#to me red is especially suspectible to leaning against the others on the couch during movie night and just. drifting off to sleep

[syn4k]

(comment found on this AvM Short)

completely ignoring the fact that 1.18+ minecraft lets you tap a bed to respawn without having actually slept in it first, nap pile real

[indigowallbreaker]

"not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands" from the handholding prompts for Byleth / Hanneman? (either gender or nb works!)

By reading this fic, you, the reader, agree to tell me if I spelled Hanneman’s name wrong at any point. I still mess up on his name, the poor guy XD

(Currently accepting rare ships! Click here for the info post!)

--

Hanneman had become so absorbed in the research notes Linhardt had sent that he nearly lost track of time. The clock above Garreg Mach rang out the quarter hour, and Hanneman at last looked around. Goodness, was it that late already? Gathering the papers, Hanneman stood from his desk and moved to the sofa against the right hand wall of his office. There he settled and continued reading.

At precisely ten minutes to noon, the door opened, and Byleth trudged in. Hanneman glanced up at him briefly before returning to the notes. “Good afternoon, love,” he greeted.

Byleth always looked a mess after training with the Knights of Seiros. This time was no exception-- his hair was matted with sweat, red marks up and down his arms were darkening into true bruises, and his clothes were covered with dirt from the training grounds. 

Still panting from his work out, Byleth practically fell onto the couch beside Hanneman. He popped open his waterskin and began to drink deeply. Without looking, Byleth took Hanneman’s free hand between them-- the hand Hanneman had intentionally kept free for this exact reason.

A few short months after being given the title, Byleth had resigned as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and passed the position to Mercedes, instead taking over as Captain of the Knights of Seiros. Hanneman and Byleth had developed a comfortable routine since then. Byleth liked coming to see Hanneman after training all morning, and so Hanneman always made sure to move from his desk in the early afternoon to a space where they could spend time side by side.

They settled now into peaceful quiet-- Hanneman reading and Byleth catching is breath and drinking.

Eventually, Byleth laced their fingers together. “Good afternoon,” he replied at last. He seemed more or less recovered.

Hanneman hummed. “How was today?”

“A few of the new recruits are having trouble with one of our basic formations.” Byleth put down his waterskin and ran a hand through his soaked hair. “I had to demonstrate... five times? Maybe six. I lost track.”

“No wonder you look especially worn. I suspect Shamir would not mind if you asked to push back your strategy meeting so you could rest.”

Byleth sighed. “That is tempting.” He rubbed his thumb over Hanneman’s. “What are you reading?”

Hanneman passed Byleth the first page of Linhardt’s research. “After observing King Dimitri during the war, Linhardt wondered if he perhaps had a major Crest instead of a minor one. He tested a blood sample and found it was, indeed, a minor Crest of Blaiddyd, but that begged the question-- what exactly is the disparity between major and minor Crests? Are some minor Crests more powerful than others?”

“Does Dimitri know Linhardt has a sample of his blood?” Byleth asked as he read.

“Never ask a fellow scholar how he gets his materials.” Hanneman was only half kidding. In truth he had hoped that, by not asking Linhardt such questions, Linhardt would not ask any in return.

Byleth gave an amused huff. “Well, it certainly must have piqued his interest if he was willing to work so closely with blood.”

“I concur.” Hanneman looked up at Byleth. “You don’t have to read the whole thing. I simply wanted to satisfy your curiosity.”

“You know I like keeping up with what interests you.” With his eyes still on the page, Byleth leaned against Hanneman. Their hands remained clasped between them. Smiling, Hannemen returned to his own page. He was all too happy to serve as a pillow. 

The clock rang out again as Hanneman passed Byleth the second page and picked up the third for himself. “Do you mind me resting here for a while longer?” Byleth asked suddenly.

“I treasure any time spent with my favorite subject.” That earned Hanneman a mock glare. Chuckling, he added, “Shamir is sure to come looking for you when you don’t arrive at the appointed time.”

“She knows to check here first. Everyone does.”

Hanneman felt a swell of pride. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned his head to press a kiss to Byleth’s cheek. “Stay as long as you wish, my dear.”

Byleth smiled at that. They both turned their attentions back to Linhardt’s notes. As intriguing as the research was-- and as much as he knew to brace himself for Shamir’s impending interruption-- Hanneman found himself reveling at the weight of Byleth’s hand in his own, and thanking the many steps that had gotten them here.

[tigerseye46]

For the headcanon thing. Once it’s revealed that Tang is Tripitaka, he uses that to get Wujing to reconcile with Pigsy and Wukong. Kinda like how Wujing used Tang’s celebrity crush. - Pixel Anon

Yesss, Tang gets revenge. This takes during S3 of the au.

Send me a head canon for the Red Shark/sand au and I'll make a fic out of it ^^! Send as many as you want

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Tang stomped away from Sha Wujing as the other tried to wave at him from the kitchen. He was still mad at the others for not divulging he was Tripitaka’s reincarnation especially Wujing who he thought was interested in him after they had gotten closer. But nope, he only liked him because he was Tripitaka.

He told the demon to figure out if he actually liked him for him and wasn’t using him as an outlet for his feelings. He wasn’t going to be friendly toward the other until then.

“Hey, Wujing,” Sun Wukong greeted. Tang turned around to see the former pilgrims all in the kitchen. 

Sha Wujing hissed at the two. “What do you want?”

“Just to talk,” Zhu Bajie replied.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” “Well how are you faring since-?”

“Oh, I’m faring just wonderfully,” he snarked. “Nothing like the person I love the most ignoring me. Exactly like back then.” Tang sighed at the demon’s words. Wujing didn’t love him, he loved Tripitaka, that was it. The other thing the demon said struck him, from what he recalled, Tripitaka never ignored him and cared about him very much, he doesn’t know how the monk gave him that impression.

“Give him time,” Wukong said. “He’ll come around.”

“Yea, no thanks to you. Maybe if you told him in the beginning we would be happy with each other. But no, you had to keep your mouth shut for once.”

Bajie held up an arm to halt him. “It’s not his fault, Wujing.”

“Yes, it is! He hung out with Tang the longest! He should have told him.”

“I didn’t know, Wujing.”

“But you suspected,” he pointed out. “Also you could have used your special eyes and told him but you’re too much of a coward to do so.” “Coward?” He exclaimed. “What about you? You figured out and could have told him yourself. Don’t blame me for your faults.” “Whatever,” he replied and pushed passed them, heading towards the opposite direction of where Tang was. Jeez just when they were finally starting to at least talk without screaming.

The king ran a hand through his fur. “He’s right. I should have said something.”

The pig patted him on the back. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like it was an easy thing to bring up.”

“I know but-”

And at that point, Tang stopped listening. He went back to his room and laid on his bed. He was angry at Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie too but that argument left a bad feeling. Heck, all their arguments left a bad feeling.

He knew Wujing loved to pick fights with those two because of Tripitaka’s- because of his death. While Wujing was right that his best friend should have told him, the demon should have also told him.

They had really split apart after his passing which was not something he wanted at all. He didn’t like to see his disciples friends fight and while he could leave them be, it wasn’t right to do so. He knew their relationship wouldn’t be repaired unless he intervened since Sha Wujing was so stubborn.

He threaded his fingers through his dark locks and decided to use his position as their master’s reincarnation to get them to reconcile. They were going to be stuck on this flying ship for who knows how long so they had to get along or the journey would be more difficult than it needed to be.

He would go up to Wujing first to convince him they needed to talk and while he hated being used as an outlet, he didn’t have a choice otherwise. Well other than locking them in a closet but he’s sure they would break the door.

Tang got up once again and went to find Sha Wujing who was on the balcony of the shop. He was leaning against the railing with a contemplative look on his face. His red-orange hair shined in the sunlight.

Tang took a couple of breaths and walked up to him. Hearing the noise, the demon gazed at him, his eyes blown wide at the other approaching him.

“Tang,” he said.

“Hey,” the human responded and leaned against the railing just like the demon did.

“Why are you here?”

“Fresh air. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Wujing opened his mouth to speak before closing it then repeating the process. “Tang.”

Tang placed a hand up. “I know what you’re going to say and you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying when I say I really do love you.”

“Uh huh. You only love Tripitaka, not me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. We’ve been over this. I’m not looking to get into it right now. It’s not what I came here to discuss.”

“I thought you said you came here for fresh air.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “That too but there is something we need to discuss. You need to talk to Wukong and Bajie.” The other lifted a brow. “And when I mean talk, I mean something that is not an argument, a fight or anything along those lines. Civilized conversation. You three need to make up.”

Wujing scoffed and crossed his arms. “Make up with those two? No thank you. They’re terrible.”

“And why are they so terrible?” He asked.

“Because they wanted you dead.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Think about it, Tang. They never wanted to listen to you. They always thought it was best to disobey you or get you captured. They never cared about you like I did yet they were your favorites.”

“Wujing, they cared about me like I did them and you.”

“They didn’t. They let you die after they finally managed to get away from you.” He muttered, “And you didn’t care about me.”

Tang rubbed his temples in annoyance, ignoring the last comment. “They got there too late.”

“How do you know? You died.”

“I know them. They got there late and there was nothing they could do either way.”

“Whatever. I’m not making up with them.” He began to step away.

“Sha Wujing, come back! You are making up with your brothers!”

“They’re not my brothers,” he called back.

Tang removed the glasses from his face and said in a soft tone, “Wujing, please come back.”

The other stopped to stare, the human’s face was marked by a frown and without the glasses, he looked even more like his incarnation. He blushed at the human’s appearance. The human getting closer and closer with folded glasses in hand.

He held his face and tilted the demon’s chin slightly upwards. “A little close there.”

“What? I can’t get close to my disciple?”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me.” He traced a hand along the demon’s biceps. “Wow. Your strength really hasn’t waned since I last saw you centuries ago.”

He blinked. “Th-thanks?”

“Still so impressive after all these years. This is rather forward but I find it hot,” he said it just as Tripitaka would say it.

“Thanks…”

“It’s probably why you’re the best one out there.”

“Well that’s no secret,” he bragged and tried to act as if this didn’t affect him.

“You are.” He rubbed his cheek with his thumb and Wujing placed a hand over his. Tang ignored the flutter and enjoyed the fact that he could get revenge on the demon for using his crush against him. “You know what would make you better than them?”

“What would that be, Tang?” He questioned and pressed a kiss against his palm.

He leaned in and whisper, “If you showed the other two how great you are by patching things up to them first. Be the bigger man like I know you are.”

“And what do I get if I make up with them?”

“A kiss,” he replied, “but only if you promise.”

He grinned. “I promise.” Tang smooched his cheek and walked off, putting his glasses back on. “Wait! You said a kiss!”

“I did give you a kiss!”

“A kiss on the cheek doesn’t count!”

“Yes, it does! I didn’t specify! And I’m still mad at you! Remember your promise and I might give you another one,” he exclaimed before going back inside.

He touched his cheek, the warmth lingering. He grumbled at getting tricked before going with the human.

It wasn’t until hours passed that Sha Wujing saw Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie. “Hey. We need to talk.”

“About?” Bajie pondered.

“Sit down.” He gestured to the couch in the living room.

The two gave him a questioning glance but complied. “Okay. What is it, Wujing?” The king held Bajie close to him.

“Tang is forcing me to do this.”

“Tang talked to ya?”

“Yea. He hasn’t forgiven me just yet but he wanted me to talk to you.”

“And ya listened?”

“He is still our master…”

Wukong smirked. “Let me guess. He managed to seduce you into talking to us.”

His face shifted beet red. “No! Shut up!”

“Let’s listen to him, Wukong.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Look I don’t care about you two.”

“Wow a great way to start,” Sun Wukong joked.

“Shut up. Look I don’t care about you two but I should at least try to get along with you. Heavens, this is difficult.”

Tang interrupted with, “You better go through with it.”

“Tang! I will. I promised I would.”

“Good. Even though I’m still mad at you, all of you. Make this easy on me and the kids by at least being civilized. Before I leave you to your own devices. My previous death,” he winced, “wasn’t any of your faults and I don’t want you to blame each other or yourselves for what happened. It’s all in the past and I’m here now. Got it?”

They bobbed their heads. “Good. Now I’m going to eat something. Have fun.” He left to the kitchen.

The youngest demon clasped in hands together. Wukong apologized with “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry for not being there when you and master needed us. Everyday I think about how we should have gotten there faster. Maybe things would be different. We shouldn’t have given up on you so easily.”

“You didn’t. I was the one who made it difficult on you.”

“Still. We should have stayed with you,” Bajie said.

“I would have gotten even more pissed.”

“Even still. We should have done somethin’.”

“There was nothing you could have done. Just like… just like with master’s death,” he admitted. “After all this time, I didn’t want to admit how I acted was horrible to you two. I always thought… thought that Tripitaka loved you more than he loved me and that broke me inside. I still think that way. It’s not something that’s easy to get over.”

“We know.”

“And I don’t exactly forgive you either because a part of me still thinks you wanted him gone but I know I have to deal with you around and if I never say this, I’ll make it difficult for all of us. I have to protect that kid even if it means opening up to all of this. So that’s it. I don’t exactly forgive you but I’m not going to remain that pissed either. At least try to.”

“We appreciate that,” Wukong responded with a smile. “We’ll try our best to make it up to you again. And we’re really sorry we couldn’t help save master. That decision still haunts us.”

“I know.”

“But it wasn’t all for nothing,” he continued. “He came back and we got Tang. Tang is pretty cool.”

“Yea, he is. I just wish he believed I like him.”

The pig asked, “Do you or do you just like him because he’s master?”

“I… I don’t know. I would like to believe that I do and I do but his words make me doubt that.”

“You have to figure it out. It isn’t easy for him, ya know? The guy he has a crush on only likes him because he’s the reincarnation of the guy he loved. And this whole time, this guy has never said a word.”

“I know what he thinks and I’m trying to figure it out so I can tell him.”

“If ya ever need us, we’re right here.”

Wujing nodded and got up from the couch. “Thanks… big brothers.”

The two grinned at being acknowledged as his eldest disciple brothers even though their relationship wasn’t completely repaired. The blue demon went into the kitchen with Tang. The human looked at him as he stood over a pan, he pressed a hesitant kiss and whispered “Good job but I’m still mad.”

“I know. I’ll prove to you I like you.”

The human’s eyes drifted to the pan, a small nod of the head and replied, “I hope you mean that” then went back to ignoring him.

[keanureevesisbae]

Protection Chapter 6

Summary: Mia and August are in the safehouse, but Mia has a plan, since she really doesn’t want to be here. 

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of stabbing and guns.

Masterlist // Protection Masterlist // Previous Chapter

1 hour at the safe house

After the three hour drive, August and I arrive at this safe house. It’s the middle of the night and normally I’m in a deep and nice sleep, spooning Bobo and dreaming about some sort of male celebrity to ease my mind. That is not the case now, despite my brain being dog tired, but it’s also running over time.

The safe house is like every ordinary house, but maybe that is exactly what we need. We need to fit in with the rest of the world, not sticking out like sore thumbs.

Bobo is already acclimated to the place, curling himself up on the sofa, purring loudly as he is about to drift off to sleep.

Me on the other hand, can’t relax for shit. I’m pacing (no, not pacing, limping) through the living room, desperately hoping to remember something. It doesn’t matter what. Maybe something about my family, something that is a dead give away I’m not part of this weird family who had access to the safe. Maybe something about what happened between the crash and me sitting on the curb, holding my arm as I was waiting for help.

Or something that would get me out of this place.

August was my safe haven for the drive here, but I don’t know what to think of him. Do I believe him when he says he’ll protect me? Yes, especially what happened to me on the parking lot.

Do I trust him?

I have no idea…

Is he soft and kind to me?

Yes.

And is that everything I need for now?

I hate to admit it, but yes…

I let out a deep sigh. While I keep on wishing I need to be with someone who I feel safe with, it’s brutally obvious that… August is the only one who can both protect me and make me feel safe. I think about his strong arms wrapped around my body, my forehead resting against his chest and him allowing me to hold his hand. I know that’s not what he wants, or at least, what he would initiate, but he lets me. He lets me hold him, lean on him and cry on him.

And that sure means something right? He understands and gives in to my needs.

I turn on my foot, but since my brain is nearly frying itself, I forget this one hurts. I wince and sit on the floor, holding my ankle tightly. Tears trickle down my cheeks, without me actually crying.

I just want to go home, to my own psychical therapist who could help me out. I need normalcy back in my life.  

‘What are you doing?’

My head jerks up, to discover August standing near the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The softness I felt during the way here, it disappeared. Maybe because I wasn’t responding well to it, or because I was responding to it a bit too much. I have been a snotty and hopeless mess since early Monday morning, when I found out about the file.

‘I was pacing.’

He walks into the living room and stops in front of me. ‘You need to be careful.’

‘Well spotted. I can see the CIA training taught you well.’

August sighs. ‘I think you need a new gauge on it.’ He holds out his hand and with a groan I take it. He pulls me up, but when I’m standing, his arm glides underneath my knees and back, carrying me to the kitchen. He does it so effortlessly and without a thought. Maybe that softness is still there. Maybe he does care. He places me on the counter and takes off my shoe.

‘That hurts,’ I hisses.

‘I know,’ he says. He opens a few cabinets, but doesn’t see what he was looking for. ‘Wait here.’

He wanders out of the kitchen and comes back with my mug. The one with the flowers. The one I left at his place. He fills it with water and holds it in front of me, together with a strip of painkillers. ‘Did you bring this with you?’ I ask him, as I wrap my fingers around the mug.

He nods.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s home and I figured you could need it.’ He ushers me to take the painkiller and I do what he asks me to do. I lean back, with my head against the cabinet doors. He grabs a dusty barstool and places my foot on his lap.

‘August,’ I whisper.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t hate you.’

He looks up. ‘I know.’

‘I’m just scared.’

‘I know that too.’ He takes off my sock and bandage and checks my ankle, that is swelling and turning red. ‘I think I need to provide you with a brace. Or do you have one with you?’

I shake my head. ‘I left it at home, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he snaps and I tense up. Just because he isn’t apologizing, he all of the sudden has this personal vendetta against me doing it. ‘I’ll try and arrange something. For now a new bandage will do.’

While he prepares the new bandages, I carefully place my hand on his cheek as I lean forward. He lets it happen and maybe I’m totally hallucinating, but I think he is leaning against my hand. ‘You sure you’ll protect me?’

‘I will,’ he answers in a dead serious tone.

‘Even Bobo?’

August looks up and bites back a smile. ‘Especially Bobo.’

5 hours at the safe house

I’m back at the crime scene, but this time I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m the me of today. I walk around the car wreck, spotting the limb bodies of other me’s family. I notice a young girl sitting on the curb. Me on the curb. Clutching my arm and simply staring at the wreck, as someone without a recognizable face drags away the body of a teenage boy, while another man drags away the body of a man.

They look deceased, but as of right now, they could be unconscious.

A woman, who is just as unidentifiable as the other men, crouches down in front of me. ‘Vanaf nu, is jouw naam Mia,’ she tells me. From now on, your name is Mia.

The young girl—me—shakes her head. ‘Nee, dat ben ik niet.’ No, I’m not.

‘Jawel, luister goed. Als iemand er naar vraag, jij heet Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’ Yes, listen carefully. If someone asks, you’re Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’

With a jolt I’m wide awake. I look around me, expecting to find Bobo for some emotional support, but he is not here. I could use a hug, to be honest and Bobo is the one that I wished was right here to hug me. I slip on some warm socks and get out of my bed. No, the bed in the safe house. It’s not mine. It smells musty. My bed always smells like lavender.

‘Bobo,’ I whisper shout, ‘where are you?’

I see August’s door is opened ajar and I peek inside, only to see Bobo curled up on the windowsill, while August isn’t asleep. He looks up and flicks on his light. ‘What’s wrong?’

I want to make a stupid remark about Bobo sleeping here and how they are becoming close buddies and how it should make me jealous, but it can’t seem to leave my lips. I simply lean against the doorframe and fumble with my shirt.

‘Mia, what’s up?’

‘I had a memory,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. I close the door and I walk over to his bed. I sit on the edge, staring at Bobo, who is still asleep and doesn’t really care I walked in. Looks like I’m traded in for. Nice to know that my lovely cat will trade me for someone with testosterone. ‘My name is not Mia Makaruku.’ I tell him what the memory is about. I don’t feel tears coming up, but to be fair, I have cried for hours on end.

August sits up straight next to be on the edge. ‘You know what your real name is?’

I shake my head. ‘That was all I wanted to tell you.’ I want to stand up again, but August grabs my wrist and forces me on his bed again. ‘What?’

‘I know it’s hard.’

‘How?’ I ask him. ‘Because this all happened to you when you were younger? Did you have a promising career, that was put on hold because someone swooped into your life and all of the sudden you realize you are not who you think you are?’

He doesn’t say anything, but I simply pull my wrist out of his grasp, grab Bobo and march back into my room.

1 day at the safe house

I came to the conclusion that in no way, I can stay here in this safe house.

August is keeping a close eye on me and I have to tell him what I’m going to do every single time I leave the room. Even when I just need to pee! This whole situation is suffocating me. I wished he would just be a bit more relaxed, less controlling and just back the fuck off.

Ever since I had my first memory, I have been thinking about it, nearly giving myself a painful headache. But I don’t remember anything.

When I was wandering through the house, I confiscated a letter opener, to use it as some sort of weapon. Who knows if I might need it one day. And that one day might come sooner than I think.

I’m sitting in the living room, as the blinds are closed, leaving us with the lights on, in the middle of the day. I can barely sit anymore, so I walk towards a wall and do a handstand against it. I hear some bones in my shoulders crack.

For a top athlete, going from intense training to nothing, it’s unhealthy. I read about those people who get heart attacks after they retire and get a heart attack within the first week of doing nothing, after a very intensive job for forty years.

While I’m not suspecting a heart attack anytime soon and I shouldn’t compare this situation to retirement, I’m keeping it in mind.

Is it your left arm that starts to hurt when you have a nearing heart attack?

‘What are you doing?’

I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see that. ‘I would swear you’re blind,’ I say, as I get back on my feet. ‘I was bowling, you happy now?’

August doesn’t say anything. He simply walks over to the couch and sits on my spot. Man spreading is tame in comparison with what he is doing. I think it’s a good thing this man wears pants, because I could’ve looked right up his ass and do an internal examination, without trying.

That’s quite the picture, Mia… What are you doing to yourself?

I turn around and let out a gasp when the doorbell rings three times very short. August stands up and ushers me to come over. I don’t understand why, but he looks pissed and I better listen to him. I limp towards him and he pushes me behind him. When he opens the door, he simply takes the package after signing for it and closes the door. ‘What was that about?’

‘Better be safe than sorry.’ He opens the package without using scissors (which is weird, because I would’ve needed a scissor or a knife to open it, but to each their own) and hands me my new ankle brace.

‘Oh,’ I say, when I see he actually arranged a real good one. Maybe he cares in his weird way… ‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t say anything about it. ‘I’ll start lunch.’

3 days at the safe house

It has been two days since I found the letter opener and I don’t think he suspects a thing. The hours pass by without a mishap. I let him check my ankle twice a day, I try to get him to like Bobo (no success so far and that’s all on August) and we watch the stars every night, since that’s the only time he lets me out of the house.

Pretending I made peace with the situation, gave me enough opportunities to plan my escape. Even when he made me a hot water bottle the other night because I was shivering, even when he suggested to cut the onions, so I wouldn’t get teary eyed and that time when he carried me to bed.

Even when he makes me feel like no one else made me before, I cannot stay here. I have read the files, I have seen where he hides our passports, I know where he hides his guns. I can escape.

Especially now, since I don’t want him near me anymore.

The only way I can actually lock him up, is by luring him into the basement and that sounds painfully scary, I admit, but I have to try. I’d rather die trying, than give up and sit here like I’ve given up on life.

I have to leave him.

Everything is all set and done in my bedroom, ready for me to leave. If I can’t hide it in my room (the car keys, the file or the passports and of course his guns) I know exactly where to find it.

I’m standing in some tight black leggings and a cropped sweater in the basement, trying to find something on the top shelve I could desperately need and I can’t reach. Pasta sauce? That seems like something I could use.

I have made some food in these past couple of days and I have yet to make some pasta. It sounds like me to try something new.

Normally I wouldn’t wear something that accentuates my ass this much, but I have to distract him some way, so maybe this’ll do. I don’t know, I have never done this before. Sure, I’ve kissed, but never anything further than that. Being a professional athlete, you barely have time to date.

Or that’s just me, I don’t know. Other girls seemed to find time to date…

My heart is pounding painfully fast in my chest. You can say about August Walker whatever you want, but that man looks terrifyingly experienced. He seems like the type of man who can rip you apart and you’d beg him to do so again.

It’s now or never, Mia.

‘August!’ I yell.

It takes a second before he answers. ‘Yes?’

‘Can you help me out?’

Asking him for something, is the way to his heart.

I hear his descending footsteps and I turn around, to see him approaching me. ‘Can you reach the pasta sauce for me?’ I ask. ‘I wanted to make pasta tonight.’

August simply nods and stretches himself to grab the package from the top shelf. ‘Anything else?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head.

‘There is something on your mind,’ he says. ‘What is it?’

This man reads me like a book. I hate it. ‘Nothing, it’s silly, really.’ That and I might chicken out right now. Maybe this isn’t such a fantastic well thought out plan, though I thought about it non stop for the past forty eight hours.

But, am I seeing this correctly? Is he smiling? ‘Tell me this then: why are you wearing this?’

Oh shit, he is too good. Fuck, I just blew my cover, simply because it’s too much. ‘What?’

August places his large hand in the dip of my waist, his fingers touching my bare skin. ‘You never wear this.’

I clear my throat. Now is not a good time for that heart attack you were thinking about a two days ago, I tell myself. ‘Oh, I…’

‘Come on,’ he whispers, ‘you can tell me.’

I swallow hard, all of the sudden not so sure about this anymore. I shouldn’t let him intimidate me, but it sure does. It might have to do with this authoritarian lining I hear in his deep voice.

‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘did you plan this?’

I finally find my voice again, yet it’s not a very secure one. ‘Maybe,’ I whisper shakily.

‘Why?’

‘It’s you, really,’ I say and that is not a total lie. I mean, I have seen him pretty up close these passed few days. And since I’m a functioning human being with a heart beat and certain���slightly nasty—dreams about him…  It seems reasonable to be planning this, right?

August nods, before lifting me on the empty table I wished in my initial plan he would place me. ‘If I start, Mia, I don’t think I can stop.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ I whimper, already completely at his mercy.

I curse myself.

He chuckles and bites his bottom lip, his eyes turning a few shades darker. He takes off his shirt, revealing his strong and broad chest, covered with chest hair that I only saw glimpses of.

Am I sure I can do this? Am I sure I can do what I plan to do?

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You look like a deer caught in the headlights, Mia.’

‘Oh,’ I gasp, which is a dead giveaway that I am indeed a deer caught in the headlights.

His strong hands force my legs open. ‘It’s a good thing I sometimes find you adorable.’

Now I’m actually offended. ‘Why only sometimes?’

He smiles. ‘Maybe always.’

I shouldn’t do this, I think to myself. I feel sorry for him now, he looks so approachable and finally he shows me who he is deep down. The August Walker that I knew was in there, hidden by the walls he has built. The August Walker I saw glimpses of since the day I met him. Okay, maybe not since the day I met him, but since we went to that basketball game.

I place my hands on his broad chest and let my nails drag over his skin. August bridges the space between us and the second our lips touch and his tongue enters my mouth, I hook my feet together behind his hips.

The way this man kisses… I have never been kissed like this. Never have I ever been so overpowered, so dominated.

I’m getting too sucked into this moment, that for a second I forget my plan. He buries his face in my neck, his tongue running over the delicate skin. I bite my lip to keep my moans in, but somehow one escapes.

‘Such a needy little girl,’ he grunts in my nape, before going out of his way to leave his marks on me.

When he kisses my lips again, he seems distracted enough, I think to myself. My hand goes underneath the edge of the table, where I taped the letter opener…

But I can’t find it.

‘You were looking for this?’ he asks when he pulls back. His fingers twirl the letter opener around.

Oh fuck, I screwed up big time.

‘I admire you thought about this,’ he says, ‘but I’m not a total idiot.’ He lets the sharp tip drag over my cheek, causing me to pull back.

‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew,’ he chuckles. ‘I’m a CIA agent, I notice everything you do. I’m trained to do such thing.’ He pulls back completely and I let out a groan. While he puts the letter opener in the back pocket of his pants, he grabs his shirt from the floor. ‘Shame, Mia, that I can read you like a book, but yet again… I appreciate the effort.’

He turns around with a cocky grin and I clench my jaw. What an asshole. I look around me and see a block of wood next to the table. I jump off the table, grab the wood and rush towards him. I am not giving up, because if I did so, I wouldn’t have become the soccer player I am today.

I was, I mean, because I’ve come to the realization those soccer playing times might be over.

August must’ve heard me (he is a CIA agent after all), but I’m mid swing already and the edge of the block hits him on his temple. I watch as the enormous man falls like a bag of potatoes and I stare at his limp body on the floor.

Did I just kill him?

Before I jump over him to go up the stairs, I quickly check his pulse in his neck. Okay, there is a heartbeat. I climb up the stairs and lock the door.

It’s game time.

I rush to my room, grab my coat and the carriage for Bobo. I figured I would bring him to a shelter, before I would get on the plane, because I’m not leaving my precious orange cat in a safe house with August Walker.

Within record time I have got my bag ready, the file and I grabbed the fake Indonesian passport I need. ‘Come on, Bobo,’ I try to coax him and the dumb ass actually goes into the cage.

‘Mia, don’t fucking do this,’ I hear August yell, as he is trying to force the door open.

Okay, it’s quite a relief to know he really wasn’t dead.

I grab the car keys and when I walk passed his room, my eyes fall on his weapon holster. The one last thing I need. I grab his gun and though I have zero idea on how to use it, I can just do what they do in movies.

Just pull the trigger, right?

I grab the carriage with Bobo, only to hear August breaking out from the basement. The door collapses in front of me and I see his eyes are dark, but not filled with lust like they were a few moments ago.

Filled with absolute rage.

‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ he growls.

Before I even think, I grab the gun out of the bag and point it to him. My hands are shaking. ‘Let me go,’ I say.

‘Mia, I can’t let you go.’

‘I don’t want the CIA to help me,’ I tell him, as tears run over my cheeks. Way to make your point, Mia. ‘I just want my normal life back.’

‘You can’t and you know that.’

I do know that. ‘I want to find answers on my own,’ I continue, ‘and on my own, doesn’t involve you. I hate you, August Walker, I fucking hate you.’

I can see it in his eyes, that he tells himself that it’s not true and it’s not true. I don’t hate him, I just need to get out of here. He clenches his jaw. ‘Give me the gun, Mia.’

I shake my head. ‘No. Step aside or I’ll shoot.’

Even I’m not convinced…

August walks up to me and places his hand on the barrel, pulling the gun against his chest. ‘Do it then.’

My finger is on the trigger, but… I’m too weak to shoot him. I hand him the gun, before hiding my face into my hands. I lean with my back against the wall. This is so embarrassing. Why on earth did I think I could escape?

I hear August opening the door of the carriage, followed by the soft steps of Bobo.

‘Talk to me, Mia,’ he says, causing me to look up. When our eyes meet, he isn’t mad. He looks so disappointed. but I’m not sure if he’s disappointed in me or himself for letting this happen.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know what to say about this situation. ‘How is your head?’ I ask him, noticing some blood running over the side of his face.

‘It’s okay.’

I simply take his hand and drag him with me to the kitchen. He sits on a lower stool, so I can actually reach his face, without having to wear pointe shoes. I see a small cut on his temple, the source of the stream of blood and I grab the kit he used on me so many times. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a soft tone. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

‘But I have to, August. I hurt you.’ I clean the wound, before grabbing the special bandages to pull wounds like this back together.

He sighs deeply. ‘You did what you thought was best. I can’t argue with that.’ His tone is low, raspy, but also soft.

He doesn’t sound angry at all, while I expect him to be. I mean, I kinda wanted to stab him.

‘It’s just that I… I just want to get out of here.’

August nods. ‘I know that and we will go. Eventually.’ When our eyes meet again, I see the hurt. Fuck, I hurt him so badly. Guilt washes over me and there are a million things I could say to him. But he doesn’t let me. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over this.’

He can indeed read me like a fucking book and I should hate that. But I’m actually quite relieved as of now.

‘I’m not beating myself up.’

‘You are.’

I push back some of his hairs, my fingertips running over his scalp. He melts against the touch and shuts his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

‘I won’t escape anymore,’ I whisper.

‘I know.’

‘It’s… I don’t know what possessed me. I mean… I hit you in the head quite hard.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it. Besides, I’m actually pretty relieved. I now know you can defend yourself properly.’

‘Properly?’ I can’t help but chuckle and I see a tiny smile form on his lips. ‘Don’t over exaggerate. August, I just… I feel so useless here. I don’t remember a lot of stuff. I just sit here and wait. I haven’t done that in a long time.’

He nods. ‘You are not useless.’

‘I need to do something with my time. It’s awful sitting here, with you breathing down my neck.’

He smiles. ‘How about I teach you some basic self defense tips?’

‘Please,’ I say. ‘Honestly, you could ask me to do some embroidery and I would take it.’

He places a hand on my back and actually forces me to sit on his thighs. My eyes enlarge, causing him to chuckle. ‘I meant what I said in there,’ he says. ‘Both the deer caught in the headlights part and the needy little girl part.’

Yeah, I just want to disappear and I wished that could be arranged. ‘Could we maybe not mention that. Like, ever again? I’d like to maintain some form of dignity.’

His lips graze over my cheeks. ‘Had I not found the letter opener,’ he whispers, ‘how far would you let me go?’

‘Not far. I was gonna stab you, August,’ I chuckle, but it’s a nervous one, since I can hardly focus as I sit on his thick thighs. ‘Why?’

‘Because something tells me… You’ve never done that before.’

That can’t be good. I feel like my self confidence just disappeared into thin air. ‘Was it that bad?’

‘No, no, no!’ he quickly says. ‘It’s just that your heart rate was out of the roof and… You seemed nervous.’

‘I kinda was. But mostly because I needed to stab you.’

‘Liar.’

‘I’m not a liar.’

‘You are,’ he says, before placing a kiss on my cheekbone. It’s so soft and tender, almost a full 180 of that kiss he gave me in the basement, a place I will never go back to again, because I’ll probably die of shame. ‘And that’s okay.’

I want to say something, but then I hear a loud meow and August growling. ‘Stupid cat, stop doing that!’

‘The attack thing on your leg?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, what a stupid idiot.’

‘Hey, don’t talk to him like that!’ I look over and see Bobo peeking around the corner of the kitchen island. ‘I can’t believe I genuinely thought I could take Bobo with me on my little adventure.’

August pulls me closer to him. ‘It shows your character, Mia.’

I meet his eyes again. ‘You’re not mad at me anymore?’

‘I haven’t been mad at you. I know you don’t want to stay here and that is a mutual feeling. I just have to know I can guarantee your safety.’

I nod. ‘When do you think we can leave?’

‘Next week somewhere?’

‘Is it allowed for me to get wasted or am I bringing the operation in danger if I do so?’

He smiles. ‘One drink, that’s the best I can do.’

I don’t want to do it, but I press my lips against his. A quick peck, nothing compared to the kiss earlier. But it’s all I can do right now. ‘Can we start now?’

5 days at the safe house

‘What’s that?’ I ask August, when he places a box on the table.

Ever since my little escape debacle (I let August swear never to mention it again and so far he lips were sealed), time doesn’t go by as slowly and August actually trusts me now. I don’t have justify myself for every step I take. He teaches me some self defense, but I’m a very slow learner and he tries to be patient, but really isn’t.

It’s nice being around August, especially when he tries to be nice to Bobo.

He is just a bit uneasy around the cat.

‘It’s for you,’ he says, not making eye contact.

‘It’s not even my birthday,’ I say.

August simply shrugs. ‘I can give you gifts, right?’

‘I mean, if you want, you won’t hear me complaining. I love gifts.’ I grab the box and pull it closer to me. It’s not really tightly closed, so I can easily open it. I peek inside, only to discover a…

A soccer ball?

‘Are you serious?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I know you miss soccer,’ he tells me. ‘I know I can’t bring back full stadiums, screaming fans and a better opponent, but this is the least I can do. Just remember: take good care of your foot.’

‘Of course, of course.’ A smile appears on my face and I take it out of the box, balancing the ball on my hand. Memories flash through my mind. My first soccer ball, the first goal I made in amateur soccer, after that professional soccer.

I walk around the table and I give him a kiss on his cheek. Ever since kissing one another after the basement event, we didn’t do that anymore. But now feels like an appropriate time to do so? Maybe not, but it’s happening now.

I can’t go back now.

‘Since I can’t use my foot, you want to throw it with me?’

‘Of course,’ he says. However, before we can start, I sense he wants to say something to me. I wait, but he shakes it off. ‘Never mind. Let me move the couch, so we have more room.’

10 days at the safe house

I am in a deep sleep, when I hear some rumbling sounds in the background. I open my eyes, but I figure out it’s one of August’s nightly escapades. He does that quite often in the middle of the night. Just wandering around, moving around some things and sometimes I even hear him exercising. I wonder if he ever sleeps.

Not me though, when it’s dark outside, I’m sleeping.

I turn around and try to drift off in a nice sleep again, hoping to go back to that lovely dream again, but then my door opens. I jolt awake, when August enters my room. ‘Easy now,’ August says. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I got your clothes, your stuff, everything. Even your creepy cat worked with me and got in his carriage.’ He hands me a thick sweater and helps me in it. My head is still a bit drowsy and my body barely works. August lifts me up and I place my head against his shoulder.

‘I can walk,’ I mumble.

‘I know, but you’re sleepy,’ he whispers. ‘Besides, I don’t mind.’

That shouldn’t make me smile as much as it does.

He carries me to the car and places me in the passengers seat. He starts the car and with an illegal speed he drives off. I look over my shoulder, to see Bobo in the carriage.

‘What’s happening, August?’ I ask him. ‘Why are we leaving?’

‘We might’ve been found,’ he says, his eyes not leaving the road.

I nod. I grab his hand from the steering wheel and I hold it in both of mine. ‘I trust you,’ I whisper. ‘I really do.’

[prose-for-hire]

The Devil’s in the details

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" And Fluff With spike

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader is a killer. They kill a person. For the Devil. Kidnap. Big blood mention. Mention of hiding a body.

A/N: Okay. So it’s not fluffy but I’ve injected some cuddling with Spike into it cos I got carried away with the plot. Hope this is okay anon - I got carried away. I can write you something fluffier (after Halloween) if you want to drop another request... Happy Halloween month !!

It was that time of year again. The yearly struggle where you had to offer a sacrifice to the Dark Lord again to ensure he kept his end of the bargain. Halloween night was circled and underlined in your calendar in thick red pen. Blood red. A coincidence, of course. You sighed, planning out this year’s would be tricky.

You had your boyfriend to think about and people knew you in Sunnydale now, it was hard to keep under the radar. You were practiced in what you needed to do, knowing there was no other way around it. As far as Spike was concerned, you were a sweetheart. A pure, innocent person who wouldn’t so much as look at someone the wrong way.

He was convinced you had never said a swear word and he was equally convinced you would turn to dust if you even attempted it. As far as he was aware, you knew nothing of demons or vampires or anything other than your pleasant life. And this is how you wanted it to stay.

However, Spike had long been trying to find a way to tell you about the supernatural. The Hellmouth. He didn’t want to scare you off, so he had been lying or more avoiding the truth. He wanted to tell you this year though, before Halloween.

You loved him but there were certain things that you would rather he didn’t know about you. For now at least. Especially the fact that you already knew he was a vampire. You smiled at him softly, leaning in and kissing his cheek – a greeting you always gave. He loved it, it was as if he was a husband returning home. He felt cherished by your affection. You never shied away, you wanted him to feel loved. Always.

“Can’t believe it’s been two years and I’ve never so much as had an invitation before, love”

“We did agree Spike – you have your space and I have mine”

“Yeah, but all your crap is in my space” he raised his voice an octave higher to cement his point, “Most men would have left over it, y’know” he added, pointing at you for emphasis.

“Then I’m very lucky to have such an understanding and kind boyfriend” You smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go, “God, your hands are always so cold”

“It’s my condition, love. Anaemia – always, uh, makes me cold” he muttered, not convincing anyone. But you just nodded along, smiling.

Spike had always meant to tell you but had never found the time. Besides, you had your own secrets (he wasn’t stupid he just didn’t suspect the truth) so he didn’t feel so bad about lying. Most of the time.

It was finally Halloween. You knew the drill. Spike would stay in and you would go where you were directed. You woke up to the same mysterious name written on a piece of paper you always did. It was the kind that would combust when you fulfilled your end of the bargain.

You walked up to the bar to order your drink, reading the nametag and smiling. This was getting easier every year. It almost made it difficult to feel the guilt anymore. You spent your evening talking to him, waiting until his break before you managed to subdue him and bring him back to your apartment. Usually, hitting them over the head and dragging them into the boot of your car seemed to work. Your neighbours were usually out and if anyone stopped you, you explained it was an elaborate costume. 

You were sat watching a gory horror film with the volume up high as you waiting for your new bartender friend to wake up from his little nap. He was propped up on the couch beside you. You had zip tied his hands and feet but you weren’t so cruel that you would cover his mouth. 

He finally started to come around as the humorous film started to get good. You shrugged, you were sure you could rent it for some light-hearted entertainment another day. They never quite got it right anyway. The blood was never the right colour.

He opened his eyes and started to yell. You hushed him and helped him regulate his breathing until he calmed down. When he eventually calmed down you explained the situation calmly, “So, listen, you’re gonna die tonight. But it’s for a really good reason so, at least there’s that” You nod along with yourself, smiling sweetly as his eyes widened in horror, “Okay I have to do a little ritual now that you’re awake just uh, stay still”

You got up, switching off the tv and lighting the red candles that had already been arranged in a circle on your coffee table. An ornate knife was in the middle of the circle. You closed your eyes, chanting some well-practiced verses. You motioned your arms slowly and you felt the warmth in the room dial up. The familiar crackle of flames started to sound around you.

You took the knife from the centre and awkwardly helped the man up, before slicing the blade across his throat. The liquid oozes from his wound and he started to sink to his knees, his blood splattering everywhere.

“Fuck, not on the rug!” You looked horrified, “What is wrong with you?! Over the chalice!” you hissed as if it was the poor man’s fault. You grabbed the chalice and held it under his neck, trying to 

The man slowly lost his life as you took the most important part for yourself. His blood. You sighed, rolling your eyes at his crumpled form as his blood soaked into your now ruined rug.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on your door. Shit. 

You slip your clothes off and grab the nearest items of fresh clothes so you could go to the door. In your haste, you almost slip on the pooling blood as you make your way to the door.

“What?!” you shouted, scowling at the visitor before you realised who it was, “Oh, Spike! Hi. It’s Halloween… you said you stay in on Halloween in case of the cute kids wanting candy”

“I said that-?” He questioned, before he caught a distinct smell of something he knew well. His stomach rumbled to confirm his suspicions, “What’s going on? I can smell-”

“Smell what?” You ask innocently. He squinted, before shrugging. It must be a different apartment in the block.

“Uh, nothing, can I come in?”

“I’m actually pretty busy… I’m, uh, I’m… baking” You said. Nobody, especially not yourself, was convinced by that excuse. But Spike just smiled slightly and nodded before asking once more, “Look, I need to come in. It’s… important. I gotta tell you somethin’ or my damned head will explode” he gestured at his head as he shook it, “Can I come in?” he pressed once more.

“Uh…” You look at the mess behind you that you’re concealing from his view by the door, “Just… give me time to clean the place up. I’ll be… 10 minutes” You muttered, slamming the door in his face and putting the lock on – just in case.

You clean the best you can, using so much bleach you were worried you would pass out. You sigh. Every year you tell yourself to put plastic sheeting down and every year you forget and end up ruining an item of furniture you were fond of. That was the real sacrifice you had to make, you sighed again as you rolled the poor man up in the rug and pulled him away. You found him a spot to rest in your tub. Hopefully Spike wouldn’t pick today to use the bathroom. The rug and the bleach all thrown in there too.

The blood now up the best it could be, you manage to find a roll of cookie dough to put in the oven. You sweep all of your occult stuff into a box and hid it under your bed and cram the rest into the cupboards. 

You had been twenty five minutes, but hoped Spike just presumed that you were house proud.

“I like your place, pet. Spotless” he said perusing the area. He smiled, it smelled of you and… cleaning products. Bleach. Oh, and cookies he smiled. He hoped that you would let him have some later on.

They say love is blind, and Spike was completely head over heels in love with you. So much so, he could only note the smell of cookie dough and you and didn’t think to question the smell of the blood that had been thinly masked by bleach.

He then eyed something on the coffee table that you had set down during the heavy-duty cleaning, “Satanism for dummies? Interesting choice in books...anything you want to tell me?" He joked, a slight smile as he started to flip through it. You grinned back, trying to conceal the fact that you were wiping beads of sweat from your brow when he looked up by scratching your scalp.

“It’s for Halloween – they were handing them out at the… mall”

“Uh, sit down pet” he said, sitting down in the same spot your previous guest had, “I need to… there’s somethin’ I need to say” he started to explain. He had chosen now to reveal who he really was. The fact that he was a vampire. He insisted he loved you and that it wouldn’t change anything between you.

You gasp, perhaps over exaggeratedly but you were actually surprised that he would choose now to tell you. You of course knew about demons and you were unsure if he was telling you this so he could take a bite from the body in your bathroom tub.

“I mean it – I’m… a vampire” He showed you his game face, taking your shock for disbelief. You cup his cheek gently, insisting this would never make a difference. You traced your thumb over his features and he closed his eyes at your touch.

“I will always love you. No matter what” You insisted, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips. He nodded slowly, smiling at your insistence. You caressed him softly, hoping he could feel the sincerity of your actions. You honestly weren’t scared of him. Or repulsed. You felt so deeply for him. You held him close to you as he flipped on the tv. You both settled into the sofa, stroking through his hair softly as he closed his eyes and leaned into you. You kissed his temple and whispered your continued affirmations. That you would never leave him. That you could never stop loving him.

You heard something and cast an eye to the kitchen, which you could see from your living space. The familiar figure you met every Halloween was there. The Devil.

You smiled, winking at the Devil as he took his offering as if he were Santa sneaking in on Christmas night. He smirked, drinking from the cup and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He clapped his hands and left which you caught from your peripheral vision.

You smiled warmly. It was all worth it. You were satisfied as you snuggled into Spike’s now open arms, you would keep the love of an immortal for another year at least.

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

The male companions and f!sole fake dating for a mission?

this one is sooo cute! i love it. thank you for requesting! i don’t have a specific scenario and i’m in class so for this request, i will keep it general. let’s say they’re crushing on the ss hard. ❤️

-

Danse:

horrible. he’s horrible at this kind of stuff. in fact, he’s probably the one who does this mission the worst out of all the companions. he stumbles over his words, blushes intensely, and loses himself in the process. everytime sole sends him a cute, flirty look to go with the flow of the situation, hes already midway through a heart attack. whenever sole slips her small hand in his own, he becomes dizzy and you could literally feel the steam radiating off of his body. as much as he wanted to help sole complete the mission, his mind wasnt capable of thinking straight and all he could really focus on was the feeling of their hands pressed together. hearing sole call him, ‘love’, ‘boyfriend’, and ‘sweetheart’ only made him more nervous than he already was. how do boyfriends act when stuff like this happens?

danse scolded himself for looking like a fool in front of sole herself and the random bartender that continued to eye him down. despite all his worries and anxiety, he doesn’t really want the sensation of these small moments to end any sooner. the feeling of their hands intertwined and sole sticking close to him only pushed him to protect her more. he didn’t want this to be a one time thing, especially not when this feeling felt so right to him. it was just so new and foreign - it excited him. as they exited the building, he felt the disappointment build up as he felt soles hand retreat from his but fought the urge to grab it back. his eyes never left soles hand as they both walked back to sanctuary, danse still remaining suspiciously quiet with a red face. maybe, just maybe, he’ll confess to sole sooner than later.

Deacon:

he was good at fake dating. well, good at it with someone he didn’t like. this was different. this was someone he actually had feelings for and he nearly hit his own head trying to get up from his bed as des sent deacon and sole to a mission. “you’re kidding, right?” deacon would laugh nervously, hoping it was a joke coming from his boss. she was not kidding, not one bit. here he was, trying to act natural as sole tried to persuade the man to spill some information. once the man questioned their intentions with the place they tried to gain intel on, sole placed a small hand on deacons chest, causing him to grow rigid. oh boy, this was gonna be a long night for him. “oh, we were just looking for a place to reside in. we’re planning to start a family after all, right honey?”

crimson dusted deacons cheeks as he smiled, answering the question innately, “of course. we just want the best for our kids.” sole threw an arm over deacons torso, hugging him tightly as she exchanged words with the man once more. he would shyly snake his arm around her waist as he tried to keep his cool. he hadnt felt any affection like this since barbara, so he definitely wasn’t used to this anymore, but he wasn’t complaining. he’d secretly enjoy the affection shared between the two. once they got the information they needed, they both ditched the town as soon as possible to avoid seeming suspicious. as sole tried to release her hand from deacons, she only felt him grab it a little tighter. “what’s wrong?” she looked up at deacon, who was smirking friskily with a blush on his face. “the mission doesn’t end till we get back to HQ, remember?” she laughed, hitting his arm playfully as she squeezed his hand, “stupid.”

MacCready:

at first, maccready would be completely against the idea of fake dating because of his insane crush on sole, but would see it as an advantage to make the move he never had the guts to initiate. maybe this was his chance to hint at sole that he liked them, through actions of course. he thought it would be easy until sole became all affectionate and touchy with him to seem convincing to the couple they were investigating. the hand holding and small touches were gonna make him faint any minute. “what a pretty man you have there! hard to find someone so good looking these days,” the woman complimented as she eyed maccready in a flirtatious manner. before he could respond or even send his thanks, sole tiptoed and pecked maccreadys cheek, causing him to stumble back in surprise.

it took him a few moments to really get himself level headed over the events that just happened, but would let a small smile spread on his face. he unconsciously brushed his hand over the spot she had kissed and the moment only replayed more and more in his head. he watched as sole said their final goodbyes and dragged him to another side of the room, talking to him about what she had collected. he wasn’t listening. he was only focused on her face and lips and was enticed by her beauty. unknowingly, he placed a hand on soles cheek and bent down to kiss her forehead but immediately withdrew, panicking at his sudden actions. he was stuttering out apologies left and right until he felt soles hand creep into his own, a warm grin forming on her cheeks. all his worries about whether sole felt the same way immediately drifted into oblivion.

Hancock:

he would be the most natural when fake dating, seeing that he is naturally flirtatious and has obviously showed his liking to sole. of course, sole was oblivious to his indications and shrugged it off, knowing that it was part of hancocks personality. so when sole brought up the idea of fake dating for a mission so they could seem less suspicious, he agreed to it before she could say another word. maybe through this way, he can show her that his feelings are 100% genuine and not part of his coquettish nature. during the night, they spoke to some woman at the bar who apparently held essential information that they needed to push out of her. they knew they would probably have to chit chat with the woman for a long while before she really began talking about what they needed. they both decided to relax on the couch opposite of where she sat, wanting to get comfortable for the remaining of the time they were there.

at first, it started off as cute, innocent hand holding and had slowly transitioned to something more as they both got more relaxed with each other. hancock wrapped an arm around soles shoulder, unconsciously playing with strands of her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. he eventually lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss against her knuckles, sole smiling as a response. with a small giggle, the lady teased, “you must love her very much. it must be very nice to be in love.” hancock only sent her a broad smile, a gratifying tone dancing in his voice. “yes, i do love her very much. always have and always will. i’m sure she knows that too.” sole would laugh and nod her head, a soft red painting her cheeks. after collecting as much intel as they could, hancock lead sole out of the bar, never letting go of soles hand once. sole peeked at him shyly, her voice quiet. “did you mean what you said in the bar? or was that part of the plan?” hancock would hum teasingly in thought, “take a wild guess, sunshine. do you think i meant it?” sole would pout childishly causing hancock to burst into laughter. he walked in front of her, and gently held soles chin as he inched closer. “let me answer that for ya.”

Nick Valentine:

he’d seem almost professional at it, maybe a little awkward here and there but is a gentleman overall. he wouldn’t really mind fake dating for a mission, but wouldn’t think it’s the best way to go through with it. in the end, he’s much better at controlling his feelings for her than the others. nick is much more simple with showing his affection and shows it through small manners. he would place a firm but gentle hand on soles shoulder or would stick out his arm for sole to link her own with. as they went out and about to the designated area with soles arm linked with nicks, they finally found their suspect and tried to seem as friendly and unsuspecting as possible. unfortunately for them, the man seemed to be disgruntled by nick being a synth and often gave him a disgusted side eye as they spoke. they both decided to ignore this and continue on with their shenanigans. the detective enjoyed the unexpected attention he was receiving from sole and smiled at the feeling of her head leaning on his arm. using the same arm she rested on, he caressed her back gently. though they got negative reactions from the man, nick still remained in a contented mood due to soles acts of endearments.

he tried to start up a conversation with the suspect, hoping that he can obtain any information but the man only degraded him. “you’re dating a synth? this piece of trash?” sole could hear the loathing tone of the mans voice, and before nick could even sputter a word out, she stepped in front of him. “excuse me. you better watch how you talk to my boyfriend. he is the sweetest and most caring man i’ve ever met in my lifetime and he is most definitely better than you will ever be,” sole glared harshly before continuing, “if you don’t like it, then feel free to walk out.” she sent him an innocent smile as the man stomped passed the two, fuming at soles comment. “don’t let the door hit you on the way out, sweetheart.” she whirled around to face nick and looked at him straight in the eye, huffing. “the audacity of some people...” he only chuckled and ruffled her hair. nick was pleasantly surprised with how she handled the situation and felt his mechanical heart whir happily as he locked eyes with her. “well aren’t you something, doll? can’t find anyone else like you.” he complimented, “so what’s the plan now since our main man decided to take a hitch?” giggling, she linked arms with nick once more, dragging him with a skip in her step. “i say we keep searching. there must be more than one person in this town that’s connected to him.” nick was just glad to share these small moments with sole.

[burningupp-replies]

Sleepless | Zuko x reader

A/N: this was requested like a week ago, i know :( school is kicking my proverbial butt at the moment, but i promise im working whenever i can to get new content for you all! i hope you will forgive me :( (also yes, i am working on another part for Teamwork, no need to worry)

Prompts:

13: I always sleep best when you’re next to me.

44: Why are you still awake?

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: there is a pretty steamy kiss at the end, but other than that, just tooth-rotting fluff :)

The fire nation palace felt so… big and cold, especially at night. It made you feel small and alone, and you usually found yourself clutching your pillow to your chest for dear life. You had been with the others during the war, helping the cause in any way you could, and even six months later, you couldn’t shake the feeling of general uneasiness you got when seeing anything related to the fire nation – especially when you were trying to sleep.

When the war ended, Zuko had asked you to remain behind in the fire nation with him. He needed help understanding cultures other than his own, since his nation and culture had been romanticized for him his entire upbringing. He knew very little of rituals, rites of passage, linguistic differences, and so on. Even the question of climate could be difficult for him to grasp at times, which made you laugh.

When the fire prince first suggested for you to stay, you were hesitant at first; leave your family behind, get used to this new idea of the nation which had haunted your nightmares for so long, and being mostly alone in your situation hadn’t sounded appealing at all. However, once Aang agreed that you really could do some good by staying, you begrudgingly agreed – you hadn’t spent all that time trying to help the world just to back out now.

So now, two months since your move to the fire nation and since taking up your new position at the fire lord’s side, you were staying in a palace which gave you nightmares. Zuko had been very kind to you, doing his best to accommodate you in a way which made you comfortable and happy, but the general unease you felt was far from his fault – he was more or less the reason you were there to begin with.

Of course, the crush you had been harboring on the boy since he first joined you in the western airtemple had aided in your decision to stay; not that anyone other than Katara knew the truth. He was just so… cute. Spirits, he would kill you for even thinking that about him, but you honestly couldn’t help it. He was awkward, but not in a creepy kind of way. He was really sweet and caring, and extremely understanding. He did his best to keep the mood light, without going overboard (cough Sokka cough). He had taught you so many things, seen so many things with you and you could just feel your heart yearning for his whenever he crossed your mind.

So, staring up at the ceiling – completely sleepless – you huffed out a sigh and a groan. You tossed your pillow aside and sat up in bed, putting your head in your hands. If you didn’t start catching up on your sleep soon, you were going to lose your mind. You groaned out loud, sighing again, and staring at the ceiling again.

“Damn it, I need to do something,” you muttered to yourself, getting out of bed. You slipped into a red silk robe and a pair of red slippers to aid your feet in not falling off, and started tip-toeing out of your room towards the kitchens.

Since you couldn’t sleep while you were here, you  had made a habit for yourself to go to the kitchens and make a cup of tea during the night. You usually then brought your cup with you into the library, where you could read up more on fire nation culture, so as to aid the fire lord better in his quest to make peace.

You were so used to your routine at that point, you didn’t even need to look for anything; it all just flowed smoothly, and you didn’t even make a sound throughout the entire process. Heating up the tea would have been difficult if some of the servants hadn’t been non-benders who needed some assistance to heat the tea up without bending, but you were in luck. Grabbing the jar with the jasmine tea, you prepared a pot and grabbed a mug, placing everything on a tray before sneaking the rest of the way to the library.

The doors were big and heavy, so you had to turn around to push with your back, since your hands were occupied. Once the door had slid open, you turned around to walk in, only to find Zuko already in there, pouring over a book on the sofa. You stilled, not really knowing what to do. Had he heard you enter? You had become quite proficient at sneaking the past few weeks, but you knew the man had excellent hearing, so him not noticing your entrance seemed unlikely.

Just as you were going to turn around and leave, Zuko’s head snapped up and his gaze met yours. Your body immediately came alive, blood rushing to your face and ears, and your stomach erupting with butterflies. You smiled bashfully at him, and opened your mouth to speak.

“I-I’m sorry, Lord Zuko. I did not know you would be in here at so late an hour,” you stuttered. You wanted to facepalm, but both your hands were occupied, so you just stood there awkwardly. “Uhm, I can leave.”

“N-no! I…” he started, sucking in a deep breath before smiling and continuing. “I really don’t mind your company. And please, just call me Zuko.”

You grinned at him, and he grinned back. “Sorry I went all formal and weird, I know we know each other, I just… haven’t seen you since you became fire lord, I guess.”

There hadn’t been any meetings regarding other nations’ cultures yet, and so you hadn’t seen Zuko since moving in; he had sent you a few notes, just telling you that you could come to him if you had any issues. It had been very sweet, and you had always sent a ‘thank you’ right back. Still, you had been a bit unsure of how to act in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed a little as you set your tray down on a table and went to shut the door. “I guess you haven’t, huh? I’m still not used to it, if I’m honest,” he grimaced, and you smiled.

“I hope it’s okay that I raided the kitchen for jasmine tea?” you inquired, and the boy smiled at you fondly.

“No problems at all, Y/N. I remember you used to drink a lot of tea, you said it was ‘good for your nerves’,” he teased, and you blushed again. “The staff informed me that a lot of tea seemed to be missing, I was suspecting uncle.”

You started apologizing again, but he just laughed and waved you off. After that, you both fell silent, and you decided to get up and find the book you had started reading earlier that week, but had never gotten to finish. You opened the pages delicately, searching for your place before finding it and settling into your usual armchair by the fireplace, which was lit for once. The entire time, you could feel Zuko’s gaze on you, studying your every move.

When you paused to pour some tea into your mug, you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

The boy blinked at you a few times, before shaking his head. “Oh, uh, nothing,” he mumbled, and you smiled back at him. “I was just wondering… why are you still awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged. For a moment he looked as though he was going to inquire further, but then he seemed to let it go, and no more words were spoken until he had to leave so he could get some sleep.

The whole interaction had been weird at first, but incredibly soothing once all the awkwardness had dissipated. His presence reminded you of… not simpler times, per se, but happier ones. Ones spent laughing with the first friends you had ever really had, friends who you were now missing so dearly. But having the comfort of one of them calmed you down enough that once you finally went back to your own room, you slept more peacefully than you had in a long time.

After that night, the two of you met up in the library at night at least three times a week. He was a busy man, but he wanted to make time for one of his dearest friends – and long-time crush, but he still maintained that part was irrelevant. He never thought you would like him back, like ever. It was a concept he didn’t even dare think about, for fear of getting his hopes up only to get them crushed later.

Three more months later, you had met up in the library during sleepless nights countless times. It had become a routine of sorts; he was usually there before you, since you were busy making a pot of tea to bring (now with two mugs, of course), and once you arrived, you would exchange a few words before settling down with a book each in comfortable silence.

The more times you met up, the more comfortable you became with each other. The first night had been spent with him on the couch, and you in an armchair – two weeks later and you were both on the couch. At this point, you tended to lean back against him on the couch as he played with your hair, still silently reading your own books. It was the highlight of your time in the palace, for sure.

This particular night, you were very tired. You even contemplated skipping the library, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, no matter how much your mind screamed at you for some rest. So as you sank down against Zuko’s form, his fingers running through your hair, your eyelids started drooping. You tried to fight against it, you really did, but it was no use; five minutes later, and you were out like a light.

It took a while for the fire lord to recognize that you were asleep – you were a very peaceful sleeper, no snoring or movement, and he was so content with you against his chest as he turned the pages of his book. Still, once he realized, he kind of panicked.

You were sleeping against his chest. He wanted to move you, carry you to your room or something, but he was scared to wake you. So for a while, he just stayed there, frozen. He didn’t even dare turn the page of his book for fear of stirring you from your – much needed – sleep.

After around 30 minutes, though, he realized staying like that wasn’t doing anyone any good. Your neck was at an awkward angle, his back was getting stiff, and honestly? The sound of your breathing was lulling him to sleep as well. He sighed, but carefully extracted himself from you before picking you up in his arms as though you weighed nothing. He decided to leave the tray with the mugs and kettle; you were more important. You slept soundly the entire way to your room, and only woke when Zuko carefully placed you on top of your soft bed. You didn’t open your eyes though, just stretched a hand out to get him to join you.

The gesture made Zuko freeze where he stood – were you really insinuating what he thought you were, or was it a dream? A hallucination born from the desire to be near you, perhaps? But when you sleepily whimpered his name, it was confirmed for him; you wanted him to stay and sleep in your bed with you.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asked carefully, and at your huff combined with an intense nod of your head, he smiled.

Had he been less tired, he might have been able to resist. However, he was tired, and longed for your warm, soft curves to be pressed up against him. Maybe in your embrace, he could escape the nightmares that plagued him so. As soon as he was next to you and you both were under the covers, your tiny frame wrapped around his tall, muscular one, and you found sleep with a sigh.

He managed to kiss your forehead and wrap his arms around you before the darkness overtook him, his mind more at peace than it had been since early childhood.

In the early hours of the morning, the sky just burgeoning on a light pink, you suddenly woke. You were unbelievably warm, and even more comfortable. You were surrounded by the smell of firewood and pure manliness, which comforted you greatly. A few moments later, however, you found yourself nearly panicked; you were sleeping in the same bed as Zuko. How in the entire world had that happened?!

Of course you weren’t upset that he was there – if anything, it was like all your dreams coming true – but you had no idea if anyone had noticed his absence, if there was widespread panic, or, worst of all, what if he didn’t want to be there with you?  What if he was annoyed with you for falling asleep in the library?

You were broken out of your panic when the man in question groaned and stretched, automatically grabbing you and pulling him into you. You stiffened even further, not knowing how to react to the sudden affection he was showing towards you.

Once he realized he wasn’t dreaming, Zuko stiffened too. In his defense, this exact situation was very often part of his dreams; dreams where you were his wife, you had children together, and everything was more than perfect. It still felt that way when he had woken up, just as perfect as a dream, if not better.

“G-good morning,” you stuttered, deciding to break the silence.

“Morning,” he answered hesitantly, and the sound of his gravelly voice first in the morning damn near made you swoon.

After that, neither one of you really knew what to say. The sky was slowly brightening to include red, then orange, before yellow and white tones joined in, creating a beautiful gradient that signaled the start of yet another day. He didn’t want to break the silence, and neither did you. It was a thick kind of silence, and he was scared that breaking it would break the spell of just being together. Alone.

You both realized that you couldn’t stay like that forever, though, and after a while, you decided to bite the bullet.

“I’m so sorry I fell asleep yesterday.” Your voice was hardly above a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear nonetheless.

“It was really not a problem, Y/N. I’m just glad you finally got some rest, is all.”

His voice was still gravelly, but somehow felt smooth at the same time. He didn’t seem annoyed or angry, in fact he seemed perfectly content to remain exactly where he was. And he was.

“Well, I’m sorry you slept here. I didn’t mean to intrude on your resting time…” you mumbled, and he exhaled a breath.

“Y/N…”

You interrupted him immediately. “I mean I had no intention of falling asleep like that, especially on top of you! I just kind of, I don’t know, felt comfortable, and I’d had a really tiring day, and-“

“Y/N, I sleep better with you next to me,” he decided to inform you, interrupting your ramblings. When you gave him an incredulous stare, he laughed a little. “We used to sleep next to each other all the time. Granted, those were stressful times, but I think I got used to it. Even when the others weren’t exactly accepting of my presence, you always treated me with kindness. I guess I’m… comfortable around you. And I think… It may be because I like you. A lot.”

His words stunned you into silence. How could this perfect man, with more power than anyone would ever need, like you? He had always treated you kindly, and that was part of his appeal. Even when he was supposedly trying to capture the avatar, he had seemed a bit on edge, almost like he wanted to hold back. A few times he had held back, even though you could see how much it hurt him to do so. When he joined you, he’d had no issues carrying his own weight, even helping relieve some of the others’ burden. He had been so patient with Aang while teaching him firebending, and with all of you when it came to your slightly odd humor and hijinks.

In short, you loved this man, and in an effort to show him, you decided to kiss him.

Your lips seemed to meld with his perfectly. He took it slow and steady, caressing your cheek as he kissed you. Your arms seemed to have a mind of their own as they curled around the back of his neck, playing with the locks of hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him a little bit closer.

The kiss was everything you had ever wanted and dreamt of; he was everything you had ever wanted and dreamt of, and he was more. His lips were soft and pillowy, he responded so beautifully to your kisses and caresses, tugging you closer and grunting with pleasure.

Zuko himself felt like he was dying. Spirits how he loved to kiss you, touch you, make you feel good. The way you played with his hair drove him absolutely crazy, and the feel of your lips was the most exquisite thing he had ever felt in his entire life. You were everything to him, and now that he knew what you tasted like, he could never go back.

Unfortunately, you had to pull apart eventually. You were both gasping for breath, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, but you were both smiling like idiots. Everything was about to change, but neither one of you minded in the slightest.

Being sleepless had never resulted in anything better.

[aquilamage]

“Court will adjourn for a thirty minute recess.”

Even with standing the moment the judge’s gavel sounded, Badd still had to wade through a crowd to get from his spot on the aisle of the first row of the gallery to the stairs outside. Fortunately, once out in the hall, the guards standing at the defendant lobby stepped aside to let him in without a word. The door clicked shut behind him, blocking out the murmur of the countless voices outside.

In contrast, this room was almost silent, save for Sebastian’s crying. He sat in the middle of the couch, curled up on himself, shaking with big gasping sobs.

To one side of him, Kay dropped another tissue in his lap. She looked up as Badd approached, gave him a smile that only reached as far as the corners of her mouth. “Hey.”

He nodded back at her. Then, he sat on the free end of the couch. It was impossible to tell if Sebastian genuinely hadn’t noticed his arrival or simply wasn’t responding, but either way it left Badd at a loss for what to do. He’d had a substantial amount of practice over the past few weeks, but it would have been much easier if he could simply hold him, like he does with Kay. At least that would be easy enough.

“Seb?” Kay waved her hand in front of where he could see. “I’m going to get you something to eat. Then I’ll be back, okay?” When he didn’t respond, she leaned forward slightly. “Okay?”

There was a long moment between, but he raised his head up enough to nod at her.

This time her smile had more substance to it.

He stared at the ground until the door closed again, and then a bit more, breathing still heavy but a little steadier. Slowly, he turned to look at Badd, blinking back tears. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say caught in his throat, and he pressed his hand over his mouth.

Shit, the kid was an absolute wreck right now. He’d been holding up remarkably well during the trial today, and maybe he should have been suspicious of that. If this was the cost, Badd wished he would’ve shown how upset he was sooner. Sebastian wrapped his arms around himself, hands grabbing at the fabric of his sleeves. It was strange seeing him out of his school uniform. The plain button-up made him look smaller, or that might have been in his posture.

Well, there was a thought. Badd sighed. “Here.” He slid the jacket off his shoulders and, watching Sebastian carefully for a reaction, draped it over him.

His expression didn’t change at first, but then he relaxed marginally, pulling the edges around himself like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

They lapsed into quiet again, Badd searching for something to say. The kid responded well to the right words, he’d seen that several times over with Edgeworth and Courtney. The key, though, was right, and most of the thoughts swirling around Badd’s head at that moment were of the sort about Debeste that he would not repeat to Sebastian under any circumstances, much less these. ……Yeah, maybe leave his father out of things completely for now. Find something else that could be reassuring and meaningful. Finally, he said, “You...did a good job in there.”

Immediately, Sebastian shook his head. “No I...I didn’t.” He wrapped his arms even tighter around his knees. “I kept messing up the words, and forgetting things, and,” he choked back a sob “and then I started crying. I was just a big idiot.”

It was technically true that Edgeworth had to talk him through parts of his testimony, with a few long pauses, but… “How many trials have you seen?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you ever actually watched a trial, before?”

“Um,” he appeared to give it some genuine thought, wrinkling his brow. “I think when I was little with- with Pops, but…”

Badd nodded, then reached over to grab the box of tissues for him. “I’ve seen plenty. You’re far from the first witness to cry on the stand. Especially one who’s been directly affected...by the culprit. And you won’t be the last.”

“But what if I messed everything up?” In the absence of anything else to fidget with, he started to run his fingers along one of the buttons of the coat. “If I did something wrong, and that means he doesn’t get-” He bit his lip, tensing his whole face.

��Hey.” He put as much weight behind the word as he dared, trying to keep his voice soft. “Listen,” One hand went to a spot on the couch next to Sebastian, close as he dared. “You told the truth, right? And everything you remember?”

Eyes red and still liberally teary, he looked over, and finally nodded.

“Between Courtney, Shields, Gumshoe, and Kay, you have someone backing up...most of your testimony. And Edgeworth’s the one who has the responsibility of prosecuting. You trust them?”

Another nod.

“Then just keep doing that, and we’ll…” get him convicted was the first thing to spring to mind, and while it was true, it’s what they all want (and the bastard certainly deserved it), again, not the right thing to say now. “We’ll make sure everything turns out right.”

Sebastian managed a weak smile. Readjusting the jacket, he took a few slow breaths. “Can I-” the words were so quiet as to almost be inaudible.

“Hmm?”

He startled. “Never mind!”

“No, what is it?”

Frowning, he turned his head fully away from Badd before he spoke. “Can I lean against you?”

The hesitancy, and even the twinge of outright fear in his voice didn’t surprise him, but it did feel like a hand was squeezing at his chest. With claws. He shouldn’t have even had to ask. Badd nodded before remembering himself. “Yeah. Of course.”

Sebastian made a tiny high sound, a messy breath that certainly heralded more crying, but shifted over until his head was rested against Badd’s shoulder, tucking the rest of himself in to follow.

Neither sad anything after that. This time was a more comfortable quiet, though, without the expectation of do something weighing down on him. Despite his earlier worry, Sebastian was hardly crying at all, the rhythm of his breath even against his side. This was the kind of situation he was used to. Kid didn’t even run anywhere near as warm as Kay, which helped that he wasn’t immediately overheating.

Speaking of: Kay walked back in, arms full. She paused for an almost imperceptible moment upon seeing the two of them, but kept going. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a little of everything.”

Badd raised an eyebrow at her. At a glance, he would guess that she’d ventured down to the cafeteria instead of relying solely on the vending machines, but even that wasn’t a cheap option.

She smiled and shrugged, and dumped all of it on the table. “Hey, help me move this over,” she said, already tugging on one end.

As he did, he gave her another look.

From her bag she produced a wallet, which she flipped open to show an id with Edgeworth’s picture on it. Grinning, she put it back. Once the table was in place, Kay immediately turned her attention to Sebastian, scooting everything into his reach. “Help yourself.”

Blowing his nose one more time, Sebastian nodded. He accepted a water bottle, opening it to take a long drink before starting to go through the food.

They ate in relative silence. The food wasn’t bad – mostly packaged, but the sandwiches were fresh, even if they did taste and feel of having been in the fridge overnight. Sebastian had initially sat back on the middle cushion, pulling himself in to touch the others as little as possible. Until Badd murmured “I don’t mind...if you want to sit like before.” Then he carefully leaned against Badd again, angled better for eating. It was nice. Peaceful enough that you could almost forget where they were. He could only hope it was the same for the other two.

As he balled up his food wrappers, Badd checked the time. “Six minutes.” Beside him, Sebastian started to tense.

With a loud crackle of plastic, Kay tore open a packet of Swiss rolls. Carefully, she extracted one and held the second one out, wrapping-first, toward Sebastian. “I know today’s been hard, but we’re here for you, okay?”

Sebastian managed a smile, although his eyes had started to water. “Okay.” Then, smaller, as he took it, “thank you.”

Huh. Unless they’d had a conversation Badd didn’t know about, he wouldn’t have understood the full meaning behind Kay’s gesture. Not that it mattered. Her sentiment had still been made perfectly clear.

And as she broke the remaining Swiss roll in half and handed one piece to Badd, he realized it wasn’t meant only for Sebastian. He reached over the back of the couch and ruffled her hair, and she smiled.

By the time they finished eating, it was just about time for the trial to start. Kay swept the rest of the food into her bag, except for a full water bottle that she handed to Sebastian. “Mr. Edgeworth is pretty sure you won’t need to testify any more, so if you’d rather not sit down here again, you can go up in the gallery with Badd.”

(He remembered before the trial yesterday, when they’d mentioned that Sebastian could stay out of the courtroom when he wasn’t specifically needed. He’d never seen anyone yell that emphatically while crying before.)

“No.” He stood to his full height, a single tear rolling down his face. “I want to be there. It- It feels right.”

She nodded, and held her arm out for him.

Just as they got to the door, though, Sebastian skidded to a halt. “Oh! This is yours.” He reached to pull off the jacket that was still on his shoulders.

“Keep it on. If it makes you comfortable.” For a couple hours, he wouldn’t miss it, and he already suspected that something about the extra weight was comforting to the kid. Among other things.

He stared, wide-eyed. And then slowly, he pulled the jacket back securely into place, smiling.

“You’ll be fine, Sebastian. See you...in a bit.” With that, Badd left the two of them to head back into the trial.

[sierraraeck]

Return to Normalcy (Pt.2)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angsty-fluff

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 3.9k

I stormed into my apartment and slammed the door shut. I ripped off my jacket and tossed it aside along with my bag. Then I just screamed. I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could and then I just stood there.

There came a knock on my door and I assumed it was my neighbor Billy, some poor old lady that had the misfortune of living next to me. And not to call her a grump, but for real, she could be a pain in my ass. Especially after I’d just fought off three people during the night, and then had to deal with her glaring at me in the morning asking me to please (and I quote) ‘pull myself together or throw my childish temper tantrums somewhere else.’

I whipped open the door and yelled, “Billy, I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood right now for your-” I stopped mid sentence, mouth hanging open when I saw who it really was. “Aaron, I’m sorry, I just-”

His eyes went wide and he offered a small smirk, “Who’s Billy?”

“Someone you’re probably glad you aren’t,” I replied. “Come in.”

Once he did, I wanted to just up and shoot myself. Way to lie to your boss about what was going on, and then just invite him inside to the only place that could prove you were lying.

He turned to face me and I sighed, shaking my head. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He gave me a pointed look, “I’m okay, thank you.”

I tried to make light of the situation, “Well, make yourself at home, if you can find a place to do that.”

My apartment really was a disaster. The couch was the only semi-clean spot considering Spencer and I had slept on it the night before, but other than that, you had to step over and around broken wood and glass to get to where you wanted to go. I’d already learned to ignore it.

“Was that true?” Hotch asked, out of the blue.

“Was what true?”

“What you said back at the office, about the snipers?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the p. “Who did you think shot Penelope?”

“We weren’t sure,” he admitted, “We suspected one of your people, but Deen assured us that was not the case. We were then so busy getting her to the hospital and finding you that we didn’t revisit it. Dave and I talked about it, but neither could really remember everything that led up to that moment.”

“That’s understandable. I’m sure it was a lot. I mean, it was a lot for me to watch,” I confessed.

“So you were also watching us,” he stated more than asked.

“I was,” I confirmed, “I had three different angles showing different people and groups at different times.”

“How come you’ve never told us this?” he asked. His face somehow always seemed neutral, yet inviting.

It was a valid question. They couldn’t exactly do a write up of the case considering they weren’t even supposed to be on it, and on top of that worked with a group of known criminals without going through all that government red-tape bullshit, so I never talked about it. Not like anyone asked. “Wasn’t important at the time. You got me out, I got you out, end of story.”

“Clearly that’s not true,” Aaron stated, glancing around the room. I shrugged. “What is really going on?”

“If I tell you I think I fixed the problem once and for all, would you let it go?” I asked. He tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes at me, so I relented. “People were breaking in.”

“Were?”

“That’s my hope, anyway. I think I solved the problem,” I said.

He skeptically looked at me. “The problem?”

“Yeah. The problem,” I repeated, trying not to open myself up too much for profiling. I didn’t want him finding out about Archer just so that I could lose any bit of credibility I had left with him.

“Did the problem have a name?” Aaron asked, “Maybe Howard Archer?”

Fuck. “Coincidence. Plus, I was with the girls all night at a concert.”

“And every minute can be accounted for?” he asked.

“Yes,” I confidently answered, “There was a short 20 minute period where I ran home to grab my jacket, but I’m sure you can see me on the security cameras.”

I kept waiting for him to respond, but he just kept looking at me. Scanning my facial features, body language that was changing, and things that weren’t changing. We just stood there in absolute silence, staring at each other. Is he gonna say something? Does he know? I’m sure he knows, but is he gonna turn me in? Should I say something?

Then Hotch saved me from my thoughts by moving to sit on the couch. He tilted his head which was my cue to go and sit next to him.

“You actually seemed to be doing pretty well,” he started. “You were readjusting.”

“‘Were’ being the key word,” I pointed out.

“They’ll come around.”

I scoffed in his face, “If I had a dollar for everytime someone has said that to me, I would be able to buy the BAU.”

“I’m sure, but every time it’s true,” he stated.

“How can it be?” I asked, getting slightly irritated, “If every time something goes wrong they turn on me, then I have to justify it, and then they have to ‘come around’ at what point is that not working anymore? At what point do they stop ‘coming around’ and start walking on eggshells, waiting for me to mess up?”

He expertly dodged my question, “Who says we’re waiting for you to mess us?”

“Your behavior!” I exclaimed. “If you aren’t waiting for me to screw up, then how come whenever anything goes wrong, I’m immediately the target?”

“But shouldn’t you be the target?” he calmly asked.

“Probably!” I was now shouting, “That’s the most irritating part! Is that most of the time, they’re right. I am causing problems and we have to trust each other with our lives which we clearly can’t do so I get their hesitation, but it’s not me all of the time. Like those videos, I had no choice, and while I get it, they don’t have any reason to hear me out, it still hurts knowing they actually believe I’d say those things and mean them.”

“So all of the stuff you said, every word, was a lie?”

“Correct.”

I saw the corners of his lips tilt up just slightly, “Even when you called me an emotionless robot who couldn’t care less about his team?”

“Oh no,” I teased, “that was definitely true. I’ve been looking for your charging port since I met you.”

He offered a small laugh and raised his eyebrows, “You will never find it.” It lightened the mood for a moment, but once it passed, I was back deep into my thoughts. Aaron could tell, though, always so perceptive. “If it makes you feel any better, Reid is apparently doing one hell of a job standing up for you.”

“Huh?” I gave him a confused look. “How do you know that?”

“Dave is with them right now,” Hotch held up his phone quickly, “You know, Reid has been a big proponent of yours throughout all of this, even when you were on the run after the hospital.”

“Has he?” I incredulously questioned, “He seems okay with me now, but back then? I thought he hated me, you know, shoving me up against a wall and all, asking me why I was helping.” Hotch opened his mouth but I stepped in, mocking, “Oh wait, let me guess. ‘He came around.’”

“You know what, he actually did,” Hotch answered me, more seriously than I had been. “Even when he acted like he was mad, and I’m sure he was, he seemed more hurt than anything. I know the two of you had something going on, but I didn’t realize how serious it was until you were gone.” I leaned forward, inviting him to continue. “I don’t know if you know this, I’m not actually sure Reid fully knows this, but he cares about you, a lot. More than either of you care to admit. I know you feel the same.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Maeve does as well,” I reminded him.

“That’s an excuse.”

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t prepared for how harshly he was calling me out.

“You know it is. I’ve never seen you back down from any challenge, yet, the moment there’s even the possibility of someone else being in Reid’s life, you just, give up?” I stared at him, jaw on the floor. “Why is that?”

I knew why. I’m sure he knew why. I’m not good enough. I’ll corrupt him. I’ll poison him. He already went to prison because of me, I don’t want to be the one to completely hurt and destroy him. But I didn’t want to confess that, so I went for, “I just don’t think he’s as interested in me as you think he is. Plus, Maeve is good for him.”

“So that’s the reason?” Hotch asked, addressing my added reason. “You don’t think you are good for him?”

“And you do?” I fired back, astonished. “Look at me! Look at what I’ve gotten him into! Prison, drugs, watching me murder people in front of him, nearly getting him shot by a sniper, the nightmares he’s having from all of the trauma I’ve put him through, not to mention everything I’m sure I’m continuing to put him through!”

Hotch grabbed me by the shoulders, and until that moment, I hadn’t realized I was shaking. “Aundreya!” I partially snapped out of it, and looked him in the eyes. “You did all of that for him.”

“Sure, but if I was normal-”

“You think Reid’s normal?” Hotch kept his voice raised, “Neither of you have been normal for your entire lives.”

“Exactly! So maybe he needs normal for one, maybe he needs something low stress, low pressure, and low risk like Maeve.”

“No,” he insisted, voice strong, “He needs someone who is willing to fight for him as hard as he's willing to fight for you. I’ve seen the way he fights for you, Aundreya, and while he was working hard to find Maeve, it wasn’t anywhere near the amount of effort he put into finding you. He was broken up when he thought something happened to Maeve, but he didn’t even allow himself the time to think about that when it came to you. He was so laser focused on putting the pieces together, that he wasn’t sleeping. He was barely eating. Maeve had to come to us because it got to the point where she was genuinely concerned for his health, and I made him take a forced vacation and ordered him not to think about you. In that moment, you know who he reminded me of? You.”

My mouth was dry, and my brain was still processing everything he was telling me. All I could manage was a small, “What?”

“When he got incarcerated, you had your own evidence board in your apartment, you spent every free moment thinking about him and trying to figure out who was really behind this. You didn’t sleep, and you didn’t eat. Finally, you just went into the prison to get him out yourself, and then you actually solved his case, putting yourself in the line of fire just so that he wouldn’t be. Sure, you didn’t come to us about what you’d figured out, but you were still trying to protect him, and all of us. You took matters into your own hands, and Reid was damn near close to doing the same thing.”

I struggled to find any words that could possibly respond to learning something like that. “I-I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. You were busy doing whatever it was you were doing, but you never asked. You never even looked into it. Because you run from your problems,” he stated, his voice back to one of calm neutrality. “Stop torturing yourself. Stop running.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

After Hotch left, I had a lot going through my mind. I just sat on my couch, staring out at nothing, thinking about everything he had told me.

Spencer was working that hard to find me? After everything I’ve put him through, he still cares about me? He’s been standing up for me? Okay, and what the fuck did he mean that Spencer was about to take things into his own hands? How could he have-

My thoughts were cut short by the vibrating of my phone on the small coffee table. I reached for it and saw Spencer’s name at the top. Speak of the devil. “Hello?”

“Hey, Aundreya, how are you doing?” his voice sounded a little horse and definitely groggy.

“About average. Just waiting to see if anyone decides that the night is ripe for apartment raiding. How about you?”

“You shouldn’t joke about that. You could get seriously hurt,” Spencer sounded concerned, and a bit frustrated.

“If I don’t joke about it, I’ll never survive it,” I replied. “But don’t worry about me, I know how to fend them off in my non existent sleep by now, and you never answered my question. How are you?”

“I am worried about you.” I could practically hear his small pout through the phone, “That’s why I was going to invite you over.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to do that,” I assured.

“I kind of feel like I do. I don’t want you constantly having to fight those people alone,” his voice was like velvet, spreading from the phone all the way through my body.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be alone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, once they break in, I won’t be alone anymore,” I smirked.

“You’re terrible,” he feigned annoyance, but I could tell he was cracking a smile.

“But you already knew that,” I shot back.

“I did,” he sighed, “I’m serious, though. Please, come over. If not, I will drive to your apartment and wait with you.”

“No, definitely not,” I quickly responded.

“Great, so I’ll see you in about 15 minutes?” Genius bastard. Way to play off my fear of you being around when shit goes down.

I rolled my eyes, “Sure.”

When I got to his place, I didn’t even have to knock before the door swung open. He was standing in a pair of blue and black checkered pajama pants, but with his white dress shirt still on. It was unbuttoned slightly at the top, sleeves rolled up, and his tie was nowhere to be found. His hair was a bit of a mess and his feet were completely bare. I swallowed.

“Hi, come it,” he ushered me through the door.

“Hi,” I said, with a small smile on my face.

“What?” he asked, following my eyes as I scanned him up and down.

I shook my head, a cheeky smile on my face, “Just wondering what I’m interrupting.”

He gave me a sarcastic look. “Yeah, I was in the middle of changing.”

“Then by all means,” I gestured in the direction of his bedroom. He nodded, scurrying away from me while I scanned the room. It looked just like it had on that tv screen months ago, probably not a single book out of place. The curtains were open but it was dark outside, only the moonlight shining through. I quickly went over to shut them.

When I turned around, Spencer was now fully changed with an old MIT t-shirt on, watching me curiously. He looked confused and like he was about to ask me something, when I saw the lightbulb go off. “Oh, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-” he started.

“Don’t be,” I cut him off, “You can’t remember everything.”

“I should,” he sounded irritated with himself, “I can’t imagine walking in here and having that be the exact same angle as the one you saw when-”

“Spencer,” I sternly got his attention, “It’s okay. The problem is solved. It’s not that big a deal.”

He sighed and looked down. “It is, though.”

I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and it felt like the most natural thing I’d done all day. He raised his eyes to meet mine, and it was like I could see all the images flashing over his pretty eyes. “Don’t think about it. Please, when you look at me, don’t think about the things you saw, the things your mind can’t forget.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered, “I really am.”

“That’s all I ask,” I replied, forcing a smile.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it-”

“I don’t,” I rejected, way too quickly. I could see the small amount of pain in his eyes, “But if I do, I’ll know I can come to you.”

That eased the tension a little, and he turned to walk to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” I said. He returned with two bottles of water anyways and sat down in one of the small kitchen chairs, pushing one toward the opposite end. I sat across from him and took the bottle.

“You know that I was hooked on dilaudid for a while, but I never told you how I got started,” he murmured, fidgeting with the bottle cap.

“Spencer-”

“No, it’s okay. Within my first couple years at the BAU, there was a man named Tobias Hankle. He had multiple personalities, three to be exact, which is very rare. I got split up from JJ when we were searching for him, and he kidnapped me. He tied me to a chair and tortured me for what felt like months. Whenever Tobias’s personality was in control, he would give me dilaudid to help me deal with the pain. After the team came to rescue me, I stayed behind to grab the extra bottles.” At this point, he was tearing up, and his voice was quivering. I couldn’t imagine him having to go through that as a brand new agent barely into his 20s, and there was a pit in my stomach imagining him in almost the same situation I had just been in. “I became my own worst enemy. The drugs were making me angry to the point where I couldn’t even do my job properly, but I felt like I could no longer function without them. Once I ODed for the first time, I decided that it was time for me to get help. I’ve been sober for over six years now.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go through that. I’m impressed with your willpower,” I said, moving my hand to cover his.

“Impressed?”

“Yeah. When most people get hooked on drugs, to the point of ODing, they can’t stop. I’m amazing with your strength to stop and to stay clean all this time. I mean, you have a very stressful job,” I pointed out.

“That’s true, and thank you. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone, and you can always come to me because I’m the last person who could ever judge you. I’m sure you’re tougher than I was and won’t make the same mistakes, but if you do, please talk to me. I’ll always help you,” he said, looking at me with big, watery eyes.

Without answering him, I stood up and gently pulled on the hand I was already holding toward me. He stood up and I wrapped my arms around him. We comfortably melted into the other’s embrace, entering our own safe bubble filled with warmth and compassion. When I pulled away, I assured, “I’ll always be here to help you, too.”

I tried so hard to keep my emotions at bay, but the way he looked at me pushed me over the edge. Right as the first tear slipped down my cheek, he brought his hand to my face and used his thumb to brush it away. With our arms still around each other, emotions flowing between us, he kissed me. Gently pressing his lips to mine, noses softly rubbing against each other’s, in our own infinite moment. He was so warm and so cozy that I didn’t want him to pull away when he did. I would have rather suffocated.

He scanned my eyes, and started, “I, um, I-I’m so-”

I brought my finger to his lips to stop him. “Shh. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

He was silent for a moment before he nodded, “Okay. Do you want to maybe stay and watch something on the tv with me or…”

“I would, but I think I should get back home,” I said. Hotch’s voice came ringing back into my head. You run from your problems. Stop torturing yourself. Stop running.

But tonight was not that night. “O-oh. Are you sure it’s safe? I wouldn’t want you going home where you still have people breaking in.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I gave him a tight lipped smile. “Besides, I think I solved that problem.” I reluctantly moved myself out of Spencer’s arms and headed toward the door.

“Hey, Aundreya?” he asked, stopping me before I could leave.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to answer, but I wanted to ask. Why was I the only one without a video?”

I knew that question would come up at one point or another, either from him or another teammate. “Because you’re my weakness.”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Which it didn’t, thinking from his perspective. If he was my weakness, wouldn’t DeLeon start there? I explained, “He was saving the best for last. He knew I wouldn’t be able to say those things when it came to you, and if I did, he was going to leave the live feed on to make sure that I ruined our relationship. If I couldn’t say those things, he was going to shoot you and make me watch. I luckily thought of a way out of that situation before it happened.”

“So all that about ‘I’m not capable of loving’..?”

“Probably true,” I confessed with a sad, bitter laugh. “But I don’t want it to be. I’m hoping it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Spencer said, with all the confidence in the world. “You’ve been to hell and back for most everyone you’ve ever worked with and cared about. That says something, and I believe that shows you are capable of love.”

“When I’m around you, I start to believe that’s true.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I returned home, feeling more relaxed than I’d ever had, even confident in my ability to get a good night's sleep without intruders. But when I opened my apartment door, on the scratched up wall opposite me, there were big red letters spelling out three words:

This isn’t over.

I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed Mateo. Before he could even greet me, I rushed, “I was wrong, it wasn’t Archer. It’s been DeLeon this whole time.”

“And you killed Archer!” he screeched, “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I was solving a problem,” I bit back, frustrated.

“The wrong one apparently. DeLeon is going to come for you now that you’ve broken your deal.” The panic in his voice sounded like it almost matched mine.

“I know. But this time, I’ll be ready.”

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[heartless-error]

You have something to tell me?

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: JayTim Week 2020 - Day 5: Detective Tim, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings

Other(s) links: AO3

During the first weeks Jason spent at Wayne Manor, right after he had been picked up directly from Crime Alley, he learned something important: It was difficult to hide things from a good detective. Maybe he should have had that in mind during his adult life as well, especially when he was dating one of the best GCPD detectives.

"Tim? What happened?"

"Don't know. Tell me." He answered, angry. "You have something to tell me, Jason?"

You have something to tell me?

 During the first weeks Jason spent at Wayne Manor, right after he had been picked up directly from Crime Alley, he learned something important: It was difficult to hide things from a good detective.

 By a good detective, he meant Alfred, of course. Because at those times Bruce was a mess and was too busy panicking to have adopted another child. Really, the millionaire couldn't pay attention to when he was sneaking, smoking, stealing food, and hiding provisions along with money in case he had to flee at any time.

Anyway, he knew the man was trying to find a way to do things correctly with him, since he was a child of the street, with a difficult life, and totally different from the ray of the sun that turned out to be his first pupil, Dick.

 Of course, he didn't know that at the time. All he was aware of was that he now lived in a mansion and the butler there knew everything. Everything. No matter what he did, how he hid, or how he lied, Alfred always knew it, he always ended up finding out sooner or later. The first few times he was even scared.

 For this reason, he ended up learning that lesson. You couldn’t fool a good detective, because in the end they always ended up finding out whether by chance or not.

 He should have had that in mind during his adult life as well, especially when he did what he did. Because it would have saved him from some trouble, and he would have gotten away with it.

 That day he came home early, in a very good mood and wearing a slight smile. It was noon, and he had finished some duties, the patrol that night had been quiet, everything was going well, and his boyfriend had the day off.

 His boyfriend. His Timmy, his little detective.

 Against everything -and after several talks from absolutely his entire family- his relationship with Tim was going very well, better than anyone could have never thought. And contrary to what some people wanted to believe, Jason didn’t meet Tim as a GCPD detective, no, he was the pretty boy who lived in the neighborhood that greeted him with a cute smile, and stopped at the 24-hour coffee shop too often to be healthy. His surprise was even alarming when one night he showed up with Batman for a joint case on the police station rooftop and Jim Gordon was there with the force’s new promise: Detective Tim Drake.

As expected, just as that smile and pretty face dazzled Jason the first time he saw him in the cafe, so did his intelligence and professionalism in helping them with the case. So, days later, when Tim approached him shyly and asked him to have coffee together, how could he say no?

 He was crushing on him back then. And now, two years later, he still was.

 “Timmy.” He called him fondly as he entered the apartment they shared. “I'm back.”

 Walking down the hall, Jason looked around the kitchen and then headed to the living room. He didn't know if Tim was still asleep, but he wouldn't blame him if he did, his little bird worked too hard and sometimes didn't rest properly. Although it isn’t as if he was the most appropriate example of this considering his night activities, or night work, according to the version Tim knew.

 Even he didn't know how he had managed to hide his life as a vigilante from his partner for so long, but he couldn't continue doing it. As much as he feared for his safety or his reaction, it was a part of his life that he could no longer hide, and the more time passed, the worse the consequences.

 Just when he found Tim in the living room, he began to fear that these consequences had come sooner than expected.

 “Babybird.” He called him again.

 No answer.

 Tim was sitting at the end of the sofa, his feet up on it and curled up on himself, his arms were crossed, he was watching at the television turned off completely silent and thoughtful. His hands clenched into fists didn’t loosen, his nose was red and his eyes were watery, he seemed angry, sad, upset.

Jason's chest sank in concern, immediately closed in on the boy. Tim didn’t usually respond in a particularly emotional way to many things, he generally liked to compartmentalize unless it affected him a lot, the times when he had seen him crying had been at times like the anniversary of his parent’s death, for example.

 “Tim?” He asked somewhat alarmed.

 However, when he reached out to comfort him and lifted his hand to touch him, perhaps caress his hair in the way he knew it would relax him, he pulled away immediately, startled, surely he had been too deep in his own head to realize he had arrived.

A bad feeling began to invade him when he frowned and moved further away from his touch, clenching his fists. He knew that face, that sparkle in his eyes, he was angry, specifically with him. But at the same time his eyes were still watery and shone with disappointment, anguish.

 “What happened?” He asked again nervously.

 Tim frowned further and shrugged.

 “Don’t know. Tell me.”

 That reply was a confirmation that he was angry with him. Why? Well, based on the answer and the tone in which it was said, he might have discovered something that he didn't like at all, that would have hurt him, and Jason didn't have to think much to know what it was.

 “What?” He asked uselessly.

 Tim’s lower lip trembled for a second, but he controlled that to stop clinging to himself and getting his feet off the couch.

 “You have something to tell me, Jason?”

 Jason's alarms went off even, much louder. It was clear what was going on, Tim had figured it all out on his own.

He knew it, he knew it. God how had he been so stupid? He was dating one of the best GCPD detectives, one of the younger to join the force, with an outstanding record and the smartest person he knew. Fuck, even Batman praised the boy's ability, they had worked together on cases, that intelligence and audacity were scary, and that was what he most liked about him. Timothy was like a hound, stubborn and determined, he never gave up until he found the truth, and that was something he highly valued. If he felt that his boyfriend wasn’t being completely honest with him, of course he was going to investigate, of course he wanted to know. And having worked with the bats, being so close to him and having the necessary means, it was no wonder that he could have easily tied the dots.

 He couldn't lie to him, not anymore. He also didn’t like to do it before, the only reason he did it was because he knew it was for the best. Tim had thrown a light into his life that he never thought he could -or deserved to- have, a feeling of normality and affection that helped him improve and not be a fucking unconscious fucker. But he knew that part of his life was dangerous, dark and crazy. The proof was in his scars and nightmares, in his traumas and fears, those that Tim helped calm and never asked about. The fact that he didn’t know, kept him away from the danger that he was so afraid of could reach him, but he also worked with bats, was in the first ranks of the GCPD, and that made him join the risk.

He had no choice, besides, how could he continue to lie to him when he was there, half crying, begging him the truth and piercing his soul with those big blue eyes? Seriously, he wasn't surprised that the suspects sang so quickly with him, the boy was all eyes and pretty face.

 Jason sighed and sat down on the couch next to him, his heart beating hard and guilt devouring him. He never thought he would have to reveal his secret to someone out loud, not to a civilian, but he also never imagined caring about someone enough to do so. He looked Tim in the eye and took a deep breath:

 “Okay, it sounds like you already know, but you deserve to be told.” He said with a nod.

 Tim sniffed, looking nervously into his eyes, hurt, but let him continue. Jason swallowed and knew there was no other way out.

 “I’m Red Hood.”

 Silence.

 Tim didn’t move, didn’t react, and Jay exhaled altered. It wasn't enough, was it? It wasn’t.

 “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.” He continued. “But I couldn't, seriously. It was too dangerous.”

 He looked for any trace of a single reaction on his face but didn’t find it. He just stood there, looking at him silently and thoughtfully. Which made him even more nervous.

 “I know you’re in the GCPD and we’ve worked together, but I didn't want to get you much more involved.”

 Still silent.

 “I pissed people off very dangerous, horrible villains, it’s a world you don't want to get into.”

 “…”

 “You have to believe me. If it were up to me, I would have told you a long time ago, but the more time passed the worse the secret became.”

 “…”

 “I constantly face undesirable people and you would be a very easy target.”

 “Jason.”

 By the time Tim whispered his name, the dam had broken, and he couldn't stop babbling, thinking aloud about everything that he had been holding back.

 “I know it sounds selfish, but it’s not just up to me and there’s a reason we keep civilians out of that life. Fuck, if you knew...”

 “Jason.”

 “It's a fucking hell and it killed me; I couldn't risk you.”

 “Jason.”

 “I know I've broken your trust but...”

 “Jason!” Tim interrupted, weary and leaning down to meet his eyes fiercely. “I knew it.”

 It took him three seconds to assimilate that, causing him to freeze and the confusion nullify him.

 What the fuck?

 “Eh?” He asked confused.

 “I knew it.” The smallest repeated, huffing and crossing his arms. “I’ve always known that.”

 What the actual fuck?

 Tim had to see the chaos and mess that was his head at the time on his face, because he huffed harder and shook his head, totally exasperated.

 “Jason, I'm not stupid.” He emphasized with a frown and raised his hands to point to the apartment. “This place is reinforced everywhere with bat technology.”

 He didn’t know what to say, because that was a good point.

 “You hide a gun in the cereal cupboard and...” Sighing and reaching into one of the holes in the sofa, he pulled out one of the rubber bullets that Red Hood used and had been there for who knows how long. “This! There are rubber bullets everywhere. Bullets I've seen you use.”

 Okay, so he might like to hide guns in certain parts of the place for extra security. And maybe he was a little sloppy with his bullets sometimes.

 “You have the same boots, pants and jacket in your closet. I even found your helmet once!”

 The excuse it was from a Halloween costume may not have been as convincing as he believed.

 “You speak the same way, you move the same way, you have the same height and constitution.” Tim continued listing. “Even the first night you saw me as Red Hood, you flirted with me.”

 He did?

 Maybe yes.

 “I knew it from the beginning and still accepted it. I knew the reason you were hiding it and I respected your decision to not tell me until you saw necessary.” Again, Tim began to look distraught, his eyes watering again. “But that's not what I was talking about.”

 Confusion arose again for something quite different. Because if Tim, his intelligent and precious detective, had known and accepted his other life from the beginning, what was going on? Why was he angry?

 “Then what were you talking about?” He asked fearfully, again the bad feeling settling in his being.

 Tim hesitated, shifted in his seat, and his lower lip trembled again, looking much more distressed than before, about to burst into tears.

 “I'm talking about you spending Saturday night at a 5-star hotel. Enjoying the restaurant and the suite for couples with another person.” He said and barely tried to control his voice. “The bank has reported recent suspicious movements on your card, when I asked half an hour ago it took me to the hotel, which asked for your assessment of your stay there and confirmation of another reservation this week.”

 Tim’s voice broke at the end and Jason started to panic much more than before.

Shit, shit, fuck, shit.

 “Tim this isn't-”

 “What it looks like?” He cut him off, trying to compose himself. “So, what is it?”

 Jason rubbed his eyes nervously. It really wasn't what it seemed, dammit. He knew what Tim was thinking, what anyone would think, and he understood his reaction. But he would never cheat on Tim, not like that, not feeling what he feels for him, not wanting to...

 “I know what you think but-”

 “But what? What should I think?” He asked again, his hands shaking.

 It was clear that he had cried, and he was trying not to do it again at this moment, the way he was getting more upset indicated that, he wanted to stay strong. And Jason didn’t know what to do, because he couldn’t deny anything and couldn’t explain it the way he wanted without making it seem even more suspicious, he knew that Tim’s self-esteem problems didn’t help the situation at all, he was among the sword and wall.

 “I went there, but not for what you think.” He began to explain, also nervous.

 Tim ended up getting off the couch, shaking his head vigorously and pacing in front of the living room table, like a caged lion.

 “With whom?” He asked then, almost in pain. “Nightwing?”

 “Wh-”

 “Arsenal?”

 “No!”

 “Starfire?”

 There he said nothing. About his brother and his best friend, he could deny it, but not with Kory. He went to the hotel and the restaurant with her, it was true, but not as more than friends. What’s more, he didn't even spend the night there, leaving the Tamaranian woman alone in the suite with one of Bruce’s credit cards to do whatever she wanted while he left on patrol and then returned home.

But Tim didn't know that, all he had was that brief silence on his part that told him he was correct, and that immediately broke him when he understood.

 Turning around, Tim rushed down the hall to their room, letting out a sob and not stopping to look back. Jason followed him without hesitation, frantic, guilt hitting him more and more along with the fear of losing him.

 “Tim!” He called him. “Listen to me, please!”

 They entered the room, Tim going straight to the closet and searching through his clothes. He knew what he was doing, he wanted to get his things and leave as soon as possible, he didn't want to be there to break even more, but Jason couldn't allow it.

 “We didn't spend the night together!” He explained grabbing the closet door and trying to get him away from there. “It’s not what you think.”

 Tim shook his head and rubbed his eyes, his breathing uneven, with no choice but to let him close the closet as he sobbed.

 “No, Jason, I get it.” He started to say. “It’s heroes’ stuff, I get it…”

 “What?” He asked confused. What was he talking about? Heroes stuff?

 “S-She’s a hero. Fuck, is Starfire, and I'm just a civilian...” He continued saying as he looked at the ground, almost looking resigned. “She can understand things that I don't, understand you on a level that I can't, and you don't have to lie to her or pretend to be anything else with her.”

 Jason opened his mouth and then closed it, stunned. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, it was surreal.

It was true, most of the heroes ended up dating others in the community, but it didn’t always have to be like that. Secret identities, lies, and danger often ruin relationships with civilians, but other times, if you wanted to, they could work. Damn, the fucking Superman had a family with Lois Lane, also Flash, many others, he was not exactly lacking examples.

And Tim thinking for a single second that he couldn’t make him happy for not understanding that part of his life, compared to other people, not only hurt him, it made him angry. If he knew how much he had helped him, how much his life had changed, how happy he made him…

 “So, it’s okay. Don't worry, I really understand.” Tim continued, even in that resigned and sad tone. “I'm sorry I wasted your time...”

 That was the drop that filled the glass.

 Tim saying something like that, crying in front of him and saying that he understood it despite how much it hurt him, broke him inside. And that he really believed as a result of all this that he hadn’t been able to make him happy, that those two years together had been a lost time and not the best in Jason’s life, made him make the decision to send everything to hell and act. Fuck everything.

 As Tim tried to hold back his tears and dry the ones that ran down his face, he silently approached his nightstand to pull out what he had been hiding for months, then turned back to him, determined.

 “Tim, listen to me.” He started to say as he approached him again. The younger didn’t dare look at him. “I invited Kory to those places because I needed to know her opinion about them. She’s one of my best friends and the person with the best criteria I know about that kind of things, but we couldn't access there without a reservation, so I had to take her.”

 Tim sniffed again and the tension in his shoulders eased a little, he seemed to be listening intently, almost hopefully.

 “I didn’t spend the night there; I was on patrol. You can check it, I faced Mr. Freeze in the town hall square, there are videos and reports about it. And if that’s not enough and you don’t believe me now, you can ask Starfire personally later.” He explained getting closer, surrounding the bed, and placing himself in front of him. “The thing is, I did all that behind your back because I really needed her advice and help.”

 Tim rubbed his eyes, still without looking at him.

 “For what?” He asked in that weak, broken voice.

 “Look at me.”

 What Tim saw when he finally dared to look up, was Jason kneeling in front of him and showing him an engagement ring.

 “Timothy Jackson Drake, do you want to marry me?”

 Time seemed to stop completely; Tim's eyes couldn’t open more because of the impression. Jason swallowed hard and buried his nervousness to continue speaking.

 “I’ve been wanting to ask you for months, but I really didn’t know how. I don't care if you are a civilian or not, I love you and I wanted it to be a surprise, something special.” He sighed somewhat agitated, the uncertainty at his answer was too much. “I no longer have to reveal why, but in my life I have learned that I must cling and keep by my side everything that makes me happy for as long as I can, and my happiness is you. So, what do you say?”

 Tim was still frozen, stunned because all the information he had to assimilate. Not only because Jason had not cheated on him as he thought, but he had been planning how to propose to him. He was thinking he didn’t want to be with him and then he just discovered that he wanted to spend their lives together, it was too sudden.

But despite having to go from one extreme to the other so quickly, Tim seemed to assimilate at last when those tears turned into ones of happiness and a smile began to grow on his face.

 “Yes.” He replied with a sigh of relief. “Yes, I do.”

 Jason couldn't help but smile too, happiness flooding him completely, his answer echoing in his head and brightening every part of his being. It didn't take him long to get up to catch him and hold him tight, both of them letting out a relieved laughter. Words weren’t enough.

The tallest wiped the tears of his now fiancé, with affection and devotion.

 “I should have thought how difficult is to hide something from a detective.” He said placing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “And this time you didn't even have to do much to discover me.”

 Tim smiled and shrugged, his eyes shining with love and relief. Almost seemed that he was going to cry again when he grabbed his hand and put the ring on him carefully. Jason's heart squeezed at the sight because it fit him perfectly, and it was his, all his, forever.

 When Tim leaned down to kiss him, he didn't even hesitate. He was more than willing to love his detective for the rest of his days, and he would make sure to tell him in every moment.

[ajoy3fanfics]

Prompt 17: teasing

Smut Prompt 17: Stop teasing me so much

Written for @lavendertwilight89. Hopefully, you like it- this was written while quite drunk ;) 

A mutal masturbation story for those in quarantine. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Inuyasha was sure of, it was that he was never going to survive this quarantine.

It wasn’t the social distancing, the restrictions about on crowd sizes, or even the competitive nature toilet paper had brought out in people.

It was that staying with Kagome was going to be the death of him.

Miroku and Sango had gone overseas on a trip, planned long in advance and scheduled for the beautiful weather, only to return home and find their city in lockdown. A minimum 14 day quarantine was required for anyone re-entering the country, and with Sango living with Kagome, and Miroku with him, they risked exposing their roommates to a virus the could potentially have.

So Kagome, the problem solver that she was, had come up with the brilliant solution that he could crash at her place, and Sango could stay at his. The pair could hunker down and ride out their 2 week isolation, without the chances of getting anyone sick, and Kagome and Inuyasha could just learn to live with each other.

Perfect plan, right? Less risk of infection and they could keep each other company.

In theory, it all sounded good- it made sense and yeah, he had agreed to it; but what she had actually arranged was for the slow torture of the hanyou.

Inuyasha had been in love with Kagome for well over a year. Once Miroku started dating Sango, Kagome inexplicably came with the package. He would come home to find the pair of girls sitting on his couch, waiting for Miroku to get ready for whatever plans they had that night. It was annoying, at first, to find strangers in his living room, but the more he got to know them, the more he enjoyed their company.

Especially Kagome’s.

She was bright and happy, always smiling whenever she looked at him. And to be honest, he didn’t mind. He was never much of a people person, but he found himself easily caught up in her. They had become friends in their own right, meeting up without their roommates. It was easy to be around her, even easy to fall in love.

There were times he suspected that she felt the same; he thought she was flirting from time to time, but he couldn’t be sure. She was friendly with everyone, so what if it was just his wishful thinking? If he had made a move on her, and she rejected him, could their friendship recover?

Those were all things that used to occupy his thoughts before.

Now all he could concentrate on was how not to cum in his pants every time she walked by. Did she always own shorts that short? Did she know that he could see the curve of her ass every time she bent over- and Gods did anyone need to bend over this much?

Never mind her shorts, he was certain that she had stopped wearing a bra the last two days. And sure, it was her own house and she should feel comfortable, but Kagome kept it rather chilly and her nipples always seemed hard, pressing against her shirt, driving him to distraction and making him feel like a creep.

And because they were friends, and because of Kagome’s nature, she was friendly. She was touchy- light gestures, but frequent enough that it felt flirty. When they sat on the couch- now his new bed- she was close- so close that when she leaned over to get the bowl of popcorn she was practically on top of him, her full breasts grazing his side. When she wasn’t practically sitting on top of him, she had her long, slender legs draped over his thighs, completely relaxed, as if this was a normal thing people did with him.

None of it was normal; people didn’t playfully shove him when he was being an ass, or fall asleep on his shoulder during a T.V. show; once it happened the first time, it was like a door had been opened, and she frequently leaned into him- almost a cuddle- and each night he tried to work up the courage to wrap his arm around her.

The problem was, he didn’t want to come off as a creep; he wasn’t sure if she was sending him signals or he had experienced so much blood loss from it all rushing to his dick that that’s what it seemed like. He wondered if he should try out some of the COVID-19 pick-up lines Miroku sent him daily; Since all the public libraries are closed, how about I check you out instead?

Kagome didn’t seem the type.

She was in the shower, one room away and just the thought of the hot water running down her body had him hard. He had been walking around this week in a state of permanent arousal and his balls were so blue he wasn’t sure if he’d recover. He needed to do something, needed a distraction. Everything smelted like Kagome, and being stuck inside with her for so long, he couldn’t help but imagine fucking her on every surface of her apartment. He had never really wanted to screw someone on an end table, but the image of her bending over, holding onto the corners for support as he slammed into her cunt from behind.

A distraction. That’s what he needed.

Dishes weren’t sexy. He could do a mindless chore and focus on something other than the way Kagome’s tits bounced when she did yoga in the morning, bending and moving her body in ways that he didn’t know a human could.

Dishes. He needed to turn on the cold water and get his hands wet. This was going to be the longest 2 weeks of his life.

~.~

The door opened, the slight creak making him turn his head instinctively; She emerged, a cloud of steam surrounding her, a green towel wrapped around her and thick, creamy thighs exposed and dripping wet. Her black hair usually had a wave to it, but now that it was damp it was curling, framing her face in a seductive way.

“Damn!” He quickly turned his head and muttered an apology apologized. He had expected her to scream, or to throw something at him for catching her in such a state, but instead, she stood still, as if considering her options. Casually, as if was the most normal thing in the world, she walked over to the sink where Inuyasha stood, hands deep in the suds.

She smiled and it totally caught him off guard. “You didn’t have to do that.” She said.

Inuyasha did his best to focus on the pan; it really should have been soaked and required his attention. Not Kagome, or the way her breasts looked amazing, pressed together in the towel that was barely tied together. “I-I don’t mind.” He sputtered.

Kagome liked that; from the outside, he was a stoic half demon, his claws intimidating and muscles threatening enough to keep people away.  Yet here he was, nervous like a teenager, blushing, because of her. Kagome knew that he was more of a puppy than a demon, and deep down she loved it.

She loved him.

It had been a hard week for her; at first, she was thrilled and nervous and a million other emotions when he agreed to spend this time in her. Sango had been encouraging her for months to ask him out, but she never seemed to find the nerve. When he had come to her apartment, bag of clothes in hand, she took it as a sign that maybe, just maybe, he was into her just as much as she was into him.

She had thrown him hint after hint, had practically sat in his lap the other night, and he still kept his hands to himself. He looked so damn good all the time and she was beginning to lose her mind. Even now, washing the damn dishes she wanted to push him against the sink and strip him of that red shirt that hugged his muscles so deliciously.  

She would never have dreamed of being this bold if it wasn’t for Sango and Miroku tirelessly reassuring her all week that Inuyasha was definitely into her. Normally, she would have never been so daring as to approach someone this way, but over the past week, she came to understand that Inuyasha was the nervous type. He had been trying- badly- to hide the fact that he was turned on by her, his sweat pants doing little to hide his rather large boner. While her plan was to put him out of his misery (and hers), a part of her liked teasing him, seeing him pushed to the brink and strained. At night she imagined himself finally losing control, taking her roughly and leaving marks on her body. She wanted to get him there, to get him so frustrated he has to make the first move.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”  She asked, the same smile plastered on her face. Her fingers played with the bottom piece of the towel .

“Sure.” He answered, cheeks slightly pink from blushing. She smiled and he wondered how someone could look so dazzling.

“Great!” She jumped a little in her excitement and his eyes were glued to her heaving chest. “I’m going to get changed and I’ll be right out.

Inuyasha nodded dumbly, willing himself to calm down before he needed another cold shower.

~.~

She was wearing a white cotton shirt, and her body was still wet from the shower, sticking to her curves, making them more prominent. Inuyasha mentally cursed, both thrilled to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra again and also in agony. She was trying to kill him, he knew it.

“Your place, or mine?” She asked, trying to suppress a smile; Inuyasha was obviously flustered, taken off guard by her comment, by the way her pert nipples were showing again.

“What?” He asked, brows knitted together in confusion.

“I’m asking,” She drawled out, “Do you want a change of scenery? We can watch it in my room. You’ve been trapped in the same space for a week now. I thought you might like to mix it up.”

Great. Now she was inviting him into her room. It felt like it was a signal, but he couldn’t be sure. Kagome was friendly by nature and maybe this was her way of being kind since he couldn’t really leave the apartment. And to be honest the idea of seeing anything other than the living room, kitchen and bathroom  sounded downright exciting; but that also meant that he would be even more confined, surrounded by her scent.

Not like the entire place wasn’t doused in it anyway. It should make no difference where they watched the movie.

“You-You wouldn’t mind?” He stammered. Since when did he fucking stammer?

“Don’t be silly. I asked, didn’t I?” She answered brightly. How much more obvious could she be?

“But, wont it be…I dunno, awkward?” He was 12. He was sure he had regressed to a pubescent boy. That had to be only reason he was acting like this.

Or maybe it was the fact that all week Kagome had been bringing him to the brink of insanity. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, tugging him along towards her door.

“You really surprise me sometimes.” She said with a laugh. If he didnt make a move tonight, she would give up.

God, she hoped Inuyasha would just kiss her already.

~.~

Kagome’s room was very much her. It was simple, but cozy, the bed flush against the corner of the wall, a decent-sized tv placed in front, standing on the tall dresser. Her desk was against the other wall, a bookcase pushed by its side. There were small touches- a few nicely framed photos and knickknacks that were proudly displayed, but overall, the room had a warm and welcoming feeling. The space was neat and tidy, but her bed was unmade, the green comforter in disarray, showing that Kagome was, perhaps, not the world’s most graceful sleeper.

“Sorry.” She murmured, walking to the bed to set it right. Inuyasha told her to leave it, and she nodded, making a comment that they were just going to mess it up anyway. She had the good grace to blush, just a little, however she did not correct herself.

Inuyasha waited for Kagome to climb onto the bed first, and he stood awkwardly, trying to figure out his next move. When was the last time he was in a girls room like this, just as a friend? Normally when he and a woman were near a bed, there was only one logical course of action. What the hell would a friend do?

Choosing to sit at the end of the bed, he sat up perfectly straight, too afraid to get comfortable,  and waited for her to turn on the movie.

Once the screen lit up, Inuyasha felt content that he could relax- they were on her bed for crying out loud, but they were farther apart than when they sat on the couch, so the likelihood of him having to touch her was minimized.

The room, however, was filled with her scent.

It was faint, but he could detect traces of her desire, faded aroma of her release clung to her sheets. He would bet his life that she had a toy hidden in her nightside draw, just from the strong scent alone. Damn, the image of her pleasuring herself, alone in the bed-  this bed- was enough to make his cock twitch.

Kagome leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed, as she massaged the back of her neck and letting out a soft moan as the tension released. She opened her eyes, only to find that he was smoldering, burning.

“What?” She asked, the hint of a smirk curling the corner of her lips.

Inuyasha swallowed hard, breathing in through his nose, trying to calm his nerves- a huge mistake- all it served to do was give him a better taste of her delicious scent. He had to do something- had to say something or he was never going to survive.

“L-look.” He started, words shakier than he meant, “I-  I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, and fuck, I could be interpreting this wrong, but-“

Kagome stared at him wide-eyed, hand still resting on the column of her neck. ”But?”

“B-but it seems like your putting out signals, and fuck, I know this is awkward, and I’m not trying to make it that way, but for the love of God, please stop teasing me so much. I cant take it.”

Kagome blinked innocently, hand moving to the collar of her shirt, toying with the fabric as it exposed small glimpses of her neck.  “But what if I like teasing you?”

“So you admit it? You’ve been teasing me on purpose?”

She smiled at that, beautiful and mischievous, a side he had not expected to see. He was even more shocked to watch as her hand drifted over the curve of her breast, his eyes drawn as she circled her nipple with her delicate fingers. Kagome arched into her own touch, biting down on her bottom lip to keep in a low moan. When she looked his way, she did not see the reaction she had hoped; he was stationary, taking in the scene before him, a blank expression on his face. Worried that she had crossed the line and made a huge mistake she stilled, praying that she had not misinterpreted things and make her house guest uncomfortable.

“Should I stop?” She asked, searching his eyes for an answer. As if hearing her voice had snapped him out of a trance, his eyes darted up to hers, heavy lidded and hungry. He took a deep breath, the scent of her making him dizzy. Quickly, he shook his head no, as if to say please don’t fucking stop.

Kagome bit her bottom lip as she ran her fingers down, gripping the hem of her shirt,  small hand disappearing inside.  With better access, she pushed her bra up so that she could squeeze her full breast, the cotton shirt bunching from the movement, exposing her flat stomach. Inuyasha’s brain was scrambling to catch up, trying to process the fact that he was watching Kagome touch herself, in front of him, for him. His hands seemed to move on their own accord, reaching into the band of his sweat pants to grip his throbbing erection and pull it free. Had he ever gotten so hard, so quickly? He felt a twinge of embarrassment- he had never done something like this before- and this was a really sudden development, but the way her scent spiked as she watched him stroke his cock left him little room to feel anything but utterly turned on.

If Kagome had felt nervous about touching herself in front of Inuyasha, the sentiment was long gone. Seeing the effect she had on him was hard to deny; his dick was hard, beads of precum leaking out, coating his head in his excitement, made her feel powerful and bold. She reached down, her hand easily slipping underneath her pajama shorts and quickly delving into the slick heat. Her lips pasted as she gasped, the pleasure so much more intense being watched than when she touched herself alone. Half-lidded, hungry with desire, she wanted to drink in the sight of him, all of him, but it was hard to tear her gaze from the sinful way he was moving his hand. A low growl caught her off guard, forcing her to meet his stare. The way he looked at her set a fire in her belly, causing her to buck her hips, grinding the palm of her hand against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Inuyasha breathed in, intoxicated and dizzy from the scent she was giving off.

“Fuck,” Inuyasha hissed through clenched teeth, pumping his hand up and down his shaft, trying to match his rhythm to hers. No longer able to handle himself, he rose his hips to push his pants down, revealing the full length of his member, much larger than Kagome had thought. Now that he was fully revealed, Kagome saw that his hand couldn’t close completely, his cock much too thick; she wondered how it would feel inside of her, stretching her core to its limit.

He wanted to leap forward, to push her back against the mattress and bury his cock inside her sweet pussy; he was reluctant to break the spell, almost scared to speak, lest she change her mind and stop the best show he had ever seen in his life.  He couldn’t see much, her body still covered by her clothes, but he was able to see and smell each movement she made. She whimpered at his curse, his eyes glued to the way her hand moved beneath her shorts, the other pulling and tweaking her right nipple.

“Let me see,” He begged, “Please.”

Slowly, she withdrew her hand, her fingers slick and coated, only to wiggle out of her pajama shorts, revealing a pair of white underwear, trimmed with lace at the top. How could she wear something so pure looking and be so damn seductive? Her fingers dove down again, but this time, she pushed the fabric of her panties to the side, allowing Inuyasha to watch as she placed first one, then two fingers inside her dripping cunt. He couldnt believe he was this close to her, to the woman he had craved so long, watching as  she pumped and curled her fingers, reaching a spot only she knew best, mewing each time her thumb circled her clit. He was hungry to touch her, to taste her, but starving to watch as she made herself cum.

Inuyasha felt like he was in heaven; even in his wildest dreams he could not come up with this scenario; She was calling his name now, broken pieces of it, as his other hand lowered to cup his balls, tight and heavy, ready to jizz. The pressure felt so good, so he gave them a slight tug, his other hand giving the head of his cock a slight squeeze when it reached.

“Can I come closer?” He asked, voice husky. Kagome nodded, and in a flash he was near her, pushing her back and spreading her thighs to make room for him. Kagomes breath hitched, excited and nervous, and completely focused on the way his hand returned to his cock. They were close, his dick mere inches above her pussy, wet and waiting; so close that she was sure he was going to line himself up and push into her, finally, but that never came. Instead, he continued to stroke himself, up and down, the pace much faster now, his breathing ragged.

Kagome, not one to be left behind, continued her to pump her cunt, fingers brushing against his as she worked herself to the brink.

“I’m close,” She panted, biting down on her lower lip as she rocked against her hand. Her thighs were wrapped around his waist, and his hips were jerking forward, each motion making him grunt in an almost feral way. His sack was brushing against her enterance, the sensation alone enough to bring him over the edge. He was close too, but he’d be damned if he came before her.

“Come for me, baby.” He commanded, loving the way she whimpered, the way she bucked harder against her hand, grinding her clit into her palm.

“Come baby.” He said through gritted teeth, his own hands rubbing and tugging his balls, swirling his thumb over the head of his cock, so wet and ready for release.

Kagome came with a muffled cry, body writhing, and Inuyasha drank it in greedily. Each movement, each time she thrust, brought his dick a little closer to her pussy, and with a strangled call of her name, he nut, hot white cum shooting out, onto her stomach. She moaned at his release, turned on at the sight of him utterly undone.

For a moment, he was unsure of what to do; it had always been his dream to be between Kagomes legs, but what the heck did he do now?

She reached between them, her fingers still coated with her desire and lightly traced the length of his cock. He had just cum, but he was already ready for round 2, her touches feather-light, barely there.

Gods, she was such a tease.

But fuck, Inuyasha didn’t mind it at all.

[fleckcmscott]

Another Decade

Summary: Arthur discovers Y/N's fortieth is just around the corner. He hopes to get the occasion right.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 5,044

A/N: This request comes from @hhandley80​, who is an absolute sweetheart! Funnily enough, I got the request for this story and Another Year within a couple days of each other. Thank you so much for it! It was great to write.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

This morning's therapy appointment had boosted Arthur's spirit. Left him refreshed instead of worn. Dr. Ludlow had given him a break from discussing his negative thoughts and various neuroses. Rather, she'd asked him what he wanted to talk about. What was foremost on his mind. And he'd spent close to the entire hour diving into what it was like to live with Y/N.

Having a person who cared about him was fulfilling. Beautiful. Challenging. Struggles inevitably happened but she attempted to help him through them. (A stark difference from when he’d been on his own.) The faith she'd placed in him by inviting him into her home was exciting.

Fears he'd never be worthy of that trust or such a good, intelligent woman did tend to eat at him. Especially when he couldn’t sleep or suspected he was slipping. But he was trying. Doing his best to learn every day, every hour, every minute. To alter his view of himself to include intimate partner alongside mentally ill loner. “I- I thought it would fix me,” he’d said. “It’s hard. But I don’t feel so bad all the time anymore.”

The doctor had complimented his resolve. Said he was dealing with all the changes as well as could be expected. If he followed his treatment plan, she anticipated he'd continue to do so. Appreciating the recognition, Arthur had wondered how to keep her praises close.

And now here he was. Experiencing the ordinariness of sitting in a diner with his girlfriend. Talking about their respective mornings. Sharing a meal. The crinkle fry he grabbed from the blue-plate special in the center of the table was soggy. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he dunked it in ketchup, a possible punchline coming to mind. If he could just figure out the right-

An inviting caress to the back of his hand brought him back to the present. He hadn't meant to tune out Y/N. With an apologetic grin, he pressed back into the booth's plastic cushions and took another drag off his cigarette.

“I was saying I need to head back to work,” she told him. A smile slowly spread across her face, until it nearly blinded him. “And that I can’t believe we’ve been shacked up for almost two months. I know it’s been an adjustment-“

“A good one,” he interrupted gently, interlocking their fingers.

"I’m proud of you.” The pink on her cheeks was faint. “I wouldn’t have taken the leap with anyone else. I can’t seem to get enough of your company, Mr. Fleck.” With that, she signaled for the waitress, retrieved her wallet from her purse, and got out some cash. Rising, she turned to Arthur. “Get the change for me,” she said, heading towards the back.

Her suede billfold was open on the table, her Gotham City ID card in view. He tentatively picked it up to examine the photo. Her hair was uncharacteristically flat, shorter than it was now. The flash had turned her lovely eyes red, and her lips were agape, as though she was in the middle of a sentence. A giggle escaped him. Frumpy. She was frumpy.

Reading her details, his brow quirked at her full name: “Y/N M/N L/N.” There was a nice rhythm to it, one that would also work with “Fleck,” if they got as far as he daydreamed. Then he saw her date of birth and stilled.

Her fortieth was in less than two weeks: 4/6/1942. April sixth. Shit.

He’d learned so many facts about her: the names of her nephews and niece; which college she’d attended; her favorite bands. She’d told him her birthday was in the spring. How the hell had he neglected to ask her the specific date? Awash with embarrassment, a hiccup left him and he covered his mouth.

The waitress returned with a dubious look, a receipt, and coins. As he counted out the tip, he calculated what he had in his own wallet and checking account. He’d scrimped and saved to cover the electric and water bills (though he knew he’d have to pay them in secret to avoid Y/N’s finding a way to repay him). Could he afford a decent gift, too?

Arm in arm, they walked back to Y/N’s workplace. She chatted about that afternoon’s court process, and he puffed away as if he was going to Hoyt’s office for an impromptu scolding. When they reached the steps in front of her building, she tugged at him until he stepped closer. “You’re so stiff.”

Putting on a half-grin, he leaned into her. “Don’t worry about me.” He stole a chaste kiss, one she tried to turn into more before he backed off. “I’ll see you later.”

When he got home, he didn’t bother to change into his thermal shirt and pajama bottoms. Relaxing wasn’t an option. Stretching and pacing the kitchen, he breathed in and out, in and out. He needed to focus instead of letting himself be thrown off. Like a good partner would.

Plans. He had to make plans. And not the vagaries floating around in his head of what boyfriends were supposed to do. Special ones. Personal ones. Ones that demonstrated the depths of his love for her. This was important. The start of a new decade. And her first birthday with him.

Unable to conjure other options, he grabbed the phone from the wall and dialed Y/N’s office. His leg bounced harder with every ring. He hadn’t yet spoken with Patricia, Y/N’s friend and co-worker. But he’d heard she was nice. Any suggestions she could offer were welcome.

Thank goodness she answered before he lost his nerve. “Shaw and Associates. Patricia speaking.”

“Hi,” he pushed out, fiddling with the phone cord. “Um, this is Arthur. Arthur Fleck. Y/N’s boyfriend?”

A smile lingered in her professional lilt. “It’s nice to talk to you, finally. But she isn’t here. I can take a message.”

“No, I know.” If he hesitated too long, he'd reveal his awkwardness. So he went for it. “Do you know what Y/N’s favorite cake is?” That question commenced a conversation that gradually became easier. Each sentence soothed. Consoled the irritation he’d aimed at himself.

Y/N liked hummingbird cake, a mix of pineapple, banana, and cinnamon. It sounded intricate and expensive. There was a bakery that sold it by the slice, according to Patricia. Y/N hadn’t disclosed what gifts she would fancy, but had said she didn’t need any knick-knacks, mugs, or other such trifles. As for activities, she was uncomplicated. She liked going to the movies and restaurants. Conversations and walks. The mundanity of domestic life, especially since becoming involved with him.

That lovely sentiment caused his eyelids to shut, an ember to glow in his heart. But it only confirmed what he already knew. “I want to make her happy,” he breathed. “I’m new at this.”

“We all were once,” she said, brushing his concerns off. “Arthur, she’ll love anything you do. Because you’re the one doing it.”

The kindness she was extending to him felt surreal. Not yet used to it, he tried to believe it wasn't a trick. He thanked her quietly, for her ideas and for listening to him. But as he was about to hang up, she gave him one last piece of advice. “Wear your button-up with the blue flowers. And your yellow vest.”

Blinking, he frowned. “But those are for work.”

Patricia laughed softly. “Yeah, well. She likes them. What was it she said? ‘They accentuate his sexy waist?’”

A burn rushed across his face and he rubbed his forehead. “...Oh.”

Well, that was a request he could handle.

~~~~~

It seemed as though newspaper adverts, television commercials, and even the damned billboards plastered around Gotham had an ax to grind. They all declared the same thing. Women needed to “mold their faces back to youth!” “Guard against aging skin!” Learn they could “look young again!” To be someone other than themselves.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dropped the magazine she’d been reading in the trash can next to her desk. She’d be crossing into the “Fatal Forties” in a week. While she did use lotion before bed to prevent the formation of wrinkles, and the prospect of gray hair wasn’t one she relished, turning the big 4-0 bothered her less than she’d anticipated. Her looks were minor concerns compared to what she’d gained over the years.

The hardships she’d endured had mostly strengthened her. Allowed her, mercifully, to grow into a person who was comfortable with herself. It was said women were supposed to be set in their ways by now. And in many respects, that was true. She enjoyed her routines. She liked her career. She loved participating in life amidst millions of other people.

But meeting Arthur had changed her path. Started her on an adventure she treasured. A journey into actual partnership, rather than her earlier attempts to please and meet other’s expectations. Attempts she had failed at. Miserably.

He hadn’t cared she was five years his senior. Hadn’t hinted that he’d considered her a “spinster.” Never joked that she was an “old maid.” If she stood in front of the cosmetic counter at the pharmacy while he got his prescriptions, he’d slink up behind her and say, “You’re already pretty.” She’d never expected him to make her feel more desirable now than she’d ever felt in her twenties, stretch marks, moderately saggy breasts, and all.

During the past few days, she’d tried to piece together what he could have planned for her birthday. He hadn’t left any clues, though one night he had hurriedly tucked something under a couch cushion. He’d been a bit out of sorts, though. Biting his nails more than usual. Seeking greater reassurance.

She’d had plenty of good birthdays. There’d been parties and games. Presents. Hugs and well wishes. When she’d taken care of her father it had mostly been forgotten, apart from the cards she’d received from her ex-husband and sister. The passage of time had been marked by worsening dementia. And she had been fine with not caring.

In contrast, Arthur had stated he’d never known what it was like to matter to someone. Not until her. He’d told her he’d given Penny a blouse for her birthday once or twice. That had been years ago, however, before his mother’s reactions to him had gradually reduced to requests to send letters. Before her health had declined when he was a child and he’d had to take over every basic task. Before he’d become too exhausted to try.

Would it be fair to expect him to take much notice?

At the end of a long workday, she’d be satisfied with a quiet evening at home. Cooking dinner together. Drinking wine until she felt warm and fuzzy. Kisses exchanged here and there. Maybe some fooling around before she nodded off on the sofa with her feet in his lap. Such basic joys would be plenty.

~~~~~

The page in Arthur’s journal taken up by Y/N’s special day wasn’t atypical. He’d been writing about her since the grocery store. (“I wonder what her name tastes like. Less bitter than mine, I bet.”) Since they’d shared donuts. (“I shud have given Sara my number.”) Since she’d stared at him, then smiled at him, and he’d felt the whole world change. (“I hope Y/N likes the joke I rote for her. I practised it 100 times! Maybe she’ll let me touch her again. Shit. I’m nervos.”)

With it a mere four days away, there wasn’t much time left for gift hunting. So he pulled on his trusty tan jacket and headed out. He was unsatisfied with what his search had turned up so far. Flowers. Candy. Nylons. It had all been mediocre when she was beyond compare.

On the verge of desperation and distress, he finally managed to stumble upon the right shop. The name above the entrance, Nice Twice, was catchy. And there was a sign: “Personalization available!” Following a quick glance through the streaked shop window, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and opened the wooden door.

As he stepped inside a shopkeeper bell rang. The stench of sandalwood incense and mothballs was thick, causing him to wince. The place was overstuffed, filled with circular clothing racks, shelves of home decor and appliances, and furniture from the sixties. He tread along the faded, orange parquet floor. Squeezed between displays of bell bottoms and coats to reach a large jewelry counter by the cash register.

A man Arthur assumed was the owner popped out from behind a nearby shoe rack. He appeared to be what Penny had disdainfully referred to as a “hippie,” with his beaded headband and light blue jeans. When asked if he’d found anything he liked, Arthur answered, “Not yet.”

His shoulders tilted, drew together as he scanned the contents of the glass cabinet. Being able to get Y/N diamond earrings or a bracelet would have been ideal. He’d heard they were supposed to be symbols of commitment. Show her how important she was to him. But they’d never be affordable, even in a thrift store. There were some lovely brooches but they weren’t her style. She didn’t wear pins, anyway.

About fifteen minutes had passed when, at last, he spotted a suitable piece. The owner gave it to him to inspect. The heart, hanging from a long, silver chain, was a tad smaller than the end of his thumb. Purple, blue, and gold flowers, faded with age, were pressed under the pendant’s rounded, glass front. It was lovely, like her. And picturing her wearing it made his chest tighten.

The necklace was twelve dollars. For two dollars more, the heart’s silver back could be engraved. Arthur could definitely swing that. It took only seconds for him to choose what should be etched into it, having had his imagination sparked by a recent fifties sit-com. It would be ready Monday, the day before her birthday.

While Arthur retrieved his wallet, the owner asked, ”Hey, what’s your sign?”

Forehead furrowed, he tried to decipher the man’s meaning. He was sure he’d heard the question on television and in films. “My sign?” The man clarified and Arthur provided both his and Y/N’s birthdays.

The owner laughed. “Woo wee! That’s a powerful match.” He indicated a collection of astrology scrolls next to the register. “Your lady friend might like one of these.”

Waving dismissively, Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe in that.” Seemingly determined, the hippie held out a rolled-up scroll. It was about the length of a cigarette, its title printed in a faux-ancient font: “Aries & Scorpio: Love & Romance.” Curiosity piqued, he pressed his lips together. “What does it say?”

“Only good things, man.” This was obviously a well-practiced pitch. And it was working The man retrieved a keyring full of unrolled, laminated scrolls. After flipping through the collection, he handed one to Arthur. He wasn’t the fastest reader, having had difficulties with it since he was a kid. But he scanned the page.

According to “the stars,” palpable chemistry existed between Aries and Scorpio. They were fun, passionate, and explosive in the bedroom. Snorting, he brought the scroll closer. “Your attraction to each other defies logic. Aries has a tough demeanor, but Scorpio brings out the compassion and love hiding underneath. Scorpio has an inner strength Aries finds irresistible.” Hm. What it said about Y/N was true. And she’d told him he was strong (which he didn’t really believe). He smiled, pleased this silly tract paid him such compliments.

He kept going. “As a pair, you are inhalation and exhalation in one. Two sides of the same coin. Aries is the sun to Scorpio’s moon.” Y/N was all those things to him. Even on days he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel better. Even on days it was easier to sink into the familiarity of misery than to strive for the unfamiliarity of feeling good.

It was after reading the final line that he nodded and dug into his pocket for two quarters: “You will be together for decades, even into the next life.”

~~~~~

Though she was standing in an overcrowded subway, squished between a man holding a dog and a woman using her as a vertical bed, Y/N felt giddy. Albeit tired. The day had been brimming with paperwork, phone calls, and running around. But it had started off well, and she was certain its upward trajectory would continue the rest of the night.

When she’d awoken, she’d discovered a pink envelope in Arthur’s place, laying haphazardly on his pillow. She’d boosted herself up on her forearm, ran her fingertips over her handwritten name, and taken out the yellow card.

There was a drawing of a man holding a woman by the waist. Lifting her until her hair touched the cheery, red “Happy Birthday.” The couple appeared thrilled. Taken with each other. And straight out of the forties. It wasn’t quite them, but it did reflect Arthur’s old fashioned romanticism.

No preprinted poem was inside. No famous quotes. Arthur had written a message instead. One which made her ache. “What do you get when you cross chocolat with something that goes thump-thump? A sweetheart. (That’s you.) My life is nicer with you in it. Even Gotham. I’m happy you talked to me. I love you a lot. -Arthur.”

He’d returned to the bedroom. Caught her mid-giggle as she’d wiggled out of her nightgown, hidden between the sheets. He was holding a mug. The same one they’d shared after the first of many lovemaking sessions.

Greedily, she’d ogled his damp hair and slender musculature. Light green eyes soft and serene, he’d sat next to her and pecked her cheek. At the flick of his gaze to her mouth, she’d flung her arms around his shoulders. Stubble burned her skin, her kisses to his dimples urgent.

“Wait,” he’d chuckled, putting the drink on the nightstand. “I made pancakes.” Even as he’d protested, he’d splayed his hand on the small of her back.

“To hell with pancakes,” she’d purred, pulling him under the blankets.

Work had been sentimental, which she’d neither expected nor wanted. Her new job would be starting in a week and a half. The small celebration they’d squeezed in served as both a goodbye and “Over the Hill” party, black balloons and grey streamers included.

Matt had been downcast as he’d shoveled red velvet cake into his mouth. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

A lame attempt to lighten the atmosphere had been needed. No one was going to start blubbering on her account. “You could come with me. Follow the conscience I know you have hidden somewhere.” He’d looked askance, turned towards his office. Trying to soften her joke, she’d patted his arm. “Don’t feel too bad. You could still lose the case.”

Settled on the windowsill, she’d gazed out at the streets of the city she’d grown to love. The city she called home, despite having spent only five percent of her existence in it. It was fitting to start this phase of her life here. The only period in which she’d felt whole, both professionally and personally.

A sheen had been in Patricia’s eyes when she’d joined her in the tight space, nudging her with her hip. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you here, accelerating Matt’s hair loss.”

“You’ll have to add it to your list of duties.” Elbowing her gently, Y/N continued. “I’ll only be a couple blocks away. We’ll meet for lunch. And you have my phone number.” Before her own eyes could water, she’d gone to her desk to cut another slice.

Patricia raised her hand. “You’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Oh? Should I be expecting something?”

Finishing her own piece, Patricia crossed her ankles. “Arthur called for tips while you were in court. He decided I was an expert on you.” Y/N’s brows shooting up prompted a chuckle. “I didn’t give away all your secrets. Just some of your favorite sweets.”

The clench of Y/N’s throat was instant. And shame washed over her for assuming he wouldn’t plan much, if anything at all. He’d been considerate, even during tough times. Like at Christmas, which had been hard for him but turned out well in the end. He’d made it clear that what he coveted most, besides love and validation, was to be treated normally. Normal expectations were a part of that. She’d sought to give him a break when the benefit of the doubt had been what he deserved.

Y/N thought a bit. Surveyed the ornate woodwork in the corners of the room. Then she'd met her friend’s gaze. “Patricia, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Because he’s getting you cake?”

“I’m not that easy.” Laughing, Y/N sat on the corner of her desk. “Do you remember when I said I was almost forty and was going to grab what I want? Well, I’m forty and he’s what I want.”

Caution and kindness had softened Patricia’s concerns. “I don’t mean to be indelicate. But you’re his first relationship. Is he ready for that?”

Y/N sucked the frosting off her fork. “Our sixth month is soon. I’ll drop a hint. When he’s ready - if he’s ready - he’ll know I am, too.”

She’d been floating since that realization. Since admitting her devotion to Arthur aloud and thereby making it concrete. Since getting a supportive hug from Patricia. And reassurance from Matt, of all people, that she hadn’t entered a mid-life crisis.

That headiness continued as she fumbled with her keys. Upon entering their apartment, music reached her ears. Music with a faster tempo than the classics Arthur usually played. Hanging up her coat and slipping off her shoes, she recognized it as one of her “Best of Soul and Disco” LPs. She braced herself on the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, her cheeks breaking wide open.

Arthur had moved the television and its stand to the side of the coffee table. A blanket, folded into a square, lay in front of the windows. Two plates and two wine glasses were on it. As she approached, she saw sandwiches on a platter. There was pasta salad and potato salad, both covered in plastic wrap, from the deli around the corner. In the center of it all sat an empty vase.

When he came out of the bedroom, magic wand in hand, he stilled. “Oh. Hi. You’re back already?”

A giggle. “I ran.” Biting her bottom lip, she admired his tousled brown curls, feathery, light, and attractive as hell. His face was unobscured by make-up, allowing her to revel in his handsomeness. The top button of his white shirt was undone. And his yellow vest outlined his lean frame in all the right ways. He wore his usual trousers. “Did you have a gig today?”

“No.” He smoothed a palm down his chest and stomach, and she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves. “Um, I heard you like it.”

She felt herself blush and nodded eagerly. Thank you, Patricia.

With a flick of his wrist, flowers sprouted from the end of the wand. “I wanted to do this outside. On the fire escape. But it’s too cold.” He knelt on the blanket to put the flowers in the vase.

Y/N cocked her head. The juxtaposition of him wearing his “Carnival Casual” outfit, the cutesy charm of the picnic he’d arranged with the music that was playing was ridiculous. The song went on repeatedly about miracles, need, and “sexy things.” She snorted.

As Arthur removed the cellophane from the salads, his shoulders tensed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he breathed. “I got too much.”

“No,” she replied, sitting next to him, laying a hand on his thigh. “This is wonderful.” When their eyes met, she found his look at once bashful and flirtatious.

She served the sandwiches and salads while he poured the wine, following her request to fill the glasses to the top. Mostly potato salad ended up on her plate, the mix of mayonnaise, pepper, and egg just right. A majority of the pasta wound up on his - he liked the vinegary flavor. The red wine did not pair with the turkeys on rye he’d prepared, so she saved most of it for dessert.

When Arthur held out an orange roll of paper, she was dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin. The title made her laugh. She never would have suspected he put stock in the zodiac; she certainly didn’t. Gingerly, she opened the scroll and squinted down at it.

It described her as determined, confident, and extroverted. And called Arthur a curious, emotional introvert. While mostly true, it wasn’t quite accurate. Arthur was only introverted in personal situations, while having the courage to perform as a clown and a stand-up. Those traits could belong to anyone, depending on the situation.

But the next paragraph clued her in as to why he’d bought the horoscope. And given it to her. “You were made for each other. There are times when it’s hard to know how you both managed to ever exist apart. The bond between you is unbreakable. You have much to learn from one another.” A lump formed in her throat when she read the last line, that they’d be together until the next life. She didn’t believe in that, yet longed for it all the same. “Thank you, Arthur.”

The scroll would have been enough. Dinner would have been enough. He would have been enough. But he placed a pink, velvet necklace box on her lap. She blinked at it, hoping he hadn’t spent too much on her. Then she forced that notion from her brain - he was a grown man who could buy what he chose - and cracked it open. Her breath caught.

The heart with pressed flowers was obviously vintage. The size was demure, like her other, few pieces of jewelry. And it was exactly her style: feminine and practical. She was grateful he hadn’t gotten her diamonds or other flashy gems. Her eyes darted to his as she took it out. “This is...” Gently, he turned it over in her palm, and she saw the engraving on the back: A+S.

A+S. Arthur and Y/N. It was a bold move from him. A welcome one.

“I think that’s usually done on trees,” he said. “But there aren’t that many in Gotham.”

Chuckling, she sniffed back her tears and shoved it at him. “Here.” She turned her back towards him. His fingertips dragged along her collarbone as she lifted her hair and he latched the chain. The kiss he placed above the clasp made her shiver. Wanting him to see how the pendant rested right above her cleavage, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

“It’s beautiful.” She pulled him in for a kiss. Traced his crow's feet. Let her thumbs wander to the slight puffiness underneath. The wine, along with her earlier confession to Patricia, was making it easier to open up. “You have my whole heart, Arthur,” she sighed into his mouth.

His palm went to her chest as he tilted his head, his other holding the nape of her neck. The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips and warmth enveloped her. She felt his fingers play with the necklace. Heard his ragged inhalation. Knew that pride and pleasure were emboldening him, because she was wearing what he’d gifted.

Eventually, he broke their connection, told her to close her eyes and pecked her nose. She concentrated on his steps to the kitchen. The clatter of him going through the silverware drawer. And then the chill breeze of the glass door being opened.

When she was allowed to peek, she stood and followed him onto the fire escape. A lit cigarette was already between his lips, and he was lighting a candle on a gigantic slice of cake. “You’re supposed to make a wish,” he said, smoke escaping his nostrils.

She snuggled his side, snaked an arm around him as he slung his across her shoulders. After eyeing the flame a moment, she sucked in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and bent closer...

Just in time for a split-second gust of wind to blow out the candle.

Arthur groaned and started to let go of her but she stopped him. “It counts.” She lifted the fork and fed him a bite, grinning at his pleased hum. “You won’t mind me turning grey, will you?”

“No. I won’t be the only one looking old.”

She nuzzled his temple. “You don’t look old. You’re refined.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. They ate silently for a bit, but then he squeezed her tighter. “What did you...” Trepidation lurked behind his question, even after their steamy picnic. “What did you wish for?”

“That we’ll keep loving each other, even through tough times.” She lowered the fork, already full. “That I’ll like my new job.” Letting go of him, she set the plate on the metal stairs, next to his ashtray. “That you’ll be healthy.”

He huffed. “You shouldn’t have wasted any on me.”

“You’re worth all of them.” She kissed his bicep, laid her head on his shoulder. The record playing in the background turned over, switched to a slower song, and she grinned. “Now,” she said, “may I have this dance?”

Delight in his eyes, he bowed. She giggled as he grabbed her around the middle and pulled her flush against his solid frame. He led beautifully, gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world, guiding her to the beat she was deaf to. He even dared to raise her hand for a modest twirl, and she trusted him enough for it to work.

As they spun slowly, rotating in the lights of their living room and the city, he kissed her hairline. “Happy birthday. I hope you liked it.”

“I loved it.” She captured his thin lips with her own. “Promise you’ll be here for the next twenty.”

“The next forty.” He bumped their noses and lay his cheek on hers. Y/N cuddled deeper into his embrace, feeling more cherished than she had in years.

~~~~~

Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing

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[jowritesthingss]

Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Eldritch Being

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through early s3-ish

Length: 2,190 words

Brief Summary: The archival team adopts a rabbit. (Part one of the Emotional Support Eldritch AU!)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is a biatch!

*

“What is it?”

Jon levels a suspicious glare down at the fluffy blob comfortably stretched out in the middle of the overstuffed break room couch.

Tim blinks owlishly at him from behind his mug of tea. “A...rabbit?”

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a rabbit?” Jon asks insistently. “Not a—a spirit, or...an animated doll, or a clown in disguise or something?”

Sighing, Tim sets his tea down on the counter. “Look, I get the whole ‘suspicious of us being murderers’ thing—no I don’t, actually, but that’s beside the point—it. is. a rabbit.” For a good measure, he walks over to sit on one side of the rabbit, reaching a hand out to the little guy’s fluffy head. If a rabbit could smile, he suspects this one would be doing so as it leans up into his hand.

“No fleas or ticks...or worms, so it’s not some Jane Prentiss Pet Sematary crossover, I promise—” Tim rolls his eyes, “—the veterinarian confirmed as much when I brought the poor thing in. Out of the mud and the rain of the gutter,” he adds, not even attempting to hide the guilt-trip. He wishes Martin were here, with his ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes.

Tim knows this is Jon he’s talking to, but surely even he can’t be that cold-hearted. He rather thinks that Jon will enjoy not being alone anymore down here during all his late nights. If he’d let himself, surely Jon would enjoy having company in the form of a teeny tiny creature that can’t and won’t harm him—which, uh, certainly is not why he’s lying about his current flat not permitting pets, no siree.

“...Fine. Whatever.” Jon points an accusing finger at him. “But we’re not keeping it,” he stresses. “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim chirps, although as he begins a staring contest with the rabbit’s curious red eyes, he has no intention of actually doing as Jon says.

Martin chooses this moment to walk through the door. His eyes light up. “Aw, is that a rabbit?”

“No, this does not mean you’re allowed to bring in more strays,” Jon snaps.

The light in Martin’s eyes fades. “Okay,” he says mournfully as he crouches to pet the rabbit, sulking.

-

“So what should we name him?” Tim asks Jon when the Head Archivist comes into the break room the next morning.

“Oh—my—” Jon startles where he stands by the counter, attempting to make himself some toast with the Archive’s horrible fifteen-year-old toaster—toast that now splatters across the floor. Somehow in his sleep-deprived stupor he must’ve missed Tim sitting on the couch with a white rabbit on his head. He never seems to really notice Tim, but at this point it’s fine enough; Tim has accepted that the guy has impossibly poor taste.

The rabbit clambers down from Tim’s shoulders, jumping off of the couch and padding over to investigate the new human(?) and the mess he made.

“How about Thumper?” Tim puzzles aloud, stretching leisurely and acting as if he doesn’t notice Jon frantically scrubbing up raspberry jam and trying to avoid the rabbit’s investigative snuffles all in one. “No, no...that’s too cliché.”

“I really don’t see the point in naming it when it shouldn’t be here more than a few weeks,” Jon comments, shooing the animal in question away before it can try to lick up any jam.

“Maybe Joe?” Tim continues loudly, as if he hadn’t heard the other. When the rabbit ambles back over to him, he scoops them up, pressing their noses together. “Ligma?” He shakes his head at the rabbit. “No, no. We need to have more sophistication as we go about this.”

“You could do with applying that sophistication to your work,” comes the grumbled retort.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jon abruptly turns to burn another piece of bread in the toaster.

-

“How about Marshmallow?”

“What on Earth—” Jon shrieks, jumping in his desk chair, and a sheaf of papers is sent flying around the office.

“The rabbit. Should we call him ‘Marshmallow’?” Tim smiles as innocently as he can manage, standing out in the hall with his head peeping into his boss’ office. “Marshie for short?”

“I am in the middle of a statement!” Jon sputters. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay....” Tim fluidly shrugs his shoulders. “What about ‘Bob’?”

“Out!”

But Tim continues to pop into Jon’s office unannounced throughout the day, tossing out name suggestions. He even manages to rope Martin into doing it too, and notes with savage delight that between the two of them and his work, Jon doesn’t get much more than a moment to wallow rest for the remainder of the day.

Between the two of them Tim and Martin manage to compile a surprisingly long list of names:

Snowball,

Posy (Martin is partial to this one because he thinks it’s cute),

Bungen Leitner,

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (“is that too American of a reference for a fanfic taking place in the UK?” “what?” “what?”),

the Bunholding,

Michael (Jon is especially averse to that one for some reason),

Cottonball,

Fluffy Bastard (Tim’s own favorite),

Bugs Bunny,

Eldritch Horror (Tim tosses that one in as a joke; no way the rabbit that eats his own shit is some kind of otherworldly being),

Big Bungus (“it’s a play off Big Chungus!” “d’you seriously think anyone else here even knows what memes are”), and

the Vampiric Count Sir Maximillianus-Who-Is-Also-A-Werebun

(Despite badgering Sasha multiple times in an attempt to get her thoughts on the matter, the only name she offers up is “Dinner”, which makes Martin cry, so that one is out.)

None of the names quite seem to fit the little white puffball that has now taken over the realm of their break room, however—so Tim and Martin find themselves going back to the drawing board. They reluctantly leave the Institute at the end of the day, still without having decided upon a name.

-

“JON JUNIOR!” Martin screeches excitedly the next morning as they’re congregating once more in the break room, zombie-like before their tea and mid-morning snack time (primary schools don’t get all the fun, okay).

Jon and Sasha startle, and for once even Tim himself jumps. The rabbit doesn’t seem to care much where he is, nibbling at some hay in his corner litter box.

“I—what?” Jon asks, flabbergasted, although he manages to not drop his toast this time. Character development.

“We should name him Jon Jr! After you!” Martin explains eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Jon tries to say, but before he can finish, Tim is jumping in.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he says, grinning broadly. “Thoughts, Sasha?”

“I’m not emotionally invested in this.” Sasha shrugs, uncaring. “I’m going back to my desk.” She takes her drink and walks out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“All right, since Sasha doesn’t care, I’ll decide her vote for her,” Tim says, carefully containing his glee. “So that’s three votes for and one against, then. Majority rules.”

“What? No!” John protests, but Tim is too busy looking at the rabbit for confirmation.

“What do you think, little guy?” He walks over, bends down, and lightly boops the rabbit’s nose. “Are you a Jon Jr?”

The rabbit twitches his nose in agreement and poops.

“Well then!” Tim stands, clapping his hands together. “That’s been decided upon.”

No, it hasn’t,” Jon insists, but Tim cares little for his boss’ objections. He’ll accept his fate as Jon Senior eventually.

-

To Tim’s utter surprise and fascination, it happens sooner than later.

Jon, Tim quickly realizes, is a lot like the one dad who says “no dog” and then ends up loving the dog more than he loves his own children.

Despite his initial objections, the daft fool ends up getting caught up in Jon Jr’s big, innocent, rabbit-y gaze (worse than even Martin’s puppy-dog eyes, they conclude gravely), and by the end of the day Friday Jon has announced that he supposes the rabbit can stay with him over weekends and holidays.

“We’re still not keeping him,” Jon reminds them all, even as the rabbit gathered in his arms, giving his nose kisses and knocking his glasses askew, says otherwise.

He gets caught trying to sneak the rabbit into his office on more than one occasion, but Martin raises a fuss about it.

(“He’s all of ours! Jon Jr is our department’s mascot now,” Martin protests defiantly. “You can’t take him away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tim adds, mostly just to stir up drama—he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. “You can’t just swoop him up and file him away like one of your statements.”

“Just don’t let it get out and chew at my electronics,” Sasha says, distractedly typing something on her phone, probably to that weird new boyfriend.)

To stave off the imminent coup, Jon Jr becomes an officially-declared resident of the break room. He slowly amasses chub around his middle and a cardboard kingdom of bunny toys, houses, blankets, and treats. A rabbit could want for nothing more.

And perhaps—perhaps a human could want for nothing more, too, Tim thinks as he looks down at the figure curled up on the sofa, rabbit nestled against his chest.

He doesn’t love the man, not by a long, long shot—doesn’t even particularly like him half the time—but Tim can’t deny that the scene is adorable. And, regardless of his very vocal protests, Jon Jr may very well be what Jon Sr needs to finally process things and move the hell on with life.

Tim smiles grimly. It’s about damn time.

He quietly closes the door to the room and heads back towards the Archives. He’ll leave Jon to wake himself up.

(And to discover for himself that Jon Jr has peed on his pants leg.)

-

Of course, this is the Archive we’re talking about, so naturally the peace is abruptly shattered, and everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tim isn’t entirely certain what happens or why, but all of a sudden Sasha isn’t really Sasha, and he and Jon have gotten backed up and cornered in the tunnels as this not-really-Sasha stalks towards them, predictably with the intent to kill, just like the rest of the spooks they are so lucky to deal with.

Tim and Jon Sr slowly back away until they hit a dead end. Meanwhile, Jon Jr licks at Tim’s arm—he’d been scooped up as they ran into the tunnels, Tim doesn’t entirely know why—and despite the fact that they are most probably about to, y’know, die, the little kisses almost feel strangely reassuring.

The thing-that-is-not-Sasha cackles, her—their?—its?—voice distorted and echoing throughout the tunnels. It stalks towards them.

All of a sudden, Jon Jr wriggles loose and leaps smoothly down onto the ground. He scampers in front of Tim and Jon, heading towards bitch-give-me-my-Sasha-back.

“No! Get back here!” Tim hisses at the rabbit, even though he knows it’s pointless. He hates to admit it, but he’s becoming rather fond of Jon Jr, even if Tim mostly brought him in to piss off and totally not help Jon. Jon—who, speaking of, seems to be equally fond now, judging by the deflating tire of a terrified squeak he makes, and the adorable immature grabby arms he makes at the little bugger.

“Junior,” Jon calls out, sounding like a toddler who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real (he is, they have the statements to prove it, he is). And Tim wants to laugh, albeit hysterically. The first time he sees his brick wall of a superior cry and it’s over a rabbit, and he’s not even going to have time to gloat over it because they’re about to die. “No! You’re going to—”

Jon Jr stops and sits in front of wholly-absolutely-totally-not-Sasha-what-the-fuck, who looks down at him, bemused through its murderous bloodlust.

The rabbit lifts a dainty paw up to his mouth, and suddenly—suddenly it’s twisting and huge, towering up to the ceiling of the tunnel, its skin hairless and tinted a sickly, glowing gray, with five, six, seven...a whole lot more limbs than a rabbit is supposed to have.

The not-rabbit unhinges its now meters-long jaw and snaps up the creature.

Tim and Jon stare at each other, wide-eyed.

There is a loud gulping sound, then a deafening crack, and suddenly there is a very normal white rabbit sitting in front of them again, carefully cleaning one paw with a very normal pink tongue.

“Wh—” Tim chokes on his own words.

The holy-shit-it-really-is-an-eldritch-horror-after-all stretches, yawns, and flops over in a dead sleep.

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon says faintly.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, light-headed. “We’re keeping the rabbit.”

-

Jon Jr the rabbit-slash-eldritch-abomination gets a very hearty dinner of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber peels that night.

-

(Tune in next time* for the terrible, terrible realization—“Jon Jr is a girl?!” (Also why is there another dead body again, dammit, can’t we go one week))

Fin

First || Next

*

(There may or may not actually be a next time. It depends. )

Behold. What very well may be the stupidest thing I have ever written. Ahem. Did I say stupidest? I meant most brilliant. Clearly I meant it’s the most brilliant thing I have ever written. Obviously.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! I have a bunch of ideas to continue this ridiculously silly AU of sorts, but idk if I’m going to quite yet and am not certain that I’ll be continuing to write for TMA. atm I’m focused on a different fandom, and I’m only on s3, so the really big idea I had has to wait, anyway.

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 2: Rudyard

Following a shocking bit of news, Rudyard makes a rendezvous with his old leader.

❃❃❃

Sardion had ended the call with a request; that Rudyard come immediately to the Second Precinct, where he was with the detective leading the investigation.

As Rudyard ran, he felt intense guilt seep into his thoughts. Two of his old teammates were dead and he wasn’t there to save them. He was a Huntsman— to him, it should have been his duty to save them. How could this happen? He kept mentally repeating over and over on the way.

Almost too soon enough, he was leaning outside of the detective’s office, bent over in exhaustion with one hand propping him against the door. Through the window, Sardion had already been speaking to the detective when they saw Rudyard doubled over outside. The detective, a dark-skinned woman who he failed to recognize, hurried outside to help him up.

“Sir Millard, are you alright? Let’s get you up.” she motioned for Sardion to help her with Rudyard.

“Wha— what happened? How—? They can’t be gone. Please tell me this is just a bad joke, Sardion.” Rudyard held on to Sardion’s arm, his voice wavering with a mixture of exertion and emotion as he tried to catch his breath.

Sardion couldn’t bear to look Rudyard in the eye. He was silently struggling to maintain his own composure. Yaara and Berilo had not only been his friends, but his family. The moment they had become a team, all those years ago, had made them feel inseparable. Now, that  very same moment felt like a cruel trick decades in the making.

“Damn it, you two, just tell me—! I need to know what happened!” Rudyard snapped, having managed to finally catch his breath.

The detective glanced over at the Huntsman, who had sunken down onto a small couch by the wall. “I know you must be devastated by this news, Sir Millard, but unfortunately, a lot of this case isn’t clear yet.” She sat down on her office chair and grabbed a file from her desk.

Rudyard spared a glance up at her desk— near its front was a nameplate, on which Det. Agave Yuen, Royal Mistral Police was embossed in brass. He quietly took note of this, as it meant he didn’t have to keep mentally referring to her as “the detective” any longer.

Detective Yuen cleared her throat, before beginning to speak to the two Huntsmen. “Yaara Dailan and Berilo Gaspar were found dead this morning in their respective homes. Both of the deaths appear to have occurred within 24 hours, according to medical scans of their core body temperatures. In Miss Dailan’s body, there was a single gaping wound, which we suspect to be from a sword. On the other hand, Mister Gaspar received several smaller wounds of a similar nature, two of which severed arteries. In Miss Dailan’s case, there were signs of a struggle.” She paused, pursing her lips momentarily before continuing.. “We’ve got the when and where, but the who, why, and how of this case is still unclear. As of now, the forensics team hasn’t yet confirmed if they were in fact murdered or not, and there’s also—”

“Of COURSE they were murdered!” Rudyard shouted suddenly, rising to his feet. “How can you possibly be unsure of that?! Those two could kill droves of Grimm by themselves — to say nothing of when we were a team — and they’re not the kind of people someone could get the drop on! Whoever did this was clearly prepared for—!”

“Rudd, please. Calm down. Let Detective Yuen do her work.” said Sardion.

Rudyard wheeled around to face Sardion. “How can you stay calm, knowing two of our teammates are dead and we weren’t there for them?!” he retaliated.

Sardion flinched slightly at the indirect accusation, before letting out a deep, pained sigh. “Believe me, Rudd, I’m hurting as much as you are. The news wasn’t at all easy for me either, but you of all people should know that situations like this shouldn’t be met with an attitude like that.” Sardion did his best to maintain a civil attitude as he spoke, holding his palms out in a gesture of placation.

The resulting silence was deafening. Both Rudyard and Sardion were having trouble connecting the dots that led them to this moment — it all seemed too sudden, too soon. One second, they had been fresh graduates of Haven taking on their first real mission together, and the next they were mourning the deaths of half their team.

Agave, however, was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If she continued, she felt like she’d upset Rudyard even more. But if she remained silent, Sardion would feel like their time was being wasted.

When she was approached by the Mistral Police about the deaths of Yaara and Berilo, the detective knew that she wasn’t dealing with a regular case. She was handling that of people from SYBR, the top team of the Haven graduating class of 58 AV. They had been the champions of the 28th Vytal Festival.

At any rate, she had to be prepared for anything in this case.

The silence was broken by Sardion speaking up. “Please continue, Detective Yuen.”

“Are you sure? If it’s too distressing for Sir Millard, he can catch up with the investigation on a later date.” Yuen replied, subtly gesturing with a hand towards Rudyard.

Sardion shook his head. “The longer we sit here grieving, the longer whoever did this is still roaming the streets. We don’t know who they might come for next, or if we’re already being targeted.” He glanced over at Rudyard. “You calmed down?”

“Mmm.” Rudyard responded with an ambiguous murmur, taking a deep breath.

Yuen nodded as she returned to the topic of the investigation. “Well, as I was saying right now, the majority of the case is still left unanswered. That’s why we asked you to come here. You two were the ones who knew the victims best. You could help them—” 

“Too late for that. We weren’t there to help them then, and I don’t see what good it’ll do now.” Rudyard quietly muttered.

Yuen coughed awkwardly at Rudyard’s interruption. “…Be that as it may, I plan on getting to the bottom of this, so if not for them, at least help me out.” She turned to her computer momentarily, typing in a command for a new document before turning back to Sardion and Rudyard “I’m going to ask you some questions that might guide us toward the right path to take. Shall we start?”

“Go ahead, detective.” Sardion motioned to Yuen, as she began typing into the document with one hand.

“Where were both of you yesterday evening, and did you have any contact with Yaara Dailan or Berilo Gaspar during that period of time?”

Rudyard looked up, a slightly appalled expression on his face “...You can’t be implying we had something to do with—” He stopped as Sardion rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, Rudd. It’s just the regular police line of questioning, we’re not being interrogated.” He turned back towards Yuen before responding. “I was at home with Asagi, myself. We called it an early night.”

Yuen typed into the computer for a moment. “Asagi… as in Asagi Sarikaya, your daughter?”

“That’s right.” Sardion answered.

Yuen typed a bit more. “And the home… you live in the Saku District, House 217, is that correct?”

“Correct.”

“Right, then.” Yuen clicked her mouse twice. “And you, Sir Millard?”

Rudyard let out a sigh before looking up to face Yuen. “I was heading home from… from the Gardens of Remembrance, over in the Yoake District.”

Sardion’s eyes widened slightly, and he inhaled sharply. Now it was no wonder Rudyard had been taking this so hard— this tragedy was following right on the heels of the anniversary of another one. 

Noticing Sardion’s response, Yuen raised an eyebrow as she turned to her computer screen and typed again, pulling up Rudyard’s personal record.

A pause.

“…Ah. Yes, I see. I’m very sorry about that.” Yuen said, wincing to herself as she looked over Rudyard’s file.

The red-clad Huntsman shrugged. “I considered hitting up the Blackbird, that bar a few blocks down from my house, but I figured that could wait until this evening.” Rudyard continued. “Then I got the call, and… well, here we are now.”

Agave nodded, and kept on typing on her computer. Half a minute later, she faced Rudyard and Sardion again and proceeded to continue the line of questioning. “Do you know anyone who might have done this to them? Anyone who might have a motive?”

“Everyone they’ve met, they treated well. They were professionals, but always friendly to others. I don’t know anyone who could be so angry at those two to the point of murder.” Sardion answered.

“No old enemies, looking to settle scores? No connections that might have considered them ‘loose ends’?”

Sardion shook his head, but Rudyard paused for a moment. He knew that Yaara and Berilo had been embroiled in some secretive missions, and there was always the off chance that the murders could have been a cleanup job.

After a moment spent contemplating, he responded, “…Not that I was ever aware of, no.”

❃❃❃

After an hour of questioning the two Huntsmen, Detective Yuen was finally satisfied with the report she had on file. “Thank you, gentlemen. That’s all I need to know for now.” she said, snapping the lid of her computer shut. The three stood up from where they were sitting. As Rudyard and Sardion were about to head out the door, Yuen stopped them. “I know this may be asking a lot, especially considering that it’s already been one bad day, but do you mind helping us catch whoever did this in other ways?”

“Absolutely.” Rudyard said without hesitation.

“Same h— wait, what do you mean by ‘other ways’?” Sardion asked.

Yuen exhaled heavily through her nostrils before responding. “Despite the prep for the Festival, we’re not short of the police force overall, and I also have my subordinates doing some groundwork. However, I think a little more help wouldn’t hurt. For one thing, you two knew the victims better than anyone, and your input and added skills as Huntsmen should be a boon.” she explained.

Sardion looked at Rudyard. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Rudyard?” he inquired.

Rudyard nodded. “Yes. Anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

“And what about you, Sir Sarikaya?” Agave inquired. “It’s on your record that you have a daughter at home, so if you’re concerned for your own safety…”

Sardion took a moment to consider his response. He had chosen to lie low of his Huntsman duties since his daughter Asagi had been born, in favor of raising her.  Ever since then, all he could think about was spending time with her— her mother had passed on when Asagi was very young, and he had made plenty of money from missions before her birth to retire from missions. Being the champion of the 28th Vytal Festival hadn’t hurt his socioeconomic prospects, either, and his domestic life had been a comfortable one.

But now, things were different. Asagi was already sixteen and preparing to apply as a Huntress herself— she wouldn’t be at home for much longer. And despite the decline of his skills with age, he’d kept up his training well enough to handle himself in a fight should one come along.

It was time to get back to his duties as a leader once again, and avenge his comrades.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, knowing that their killers are still on the loose.” he answered firmly.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

ghosts

Here are some post-Civil War team feelings and a bit of whump. Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading ❤

__________________________

Sometimes, Tony remembers.

Tonight he lies awake in his bed after Rhodey forced him out of the workshop at 3am, away from the prototype for his leg braces. Tony didn’t put up a fight because the guilt was still fresh and sharp and seeing his best friend navigate his wheelchair through the messy workshop was making him pliant, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be able to rest. 

Sleep evades him, but the memories are there. Pepper, every night, making his heart ache in rhythm with his fractured sternum. His parents, dead in the car with smoke still rising from the broken engine. Siberia and the wormhole and Rhodey dropping out of the sky, falling and falling and falling until Tony’s body hits the mattress and he opens his eyes with a gasp. 

And then there’s the team. Sometimes, the ghosts come back to keep him company.

*

The plan was for Natasha to infiltrate an NSA division suspected to be running an undercover espionage programme with illegally obtained citizens’ data. She was supposed to go in, disguised with a photostatic veil as the lead technology officer, copy the evidence, and leave after the shift was over. Tony and Steve would be waiting outside with her ride home, ready to interfere in case something went wrong. 

Which it did, because, unbeknownst to their intel and definitely against the rules of the department she worked for, said technology officer was having an affair with one of her colleagues, who’d realised something was off when she tried to slide her hand into Nat’s pants in a storage room and in turn got punched in the face.

Nat was held, drugged, and interrogated. She didn’t spill, of course. Her cover didn’t get blown until half a day later, when Tony and Steve burst through the door to rescue her. She even managed to transfer enough of the evidence to Tony’s servers to build a solid case against the NSA division before she got blasted, so from that perspective, the mission was a success.

A success that came with a price, however, Tony thought as he leaned back in the pilot seat, having just maneuvered them out of the danger zone. The adrenaline was fading away to leave behind exhaustion and a pulsing pain in his hand. 

“Not again...” he muttered as he carefully removed the armour on his right arm to reveal a swollen, possibly broken wrist. He’d had to retract his gauntlet to open the digitally coded lock to the facility and he’d paid the price for forgetting to put it back on five minutes later when an overzealous security guard kicked him in the arm. He should really look into cloning again—an extra arm would definitely come in handy.

Behind him, Nat was throwing up into a basin, so quietly and efficiently that it almost looked like she was in control of what was happening. She was pale and sweaty, the stuff they’d drugged her with clearly not agreeing with her system. But the real sign she was still a bit out of it was that she didn’t protest at all when Steve sat close beside her and placed a hand on her back while she heaved.

“Don’t redecorate my quinjet, Romanov,” Tony said flippantly, swiverling his chair around. “I just finally got the blood out of the upholstery from your run-in with the Frankfurt cartel.” 

Still retching into the bowl, Nat flipped him off without even looking up. Tony noticed she was trembling slightly.

He got up and moved over to the lockers, limping a bit―(when did that happen?)―as he went, and fetched the threadbare blanket Bruce used to wrap around himself after de-hulking. Steve bit his lip when Tony draped the tattered thing over Nat’s shoulders and he knew they were all thinking the same thing.

The absence of Bruce and Clint was almost tangible. Steve tended to be the one to get their spirits up before the missions, and Tony would chatter continuously during the fight, but afterwards it had usually been Clint who’d take care of them all in his own, inscrutable way. He was especially good at building the team up again after things went wrong, taking the blame off each of their individual shoulders and distributing it evenly across all of them. 

“Not your fault, Cap. Can’t save ‘em all,” he’d remind the soldier after a particularly rough mission. Or he’d thrust a jammed weapon into Tony’s hands and tell him to stop brooding and make himself useful. “Don’t give me that emo look,” he’d tell Nat whenever she was sulking. “We talked about this.” And nobody would ever know what it was that the two had talked about, but a bit of tension would fall off her shoulders.

Tony wonders, sometimes, whether they’d instinctively known that Bruce’s departure and Clint’s retirement would mark the beginning of the end of the Avengers. Whether somewhere deep inside, all of them were counting the days they had left.

“What happened to your wrist?” Steve broke the silence.

“He frac’ured it again,” Nat said hoarsely, slurring her words just a little. “Will never learn to put that glove back on.”

Tony laughed.

*

Their first stop was at the compound’s medical bay where they were told that Nat couldn’t do anything more than sleep off the effects of the drug and make sure to stay hydrated. Tony’s wrist, to everyone’s surprise, was only badly sprained this time, and they let him go after bandaging it. 

He was starting to feel the effects of the fight by then, the beginning soreness of his muscles and annoying pain from all his bruises. Exhaustion was clinging heavily to his limbs; he hadn’t slept the previous night, busy going through the intel and testing the comms to make sure the mission would be successful before leaving at daybreak.

Nat also looked like she could use a bed, unsteady on her feet and even less talkative than usual, but there was a silent understanding between Steve and Tony not to leave her alone in a dark room while the drugs were still messing with her mind. They all had their own ghosts, and even if she didn’t talk about them, they weren’t about to let Nat fight hers on her own.

They gathered in the common room where JARVIS had already ordered Thai and pizza, as well as ginger lemonade to combat the nausea. Bruce would have made a fresh jug himself if he were here, Tony caught himself thinking, and quickly shook his head to get rid of the melancholic feelings that threatened to overtake him.

He helped himself to rice and curry and sat down heavily in the armchair, switching on the TV and flipping through the channels as he ate. Nat held her head tipped back against the sofa, still pale, eyes half-closed. She was alternating between taking small bites from a piece of Margherita and sipping on her lemonade. Next to her, Steve was devouring the pizza like his life depended on it, but Tony was long past joking about the man’s increased need for calories.

“Who wants a drink?” Tony asked over the background noise of a news anchor announcing breaking news on the NSA data leak.

“Daiquiri,” Nat ordered, and it was a testimony to what they’d all been through together that no one questioned her ability to stomach rum a mere hour and a half after puking her guts up into a plastic bowl.

Tony pushed himself up from the chair and made it about two seconds on his feet before the headrush made him stumble blindly into the table. 

"Whoa..." he breathed out at the same moment that Steve said "Steady" and jumped up to help. 

“Think I really need that drink,” Tony commented, leaning on the larger man for support and rubbing his eyes with a groan until the haze cleared. 

“I think you really need to sleep,” Steve scolded in his best worried-dad voice. Tony snorted and gazed up at the other man until he sighed and gave in. “Okay, I’ll get them. Sit down before you fall over.” 

Tony gave him the prettiest smile he could muster. “That’s what I like to hear. Scotch for me, please.”

And so it ended. Nat had fallen asleep against Steve’s shoulder (or, having allowed herself to fall, to be precise; they all knew it was a gesture of trust and nothing that happened accidentally. Tony was stretched out in the armchair, idly swirling the ice in his scotch glass. Pink Floyd was playing in the background, and Steve was subconsciously tapping his foot along with the rhythm while finishing off the Thai leftovers.

The two men shared a smile across the coffee table—briefly, casually—and then Steve gently shifted Nat to lie down on the couch where she immediately curled up like a cat between the pillows, her dark red curls falling loosely over her face. He covered her with a blanket and threw another one over to Tony, who set down his glass just in time to catch it. 

Steve left for a bit and returned with a novel and a cup of tea. Tony turned up the music a few notches and slowly let his eyes slip shut. He already knew that they’d all still be there come morning. 

*

Tony isn’t sure why it’s this mission that comes back to him that night. It’s nothing special, nothing even particularly successful—just a bunch of injuries and comfort food, typical for how they used to operate. 

He wonders whether Steve knew, back then. Whether Nat had already picked her side.

If anyone were to ask him now, he’d say he’s angry—furious, even—because that’s easier to deal with than the sadness that comes along with betrayal. And what he’d never say is that he misses them. 

He doesn’t. 

He really doesn’t.

(He’s always been such a good liar.)

Tony blinks into the darkness and their faces disappear. The memories might fade by morning, but the ghosts are here to stay.

[dreamsxfnia]

shattered || zee & nia

Zatanna and Nia try to have some fun after the gala, but the night sours quickly. 

DATE: Night of the Lord Tech Gala FEATURING: @mistressofmagic WARNINGS: violence, bigotry

NIA: If you'd asked Nia at the start of the night, how this gala was going to go, she probably would've predicted that it would be interesting but mostly work related for her. She would not have predicted sneaking off during the night with a gorgeous woman, nor that the two of them would end up leaving the gala together. She, however, was not complaining one bit. 

The subway ride to her apartment was not normally something she thought much about, but tonight it both felt far too long--wanting to get home and continue what they'd started--and like it took no time at all--distracted as she was with kissing Zatanna. "I'm like a block and a half away," she said as she gently tugged Zee up the stairs to the street. Her feet were killing her in her heels by now, and her make-up was far from the immaculate look she'd had at the start of the night, but neither even crossed her mind as she grinned at Zee, biting her lip as she did.

ZATANNA: It was easy to lose herself in this crowd. The people were so easy to connect with. But Nia had been the one who had stuck out. A flicker in the night that had pulled her attention away from the usual suspects. And someone who wasn’t on her knees asking for a relationship. And there was something so wonderfully freeing about Nia. The way she spoke, the way she moved — it was like a dream. Something that was simple and uncomplicated and yet… fit so well. Zatanna didn’t know how to describe it without sounding pathetic — but she’d blame that on the alcohol.

Between their interaction at the gala and the subway ride, the place they were headed towards couldn’t be close enough. This was their escape. Running from the gala that had largely forgotten Zatanna’s performance at the expo — and finding their way to Nia’s apartment with nothing more on their mind than what they would do once they were there. And no complaints came from Zatanna. “A block and a half?” She tried not to sound disappointed but she waved for Nia to slow down as she pulled off her shoes. “Okay, okay,” she said before nodding her head and quickly moving to match Nia’s pace, smirking at Nia as she glanced at her. “It’s been a while since I spent this much time in heels — I hope you don’t mind.” She didn’t say about what, but Zatanna was clearly getting more comfortable on their way to Nia’s place, pulling some of the fasteners from her hair so that it was loose.

NIA: Normally it didn't feel very far, but Nia's heels making themselves known too. Still, she could see that Zee was unhappy about the prospect of walking that far in hers, even if she'd tried to hide it. Nia slowed to a stop, waiting for Zatanna to catch up and matching her smirk. "It's not as far as it sounds," she promised, though she was half tempted to call an Uber or Lyft. The surcharge at this time of night would be a nightmare after the gala, on the other hand, and Nia had a better idea. "But if your feet are hurting..." Nia pressed her lips together for half a second and raised an eyebrow as she stepped closer. "I could carry you."

She pressed a kiss to Zee's lips, lingering in the moment there. Even as she pulled away, she stayed close, her nose brushing against Zatanna's as she tried to focus on getting them home and not on wanting to keep kissing Zatanna. "Come on, it'll be quicker that way." Nia reached down, unbuckling her sandals and slipping them from her feet. She wasn't too worried about walking barefoot, though whether that was the alcohol, the longing to get home, or actually a good idea remained to be seen.

ZATANNA: She was sure that Nia was right. It was just a short walk from the stop they had gotten off at to Nia’s place but… Zatanna was used to everything happening instantly. Teleporting to where she needed to be, snapping her fingers to change clothing, to the immediate gratification of her magic. But then Nia came up with an offer that gave Zee pause, even more than her hurting feet. (And there was no downside either. Zatanna got to give her feet a break and getting a real lift wasn’t the worst idea she’d heard of.) “That’s one way to sweep me off my feet, if the offer is real.”

Leaning into the kiss, Zatanna closed her eyes and almost melted into it. It was simple and relaxing and noncommittal in a way that was so freeing that made her wonder if Nia felt that same breath of fresh air coming up with this. “Sounds like a plan,” Zee almost whispered as Nia took a small step back. Kicking off her heels, she leaned over and picked them up, holding them gingerly in her hand. “So then…” Zatanna took a step closer to Nia, meeting her gaze but coyly this time. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a lift around here?”

NIA: It had been a while since Nia kissed anyone, but kissing Zee felt like it'd be remarkable no matter what. Certainly it was a remarkable way to end the night, and with no regrets. "It is certainly a real offer." She smiled as Zee agreed to her 'lift', letting the other step away to kick off her heels. Nia tried not to blush as Zee met her gaze coyly, biting her lip and stepping closer again. "Well..."

Riding on her back would probably be the easiest way, but Nia was more than capable of carrying Zee in her arms. So she wrapped one arm under her arms and literally swept Zatanna off her feet, bridal style. "For a girl so beautiful, all you gotta do is ask," she finished. Making sure Zatanna was comfortable, Nia kept walking, her shoes hooked on one finger, carrying her date with ease. Like this, it didn't take long for them to be approaching Nia's apartment building. "Just up here."

ZATANNA: “One way to sweep a girl off her feet.” Her tone stayed in the realm of flirtation. There was an ease and simplicity to this that was easy to fall into. A comfort in Nia’s arms as she held her heels in one hand and wrapped her other arms round Nia’s shoulders. And for a moment, the rest of the world was out of focus. No work. No drama from her magical life. Nothing but the chill in the night air and the feeling of Nia’s breath on her skin.

Pressing a kiss to Nia’s jawline, Zee quickly looked over her shoulders at the approaching apartment. “Do you have roommates? Are we sneaking?” And then, more devilishly, “How quiet do I need to be?”

NIA: Nia chuckled, shaking her hair from where it had fallen in her face when she'd scooped Zatanna up. "What can I say? I'm a natural at it." This was easy, flirting with Zee, like it came naturally. And she was so close to her like this, she felt the excited anticipation rising in her chest. Especially when Zee kissed her jawline. "I do, but she's out tonight. So no, we don't have to sneak." Grinning, she bit her lip and caught Zatanna's lips with her own. "We don't have to be quiet," she replied.

Nia opened the door to the building, climbing up the stairs with Zee in her arms. But as they reached her floor, her happy buzz fell away. Her front door was... open. Yvette would never leave the door open, even if she was home. Nia put Zee down carefully, her eyes on her home. "What the..." She stepped closer, putting Zatanna behind her just in case. When she stepped up and turned the light on, she half expected someone to be standing there. But instead, she gasped.

Glass from the window was scattered on the floor and furniture. Her couches had been ruined, her belongings trashed. And in red spray paint, across the wall, read: EARTH IS FOR HUMANS. TRAITOR. Nia's hands covered her mouth, tears of fear and anger springing to her eyes. "I... Oh..."

ZATANNA: Nia was saying all the right things, and the little add on that her roommate wasn’t home? Even better. It would be easier to just exist in a space. Part of it was Zee knowing that she tended to be vocal — but the other part? It was Zee wanting a private moment. Just one tonight that wasn’t for everyone to watch.  “Good,” Zatanna murmured against her lips, ignoring the feeling in the air that whispered something was amiss. She was too distracted by the feeling of Nia against her body — so she buried the feeling. And didn’t realize that something was actually wrong.

It wasn’t until Nia was setting her down on her two feet, with Zee was quietly protesting, that she realized that her gut feeling that something was off was right. The open door and the broken objects that were seen just inside the threshold… “Emutsoc no.” In whirlwind of magic, Zee’s outfit changed to the one she used when she was working. Fishnets and the top hat, and a clear edge to her eyes as she looked around.

Nia took the lead and Zatanna followed closely behind, preparing herself for whatever might be on the other side of the door — knowing full well it could be a fight. But what was there? Nothing could have prepared Zee for it, and the sound that came from Nia’s mouth? Zee’s heart ached. “Nia,” she whispered the other woman’s name, looking at the red paint that was drawn across the side one of her walls. There was glass and destruction at each turn, like a tornado had ripped through it all. And whatever semblance of romance they had been working on had vanished. “Burcs srettel no llaw,” Zee whispered before stepping to Nia’s side. The letters on the wall were slowly being washed away as if with soap and water while she looked at the windows and the glass. Zee didn’t know how the rest of the apartment looked, but at least she could make it safe for tonight. The emotional damage, however, would remain. Zee couldn’t take that back. Giving Nia an apologetic glance, Zee’s mouth hung open as she shook her head. Quickly, she closed the gap, putting her hands on Nia’s arms. “Make sure your roommate is safe,” Zee urged. “I’ll help you clean up.”

NIA: Nia glanced behind her when she heard Zatanna's spell, impressed somewhere in the back of her mind with the magic. She was more grateful, however, for the clarity in Zee's eyes and the readiness she had as the pair approached the door. No matter what they found, Nia felt confident that Zatanna would hold her own.

Unfortunately they weren't greeted with something simple like a fight. That would've been easier to process than this. Everywhere she looked, she noticed something else broken, from the TV she'd picked up at a second hand shop to Yvette's favourite mug laying in pieces on the floor near the coffee table it had almost certainly been sitting on this morning. Each item--varying in sentimentality--had memories attached. And looking at their broken pieces was doing exactly what the attackers had clearly intended; hurting Nia.

As she stood, unsure of what to even do first, Zee--with that clarity Nia had noted before heading in--stepped up. Cleaning the walls and clearing the glass with magic. "Thank you," she managed, reaching for her phone. Yvette. She ought to be out of town, but Nia had to know for certain. Each ring of the phone felt too loud, only drowned out by the beating of Nia's heart in her ears. Until finally Yvette answered with a surprised 'hello?'. Nia sighed with relief, quickly telling her that there had been a break in and she was just checking Yve was safe.

The phone call didn't last long, and once Yvette hung up, Nia looked up to where the letters had been and let out a strangled laugh. She shut the door behind her (they'd have to fix the lock) and dropped her bag there. "They went to the trouble of finding out where I live but they didn't even find out that I'm..." It shouldn't be funny, but it was. Nia's mother's powers were known in Parthas, it wouldn't be impossible to find out who Nia was if you dug hard enough. But these people called her a traitor instead. She took a deep breath, trying not to cry or scream. "I'm sorry. This... wasn't how I wanted tonight to go."

ZATANNA: She had no idea how Nia must have felt. Everything inside was ruined and Zee, for all the magic she had, was unsure of how much she could fix. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins and it was hard to focus — but Zee moved through Nia’s apartment while she rung her roommate, taking careful glances inside to make sure there was nothing else hidden there for them. Considering how nothing had been left untouched, she doubted that anyone would wait around to face Nia themselves, there was still a chance.

When the phone call ended, Zatanna came back out towards the front room, a hand on her hips as she kept carefully moving through the destroyed objects. “Did you tell her what happened?” Zee didn’t know what answer she wanted there. Nia’s friend knowing what happened changed nothing — maybe it would have been nice to give her a few days of peace.

Following Nia’s movements, Zee rubbed her temple and let out a sigh, willing the stress in her body to exit with the breath. “It’s not your fault, Nia I’m glad — I’m glad you didn’t come home to this alone.” And that was the truth. No matter what Zee’s motivations had been for coming over, now that she was here and in the middle of a storm, she wouldn’t have made a different choice. “You know who did this?” Zee asked, brows furrowed once she realized that Nia all but skirted a confession of being an alien and them not knowing it about her. “Sorry, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ve been gone for the better part of a year and I’m still playing catch up.”

NIA: Nia shook her head. "Um. Not entirely. Just that there'd been a break in. I didn't want her to worry." It wasn't like they were strangers to threats but that didn't mean Nia wanted to ruin Yvette's time away. Really, Nia was relieved that her friend had chosen this weekend to head out of town. But she was second guessing herself. Maybe she should've been truthful with Yvette. Maybe she needed to be a lot more truthful with her housemate than she was currently... About a few more personal things.

Another half hearted laugh left her as Zee assured her it wasn't her fault. She knew that of course, but it felt easier to be angry. Angry at the people who did this and angry at herself for not protecting against it. But she was glad Zee was here too. Without her, Nia isn't sure she would've had the sense to call Yvette or not just break down in tears in the door. "It's alright. I don't know specifically who but... I know why they did it." She gestured to where the text had been. "They think I'm a 'traitor to the planet' for standing up for an alien being harassed. For showing aliens in a positive light in my articles. It's been like this online for weeks I just..." She sighed shakily and shrugged. "Didn't think they'd actually attack my home." Tears rolled down her cheeks despite her best efforts not to cry.

"I don't... I don't regret what I did. I don't. I just... I'm so angry." Nearly her whole life, Nia had had to hide one part of herself or another, or know that by being herself--truly and openly--she risked people reacting negatively. Violence even. She had learnt, mostly, to live with that. But she didn't want to. And she didn't want to be scared.

ZATANNA: Running a hand through her hair, Zatanna nodded her head. It was a kindness that Nia had offered her roommate. Letting her have some peace of mind while they figured out how to put this place back together. But even if she had come over for one thing, Zee was worried about Nia being alone in this place after the break in — after her neighbors hadn’t called the cops or heard  anything — worried that something might happen to Nia the second she turned her back. “Let her have a nice night before she has to come back  and face… this.”

The world might have looked at Zee and seen one thing. A woman in fishnets and heels, waving her hands around and casting spells with backwards words — they probably woulda have assumed she would have left Nia to deal with this on her own. Bowed out the second it got complicated… But the real Zee had a hard time turning her back on anyone who needed help. “Why?” Zee asked, confused for only a moment before Nia explained. “That… the video? The one that went viral in that café?” It had been edited all to hell and Zee had missed so much of what was happening in New York that she wasn’t sure what narrative they were trying to sell. But it was clear that they had tried to demonize Nia. And by the way Nia’s apartment was now… they had succeeded. “I—“ Zee shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Nia.” Stepping closer to Nia, Zatanna put a hand on her arm. Her fingers gently squeezing Nia’s arm. “People like them will do anything to shake your foundation. The number of times I’ve been attacked in my home —“ Zee stopped herself, knowing that she wasn’t helping. “People like that are evil and they will find a way to hurt you and to stop you from doing what you believe in. They don’t realize women like us come back hitting harder.”

Zee nearly choked on the tears that touched Nia’s cheeks. “Hey,” her voice softened, her hand coming up to wipe away the tears before pulling Nia into a hug. Neither of them had imagined the night like this, but Zee was determined to make the best of it. “I’ll stay the night,” Zee said, it wasn’t so much an offer as it was Zee simply saying how it would be. “You’re not alone, okay?”

NIA: "Exactly." Nia was glad Zatanna seemed to understand at least, it made her feel like she hadn't messed up with this. And this was kind of the only way Nia could describe it too. She had no idea where to start with cleaning up. It was overwhelming, and not just because of the scope of the damage. Zee being here for her, when she had signed up for a night of fun not Nia crying because some hateful assholes had smashed up her apartment, meant the world to Nia. It was what she needed right now, more than anything.

She nodded. "Yeah. That one." Nia had tried not to watch it, but she'd caved pretty quickly, needing to know what they were saying. Same with the comments sections until someone had stopped her from spiralling down that rabbit hole. From finding out exactly what people thought of her, what they dug up on her. Splashing her life across the internet. It made her upset, but it also sparked an anger in her. Zee was right, she'd come back hitting harder. Maybe they'd find out just how hard she could hit. But right now she was exhausted.

As Zee pulled her into a hug, Nia crumpled against her. It was like it all finally hit her at once, like Zatanna had broken the spell holding her upright. "Thank you," she murmured, trying not to shake. "Thank you."