a deep breath, letting it out slow. She opens her eyes again to watch as Cordelia slows the ferry. Debris is floating on top of the water, and Nori and Beck get to work clearing it with experienced hands. It only takes a glimpse for Nia to recognize what it is, after seeing multiple sites like this.

It was a home, once. Likely a lovely one set up right off the riverside. But the flooding has washed it away, right off its foundations. Hopefully not with a family inside.

Nia feels her chest tighten even further. She can’t stay here, but she also can’t imagine just…going back to her old human life, like nothing ever happened. How can she just leave behind all of the people she’s met in this world? Especially knowing that mystery dungeons and natural disasters like this are slowly ramping up in severity. She would feel like she was abandoning them.

She’d mentioned a way to go back and forth between worlds out of nothing more than desperation, but now she’s thinking it might be the only way she could actually handle it. You can’t just give up an entire 18 years’ worth of life and the family you love. But you also can’t live in an incredible, magical world for months—has it really been months already?—and form a whole new support system only to leave. Not without tearing out a part of your soul in the process, at least.

She doesn’t have an answer for her situation. And that worries her.

Beck chooses that moment to call out to Nia. She lifts her head, thankful for the interruption.

The orange weasel—a floatzel, Tobias had said, and the species had rang a bell in her head for some reason—is bobbing in the water below her. “We’ll be pulling into the branch leading to Shivergleam soon. You might want to grab your partner.”

Nia thanks the water type before getting up and heading inside the cabin. She takes the path downstairs into the belly of the proverbial beast, knocking on the heavy door to the furnace room before nudging her way inside.

As it has been every time Nia has checked on Tobias, the room is sweltering. Dim orange light bounces off the metallic walls. Ignatius the torkoal gives her a passing glance before continuing his work keeping the steam engine running. He takes a bite of coal, crunching it loudly in his mouth. The flames inside his shell flare, almost bright enough to hurt Nia’s eyes, and the torkoal spews a cloud of steam and embers into the pipes of the steam engine.

Tobias is sitting nearby, crunching idly on his own piece of coal and flipping through a manual for the ship. Nia doesn’t know why being down here puts him so much more at ease, but he’s relaxed as he waves casually to Nia in greeting.

It’s a bit loud with the whoosh of the flames and the rumbling of the ship and engine so close, so Nia nearly has to yell to be heard. “Beck says we’re getting close and should prepare to dock!”

Tobias perks up. With all the rain they’ve been dealing with, he hadn’t gotten to go onto dry land yesterday evening when they’d docked for the night. Nia knows he’s been eager to get back to solid ground from the moment they stepped onboard The Aqua Jet.

Tobias gives Ignatius a nod of parting and grabs a piece of charcoal to go. Then he follows Nia back to the stairs. As she leads them back to the upper floor and out on deck, Nia sneaks a few glances at Tobias crunching into the little black mineral.

“I still can’t believe you can just…eat coal.”

Tobias shrugs, catching some crumbs before they fall. “I couldn’t live off of it, but it’s nice. Stokes my fire a bit. Got a good crunch to it.”

Nia stares at the charcoal with a furrowed brow as they reach the railing on deck. “Does it…taste good?”

Tobias makes a so-so motion with his hand, then holds it out to her with a smirk. “Wanna try?”

He probably expects her to recoil, but she can’t deny that she’s curious. She takes the charcoal and gives it a sniff, wrinkling her nose. Then, she licks the little stone.

“Ugh,” Nia shoves the charcoal back at her partner. “It’s like licking a dirty grill.”

Tobias barks a laugh. He tries to reign it in, but his shoulders still shake as he stares at her. “I-I didn’t think you’d actually try it.”

“I was curious! You really underplayed how awful it is, though.”

Tobias shrugs and takes another bite, the sound cracking through the air even with the loud background track of the river. “‘S not that bad. Just…earthy.”

“‘Earthy,’ he says,” Nia teases. “I think you’ve just fried off all your taste buds. You—“

“There’s the turn!” Cas cuts in, hurrying to their side. The little duck looks out at the river with glittering eyes. “I love Shivergleam. It’s so spooky!”

Nia trades an uncomfortable look with Tobias as the ferry takes a turn down an offshoot of the main river. The trees on either side of the waterway close in overhead, blocking out much of the evening light. The air feels cooler, suddenly.

“Spooky?” Nia echoes cautiously.

Cas nods. “Yeah! There are lots of ghost types living in Shivergleam. Delia says that all kinds of weird stuff happens there!”

Nia takes a step closer to Tobias. He’s trying to look unbothered, but Nia sees him cast his sharp gaze out into the trees.

The shaded marsh around them does suddenly seem more…unsettling. Large stretches of floodwater sit between twisted trees, pools of reflected light between dark shade. Away from the roar of the Lilycap River, it feels unnaturally still. Even Beck and Nori, still swimming from side to side in front of the ferry to clear roots and foliage, seem to cut through the water silently.

It must take another half hour for them to finish the journey to Shivergleam, considering the sun is quickly setting through the trees. To Nia, it feels like it somehow takes half the time and twice as long, and her nerves only grow as they approach.

As long shadows fade to total darkness, Nia starts to see…lights. They’re a bluish-purple color, scattered like flickering candle flames throughout the trees. For a moment she thinks of the lights she saw when she was sick. Her memories. But when she looks to Tobias, he’s also watching them, brow furrowed.

When they start to flicker into being on either side of the waterway, Nia gets a closer look. They’re tiny flames, somehow resisting the damp environment. Additionally, they don’t seem to be…burning from anything, or even sheltered from the elements. Instead, they flicker in space at fixed points along the river, among the grassy banks and up in the trees. Like lamp lights along a street.

“Will-o-wisp?” Tobias murmurs.

Nia frowns, wracking her brain for the familiar term. “The move that causes burns?”

“Lots of ghost types learn it. They must have a system set up to light the path, like how the grass types at the guild repair the Lexym tree and open and close the windows to accommodate the weather.”

“Okay, that’s pretty cool,” Nia whispers, looking at the little flames with a mix of awe and unease.

Soon after, Beck and Nori pull themselves out of the water, dripping onto the deck. The floatzel shakes out his fur, and Tobias hisses and hides behind Nia. To Nia’s surprise, Cordelia keeps the boat moving.

Nia casts the dark river a nervous look. What if there are downed branches here still? Won’t they get caught up?

Beck moves to their side. He leans against the railing and smiles down at the will-o-wisps reflecting off the water. “Don’t worry. Shivergleam keeps the river clear from here on. Nori and I can relax.”

True to Beck’s word, they make the rest of the trip without any issue. As they round a bend in the river, the trees thin out enough to see the glow of the town ahead.

Shivergleam is built in bits and pieces into the thin, ropy trees of the swamp, like a city of treehouses. Long, draping boughs of leaves curtain the warm glow of the buildings. Nia can see the occasional silhouette move across bridges made of twisting roots and vines. The whole city almost looks like it’s floating in the blackness of the swamp, its lights reflected in the floodwater below. Nia almost doesn’t notice the short, jagged silhouettes poking above the surface. It takes her a moment to realize that they’re more buildings, homes and businesses swallowed by the floods. Her ears flatten.

“Ol’ Shivergleam,” Beck says, sounding pleased. “Some folks get spooked by so many ghost and dark types living in one place, but don’t let that scare you. They’re nice enough. Make sure you try the food while you’re here.”

Nia gives Beck a thin smile. “Will do. Thanks.”

“You think they’ll be open to us trying to find this Edme ‘mon?” Tobias asks.

Beck’s twin tails give a thoughtful spin. “Good question. They can be a bit private about Shivergleam matters. They didn’t want to ask for outside help with the floods until half their ground population lost their homes. But no harm in asking.”

Cordelia pulls the ferry to a stop beside a makeshift docking system made of arching, twisted branches. A staircase sits nearby, circling the tree’s trunk. Its lower steps lead under the floodwater and its upper steps lead up to the light and activity of the town.

Nori hops out to tie the boat to the dock, Cas scrambling to follow. Beck helps guide Nia and Tobias onto the firmer ground of the stairs—made with slick, damp wood that creaks underfoot. Nia grabs onto the thin rail with one hand and Tobias’ hand with the other, both for her reassurance and his own.

Cordelia leaps out of the boat and onto the stairs with all the confidence of a water type hanging over floodwater. Or maybe that’s just Cordelia. “Passengers delivered safely! Whatcha think, Charmander? Not too bad, eh?”

Tobias gives the croconaw a glare. Cordelia laughs.

Beck stands beside his captain, looking up at the islands of activity. Light shines down between thin gaps in the wood. “You two going to be okay on your own from here? You’ll probably have to catch a flight ‘mon when you want to leave.”

“Better be, because we ain’t sticking around. Heading out first thing in the morning,” Cordelia says, moving to help Cas carry a bag three times bigger than his entire body off the boat.

Beck hums. “I suppose she’s right. But if you need us before we leave, then just come find us at Hollowberry. Always happy to help out a new friend.”

“That offer does not extend to me!” Cordelia calls.

Nia laughs, giving Beck a warm smile. “Will do. Thank you so much, Beck.”

Beck gives her a friendly wink and Tobias a nod before turning to help his crew.

In the quiet left behind, Nia looks to Tobias, who has one hand gripping the rail with white knuckles and the other holding her hand tight enough to hurt.

“Ready?”

“I guess. Anything is better than being on that rickety old thing.”

Nia takes that as a yes and leads the two of them up the winding staircase, towards the gentle clamor of the population above. As they emerge into the soft light of the town, Nia looks around.

The platform they’re on holds two small, twisted buildings built into the side of the tree. One home’s window is bright, and Nia hears laughter from within. Long, drooping leaves drape over the roofs. Ropy bridges made with vines and roots link the platform on either end to another two islands, one slightly higher and the other slightly lower. Despite the heavy darkness of the night, the warm light spilling from most of the buildings lights up the town like a sea of stars.

It’s nothing like the busy roar of Afon’s merchant-heavy environment. It’s quieter here, almost residential. Pokemon talk in pairs or move peacefully about their business, but it all feels very…quaint.

Two Pokémon pass by Nia and Tobias, their conversation pausing as they give the pair cautious looks. They move on quickly enough, voices rising again as they gain distance. Nia’s almost too preoccupied by the townsfolk’s appearance to be hurt by their obvious suspicion. Her grip on Tobias’ hand tightens.

“Those are ghost types, right?” Nia murmurs, tearing her eyes away. She doesn’t want to be rude, but…well. She can see through them! They’re semi-transparent, the lights of the town visible as a blur of light through their bodies. It’s a little unnerving.

“Yeah?” Tobias asks, sounding puzzled. “Why are you so freaked out? I know we don’t get many ghost types in the Haven, but…”

“I know they aren’t like…dead,” Nia whispers, looking around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear. She doesn’t want to offend anyone. “But it’s still hard not to be freaked out by actual, literal ghosts!”

Tobias snorts. “They’re only called ghosts because of their typing, remember? They resemble what spirits are thought to look like, but they aren’t actually ghosts. Well, most of them.”

Nia gives him an incredulous look. “Most of them?!”

“Uh. Yeah? Did your books not tell you that? Some species are supposedly born from reincarnations. Maybe it’s just like a cultural thing, but they say all souls of certain species lived previous lives. Phantump. Pumpkaboo.” Tobias cuts her a dry look. “Yamask.”

Nia blinks, caught off-guard. “Yamask?” So…Will?

She does vaguely remember reading about the yamask line, when she first came to the Pokemon world and was looking for a name. About how they’re supposedly born from lost human souls. At the time she’d assumed that meant they were in the same situation as her and all the other humans, but Tobias almost seems to be implying that there’s something different about them. That some ghost types are…born as reincarnated souls. But Will is an adult and he’s only been here a few years, so—

Tobias tugs at Nia’s hand, apparently deeming her moment of existential crisis unimportant. “We’d better get moving. We’re getting looks.”

Nia shakes off her thoughts. “R-Right. Can you lead the way?”

Tobias snorts. “As long as you do the socializing.”

“Deal. Are we looking for Hollowberry to rest for the night?”

Tobias mouth flattens as he looks around. Nia follows his gaze, slowly less and less unnerved and more amazed by the chilling beauty of their surroundings.

“With this many ghost and dark types, most of the town probably runs on a nocturnal schedule,” Tobias finally says.

“Oh. So…should we start looking tonight?”

“Are you too tired?”

Tobias glances at her, then away. As if to make it seem like he doesn’t actually care about her answer. Nia bites back a smile and pointedly doesn’t remind the prickly charmander that they’re still holding hands.

“No, I’m all right! Where should we start?”

Tobias looks around, then heads down one of the bridges leading to another platform, releasing her hand to grab onto both sides of the railing. The woven branches underneath them creak and dip under their weight.

The first Pokemon they find who actually makes eye contact and seems willing to talk is a floating purple ghost with no legs and disembodied hands. He’s handing out samples outside of a cute little bakery, which means his friendliness is probably just a business tactic, but Nia will take it.

Nia gratefully accepts a small sample of donut and exchanges pleasantries before saying, “We were actually wondering if you happen to know anyone in town called Edme?”

The ghost type’s friendly smile falls, a gleam of suspicion entering his eyes. “…Where did you say you two are from?”

“Lexym Guild, in Bethoc’s Haven,” Tobias answers, crossing his arms. “We aren’t here to cause any trouble. Just want to ask them some questions.”

Another Pokemon, some kind of little orange and black fox with a large tail, walks by. The ghostly baker catches her eye, pasting on a huge grin. “Hey! Quinta! Want to try a new recipe?”

The fox glances at Nia and Tobias before deciding to speak to the baker. The two quickly start a conversation, turning their bodies to shut Nia and Tobias out.

Okay, message received. Nia devours her (delicious) donut sample and leads Tobias away before his flaring tail flame gets them in trouble.

“Maybe the next person will be more open to talk,” Nia says hopefully.

The look Tobias sends her makes it clear how much he doesn’t believe her. “Sure.”

Unfortunately, the next Pokemon they stop is no more forthcoming. Nor the next. Most of the townsfolk don’t look thrilled to talk to outsiders at all, but even the friendliest of Pokemon immediately clam up and hurry off when they mention Edme.

“This is going well,” Nia sighs when they take a break, sitting against one of the platforms’ central tree trunks. The wood is damp and the air is getting cold as the night wears on, so her fur feels both thin and uncomfortable. She’s starting to drag, but the town only seems to grow more active as the moon rises higher.

“They’re suspicious of outsiders, and apparently protective of this Edme ‘mon,” Tobias says, also looking tired. “They must think we’re here to cause trouble.”

“Even though we’re Seekers?”

Tobias sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Probably because we’re Seekers. Ghost types and dark types get a bad reputation sometimes. They’re pinned much quicker for crimes than other types.”

Nia winces, remembering her earlier reaction to seeing the ghost types. She’s grown more accustomed to them over the past hour or so, since they’re not really any stranger or scarier than other types of Pokemon. They’re just not ones she’s used to seeing.

“So you think they’re worried we’re here to take Edme in?”

“Probably. Whether it’s warranted or not.”

Nia makes a thoughtful sound in her throat. “So far we have been pretty vague about why we want to talk to Edme. Should we just be honest about why we’re here?”

Tobias gives her an Are you crazy? sort of look. “And say we’re here to ask Edme about—“ Tobias’ voice lowers. “Giratina?”

“Why not?”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “He’s a scary story for a reason! Most ‘mon don’t even like hearing his name.”

“But Edme was the source for all of those books we read! They’re almost like the authority on Giratina. And everyone here is defending Edme, so—“

“So Giratina probably isn’t a bad omen here,” Tobias finishes, blinking at her. “Huh. You know, that…might make sense. He is a ghost type. I don’t know enough ghost types to know if they see him as a deity, but…”

“We could try it?” Nia suggests.

Tobias sighs. “I guess it can’t get any worse than how it’s been going so far.”

Their next target is a pair of Pokemon chatting amiably outside of a shop and drinking tea. A misdreavus and a banette, according to Tobias. The two ghost types quiet as Nia and Tobias approach and politely introduce themselves.

“—and we were hoping that you might know about a Pokemon called Edme? We need some information about Giratina, and we heard they’re the best person—uh, Pokemon to ask.”

The two Pokemon straighten up with surprised expressions when Nia mentions Giratina’s name. They exchange a look, but Nia can see the cold suspicion thaw, ever so slightly.

“You want to know more about Lord Giratina?” The banette asks, clearly doubtful.

Lord Giratina? Guess they were spot-on about the deity thing.

Nia nods. “Yes! Please. We came all this way looking for information.”

“Why? Most solids are too scared to even say his name.”

Nia hesitates. Looks to Tobias. He shrugs. She bites her lip and looks back at the two Pokemon. “H-He’s been following me. Through reflections. And we want to know why.”

The pair’s eyes widen. Their idle hovering stills. It’s the most open emotion anyone from the town has shown so far.

“Lord Giratina showed himself to you?” The misdreavus asks, voice hushed with awe.

The banette looks torn between suspicion and confusion. “Why would Lord Giratina show himself to some random fighting type?“

Nia opens her mouth without thinking, to say something about it possibly being because she’s human. Luckily, Tobias whacks her leg with his tail, stopping her from blabbing.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Tobias growls. “So if someone could just tell us where to find Edme, that’d be great.”

The two Shivergleam natives look torn, exchanging a worried look.

“What do you think?” The misdreavus whispers, her “hair” floating in a nonexistent breeze.

“The riolu should be fine. She’s a fighting type. But sending a fire type to the Guardian? You know how dangerous that is!”

“But if Lord Giratina really did show himself, then there has to be a good reason! And you know the Guardian can handle herself.”

Nia and Tobias share an uncertain look as the two go back and forth about the “Guardian.” Looks like Tobias was right—the citizens of Shivergleam are protecting their own. Admirable, if not annoying at the current moment.

“Fine,” the banette finally says. She turns to Nia and Tobias. “We’ll tell you where to find the Guardian.“

“Oh, thank you so much! We—“

“But,” the ghost type interrupts, baring her terrifying zipper-like teeth. “We don’t take kindly to anyone messing with our own. Especially a Guardian. So just know that if you do anything to harm her, the entirety of Shivergleam won’t hesitate to drag you both to the afterlife.”

Nia’s bubbly gratitude dies in her chest. Eyes wide and tail tucked, she frantically agrees. Tobias glares at the two Pokemon, but nods.

The banette seems somewhat satisfied by that. She waves her friend on.

The misdreavus hesitates once more before gesturing with her chin to the right, off through the sea of platforms and flickering lights. “She lives on the edge of town, at one of the highest sectors. It’s the tall house with the shiny baubles hanging outside of it.”

Nia grins, forgetting her momentary fear in favor of relief that their search is almost over. “Got it! Thank you!”

The two Pokemon still seem unsure. They go back to their tea with an uneasy air. Tobias hauls Nia away as she’s still trying to thank them.

“You want to lead the way?” Nia asks. “I’m so glad we finally know where to find her!”

Tobias snorts. “After a little light threatening of our lives. But yes, of course I’m leading. You’ll run us in circles with your sense of direction.”

Nia concedes that and follows Tobias across town. The residents of Shivergleam still give them wary looks as they pass by, but otherwise don’t seem aggressive. Defensive, if anything. It hurts Nia’s feelings a bit, to be honest, but she figures that she can’t really be upset with them if they’ve been blamed in the past so much by outsiders. She shouldn’t make this about her own hurt feelings when they’re the ones who have actually been harmed.

At least the town itself is a beautiful sight to see. Still damp and a bit unnerving to traverse with the pitch blackness of the water far below them, but otherwise lovely. The warm lights of the buildings make the place feel magical, almost dreamlike. Or maybe that’s just Nia’s sleepiness talking. It is getting late.

“Why do you think they were calling Edme ‘the Guardian?’” Nia asks.

Tobias shrugs, eyes glued to his feet as he carefully crosses the bridge. “Dunno. Not a title I’m familiar with.”

“They sounded kind of…reverent. Of both Edme and Giratina. I haven’t heard Pokemon call any of the legendaries ‘Lord’ before.”

“Eh, ghost types can be weird. If they’re looking to Giratina of all Pokemon for protection, then you know they’ve got a few screws loose.”

“Don’t be rude. Everyone has their own beliefs.”

“I guess.”

By time Nia hears the gentle tinkling of something almost like windchimes, the warm lights of the town have started to die off. Black forest sits ahead, with a single home framed against it. It’s a tall, narrow, misshapen structure of woven roots and branches. Shiny items like bottles, mirrors and glass are tied together from branches, swaying gently in the breeze. The upper windows are aglow with a soft light.

“Guess this is it,” Nia murmurs.

“Guess so,” Tobias responds. “Ready to get some answers?”

“I hope so.”

Nia steps forward to knock firmly on the front door. She listens for footsteps from inside, but doesn’t hear anything. So she’s surprised when the door unlatches and swings open. The faint purple of telekinetic energy—usually belonging to a psychic or ghost type—glows off the door handle in the dark room within.

In the doorway floats a…bug? It almost looks like a cicada shell, something about its stiff body and angular wings bringing to mind childhood summers and bugsong. A halo-like piece floats above the Pokemon’s head, and it stares out at the two of them with two immobile eyes. It floats faintly in place, but otherwise doesn’t move—not the flicker of an eye or the twitch of a claw. Not even a breath.

Nia feels a shiver roll down her spine.

Then the Pokemon speaks, a chipper voice echoing out of the shell. “Yes? How can I help you two?”

Nia blinks. Opens her mouth to respond. Closes it again. Something about the expressive voice paired with the unsettlingly dead image is…really throwing her for a loop. Not to mention that they’ve been running into unfriendly residents all night.

“Are you Edme?” Tobias asks. “The, uh, Guardian?”

The bug Pokemon laughs. It’s unsettling not seeing the body move with the sound. “I was the last time I checked! To who do I owe the pleasure?”

“N-Nia,” Nia finally blurts, getting her tongue under control. “Nia and Tobias, of Team Scarlet.“

“A Seeker team?” Edme asks, sounding intrigued. “We don’t see many Seekers in Shivergleam.”

“Well, we aren’t really here on team business. We were actually hoping to ask you some, uh, questions? About Giratina.”

Edme floats slightly lower, as if to meet their eyes and get a better look at them. “It’s…rare, for someone outside of our community to seek out information about Lord Giratina.”

It’s a thinly veiled question, just the slightest bit wary. Nia glances at Tobias. He gestures for her to go ahead.

“Giratina’s been following me, through reflections. Trying to contact me. I—we did some research, and pretty much every book we could find referenced you in some way, so we figured you know the most about him. We were hoping you could give us some answers.”

Edme stills entirely at this new information, as if frozen in time. Nia opens her mouth to ask if she’s all right when the bug lurches forward, a little too close to Nia’s space.

“You say you’ve seen Giratina? You believe him to be attempting contact?”

“Yeah, we’re pretty confident about that,” Tobias says drily, clearly thinking about the banished legendary trying to yank Nia into the distortion world.

Edme turns to Nia for confirmation, so she gives a helpless shrug.

Edme bobs in the air, as if excited. “That is incredible news! Please, do come in.”

The bug turns and heads inside. Nia shudders when she catches a glimpse of a hole in Edme’s back, showing the blackness of a hollow shell inside.

Nia looks to Tobias, unsure. Tobias nudges past Nia to lead the way, swinging his tail forward to use it as a torch in the dark house. By the light of his flame, Nia can see the walls are covered in bookshelves, and what little space is left is taken up by tables holding notes and inks, bowls and ingredients and jars. A large woven rug sits in the middle of the floor, strangely empty of furniture. A spiral staircase winds around the sides of the room and upstairs, to where Nia saw the lights in the window from outside. A study, maybe. It all looks rather spooky in the low light.

“Oh! My apologies,” Edme says, floating back down from the darkness and making them jump. “Let me give you some light.”

Edme uses the same telekinetic power—Nia still isn’t sure if it’s psychic or ghost type in nature, but she’s leaning towards psychic considering she can feel her fur prickle—to pick up a lit candle from upstairs in bright purple energy. It floats down and expertly makes a circuit around the room, lighting half-melted candlesticks until the space is warmly lit.

Nia relaxes, following Edme to where she’s nudging two cushions forward on the floor. They’re dusty with disuse, but Nia doesn’t want to be rude and point it out so she sits gingerly. Tobias has no such qualms and takes a moment to beat the dust off the cushion before flopping down.

Edme lowers herself to hover in front of them. “Would you two like some tea?”

Nia, anxious as she is to get some answers and worried that tea might lull her to sleep at this late hour, smiles and politely declines. Tobias just shakes his head.

Edme laughs her hollow laugh, blank expression never shifting. “Honestly, I was hoping you would say no. Now, would you mind laying out your situation? When did you notice Lord Giratina following you?”

Nia blinks, surprised that Edme believed them so easily. She looks to Tobias to start explaining, since he was the first one to notice Giratina.

Tobias, however, clearly isn’t as eager to talk. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “I have a few questions first. We came to find you because you were the most referenced source in the books about Giratina, but it was obvious that the authors were holding stuff back. Being intentionally vague. Why?”

“Tobias!” Nia hisses. They’re the ones who came barging into Edme’s house—starting off with open suspicion is just rude!

But Edme simply laughs. “No, it’s quite all right. You are exactly right. There is a reason you could sense holes in their words. I no longer speak with authors, as they so willingly pick and choose what to share of the truth.”

“The truth..?” Nia echoes.

“The truth that the Guardians preserve, as servants to Lord Giratina.”

Nia and Tobias’ confusion is palpable.

Edme bobs, as if nodding. “Ah, yes. Allow me to introduce myself properly.” She twirls higher off the ground. “I am Guardian Edme, the 13th Guardian under Lord Giratina.”

Edme circles the room, gesturing with her body to the many, many papers and books stuffed into the walls. “For nearly a millennium, Lord Giratina has had a loyal guard in our realm to act as the official liaison between our dimension and the distortion world.”

“A millennium?” Tobias asks, suspicious. “So you didn’t stop serving him once he was banished.”

“Because he was banished unfairly,” Edme says, as simply as the sky being blue or grass being green. “Wrongfully ousted for trying to protect our world.”

Nia straightens up, frowning.

Tobias beats her to the punch, clearly incredulous. “That’s…definitely not the story we’ve heard. We heard that Giratina nearly killed another legendary and was banished for his violence.”

Edme lowers slightly, as if slumping. “Yes. Despite our best efforts, the truth has been grossly distorted.”

“But…that’s the story literally everyone knows,” Tobias protests. “It’s what’s written in all the books—including the ones you’re referenced in!”

For a moment, Nia swears the flames on the candles flare brighter before dying down again. Edme is once more still as stone.

Then, she speaks, voice bitter. “They record the truth they want to be known. Not the truth that actually happened. No matter how loudly we shout it.”

“And how do we know that what you say actually happened is the real truth?” Tobias challenges.

Nia bites her tongue. He has a point.

Edme turns to them, rising higher until she looms over them. In the flickering light, she looks as imposing as a statue in the dead of night, playing tricks on Nia’s eyes.

“I know this,” Edme says quietly. “Because I am a Guardian. It has been my duty since the moment I was born from my sister’s shell. This is my only duty. And the only duty of all my predecessors. I know the truth because they have taught it to me. Because I have spoken to Lord Giratina myself.”

Nia’s breath catches. “Wait. Y-You’ve talked to him? How? When he tried speaking to me in the tunnels I couldn’t hear him at all.”

Edme turns to Nia, quiet for a moment. Then she says, “I can allow you to speak to him, if you’d like.”

“No. I still don’t trust him,” Tobias growls. “Or, quite frankly, this ‘truth’ that you and your predecessors believe in. Sorry, but when the whole world thinks that Arceus themself banished Giratina for nearly murdering another legendary, it’s kind of a hard impression to forget. Plus, he tried to yank Nia into his creepy dimension against her will!”

“He did help us in the tunnels,” Nia points out, softly. Tobias throws up his hands, at a loss of how to respond.

Nia turns to Edme and says, hesitantly, “I guess…I don’t know what to believe right now. We thought he was bad, but he helped us recently. I know he did. And he has to be trying to talk to me for a reason. We were hoping you could give us some answers as to what that reason might be.”

Edme hums. “You would have to speak to Lord Giratina yourself for that. I can tell you the truth of his banishment, but I know not why he follows you.”

Nia swallows. She doesn’t know how ready she is to try “speaking” to Giratina. But…

“Could you tell us, then?” She asks. “What the true story is, according to the Guardians?”

Edme looks Nia in the eyes with hollow pupils. “Are you sure you want to hear it? There is a reason the cowardly pens of those writers never recorded my words.”

Nia looks to Tobias. He still doesn’t look like he trusts Edme, but she can tell he won’t stop her, either. Nia takes a deep breath and nods. “Y-Yes. Please. We want all the information before moving forward.”

Edme is silent for a moment longer. Then she chuckles. “Wise girl. I will gladly share the truth, if you promise to hear it.”

Nia murmurs agreement, and Tobias grudgingly copies her once Edme turns her stare onto him. Then Edme settles, floating low to the ground in front of them. Nia crosses her legs and leans closer, heart pounding.

“The story told for decades is that of Lord Giratina attacking another legendary Pokemon. Of Arceus commanding the Lake Trio to banish him to the Distortion World for his crime, destined to protect the dimensional borders without ever leaving them. Correct?”

Nia thinks that’s right, but lets Tobias nod their confirmation.

“The truth,” Edme says. “Is that Arceus had nothing to do with that decision. They weren’t even aware of it.”

Tobias frowns. Nia wracks her brain to keep up with the unfamiliar lore. Arceus is like…the god above all the other deities, right? The one in charge of everything?

“But,” Tobias says. “That doesn’t make any sense. Even if Arceus weren’t there at the time, they would still know about it, right? If Arceus is real, then surely you can’t hide anything from them.”

“Arceus is a very knowledgeable being,” Edme agrees. “Their eyes and ears and arms reach farther than any other. But they did not know about Lord Giratina’s banishment, for they were already asleep.”

“Asleep?” Nia murmurs.

“Asleep…” Tobias’ eyes widen. “You mean how the rest of the legendaries have gone dormant and disappeared? Arceus also..?”

“Arceus was the first,” Edme says. “They fell to sleep and none could wake them. Still to this day they rest. Presently, most of the others have followed. However, when it was just Arceus, when the panic of their parent’s falling was fresh, the legends didn’t know what to do.”

Nia can sense the gravity of Edme’s words, even if she’s having a hard time feeling like they’re actually…real, and not just a fairy tale. She glances at Tobias, and is surprised that for someone once so unconcerned about legendaries, the charmander seems pale and tense.

“The legends argued,” Edme continues. “About what to do after Arceus fell dormant. For months on end. This had never happened before. They didn’t know what would happen without Arceus there to guide them. Would their own energy falter? Who would protect the mortal Pokemon of their world?”

“Without their leader,” Edme continues. “Infighting began. And in the gods’ absence, our world began to slip. Without Lugia and Kyogre guiding the seas, waves became impossible to navigate. Marine Pokemon and sailors alike died without any hope of rescue. Without Groudon and Regirock, the earth shook and splintered without guidance, destroying towns and homes. Without the guiding winds of Tornadus and Rayquaza, gales developed into terrible storms free from Raikou and Zapdos’ protection, striking the earth with lightning and fire and flooding it with rain.”

“So they just…abandoned the Pokemon world?” Nia whispers, horrified. “To argue?”

“Most of them. Understand that to an immortal legendary, a few months is a heartbeat in time. To the Pokemon in our realm, it is an eternity. Many of them did not realize they were abandoning the world that they were born to protect.”

“Are you making this up to make all the other legendaries look bad?” Tobias accuses, baring his teeth. “It’s not very subtle.”

Edme laughs. “I don’t need to make it up. The legendaries are generally benevolent. But they were aware of their power in a way that led to self-importance.”

After a heavy beat of silence, Nia hopefully adds, “But you said most of them didn’t notice the issues they were causing, right..?”

Edme bobs in a nod. “Yes. A few legendaries were aware of what their absence meant for the Pokemon of the world. Those more tied into the affairs of mortals. Entei, protector of children. The Swords of Justice. Latias and Latios. Mew, Mother of all Pokemon. Lord Giratina.”

“You’re trying to tell us he was worried about mortals?” Tobias scoffs.

“He was not,” Edme says, startling Nia and Tobias into silence. “At least, not directly. He was worried about his domain—the dimensional rift. The borders containing our world, and keeping it safely separate from others.”

“Like the human world?” Nia ventures.

Edme nods. “Yes. Lord Giratina has been the guardian of our world’s borders since the beginning. He doesn’t care much for mortals, but he takes his duty seriously. He was aware that Arceus’ sleep was concerning, but the absence of legendaries—particularly his siblings Dialga and Palkia—only exacerbated the issue. Their panic was putting the fragile balance of the world in danger, and endangering the entire dimension in the process.”

“So what did he do?” Nia asks.

Edme laughs, this one more genuinely happy than bitter. “He gave the other legends a piece of his mind. Told them all to get back to their stations and stop destroying Arceus’ beloved world if they were so worried.”

Despite herself, Nia quirks a smile.

“However,” Edme says, voice sobering again. “In Lord Giratina’s absence, more of the legends had fallen dormant against their will. Victini. Hoopa. Jirachi. Tensions had grown high. Cresselia, in a fit of anger, accused Lord Giratina of being uncaring for their parent, Arceus. Even accused him of being the cause for their dormancy.”

Tobias makes a doubtful noise, but otherwise doesn’t interrupt. Nia frowns, focused entirely on Edme’s hushed voice in the dim candlelight.

“She attacked him, and so Lord Giratina defended himself. Squabbles between legendaries were not rare, but never was there intent to genuinely harm one another. However, Cresselia, already in a weakened state, was seriously injured and fell dormant after the fight.”

“On edge,” Edme continues. “The Lake Trio—Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie—used their power to banish Lord Giratina to his domain in the Distortion World. The battle did spur the legendaries to finally return to their stations, however, rebalancing the world for the past hundred years.”

“But?” Nia murmurs.

“But,” Edme sighs. “They too eventually fell to sleep. Recently, even the most powerful of legendaries have begun to fall dormant.”

“The increase in natural disasters,” Tobias murmurs.

“Correct.”

“Is that what’s causing the mystery dungeons, too?” Nia asks.

“I…am not sure,” Edme admits. “Giratina is not speaking to me as openly as he used to. However, considering the two phenomena have been following the same progression, I believe they must be linked in some way.”

“Giratina hasn’t been talking to you?” Tobias asks, doubtful. “He’s sure been trying to ‘talk’ to Nia lately.”

Edme turns hollow eyes on Nia. It feels a bit unnerving. “Lord Giratina himself is weakening, but he believes that whatever is causing legendaries to fall dormant and steering the world towards ruin can still be reversed. Perhaps…he believes you could be of use in such a mission.”

Nia leans back. “M-Me? What could I do to help?”

“And I don’t like how you phrased that,” Tobias growls. “‘Of use?’”

Edme floats a bit higher. “Apologies. I simply meant you might be helpful in finding the answers Lord Giratina seeks.”

There’s a heavy moment of silence, tense and unsure as they digest that.

“That’s…” Tobias starts, sounding off-kilter.

“A lot,” Nia finishes. “And you heard this story from…Giratina?”

Edme floats over to a window, as if looking outside into the night. “I understand you may think me foolish, to believe the better light straight from the accused’s mouth. But my predecessors assure me that Lord Giratina has always been harsh, but just. That he would never intentionally harm another legend. I believe it to be the truth.”

Nia glances at Tobias, wanting his take on all this. The charmander is staring down with a furrowed brow, lost in thought.

“I still recommend speaking to Lord Giratina yourself,” Edme says, moving to float over to one of her tables. She uses her power to start sifting through the mess. “I can set up the ritual now, if you would like.”

Nia’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Like bring him here?” Tobias asks, barely hiding his alarm. “To our world?”

“No, no. Not to this realm, of course. The Lake Trio saw to it that even in their dormancy Lord Giratina would not be able to cross over any time soon. Especially not here. If anywhere, that would need to occur at the dimensional gate.”

“Dimensional gate?” Nia echoes.

“The traditional summoning spot for Lord Giratina,” Edme explains absently, shuffling through jars and papers. “Where the border between our realm and the dimensional rift is thinnest.”

Nia opens her mouth to continue that line of questioning, but Edme makes a sound of triumph, pulling back with a few supplies held in her purple energy.

“Would you be willing to speak with Lord Giratina and ask him yourself why he is trying to contact you? I believe conversing with him will convince you of his authenticity as well.”

Tobias growls a sharp, “No.”

Nia stays silent. Conflicted.

Tobias looks at her, bewildered. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not saying we trust him immediately, or even Edme’s story, but…”

“He’s the villain of the story! Of course he’s going to try and spin himself in a better light. And you can’t trust someone who is clearly obsessed with him to be any more truthful! I know how you are, Nia. If you talk to him, he’ll win you over with some sob story in a heartbeat.”

Nia huffs. “But what if they’re telling the truth? What if Giratina isn’t the bad guy he’s made out to be and he’s trying to save the Pokemon world? What if he needs my help somehow?”

Tobias groans and rubs at his face, muttering something about her being a bleeding heart.

“It can’t hurt just to talk to him, right?” Nia adds. “And you’ll be right here to keep us on track.”

Tobias looks at her for a long moment. Then he sighs. “Fine. But only because I know you won’t let up otherwise.”

Edme, who had been waiting nearby with barely restrained enthusiasm, jumps into action. She shoos them away from the cushions they’d been sitting on, then moves the pillows aside with her powers. Then she removes the rug covering the space in the middle of the floor, only to reveal a circular wooden panel below. Purple energy envelops it and easily lifts it aside, leaving a shallow dip in the wooden flooring maybe an inch or two deep.

Edme bustles about, gathering supplies and snuffing out a few of the candles. She fills the basin with a bowl of water, until the surface of it is nothing more than a smooth, glassy pool. Then she sprinkles some herbs on top of its surface, pouring a salt-like mixture into an intricate pattern on the wood around the outside of the pool.

“Should we tell her that Giratina just…shows up around you?” Tobias whispers to Nia, dry with humor.

Nia bites back a smile despite her nerves. “This does look very…intense. But she has to have a reason for it, right?” Even if she does look like she’s trying to summon the dead.

Finally, Edme floats back, apparently satisfied. Only a few candles near the basin remain lit, leaving the edges of the room dark. The thin pool of water almost seems to…glow, in the low light, a few bits of herbs floating on its surface.

“Now what?” Tobias asks, shifting nervously.

Nia moves to step closer to the pool, and he quickly latches onto her arm to stop her.

“We have lit the beacon for Lord Giratina. But if he has been following you, young riolu…” Edme turns to her. “Would you mind stepping into the pool, to show him you’re here?”

Nia stiffens, and Tobias immediately turns on the bug with a glare.

“We said we’d talk,” he growls. “Nothing more. I don’t care how much you believe Giratina’s story—we still don’t know that he isn’t trying to kill Nia or something. She’s not stepping in there to serve herself up on a silver platter.”

Edme angles slightly towards Nia. “Riolu?”

“I-I have to admit I’m not…completely comfortable with the idea. Can I not just…I don’t know. Sit by it and call out to him or something?”

“It is the only way to speak to him,” Edme says, something in her voice making Nia nervous. Something almost…desperate.

“It’s also the only way we know of for him to grab you,” Tobias counters, baring his teeth.

“You must be in his realm to speak with him!” Edme says, voice rising. “The banishment—”

“You didn’t tell us that!” Tobias snaps, stepping in front of Nia. “We sure aren’t going onto his creepy turf!”

For a moment, Edme is silent, staring at the two of them. Nia has a terrible feeling in her gut. Then, the bug sighs. “Shame. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to force you.”

Tobias’ lashing tail stills. “…What?”

In a flash of purple light, Nia feels her whole body lock up. From the corner of her eye, she can see herself outlined in the same bright purple energy that Edme’s been using all night. She can’t move anything but her eyes and her mouth. She’s stuck. Through her panic, she absently notes that it must be a psychic-type move if it’s able to affect her.

In front of her, Nia can hear Tobias make a strangled sound as he too is caught in the attack. Then, he’s pulled through the air to float at Edme’s side, wild eyes flicking to Nia.

“What’re you doing?!” Tobias snarls. Nia can see fire glow briefly behind his teeth before he chokes again and it peters out.

Nia has a sinking feeling about where this is going, even before Edme’s powers start to pilot her legs, moving her forward one jerky step at a time like a puppet.

“E-Edme, wait!” Nia yelps. “Let’s talk about this!”

Edme hums. “Unfortunately, Riolu, I must put Lord Giratina’s wishes above your comfort. If he wants to speak with you, I shall make it so. You cannot hear him if you are not in his realm. I was hoping to get you there voluntarily, but I can see the lies you’ve heard won’t allow that.”

Nia’s foot splashes into the thin basin of water. And then the other, until she’s frozen in place right in the middle of it, shaking against Edme’s grip.

Nia didn’t realize she was so powerful.

“Don’t worry,” Edme says, voice bright. “He won’t harm you. You should be excited! Not everyone gets the chance to speak with a legend.”

Nia feels tears start to gather in her eyes as her heart pounds. She alternates between looking down at the reflections in the pool below and up at Edme and Tobias. “I-I don’t want to. Please, Edme—“

Tobias tries to lunge forward, only to be snapped back into place. His eyes are glued to the pool.

Nia follows his gaze down and feels like she’s going to throw up. Giratina circles in the reflections below her, gold and gray and black and red. A faint serpentine shape growing closer and closer.

Nia closes her eyes, counting her rapid heartbeats and praying that something happens to miraculously save them. To break them from Edme’s grip and let them escape. Something cold wraps around her ankle. She whimpers, refusing to look.

Tobias is panting and growling, still struggling against the bright purple energy surrounding him. “Nia!”

The grip around Nia’s ankle tightens. She opens her eyes and looks to Tobias. She has a single moment to meet her partner’s eyes before the grip around her yanks.

Despite the shallow water of the pool, she’s pulled straight down. Deep, deeper than should be possible, through the coolness of the water and then back into open air. Her stomach flips. She feels like she’s weightless in the worst way possible.

The world seems to spin, and then she’s falling hard on solid, dry ground. She gasps, pushing herself up on shaky arms. She’s free of Edme’s telekinetic grip. She looks around wildly at the dark environment she’s found herself in.

It’s like some kind of strange nightmare. A dark, crumbling stone landscape, pieces floating midair as if trapped in resin. A swirling blue-black void of empty sky sits as its backdrop, and weirdly enough Nia is reminded of that one Vincent van Gogh painting she was taught about in elementary school: The Starry Night. Just without the comfort of the stars. The air is stiflingly still, making her shaky breaths seem particularly loud.

It feels…heavy here. Unnatural.

Nia staggers to her feet. She opens her mouth to call out for Tobias, but movement catches her eye. She follows it, her partner’s name dying on her tongue as she tips her head back.

Looming above her, all long tendril wings and piercing red eyes, is a creature of nightmares.

Giratina.

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - who we are

Music blasting through your headphones, you bobbed your head to the beat as you looked through your locker for the drink you had put in there not long ago.

You were supposed to be in lesson, but you had been kicked out so now you were looking for something to drink and you couldn’t find where you had left it.

“Crap…” you mumbled.

Slamming the locker closed, you made your way towards the canteen to grab one from there and when you walked in, you pulled your headphones down.

“You should be in lesson.” Mrs Paracha said.

“I know, but I got kicked out. Do you have any juice?”

“Yes, yes. Go sit I bring over for you.”

You beamed at her and sat down at a table kicking your legs up on the chair opposite you as you waited for her to come through.

You drummed your hands against the table as you waited, following a small beat stuck in your head.

“So why you get kicked out this time?”

Mrs Paracha placed some juice and a plate of chips in front of you, and you moved your feet so she could sit down.

“Apparently I am disruptive and in many different ways very disappointing.”

You nibbled at a chip, grinning up at her.

“Who say this?!”

“I forget her name, the one who’s last name is the same as a fish, and kinda looks like one too.”

“Oi that not nice.”

“Neither is her calling me disappointing but yet here we are.” You shrugged.

Sipping the juice, you looked around the empty canteen and looked at Mrs Paracha, a small frown on your face.

“Do you think I’m a disappointment miss?”

“No, of course not. You are many things, but a disappointment not one of them. You just need to focus more on work.”

“I try, but they’re always shouting at me or telling me off for something. Sometimes I struggle and none of the teachers bother to help me.”

She sighed.

“Have you spoke to Mr Evershed? He can help you innit.”

You shrugged a little, eating another chip.

“He won’t bother, sees me like the rest of em, can’t look past the green hair dye, the piercings and the tattoos.”

“Why you like this look so much?” She asked.

“Well, I guess it makes me feel more comfortable. It gives me confidence, green is my favourite colour, and I’ve always wanted piercings. The tattoos I did myself or my friends dad did for me, since he owns a tattoo studio.”

“You want to tattoo people?”

You nodded excitedly.

“Oh yeah! I’d love to be a tattoo artist! Look!”

You rolled up your shirt sleeve and showed her the tattoo sleeve on your arm, gesturing to the trees, the river and the birds.

“I did this. Well, the outline, I couldn’t shade it all myself but I did most of it.”

Mrs Paracha took your arm in his hands and carefully examined it.

“I don’t understand all this, but this bloody amazing, you did this?”

You grinned and nodded, pulling a small notebook out your shirt pocket, you showed her the doodles you did each class.

“Do you think I can do it miss?”

“I think you bloody can, and I help, come with me.”

You grabbed your plate of chips and she grabbed your juice and notebook and you walked over to the counter.

“Do any of you lovely ladies have a plastic plate of something for my chips?”

“Here love, plastic bowl.”

She put your chips in the bowl and handed it back over and you beamed, walking through the hallways with Mrs Paracha towards the front of the school.

You both stopped when the fire alarm went off and she ushered you towards a fire exit.

“We carry on after.”

Nodding, you followed her to the fire point, and you stood next to her, bouncing on your feet as you ate your chips and talked to her.

You ignored everything that was going on, and you weren’t paying much attention to whatever was going on.

“We wait for everyone to go in, then we talk to Mr Evershed.”

“About what?”

“You and how teacher treating you. It’s not right.”

You gave the woman a soft smile.

Everyone began heading inside, and you set your bowl on a wall and took your juice back to sip it while you waited.

Mr Evershed walked over and crossed his arms as he looked at you.

“Oh Mr Evershed we looking for you, we need to talk about (Y/N).”

“Yes we do.” He said sternly.

You rose a brow at him and picked up your bowl again.

“Do you think this is funny? Setting off the fire alarm? Do you know how serious that is (Y/N)?”

“What?” You asked confused.

“Oh don’t play coy, Mrs Carp already explained what happened in her class. This is the third time this month you’ve pulled that fire alarm.”

“It wasn’t me!”

“You’re the only one who seems to pull it.”

“They with me, they done nothing wrong!” Mrs Paracha huffed.

“Miss, miss it’s fine. Leave it.”

You looked at Mr Evershed and scowled.

“You seriously think I did this? Check the cameras or something.”

“Well all the evidence points to you.”

“Right, because whenever something bad happens it’s my fault right?”

“You’ve got a track record for it yeah.”

You shook your head at him, clenching your jaw.

“I’ve been with Mrs Paracha the whole time! I didn’t do it!”

“So are you going to tell me you didn’t throw a chair across Mrs Carps classroom?”

“Well no, I did that, but I didn’t pull the fire alarm!”

“If you keep going down this road you’re going to end up exactly like your parents! You’ll end up either in jail or in some dead end job you’ll be stuck in! You need to take this seriously!”

You froze.

“Is that how you really see me? Just another kid who’s going to fail in life? Seriously?”

“At this rate we need to be honest with you. Yes. That’s where you’re heading, you have almost no passing grades, you’ve been suspended more times this year than anyone has in their entire school history.”

“You can’t say that!”

“Miss it’s fine, ya know what?”

You nodded head your head, giving a half shrug.

“You’re right. I’m going to end up exactly like my parents behind bars. You’re right yeah. I should just stop trying to be anything else, right?”

“No (Y/N) that’s not.. I didn’t mean..”

He fumbled for his words and you turned to Mrs Paracha.

“Thanks for the chips.”

You turned to Mr Evershed.

“Thanks for nothing.”

“(Y/N)! Walking away isn’t going to solve anything!”

“You’re right! But it’ll solve the fact I won’t have to deal with this crap you’re throwing at me for no reason!”

Throwing the bowl at him, you turned around and ran off, jumping over the fence to go back home and Mr Evershed sighed, picking up the bowl.

“You fix this! They good student, bloody brilliant. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

She slammed your notebook on the wall and stormed away to her office so she could try and get ahold of you.

Mr Evershed sighed, picking up the notebook he put it in his pocket and carried the bowl back inside.

They had to review the camera footage of both incidents, first was you throwing a chair, and they saw it go flying through the classroom door before you walked away.

“Where did they go after?” He asked.

“Locker then to the canteen where they stayed with Mrs Paracha.” Loraine said.

“And the fire alarm?”

“That would be this boy.”

She showed him who pulled the fire alarm and he nodded, asking her to figure out who that was he made his way back to his office.

He had blamed you because both time before this is had been you, so he jumped to conclusions, and in anger he was basically told you that you weren’t going to do anything with your life.

And he felt horrible.

He knew Mrs Paracha was right, he had to fix it, so he went to find her.

“Where can I find (Y/N)?” He asked.

Mrs Paracha slammed some paper on the table and glared at him.

“They good student, sometimes but angry but good student.”

“I know, I know, it’s why I’m going to try and sort this out. Thank you.”

First he tried your flat, but you weren’t home, then he tried the next address, a small bar, and he walked in.

“Hi I’m headteacher for Ackley bridge college, I’m looking for a student (Y/N) (L/N)?”

The woman behind the bar shrugged.

“Not scheduled to work till the weekend, try the studio.”

“Studio?”

“Here.”

She wrote down the address and he made his way there and walked inside the tattoo studio.

“Got an appointment?” A man asked.

“Oh Uhm no sorry. I’m actually looking for a student of mine (Y/N) (L/N)? I’m Mr Evershed, headteacher of Ackley bridge college.”

“Not seen the kid since this morning.” The man said.

He glanced up from the table he was setting up and stood up fully, and Mr Evershed involuntarily took a step back.

The man laughed a little.

“We’re not all criminals you know. I’ve not seen the kid since they stopped by before going to school, but I guess you can try the town centre, likes to go up there. I’m Dave, their legal guardian. Is everything alright?”

“There was an incident at the school, I just want to talk to them properly about it.”

Dave nodded his head and crossed his arms.

“So what did the kid do?”

“Nothing actually, well, not nothing they did throw a chair out a classroom, but that’s not why I’m looking for them.”

Mr Evershed sighed and explained the situation to your guardian, and Dave nodded his head along.

“So, basically you fucked up?”

“That’s one way to put it yeah. I’m trying to make it right.”

“Not a lot of people would, good on you. Look, I can’t help you find em, but just know they’re probably not alone, and if they’re with who I think they’re with, just.. be cautious.”

“Thank you.”

Mr Evershed left the studio, and his phone started to ring.

Someone had called the school about a student and some other people wondering about the town, so that’s where he went.

He was walking up and down the streets when he found you walking out of a shop and walked over to a group of slightly older looking people.

“Surprise.” He said.

You looked at him and glared.

“Get lost!”

You threw your bottle at him and he moved aside so it would miss.

“Come on, I just want to talk.”

“And I don’t.”

You began to walk away and he sighed.

“Can we talk (Y/N), please?”

One of the boys turned around and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him away slightly.

“Take a hint bro, they said no.”

“Kieran stop, stop it’s fine. He’s not some creep, just an asshole.”

The boy looked at you then to Mr Evershed.

“I don’t care, someone says no you drop it bro, got it?”

“Right I understand you’re concerned about them, but I’m their headteacher and we need to talk.”

You turned around.

“No we don’t. You said all you had to say, right? I’m going to be nothing but some lowlife criminal right? That’s what you think?”

“No that’s not what I think.”

“Well you basically said it!”

“And I was wrong, but can we please go somewhere where we can talk about this privately? Please?”

You ran a hand through your hair and shook your head at him.

“Don’t bother, not going back and don’t wanna talk neither.”

With that, you walked away and he sighed.

Mr Evershed went back to the school, and he pulled up everything he could find about you, grades, attendance, emails.

Anything he thought could help, and he spoke to Mrs Paracha as well, since she knew you better than anyone.

Then the following day, he was a man on a mission once more, searching the same places for you, and this time he found you near your flat talking to the post man.

The post man walked away and you looked through the post in your hands, leaning against the wall.

“This is stalking.” You said.

“No it’s not, it’s me being concerned about you and wanting to talk about what happened yesterday, and every other day in school.”

“Like I said, not going back so no point.”

You walked towards the door to your building and opened it.

“I know you want to be a tattoo artist, and I also know that the teachers at the school have been judging you based on your looks and behaviour, not your grades.”

You stopped, and turned around to look at him.

“Mrs Paracha spoke to you.”

“I asked her for help. I know you’re a smart kid, and you can get the grades if you tried, I’ve seen your test results, and homework in some classes. I just want to help you, and apologise for my ignorance yesterday. So, can we please talk?”

You turned around and held the door open for him.

“I’m only doing this so you’ll leave me be.”

“Don’t count on it.” He smiled.

He walked over and to him, this was progress, and he was hoping to make more progress by talking to you, but given how stubborn you could be, he knew it was going to be hard