#twisted my foot real bad a few days ago and my medication sure is a thing! also im severely sleep deprived! /also lh

[cookies-after-dark]

I haven't even finished my WIPs or my asks yet and I'm already thinking about posting a rent lowering gunshot on this blog

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only! Sexual content, blood, death, questionable morals when Max is involved. Did I mention blood?

My masterlist

Pedro Pascal

Two years, six days and 8 hours ago, you walked into your boss’s office expecting to be fired. It’d only been a few months since you started, but the changeover was hectic, and standards of working slipped through the cracks. 

The fact this was your first corporate job didn’t help. They had hired you under the referral of your old roommate. The idea was a long shot, but you got the job. The hours were long, and the pay was shit, but you didn’t have to sweat your ass off or wear a name tag. 

Overall, being employed at Acla’s Pharmaceuticals wasn’t bad. 

Didn’t mean you wouldn’t get fired for forgetting a coma in paperwork, though. 

Which led to you being called to Max Phillips’ office. Your flats were rubbing against your heel as you walked. The smell of desperation and stale coffee clogged your nose, and, for the life of you, finding his office was impossible. 

The mental math of your budget and bills ran through your head at top speeds. Thoughts of ramen packets and macaroni and cheese blended with your cat’s brand of food. You could afford to feed yourself or your cat for the next three months and, let’s be real, your cat wins. 

Knocking on the door felt wrong. It echoed. 

Your stomach twisted when Mr. Phillips shouted for you to come in. 

It twisted again when you saw blood all over his desk, covering his tie and dripping from the pen in his hand. You wouldn’t say it looked like a massacre. That’d be extreme, but a solid murder was possible. 

Was the blood his? 

Did he mean to call janitorial and got you instead? 

Was that possible? You were in claims which, yes, sucked, but wasn’t near the cleaning crew was it? 

(Not that anything’s wrong with the cleaning crew. You simply hated vacuuming and there seems to be carpet in a lot of places here.) 

Max smiled when he noticed you. 

“Ah, there you are.” The blood dripped off the pen, splattering over paperwork. 

“Um, you needed me Mr. Phillips?”

His smile tilted as he shook his head. “Please, call me Max.” 

“Sorry Mr-.” You paused, “Uh, Max.” 

He rose to his feet, the tie swinging across his white shirt. When you glanced down at it, he followed your gaze and huffed out a laugh. 

“Yes,” He dabbed the tie with his fingers, “You must be wondering why I asked for you.” 

That’s an understatement. 

Did he need an alibi? 

Could you be an alibi? How long were you at work? 

“I was talking to Janet, your office manager. She says quite a few things about you.” His smile widened. “All good things, of course. One thing she mentioned really stuck out. You were a medic, right?” 

You’re not sure if a medic could handle this. How many bandaids did he need?

“Uh,” You tried to look away from the bloody handprint he left when he stepped around the desk, “Not really. I trained in phlebotomy, but had to quit when my sister got sick.” 

Another smile, all teeth, “You worked with blood though, right?” 

“That’s the whole point of phlebotomy.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Max’s smile faded, dripping with blood. He rounded the desk to lean against it, his arms crossed, the red under his fingernails left marks on his suit. 

You were getting fired and, possibly, blamed for murdering someone. 

When Max burst into laughter, it startled you. “Ah, excellent, a sense of humor. That’s what we like around here, Sugar. People who can dish out as good as they get. Did you know Patrick Chambers in HR once did a standup routine for the Christmas party? Guy has the laughs.” 

“I bet.” Jesus, shut up. 

Max clapped his hands together. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d help me with something.” 

When he pushed away from the desk, his foot kicked out, dragging your gaze down and- “That’s a head.” 

“Yes, it is, and you, Sugar, are going to help me keep that from happening.” Once more he smiled, canines extended.

“I’m not being fired?” 

Max winked. “Promoted more like it.” 

Two years, 6 days and 9 hours ago they handed you an NDA with a contract to help Max attain blood donations without killing (sometimes) people. 

(He still killed people, you learned, but only when they didn’t meet their quarterly goals) 

Since that day, you’ve spent hours on end in the man’s office with bags of blood being loaded into a built in cooler. Max wanted to throw them in all at once, but the blood was fragile. You had to make sure they stayed hanging and didn’t congeal before you could store them. Max had a penchant for B+ which meant you had to organize the other types as backups. 

Now and then you got stuck sitting in the office's corner as he held a stranger against the desk and bit down. 

“Nothing beats the fresh stuff, Sugar.” He’d aim a finger gun at you.

“You’re going to run out of suits if you keep it up on the clock.” You’d slip his dry cleaning receipt towards him. 

He’d given you three days off a week. Those three days you lived by a schedule of importance. 

Grocery shopping (vegetarian meals don’t last long) 

Bills (Max pays you a pretty penny) 

Therapy

Therapy is important. 

You’d been worried about the mental trauma you experienced every day working for Max. What gets brought up the most is your inability to form proper boundaries. 

“Your boss expects a lot of you.” Kathryn hums, her eyes focused on yours. 

“The vacation days are wonderful.” They really are. You could take your sister and three friends to San Diego last year for a week and afford to splurge your heart’s content. 

Sometimes, when you’re sitting across from your therapist you think about walking into Max’s office and finding another dead body. You think about the blood covering his suit, coating his hair, the way the air had a copper taste to it. It’d cross your mind faster than a hamster wheel and you always had the same reaction.

Indifference. 

Which, honestly, isn’t a surprise to you. 

You say it’s amazing compartmentalization skills. Kathryn says it’s deeply rooted repression. 

Tomato, tomahto. 

All that being said, nothing would have prepared you to walk into Max’s office on this day. Your bag is heavy over your shoulder with newly bagged blood. The door opened with a squeak, reminding you to ask Hamish for some WD-40. Looking up at the hinges distracts you from the noise. 

The squelch behind your head sounding like Max draining his last baggie. 

Your mind focused intently on what needed to be refilled that it took a solid thirty seconds for you to realize what was happening. 

The flex of Max’s ass, the sharp smack of hips against hips and the muffled moans of the woman he had bent over the desk. The same tie he’d wore the day you thought he’d fire you shoved into her mouth. 

Max had his hand circling her wrist, his other hand pinning her down. 

It wasn’t the blatant and unprofessional display of sex that had your mind reeling. 

It was how good Max looked, his mouth covered in blood, trails of it following the line of his chest. He tossed his jacket and left his shirt open. His slacks pooled around his ankles and you could see the tense hold of his thighs. 

There was blood running from the woman’s neck, her chest, her legs. Max had it on his fingers, caked beneath his nails. 

The first thought that bubbled to the surface and made its way out of your mouth stunned you. “Did you finish the Carpelix file first? 

You rarely remembered the name of the new blood pressure drug. 

Unless it involved your boss’s ass, you guess. 

The woman turned her head before Max did. Her eyes half lidded, spit drowning the tie. She had a pale hue to her skin, the pallor striking next to the dark wooden desk. 

She muffled something around the tie which had Max looking over his shoulder at you. 

“You’re back early.” He fucked into her, hard, jarring the desk that held them up. 

“Traffic was light.” With that, you walked towards the cooler. 

There was only one baggie left like you expected. An O negative, his least favorite. You tried not to stock up too much on O blood types. Sometimes you didn’t get lucky enough to wrangle A or B types and Max could suck it up. Literally. 

“Did you stop for bagels?” He sounded closer. You glanced back and shook your head as he buttoned up his pants. 

The woman was squirming, her hands slipping in the blood as she lifted herself up. You raised a brow at Max who looked down at the woman and frowned. 

“Regina,” He pulled her up, “You’ve met before, right?” He waved a hand towards you, the other circling her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

The woman, Regina, squinted at you. “I don’t know.” 

You squinted yourself, looking closer as Max slid his hand up her side. He cupped her breast his thumb brushing her nipple, and she shivered.

Max tilted her chin to the side, aiming her full gaze at you. 

“Regina Mallord.” You rolled your eyes. “She rear-ended my car a few months ago.” 

He smiled, “Did she?” 

Regina was whining as Max played with her, his fingers moving across her chest, over her nipples and back. She squirmed in his hold as blood dripped down her neck. Some of it dried around her collar bone, fingerprints marking through the path. 

“If I remember correctly,” Max murmured, “Your car was in the shop for a week, right? If I also remember, you had to Uber to work.”

You rolled your eyes again, “Yes, Max. You complained about me being late for a week straight — I wasn’t late. You’re just impatient in the mornings.” 

He nips at Regina’s ear. “I really am.” There’s a moment, a single moment, where your eyes meet. 

Max winks again, slowly, his mouth stretching as his face contorts, brow scrunching. The veins along his temples darkened before he opens his mouth wide and rips Regina’s throat out. 

Both of you watch her body hit the floor with a wet crash. 

You sigh, “What was the point of that?”

Max nudges her arm with his foot, stepping over her to move closer to you. “She was in the break room when I went to clean my cup.” 

“So, you decided to fuck her then kill her?” 

He reached out, his finger tracing the line of your jaw, “I planned on only killing her, but I got a bit rowdy.” 

You swiped his hand away. “A bit?” 

Max stepped closer, leaning against the cooler, his hand coming back up to touch your necklace. “I saw her car yesterday. I recognized it from you showing me the cameras. You had to pay almost 3000 to get your car fixed.” 

“Yeah,” You didn’t swipe him away this time, let him drag a path from your neck to your jaw, “That’s what I get for forgetting to re-up my insurance.” 

Max quirked a brow. “You’re a treasure, Sugar.” 

“You say that because I don’t question,” You directed your gaze at Regina’s body, “that.” 

“Hmm, yeah.” He leaned closer, “but also because you make my day a little better.”

A spike of pleasure shot down your spine, heat curling in your belly. Max’s eyes were deep pools that crinkled when he smiled. There was an innocence to them, a puppy dog look that made it hard to tell him no. 

It’s worse when he tilts his lips into a smile and aims his attention at you. 

You’d blame it on his hypnosis abilities, but you knew the truth — Max Phillips is a gorgeous son of a bitch. People rotate between wanting to stake him in the heart or suck his dick. 

Right now, you want to do both. 

Mostly the dick part. 

The other would spill more blood and Jeffery will have a hell of a time as is. 

“Sugar,” He drew your attention back to him, “How about I take you for dinner tonight?” 

You sigh, “Max,” His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah?” Another look at your lips. His tongue darts out to lick away the blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“Tomorrow is the corporate meeting.” Max frowns. 

“That’s not until July.” 

“Max,” His mouth flattens, “It is July.” 

The kiss was tangy, his lips sliding along yours. His tongue taste of blood, coffee, and something else. Something deeper. It tastes of Max. 

“Sugar,” He whispers when he pulls back, “Let me take you to dinner. It’s the least I could do for all that you do.” 

“Max.” 

“I love hearing you say my name.” He kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, harder his arm circling your waist to press you to his chest. 

What does it say about you that this was the best kiss you’ve ever had? Having Max Phillips groaning into your mouth, his fingers digging into your hip. You can feel the shift of his legs as he turned you around to press against the wall. 

The way his body fits against yours makes your knees weak. 

Your mind reeled, making you dizzy headed as he nipped at your jaw, down your neck. It was heady, heavy, the air thick around you. 

Your eyes fell on Regina’s dead body, and the kissing stopped. 

“Max.” He buries his face in your neck, “Max.” You push at his shoulder. 

He sighs, “Yes?” 

You aim your gaze at the corpse. “She’s staining the carpet.” 

Max barks out a laugh loud enough that it startles you. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, yeah? For now, you mind calling the cleaning staff and make sure Jeffery brings more than one bag.” 

Two years, 6 days and 10 hours since you thought you were going to be fired, and you had a date with your boss and call for a body clean up. 

Yay.

I have a whole thing with Max killing people for reader 🤨

[starryknight09]

Slow it down Speedy Gonzales

Febuwhump Day 25: car accident

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“A little slower.  A little slower.  A little slower!” Tony commanded, gripping the edges of the passenger seat in his Audi.

“I thought you were supposed to be some sort of daredevil driver.” Peter rolled his eyes but kept staring straight ahead instead of looking over at Tony.  It’d taken the first three outings to finally get the whole keeping your eyes on the road thing ingrained into him.

“Yeah, when I’m driving.  Not when you’re driving.” Tony said.

“I’m only going sixty.”

“And the speed limits is fifty five so slow it down Speedy Gonzales.” Tony ordered, unable to relax from his ramrod straight position.  He thought the whole teaching Peter how to drive thing would eventually get easier, but it hadn’t.  It was times like these he wished May was still around, even though he had a feeling he would’ve been the one saddled with the job of teaching the kid how to drive regardless.

“Speedy what?” Peter asked.

“Speedy Gonazales.  From Looney Tunes?”

Peter scrunched up his face.  “Not ringing any bells.  Is that like an old people cartoon?”

“An old—  Listen kid—” He never got to finish his sentence.

Peter gasped and wrenched the steering wheel and the next moment Tony felt it as they went weightless.  He didn’t even have time to panic.  The car flipped in the air and slammed into the road, rolling over and over until it came to an abrupt stop.

**********

Tony opened eyes he didn’t realize he’d closed and frowned.  Everything looked wrong for some reason.  He blinked away the wetness dripping into his eye as he stared out the windshield.  Why did it look weird?  Oh. The world was upside down.  How the hell had that happened?  It took him another few long seconds to come back to the reality of their situation.    They’d crashed the car.  Peter had crashed the car.  Oh shit.  Peter.

“Pete?” He mumbled as he started taking stock of himself.  He wiggled his toes, then moved his feet and his legs.  Nothing hurt.  He did the same thing with his arms.  Maybe he’d escaped unscathed.  Or maybe he was in shock and just couldn’t feel it yet.  

“Kid?” He tried again.  When he still got no response, he turned his head toward him, pieces of glass clinking to the ground from the movement.  Peter sat slumped in the driver’s side seat, eyes closed and not moving.

“Peter!” He yelled, but he got no response.  Shit.  He braced an arm against the ground, which was actually the roof of the car, and used his other hand to grip the shoulder belt and follow it to the buckle at his side.  It only took a few tries of grappling with it to get it to unclip.  He managed to cushion his fall the short distance to the ground, but the impact still made him wince as it rattled his sore head.

He groaned and twisted around so he could crawl the rest of the way out of the car through the passenger window.  Once he made it out, he stood and staggered to the other side of the car, falling to his knees to peer into the broken window at his kid.  

“Peter.” He reached his arm in and shook Peter’s shoulder.  Still nothing.  Panicking, he checked Peter’s pulse at his neck and after a second he felt the steady drumming of his heart.  Thank god.  He sighed in relief and sat back on his knees, looking around.  The driver’s side of the front end had wrapped around a road sign but the car had landed mostly in the ditch, so they weren’t like sitting ducks in the middle of the road at risk of getting hit.  Although the likelihood of that was already pretty low since they were in the middle of nowhere.  No cars had passed to help.  He was obviously going to have to get help elsewhere.

Thankfully, his phone remained undamaged in his pocket.  He pulled it out and brought it to his ear.  “FRI?  We crashed the Audi.  I need you to send a team with medical to my location.”

“Yes Boss.” FRIDAY answered and a few seconds later added, “They’re on their way.  ETA fifteen minutes.”  At least they weren’t too far from the compound.  Tony pocketed his phone and took a deep breath as he crouched back down to prod at Peter again.  Wait.  What was that smell?  He sniffed again and his eyes widened.  Oh shit.  Gas.  He knew in situations like this you weren’t supposed to move the victim but now he had no choice.

“Pete?  Peter?  Come on kid.  Rise and shine.” He harassed, trying to wake Peter while he reached in to unbuckle his seatbelt.

As the seat belt gave way, he caught Peter with his metal arm, lowering him to the roof of the car.  Peter groaned.  Ok.  Good.  That was progress at least.

“Pete, are you awake?” He tried again but just got another groan in response.  “Can you help me out a little here?  No?  All right that’s ok.  I gotcha.”

He grabbed under Peter’s armpits and started pulling, making progress as Peter slid out the shattered window, but after a few inches, he came to an abrupt stop.

Tony frowned and tugged again but Peter didn’t move.  He was stuck.  Tony peered in to try to see what the problem was, and it didn’t take too long to find it.  His kid’s leg was caught, pinched under the warped brake pedal.  Tony craned farther in and grabbed at Peter’s ankle trying to pull it free from every angle possible without any success.

“Shit.” He swore and then another smell invaded his nostrils.  Smoke.  Which meant fire.  He whipped backward out of the car so fast he slammed his already sore head on the edge of the window frame.  The source of the problem because obvious right away.  Smoke emitted from the crumpled hood.  Things had just gone from bad to worse.

“Peter!  Wake up!” He shook his kid again, trying more desperately to wake him.  With his super spider powers he should be able to get out of this.  It’s too bad he didn’t have the Ironman nanohousing with him because the suit would’ve come in more than handy right now, but he hadn’t anticipated needing it on a joy ride with his kid.  If only he—

Wait.  He was an idiot.  He wasn’t helpless.  He had his nanotech arm.  How could he have forgotten about that?  Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought.  He practically dove back into the smoking car, twisting so he could reach the pedal with his arm, fumbling with it until he got a good grip on it and pulled.  The metal pedal bent away from Peter’s foot as easy as slicing through butter.

Tony wasted no time grabbing his kid and dragging him out.  He’d gotten about twenty feet away when the car exploded.  Tony threw himself over Peter, shielding him from the blast.  The heat warmed his back but didn’t burn and they luckily didn’t get hit by any flying debris.  After a few seconds, he uncurled from around Peter to look back at the fireball of a car.  That was going to be a complete loss, if it hadn’t been already.

He glanced back down at Peter.  That had been close.  Too close.  Thank god he’d had his nanotech arm or his kid might still be in there.  It was the first time since he’d lost his arm that he could ever remember being grateful for it.  He’d spend months resenting it, feeling incomplete and hating being left with evidence of his sacrifice.  Now all he felt was gratitude.  If he hadn’t lost his arm, he never would’ve made the nanotech arm, and his kid would be dead right now.  He wasn’t a big believer in fate, but if it did exist, maybe this was it.  The moment.  The entire reason he’d lost his arm and needed to build himself a better one.  So he could have it when he needed it to save his kid.  One thing was for sure, he was never going to think a single bad thing about it ever again.

Peter groaned and blinked, frowning up at him.  “Tony?”

“Yeah.  Right here.  You ok?”

Peter closed his eyes and considered it for a few seconds before answering, “I think so.  My head kind of hurts, but not too bad.”

“Good.” Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re bleeding.” Peter motioned toward his head.

Tony finally swiped a hand across the wetness trailing down his temple and cheek.  His palm came back red, but it didn’t seem so bad.  “Don’t worry kid.  I’m ok.” He gave Pete a smile.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked as he pushed off the ground so he was sitting next to Tony.  

“Yeah.”

“Oh shit.  Is that the car?” Peter asked in shock the second he caught sight of the mangled and burning Audi.

“Yeah.” Tony patted him on the shoulder but kept the touch light in case he was bruised there.  “I’ve got to give it to you kid.  You don’t do things halfway.”

Peter’s jaw dropped and he looked up at Tony with real fear in his eyes.  “Oh my god.  I’m so sorry!  I didn’t mean to.  Oh my god.  Oh my god.”  Peter brought his hands up to his head and fisted his hair.

“Pete, it’s ok.” He reassured.

“No it’s not!  I wrecked your car!  I can’t believe I did that.  Oh my god.  I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry Tony!”

“Hey.” Tony said as he worked to unclasp his kid’s hands from his hair.  “Listen.  It’s fine.  It’s just a car.”

“It’s like a hundred thousand dollar car!  It’s your favorite car!” Peter’s eyes went as wide as saucers and he looked absolutely horrified.

“Well it’s my fault for letting you drive it.” He tried to joke, but it had the opposite effect as Peter started taking in short gasping breaths, clearly panicking.

“Hey, I’m kidding.  I’m kidding kid.  Stop.  Stop!” Tony squeezed Peter’s hands.  “Look at me.”

Peter did, but Tony hated that he still looked scared.

“I don’t give a shit about the car.”

“But—"

“It’s only a car.  I can buy a new car.  It’s just a bunch of metal and bolts and paint.  Easily replaceable.  You’re not.  All that matters to me is that you’re ok.  Got it?”

Peter nodded hesitantly.  “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Tony scoffed.  “But maybe we’ll cool it on the driving lessons for a little while.  I think this might be a sign.”

“Yeah you might be right.” Peter winced.  “This is the second car I’ve totaled.”

“What?”

“Remember I told you I took Flash’s car as Spiderman to chase after the Vulture during Homecoming?  And then I wrecked it?”

“Oh right.” Tony nodded.  He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about that, although for him it’d been seven years ago compared to Peter’s two.  Huh.  The kid really wasn’t good with cars.  “You know, you don’t really need to learn how to drive.  I can just hire you your own personal chauffeur to drive you around for the rest of your life.”

Peter huffed out a laugh.  “My own Happy?”

“Exactly.” Tony smiled.

“I’ll think about it.” Peter said.

“Ok.  So, now that we’ve established I’m not mad, how did this happen anyway?” Tony gestured toward the smoking husk of a car.

“You didn’t see?” Peter asked in surprise.

“No.  I was looking at you.  I didn’t see anything.”

“Oh.  There was a deer in the middle of the road.”

“A deer.” Tony deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

“And you swerved out of the way to keep from hitting it, and lost control of the car.” Tony stated, easily imagining how the entire scenario had played out.

Peter nodded.  “I didn’t want to hit Bambi.”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Kid, next time just hit the deer.”

[azozzoni]

VDS part 13.

*

“You’ve got to stop,” Kes said as he skated up to Lucas, kicking his board into his hand and plopping down on the side of the ramp next to Lucas.

“Stop what?”

Kes gave him a look and Lucas could only sigh, clicking out of his text messages. There was nothing there. No response from Jens even though it had been two days since Lucas had sent his last message, told Jens to choose.

“He still hasn’t responded?” Kes asked, nudging Lucas’ foot with his own.

Shaking his head, Lucas tucked the phone away with a sigh. “Guess that means he chose.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected. After all, what he and Jens had been doing was mostly making out, sharing joints, a one-time blow job that Lucas had thought had been pretty amazing. Apparently not amazing enough. He shouldn’t have expected that to be enough for Jens to actually want to be with him.

“Well, he chose wrong,” Kes said simply, reassuring, but it didn’t make Lucas feel any better.

Looking away from Kes, Lucas pushed a hand through his hair, raking his curls in front of his eyes. He didn’t really want to talk about Jens or how stupid he felt for thinking they might have had something real.

“I should get going,” he said when neither he nor Kes continued the conversation. “Make sure my mom’s okay.”

Kes watched Lucas climb up from the edge of the ramp, dusting off his jeans and zipping up his jacket. “We should do something tomorrow, just you and me.”

Lucas smiled slightly at Kes’ offer. A few months ago, it would have been the only thing he wanted to do. But now, the idea of wallowing at home all day by himself was equally desirable.

“I’ll text you,” he said instead of agreeing, and Kes nodded slowly.

“You’ll find somebody great,” he said, and Lucas didn’t scoff despite how stupid it sounded. As if he would ever find anyone. Jens had been a fluke, a chance meeting at a cafe with Ralph there, bold enough to shove Lucas into oncoming traffic. It wouldn’t happen again.

Lucas left the skate park, taking the long way home, frowning as he passed by the cafe. He purposefully avoided looking inside, shuffling faster towards home.

“Luc!”

Lucas was turning the corner onto his street when a voice behind him stopped him. His heart nearly stopped when he turned to see Jens heading towards him. He had his hoodie pulled up over his head, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, a backpack on as if he’d come straight from school.

Staring, Lucas opened his mouth but he couldn’t find the words between all the thoughts jumbling around his head. What was Jens doing here? He hadn’t even bothered to respond to Lucas’ text from days ago. And now he was stepping up to Lucas on his grey street, eyes darting down him as if to make sure it was really him.

“Hey,” Jens said finally as Lucas just stared at him. He actually sounded a little out of breath, as if he’d been hurrying to catch him.

“What,” Lucas managed to get out, shaking his head. “What are you doing here?”

Jens jerked his shoulders, scrunching them up in the cold, and that wasn’t an answer. Not for Lucas, who had been staring at his unanswered message for two days.

“I fucked up,” Jens said, and it wasn’t the answer Lucas was expecting. Blinking, he frowned up at Jens, the way the chill breeze blew his hair in his eyes, but Lucas didn’t suggest they go inside, walk the few feet down the block to his house.

“You fucked up,” he repeated slowly, biting his bottom lip as he tried to work out what that meant exactly.

It was only the second time Jens seemed something other than confident. In fact, he seemed nervous as he pressed his fists into his pockets, sweatshirt straining against the pressure.

“I thought that I didn’t want a relationship,” he said after a minute, cheeks red, but that might have been from the wind. “My last one, well, I kind of fucked that up too.”

Lucas shook his head. “When did I ever say I wanted that?”

“You didn’t,” Jens admitted, lifting his gaze to Lucas. Lucas wanted to be mad. He wanted to be angry that Jens had ditched him with a shitty excuse, gone hot and cold on him all at the same time. But Jens standing in front of him, shoulders hunched, looking guilty and regretful, it made it hard to stay mad. “I got stuck in my own head. When you said you’d come out, that your friend told you to ‘lock it down,’ I panicked.”

“You panicked?” Lucas repeated, surprised. The Jens he knew was cool and suave and didn’t panic over things like relationships. Maybe he didn’t know as much as he thought.

“Robbe kept asking about what we were doing, and I didn’t know. And last time, I lied, and she cheated, and it was a mess. I was afraid it would be the same.” Jens looked away, over to one of the neighbor’s houses. The lights were off, nobody home, and Lucas watched Jens instead. “I thought if I could prove that I didn’t care about you, things would be fine.”

“That’s nice.” Lucas scowled, but Jens seemed to realize he’d said the wrong thing as his eyes went wide.

“But I was wrong,” he said quickly. “I went to that stupid party without you, and all I kept wishing was that you were there.”

For a long moment, Lucas didn’t speak. It was getting bone-chillingly cold as evening fell, but he didn’t invite Jens in. Not yet.

“Coming out was hard,” he said finally, meeting Jens’ gaze, the uncertainty in his face. “But I wanted to tell my friends about me, about you. And then you turned around and acted like we weren’t anything.”

Jens grimaced. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Lucas hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at his house. His mom was probably inside, wrapped up in her covers, unable to move. He had to go check on her, try to get her to take her medication. He couldn’t stand here all night in the cold.

“I don’t have time to deal with relationship drama,” he said finally even though his heart throbbed as he said it. “With my mom and everything, I can’t deal with it.”

“You said, either we’re doing this or we’re not,” Jens said, reaching for Lucas before he could turn away, before he could go through with it even though he really didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to walk away from Jens, the only guy he’d ever felt anything like this for before. “I want to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Lucas said, shaking his head, watching Jens and wondering why everything had to be so complicated. Couldn’t they have just gone on doing what they were doing? Would they have eventually stopped? Or would they have eventually become real boyfriends without all this drama? Lucas didn’t have an answer.

“Neither do you,” Jens pointed out, stepping closer to Lucas. Lucas could feel the warmth of his body, and he closed his eyes for a second. It would be so easy to just give in, to Jens’ slight smile, the way he smoothed his fingers down Lucas’ arm, anchoring in his jacket sleeve as though he wasn’t going to let Lucas walk away. “We could fuck it up together.”

Lucas could hear the smile, the hope in Jens’ voice. He wanted to frown, to shove Jens’ hand away and tell him he was being stupid. Maybe he was being stupid. Maybe this was a bad idea in the first place. But Lucas did none of those things. Instead, he felt a ripple of hope in his stomach, rising into his chest as he gazed up at Jens, the sincerity in his gaze.

“Why didn’t you just text me back?” he asked after a minute, and Jens seemed to let out a breath, as though Lucas’ words were enough to reassure him.

“It seemed like more of an in-person thing,” he said, smiling finally. “That and if I’d done it over text, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He leaned in slowly, cold hands coming up to Lucas’ jaw as he kissed him. It was like being transported somewhere else, to a place where Lucas didn’t have to think about his mom or the past couple days of anxiety twisting his stomach every time his phone vibrated with a notification.

He licked his lips slowly as Jens moved back, still close enough that Lucas didn’t open his eyes right away.

“I have to go check on my mom,” he said finally, hearing Jens’ exhale, almost defeated.

Opening his eyes, Lucas moved back, watching Jens chewing on his tongue as if trying to think if there was anything else he could say to change Lucas’ mind.

It might have been a mistake, Lucas thought as he pulled his hand from his pocket. It might have been, but he was willing to take that chance.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to Jens, who stared at it for a second before his eyes flicked to Lucas’ face, checking if he was serious. “It’s cold.”

Jens’ fingers wrapped around his and Lucas turned, leading the way down the street towards his house. As the door closed behind them, Lucas caught Jens’ gaze, the smile there. Inside, Lucas pulled off his jacket and waited for Jens to do the same, eyes gliding down Jens’ chest. As he met Jens’ gaze finally, he had only one thought: this time was going to be different.

*

A/N: There are a few more little codas to come, but you could take this as the end if you wanted. I hope you all enjoyed and had a good time!

[minniemixe]

Beauty And The Beast

Gangster AU

Stray Kids Fanfic

Chan x Reader

Other Appearances: GOT7 BTS

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of stabbing

A/N: So these have been sitting in my drafts for over 7-8 months now, I wasn't really satisfied with what I wrote, around 5 chapters are already written, and since I wrote them a long time ago, Woojin is part of these series, I'm sorry I know he left but I wrote this before he left and I'd have to rewrite the entire story again if I were to remove him. I'm sorry, but please bear with me, he will not be added to my upcoming stray kids series. Thank you 😅😅. I proofread this a few times but if there are any typos please let me know 😊.

Beauty And The Beast Masterlist

Chapter 2

The entire gang was gathered in a hallroom that seemed to be a kind of place where important meetings would be held.

“Let’s get a few things straight. You will answer every question asked honestly, otherwise there will be consequences. You will be trained individually by each member, after general training which is phase one, there will be a test which will determine whether you're the one for field missions or not. Once phase one is complete, you’ll be moved to phase two, in which you will be trained for using weapons, in the end you get to choose the weapon of your choice. Phase three will determine your rank and position among the gang. You can go up in ranking but your position stays the same throughout. And lastly phase four will be a loyalty test. When you pass all four phases will be when we start to trust you. Until then you will be under supervision at all times. You will not be told our real names until you pass all the tests. With that being said lets begin with the introductions” the leader looked at the girl after the speech.

“Let's start from you, tell us your name” he pointed at her

“My name is-” she stopped mid sentence. Taking a look around the room, she realized this was her new life, everything she knows and loves is now her past.

“My name is Moon” the leader looked at her questioningly when she said that

“This is my new life, everything I know and love is now in the past. I can’t go back there, this is a new beginning. So Moon, that’s my name. I’m starting over.” Moon explained

“Fair enough. I’m CB97. I’m the leader. That’s all you need to know for now”

“I’m Woo, second in command, sniper and medic.”

“Lee Know, I do the spying and undercover work”

“SpearB, task force leader and Tech”

“HH, Spy and undercover”

“Freckles, SpearB’s right hand man and undercover”

“J.One, sniper and spy”

“Dandy, Tech leader”

“I’m I.N, I’m with Dandy and Anna”

“El, sniper and spy”

“Bree, Tattoo artist, sniper and task force”

“Anna, Medic and undercover”

“Liv, medic and task force”

“Your training starts tomorrow morning, Bree will be your first trainer. Dismissed.” With that everyone left one by one, leaving Moon by herself, she looked out from the large window to see the foreign land outside. The sky was pitch black, no stars in sight, she thought about how in a way it represented her life, dark and empty. But she was determined to change that, nights aren't always like this, the moon is bound to come out from behind the clouds and light up the dark. With that thought she too left the hall to return to her designated room. As she was opening the door to her room someone called her, she turned around to see HH standing at the door of the room across from hers “yes?” she asked

“You look calm, for someone who just joined a gang” he said

“There’s not much I can do, this is my new life after all” Moon replied

“New life? You’re saying that as if it’s a good thing.” he scoffed before continuing “This new life, is not what you think, this is your worst nightmare, by the time you get a grasp of this so called new life, you’ll be crying for your old life, you shouldn’t have taken your father’s place, he was old he was gonna die anyway, but you, you just bought yourself a one way ticket to hell” he towered over her petite figure, glaring down at her

“I’ll get through it, it can’t be that bad, you’re here, so I don’t see why I can’t be” she looked back at him with fierce eyes, she was determined to prove herself.

“Not that bad? Oh sweetheart we’re going to completely break you and then build you back up. You really think you can take that” he questioned her

“Of Course I can, and it’s not like I have any choice” she gave him a fake smile

“Who said you don’t have a choice?” he asked her, at which she gave him a confused look. He leaned close to her ear and whispered “You can always die” he smirked at her reaction and walked back to his room slamming the door loudly.

“By all means do shoot me in the head then” she sarcastically spoke before going into her own room.

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

Morning came too soon for Moon’s liking, it was like she closed her eyes for one second and morning was here. Getting up from bed, freshening up, she put on a pair of black skinnies and a white t-shirt and made her way downstairs. She was met with 3 pairs of eyes looking at her from across the lounge. “Oh Good you’re awake, Bree is making breakfast, tell her you’re awake so she can make some for you too” Dandy spoke.

“Thank you for the offer but I’ll just have some water, I’m not a breakfast person” Moon replied

“Well starting from today you are, you need the energy for training” El spoke from behind her, making Moon flinch a little from the sudden voice. She nodded her head and made her way to the couch next to Dandy.

“I’m going to help Bree with the breakfast, you all behave” El said, emphasizing on the word ``behave while pointing towards Freckles and Liv, both of them shrugging their shoulders.

Moon sat awkwardly at the side while the other 3 engaged in a conversation.

“In what year were you born?” Liv asked

“Me?” Moon pointed to herself

“Yes you dumbo” she giggled, all eyes now on her.

“2000” Moon answered

“Wait what??? You look so much younger, I thought you were younger than Liv” Dandy said

“Hahaha Thanks, I guess” she awkwardly replied

“Month?” Freckles asked, surprising Moon with his deep voice, how come I didn’t notice last night, she thought to herself

“October, uuh 5th October” she replied

“So you’re older than me and younger then these two by a month” Liv spoke

“Which year were you born in?” Moon questioned

“2002, which means I’m 18” she replied

“Did you have a job before coming here?” Freckles asked

“I own an online business, basically I anonymously do what my clients ask me to do, it could be hacking, it could be designing an entire software, or developing a program, anything related to computers honestly. It’s one of the biggest illegal online platforms. It’s called GhostLand (a/n: I hope this doesn’t already exist and sorry I suck at coming up with nice names)”

“Wait YOU’RE the one who runs GhostLand!?” Dandy exclaimed

“Yes? Why do you sound so surprised?” Moon asked

“Because you may or may not be the one who basically taught me everything I know” Dandy answered

“Wait what? You’re one of my students?” Moon was so surprised at this point

“He’s your student, aren’t you like 16” CB spoke from behind her

“Do I really look that young, I mean I’m not complaining, but 16? I’m 20” Moon turned around to speak

“You’re tiny, that’s why” he said getting closer to her face, smirking at her

Moon’s heartbeat increased due to the close proximity of his face, Damn you’re hot, she thought.

“Looks like I’ll now be giving you lessons in person” Moon spoke, trying to distract herself from the attractive man sitting beside her on the sofa’s arm.

“Wait does that mean she knows more than you” Liv questioned

“Not necessarily, I mean he subscribed with me to learn hacking and creating viruses. In that area I may be the one to know more, because I’m not going to teach him everything that I know, he could potentially use it against me” Moon explained

“Did you know about Dandy’s identity when he became your student, like his real name, age and other things” The leader interrogated

“No, I only knew his username which also happened to be Dandy_Boi”

“And you never did a background check” he questioned

“Anonymity is essential between me and my clients, they don’t know who I am and I don’t ask for their identity either, my only concern is the money I make. The only time I do background check is when they try to hack my server. Which has only been twice, both times with the police.”

“Impressive, you’re not all useless” the leader commented.

“Useless?!?!?!?!? Excuse you but I’m not useless, and you should know that, if I was useless as you claim I am, I wouldn’t be here, I cracked all your security protocols and walked right into your house, if anything your security is useless” Moon was furious, she hated being talked down to.

“Feisty, you’ll fit right in” he patted her head and left, surprising everyone.

“Wow, someone’s the leader’s favorite already” Dandy smiled at Moon.

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

Dodging Bree’s third attack, Moon lost her footing and fell down.

“You’re familiar with a lot of moves” Bree stated

“Well, a girl’s gotta know how to defend herself in this cruel world” Moon answered.

“Are you sure that’s all there is”

“What do you mean?” Moon questioned

“I don’t know, something is fishy about you, I can’t seem to put a finger on it” Bree said

“Yeah? Like what?” Moon threw a punch, “Like your father not being able to pay the debt.” Bree successfully dodged her “You showing up within days of him being taken in” she continued, punching Moon in the stomach “You owning one of the largest online illegal platforms” Bree kicked her leg causing her to fall flat on her back. Moon recovered quickly, getting up she attacked Bree again “Trust me, it’s all just a coincidence”. Bree twisted Moon’s arm and locked it around her neck “See that’s the thing we ca- ooff” Moon elbowed Bree in the side of her stomach catching her off guard. “Trust me? I know, that’s why I’m willing to do anything to earn it” quickly spinning around she kicked Bree in her stomach causing her to stumble back and collide with the wall. “That won’t be easy” Bree said walking towards her “I know” Moon sighed.

“You’re good and fast at learning, You’ll pass phase one quickly” Bree assured the girl

“Thank you, what’s next?” she asked

“Nothing, you’re dismissed for today, we’ve been doing this for more than 5 hours, it’s almost dinner time” Bree told and left the girl alone in the gym.

For the next few days Moon trained with Bree, learning new tricks quickly, the older woman was impressed with how quickly she was adapting. Her next instructor was SpearB. He had a triangular face and he gave off a dark aura, he wasn’t much taller than Moon but he was muscular which made him look much larger than the girl he was training. With him, training wasn’t easy due to the difference in size. With Bree, even though Moon had less experience, both the girls were skinny and there wasn’t much difference in size other than Bree being taller than Moon. However with SpearB, Moon proved to be much weaker than him. Training with him always ended with her in multiple bruises on her body and a split lip every time. After two weeks and an extremely aching body, Moon was finally able to win against SpearB, but not with strength rather by using tricks.

Her next training session was with HH, this wasn’t going to be easy considering neither of them got along with the other. “Today we’re going to be using knives” HH smirked at Moon “Knives??? Isn’t weapon training in phase two?” She asked

“Sweetheart your opponent isn’t going to play fair, if they run out of bullets they’ll fight you with fist and knives. It won’t be a martial arts ring, there will be no rules, you’ll be in a do or die situation, you need to be ready for anything.” he explained

Moon was dreading training with HH, he would cut her with his knife every chance he got, by the end of fifth day Moon had a large scar on her thigh and across her back along with other small cuts around her body. However Moon was learning quickly so she didn’t spare HH either, he too had a small scar across his chest. Today was no different, the two had been training for hours on end, Moon was able to successfully dodge his attacks until he swiped his knife under Moon’s right breast, cutting her and ruining her training bra. “Son of a bitch” Moon cursed. She kicked him in his side, making him stumble. She went to punch him but he grabbed her arm and twisted her around locking her in a chokehold, Moon grabbed her knife that was tucked in the waist of her shorts and cut his forearm, once she was out of his grasp she went to kick him again until he fell, straddling his lap she pinned him to the ground putting her knife against his throat “You’re dead” she spoke. Suddenly she felt pain in her side, she looked down to see the cause, to find his knife stabbed in her waist.

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

A/N: I added a few extra characters (girls) cuz I just thought 9 boys with one girl was kinda overrated.

[ejzah]

Prompt: Deeks complains about his broken toe until Kensi kisses him because she can't resist his "hurt puppy" act.

“Kensi, my toe hurts,” Deeks whined, shifting uncomfortably beside her on the couch.

“Well, the doctor did tell you not to put too much pressure on it,” Kensi reminded him. He shifted again, blowing out a breath reminiscent of a woman in labor.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice. It’s not like I wanted to chase that guy.” Kensi fixed him with a dubious look, not buying his excuse.

“You could have let someone else do it.” Deeks scoffed.

“You guys were busy.”

“We were just across the parking lot,” Kensi replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, well, excuse me for trying to save your life,” Deeks said dramatically, with a hint of real annoyance in his voice. Kensi finally looked over at him and noticed the fine line of pain between his eyebrows.

“Does it really hurt that much?” she asked with growing sympathy. Deeks groaned, covering his face with hands.

“Yes. I’ve had broken bones before, bullet wounds, and concussions, but I swear this hurts more. There is absolutely no good reason why there’s so many nerves in our toes.” Only Deeks’ distressed expression kept Kensi from laughing at him.

“Why don’t you let me take a look?” She gestured to the other side of the couch and Deeks sighed, swinging his leg onto the cushion. Careful not to jar his foot too much, Kensi removed the boot and then unwound the bandage around his big toe.

She hissed despite herself. Two days ago his toe had been swollen and she thought it looked pretty bad. Now it had turned a deep purplish-blue, almost black, color and appeared nearly twice its normal size.

“Is it bad?” Deeks asked, still covering his eyes.

“Don’t you want to see?” she asked, vaguely amused by her ridiculous husband.

“Nope.” His voice was absolute. “That’ll just make it hurt more.”

“Ok, then. Well, I’m not a medical professional, but I’d say you probably shouldn’t do anymore running for the next few weeks.” She gently ran the tip of her finger over the very top of his toe and he jerked as though she twisted it. Wincing she added, “and maybe get another x-ray to make sure you didn’t make it worse.”

“This sucks,” Deeks muttered, finally uncovering his eyes. He was definitely pouting, his eyes downcast and his arms crossed.

“Cheer up, baby. It’s not going to be broken forever,” she said, but Deeks just sighed again. Placing her hands on either side of his neck, she pulled him forward and kissed him soundly.

“What was that for?” he asked, looking mildly less grumpy.

“I don’t like to see you unhappy.” she said simply, rubbing her finger over his bottom lip.

“Well, I’m significantly less unhappy than I was 10 seconds ago,” he said with a slight, possibly sheepish, smile. “Sorry for complaining so much.” Ruffling his hair, she shrugged.

“Hey, what else are wives for?” She kissed him again and added, “and thank you for trying to protect me even though you’re hurt. I appreciate it.”

“Mm. To answer your question about what wives are for...” Deeks trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, you think your foot can take it?” Kensi asked and he pulled her into his lap.

“I’ll survive,” he assured her.

***

Thanks for the prompt!

[timelords-angel-is-sherlocked]

Supernatural Supercorp AU

"Lena's on a hunting trip and she hasn't been home in a few days."

Kara's world titled on its axel and she felt her heart drop. Lena had been silent for a week but Kara hadn't thought much of it. She couldn't think much of it or else she would start spiraling because she knew exactly what kind of things could make her go silent.

"Excuse us." Kara stood up from her desk and dragged Alex outside where no one could hear them. "What job was she working?"

"I'm not sure, it was something in Jericho. I was in Arizona dealing with a demon. Told her to wait for me, but you know how she gets." Alex slouched her shoulders and she leaned against the wall. "There's been a spike in activity. More and more spooks have been popping up all over the place, so the hunters have been a spread thin trying to deal with it. We hardly ever split up but..." she shook her head. "I know you're out of the game and you've renounced this life, but I could really use some help. Lena doesn't go down easily so I want to be prepared for anything."

Kara pursed her lips as she thought about it. The last time she hunted was three years ago, and that was only because a vamp was killing people on her college campus. If she went on another job and saw Lena again, she wasn't sure if she'd want to come back to CatCo. And Lena... That was a whole other story in of itself. 

It all started back in Midvale about 5 years ago. Kara was in her senior year of high school and Alex was halfway through med school. A month before the day everything changed, there were two murders (an oddity in a small town like Midvale) and everyone was sketched out. Alex offered to take Kara to camp in the woods to have some sister bonding time. It was winter break and the stars always helped Kara relax so she agreed. If only Kara had said no, then maybe she would never even have thought of "hunting" as anything different than shooting animals. 

They easily set up the tent and started a small fire to roast some marshmallows. Alex had been catching Kara up on how medical school was going and her roommate who only ate green m&m's and slept with one sock on. In return, Kara told Alex how school was going and that Eliza was doing well. It was a fun conversation until Kara heard a faint growl. 

"Did you hear that?" The blonde scooted closer to her older sister. "It sounded like a dog or something."

"You have freakishly good hearing, Kara. I didn't hear anything." Alex reached for her gun anyway. 

Kara heard it louder now. Alex tensed up and searched the woods but couldn't see anything at all. The full moon was able to provide some lighting, but not much.

A howl pierced the air and a tall figure came into view. It stalked towards the two sisters and Kara nearly fainted. In front of them stood a man with thick hairs covered all over him. He was snarling with his fangs and claws out, ready to attack. Alex shot two bullets straight into the creature but it only staggered back some. 

"You two look delicious." 

Kara was clinging onto her big sister hoping Alex would somehow find a way to save them. She was desperately shooting until her gun was out of ammo. The creature laughed and bent its legs, ready to lunge, but was intercepted by a body tackling it. 

It was a girl, Kara realized, and she was wearing a pair of silver brass knuckles. She punched the monster in the face again and pulled a silver knife from her belt. She stabbed the monster's arm and it howled in pain. 

"Are you the last of your pack?” She twisted the knife and the monster whimpered in pain.

"Stupid hunter!" The creature grabbed the girl by the neck and threw her five feet into a tree. It pulled the knife out and prowled towards her. "I don't have a pack. They were wiped out by your people!"

The girl rolled to the side to avoid being ripped to shreds. She patted her side and grabbed a gun. Kara wanted to scream, to warn her that bullets had no effect, but she was petrified. Frozen to the spot.

"So you start murdering people in the town?" She shot a bullet and the monster stumbled back in pain. “Thought you would be smarter than that.”

"Humans deserve to die." It dropped to the ground and Kara could hear it's ragged breaths. "I would've killed them all-" two bullets burrowed inside its head. 

"Yeah, yeah." The girl spun her gun and placed it in her pants. As she searched for her knife, the creature’s body started to morph into... Mr. Henderson? 

"What the hell is going on?" Alex demanded. She was shaking and her voice cracked, but Kara appreciated the effort to stay cool nevertheless. 

"I'm sorry about that." The woman wiped the blood off her knife on her trousers. "Are you both alright?"

"What was that? How come Alex's gun didn't work on it? Why is Mr. Henderson there when it was the monster? Who are you?" Kara blurted out. 

"My name is Lena and that's a werewolf." She sat down on a log opposite the sisters, rubbing her neck. "Silver is the only thing that can harm them. Turns out Mr. Henderson here was behind the murders last month. A friend of mine came through the town and killed a pack, but it seems one slipped through her fingers. Came as soon as I could. Good thing I got here when I did." She pulled out a flask and drank from it.

"He was a werewolf?" Alex looked at Lena as if she were crazy. Kara would have called her nuts if she hadn't just witnessed the whole thing. "What did he mean by "hunter" and "your people?"

Lena bit her lip in contemplation. "The less you know, the better off you are. I've got rid of the threat, but I highly recommend getting the heck out of here. I'll get rid of the body, so no need to worry about that."

"That sounds like a good idea." Kara nodded her head and started to tear down the tent. She really wanted to go home and forget any of this ever happened. 

Alex got up and nudged the dead body with her foot. "How come nobody knew he was a werewolf? This is a small town, we would've noticed someone turning into that every full moon."

"They're smart. Ate animal hearts for the most part and traveled out of town to eat human hearts in the city." She watched Kara disassemble the tent. "Monsters are smart like that. When something bad happens, some snap and forget to be careful."

"How long has this been happening?" Alex asked in disbelief. Kara momentarily stopped. She was curious too. 

"That family that went missing a while ago, how long did they live here? However long that was is however long they were most likely chowing down on some hearts." They both gave her exasperated looks. "What?”

The tent was now all packed up. "So you're saying that the whole Abbott family were werewolves?" They sold flowers in the middle of town. Flowers! That was not threatening at all!

"Look, I drove six hours straight to get here. I'm tired, hungry, and in a bunch of pain. And I've got to burn its body. Can you guys hurry it up?"

"We're good to go." It was dark out and after what they just went through, Kara was kind of terrified of picking their way down. "Can we uh, do you mind if - I'm sorry, just." She looked at Alex who seemed to understand her fears. 

"I can help you with the body if you don't mind us sticking with you on the way down? I know this awesome 24-hour diner that we can go to if you're willing to answer more questions."

Lena seemed to think it through. "You paying?"

"It's the least we can do." Lena grinned - Kara could tell by the flash of white in the darkness - and said, "Hell yeah! Let's burn this son of a gun."

Kara stayed off to the side while the two burned it. The smoke burned her eyes and the smell made her want to throw up, but they thankfully left right away. Alex drove to Anna's with Lena following close behind in her own car. 

When they stepped inside, Kara was able to get her first good look at Lena. And when she did, her heart stuttered in her chest. Lena was about an inch shorter than Kara, and she looked to be around the same age. She had startling green eyes that froze Kara to the spot and a jawline that was sharper than her knife. She had a black tank top with a flannel and a bomber jacket thrown over it complete with tight cargo pants, that no doubt had some weapons in it, and black combat boots. Alex had to elbow Kara so she would stop staring. 

"I haven't had a milkshake in so long," Lena moaned as she slurped the drink and Kara blushed at the sound.

"Anna does have the best milkshakes," Kara squeaked. 

Alex furrowed her eyebrows at Kara but she refused to look at her sister. "So what is it that you do for a living? Kill werewolves?"

"Werewolves, vampires, skinwalkers, anything that goes bump in the night."

"So that stuff is really real? Demons too?" Lena nodded. "How come we don't know about this stuff? Never heard about it?"

"You really think the public would be okay knowing stuff like that exists?" She downed the rest of her drink. "Of course some just want to live out their lives as harmlessly as they can. I know vamps who have deals with blood banks and ghouls who work in morgues and eat unclaimed bodies. But just as there are bad humans, there are bad monsters. We hunters do our best to gank the bad ones before too many people start asking questions. Most people don't know where to look so they don't see what's going on."

"So hunters are like the underworld version of cops?" Kara asked. 

"Kinda. Except most people don't know about us, we don't get paid, and if we're not careful we die a gory death." She leaned back and starting tapping on the table anxiously. "I'm not in it to be a hero or anything, I just want to save as many people as I can. Give people answers to mysterious deaths. Deal with a poltergeist or two when I'm in between jobs."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"A while." The food arrived and Lena lit up when the burger was placed in front of her. "I usually try to eat healthy but I couldn’t resist. How often do you see a triple-decker bacon burger?”

Kara wholeheartedly agreed with that. The burgers there were the best in all of Midvale. She’d eat there every day if she could.

"How does one become a hunter?" Alex asked. Kara glanced at her sister curiously.

“Depends. Some people are born into it. Some accidentally get dragged into the life. Or when they get rescued from a supernatural attack, they get invested and want to hunt too." Lena shrugged and moved onto her fries.

"How'd you become one?" Lena stared at Kara with hard eyes. Touchy subject, got it.

"I want to become a hunter," Alex proclaimed. 

"No, you don't. I appreciate the food and helping me, but trust me, you don't want anything to do with this life. You see loved ones die in gruesome ways, it's shitty motel after shitty motel, driving for hours on end through states, being tired to the bone, exhausted beyond relief, nightmares of the people you couldn't save, and paranoid that monsters are coming after you. If you become too big too fast, the monsters start talking and you get a target on your back. You can't exactly tell people what you do for a living or you'll end up in a mental hospital and it's a lonely life. So no, you don't want to become a hunter, sweetheart. Once you're in, you're in. You can't exactly unsee things and the life expectancy rate is like, 30 years old. You've got spunk, though. I admire that."

Alex sat up and stared directly at Lena. “But you save people. My sister and I would have been murdered and no one would have known. There are other people like that out there right? Families and younger siblings in danger?”

“Are you seriously ignoring what I just said? How old are you? 19? 20? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re probably in college too. Am I right sweetcheeks?”

Kara startled when she realized she was the one being spoken to. “She’s 20 and she’s halfway through med school,” she supplied helpfully.

“Kara!” Alex hissed and elbowed her sister.

“A medical student? Impressive.” She wiped her face using a napkin. “Become a doctor and save the world that way. Cure diseases, stop pandemics. What I’d give to go back to school,” she mused as she took on a thousand-mile stare.

“School isn’t actually what I really want to do,” Alex muttered. “I’m only doing it because my mom wants me to. I wanted to be a police officer.” Alex hadn’t told anyone that before and it felt good to get it out.

Lena stared Alex downed and it seemed as if she was somehow staring straight into her soul. “You’re on winter break?” They both nodded. “I have a job in Las Vegas. My contact wasn’t too specific, but I think it could be a vamp nest. If you’re serious about becoming a hunter, I’ll let you tag along. But you have to listen to everything I say and you will not put yourself in a dangerous position. Is that understood?”

It was a bit odd to see Alex look intimidated, especially by someone who was younger than her, but she was nodding along seriously. “I am super serious.”

“Hm.” Lena crossed her arms and moved her gaze from Alex to Kara. “What about you, cupcake? You in?”

Kara had bever been more afraid in her life. She just wanted to go home and forget everything that happened, but Alex was going. Plus, there was a chance Kara could ask Lena for some lessons and be pinned under her… “How are you going to convince Eliza to let us go, Alex?

“Don’t worry about it, Kara. I’ve got it handled,” she smirked.

Kara wasn’t sure what lies Alex told the eldest Danvers, but it worked. Two days after the diner, the trio was off to Las Vegas. Lena insisted on driving the entire way, saying that no one was to ever drive her baby. It was an old car, a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, but it had clearly been well taken care of. She had mixtapes that were purely classic rock and heavy metal which made Alex appreciate the hunter even more. The drive, which should have been at least 6 hours, took about 4 and a half (Lena was speeding and Kara half expected them to get pulled over but they never did).

It was around noon when they arrived at Sin City and they stopped for a quick bite before finding a cheap motel at the end of the strip.

“I think I know where the hideout is,” Lena spoke up from her bed. They had checked into the room about three hours prior and Lena spent the time typing away on her laptop and answering Alex’s never-ending questions. Kara took to reading through her journal about all the monsters she’s encountered and how to defeat them. She tried not to be jealous when she saw the name “Sam” popping up every once in a while.

“Where?”

“An old warehouse about an hour out. I don’t know, something just doesn’t feel right about this.” She ran her hand through her hair for the millionth time that hour. “It’s our best chance, so let’s go check it out.”

Kara was impressed by the arsenal the hunter kept in the trunk of her car. It was enough to arm a small army. Alex was given a syringe full of deadman’s blood and Kara a machete with instructions to cut off the vampire’s head clean off. It was just before 10 when they arrived and Kara strained her ears to see if she could hear anything but she was too far away.

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Lena muttered. She stayed in her seat with her eyes closed. Alex and Kara exchanged looks but stayed quiet. “I’m going to go in first. If I’m not out in five minutes, Alex come after me. If she’s not out in two minutes, you come in Kara. If it’s not a vampire, then it might be a djinn. Deadman’s blood won’t work on it, so try and smash its head in.” Lena gripped her own machete. “Start the timer.” She opened the door and dashed towards the ominous building.

At the four minute mark, Alex went in after her. From what Kara had gathered, Lena was an expert hunter and she had taken down far more than a vampire nest. Maybe her intuition was right and it was a djinn, not a vampire nest. Kara opened the trunk and rummaged through the assortment of weapons and thanked God for the jar of lamb’s blood. From what she read, Lena never actually faced a djinn before but someone named Lionel had. He used a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood to kill it so Kara prayed that it would work.

She snuck into the building but she still couldn’t find anything. She walked as silently as she could until she saw a light up ahead. When she approached it, she noticed Lena tied to a chair with her head resting on her chest. Then she saw Alex slumped in a man’s arm. He was carrying her to a table where there was an assortment of knives. Panic surged through the blonde’s body but she couldn’t mess up now. They were depending on her!

Once he set Alex down, Kara dashed forward with a burst of speed and brought the knife down only for the body to dodge out of the way.

“It must be Christmas!” The man exclaimed. “So many bodies, so much blood.” He licked his lips. “I’ll be feasting on you all for a while!” He rushed towards Kara but she dodged his hand. She couldn’t be touched or else she would be put in a coma like the others.

He tried to come at her again but Kara ducked and swiped her legs at his feet. The djinn jumped to avoid her legs but missed the punch she sent at his face. When he grabbed it, Kara kicked him in his sweet spot and brought the knife down to his chest. His eyes shined an unnatural shade of blue before he went limp. Blue blood had splattered on her, but Kara didn’t care. She ran to Alex’s side and gently woke her up.

“It’s not a vampire!” Alex sat up and looked around fearfully. “You’ve got to run!”

“Alex, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Kara grabbed her shoulders and made direct eye contact with her sister. “Everything is under control now.” She heard groaning from behind her and she turned to see Lena waking up. Her eyes were blurry and wet, as if she was about to cry, and she took in her surroundings.

“Untie me, yeah?” Kara obliged and walked over to cut the ropes. “I’m impressed, Danvers. You really saved my ass.”

Kara blushed and tried to say something cool like, no problem. Or, it was nothing. Maybe something funny like, guess I’m your knight in shining armor. What she actually said was, “I used your lamb’s blood to kill it, sorry.”

The hunter laughed and shook her head. “A small price to pay. I’ll be sure to get some more, then.” She looked at the dead body and the knife that was still protruding from his chest. “Hey Alex, can you get some empty syringes? I want to get as much of his blood as I can to study it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex was still in a daze but she managed to stumble out of the empty warehouse.

Lena turned to look at Kara and studied her face. “I knew you didn’t really want to tag along, but thank you for coming. Seriously. I would have been pissed as hell if I died now. I’ve still got to…” she bit her lip to stop herself. “You’re a natural. Even I would have had some trouble dealing with him if I had known what I was dealing with.” She gently cupped Kara’s face and pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips catching the corner of Kara’s.

Kara almost fainted from the adrenaline crash and the lightheadedness she felt from Lena’s lips on her. Thankfully, Lena dragged her into a chair with a wry chuckle. She and Alex filled five vials with the djinn’s blood before the three put that place behind and headed back to the motel.

They stayed in Vegas for another day. Kara and Alex explored the city while Lena stayed inside to do research. When they made it back to Midvale, Lena informed them that she’d stay in town for a couple of days since there were no pressing jobs that needed her attention.

A couple of days ended up being the rest of winter break. She had taken them to Salt Lake City after the New Year to take care of a vengeful spirit but, other than that, there were no more hunts. Alex was convinced that this was her calling and was determined to become a hunter. Kara couldn’t deny how right it felt kicking butt with Lena and saving the world one monster at a time, either. Once their year was over, Lena promised she would take them for a couple of more hunts before allowing them to become fully invested.

After she left, Kara and Alex spent a lot of time getting into shape and Kara continued even after Alex went back to school. In her free time, she would either read different mythologies or text Lena.

(Even though Lena was hunting a lot, or driving through states, or in a different time zone, she always made sure to at least text Kara once a day. Sometimes on long drives, they’d even talk on the phone. Alex didn’t get the same treatment and it made Kara’s heart do somersaults when she found that out.)

Lena and Alex were both there for her high school graduation and she definitely cried. Her parents couldn’t make it to see her, but she was glad she had her best friends and Eliza there for her. Alex and Kara spent a week with Eliza before bidding her farewell. Kara was taking a year off to “travel” before college. It was the best decision she had made.

Driving through states was sometimes boring, but the scenery always fascinated her. She and Alex would quiz each other on their lore while Lena drove (she was still adamant about not letting anyone touch her baby). They did a bunch of different jobs varying from cursed objects to demon possessions to ghouls. Sometimes there’d be weeks in between jobs but Lena still stayed hunched over her laptop doing research. Even on hunts she’d disappear for a while and come back looking defeated. It almost seemed like she had her own side quest but the Danvers sisters didn’t want to ask. What they had was good and they didn’t want to ruin it.

Kara learned how to make fake ID’s and was practicing on making FBI ones. Alex was the prodigy in lore and Lena would write down experiment ideas on new ways to defeat monsters.

One year had turned into two and somewhere along the way, Kara and Lena got together. Lena still had major trust issues and she wouldn’t open up all the time, but what they had was special. Alex would tease them about their relationship but she was happy for them. Things were going well until they went back to Midvale.

Eliza and Clark (Kara’s cousin) staged an intervention and asked Kara what she was doing with her life. Eliza had long given up on trying to get Alex to get back to school so Kara was the next best thing, it seemed. She couldn’t tell them that she was hunting monsters and running credit card scams so they could get by.

“It’s been two years, Kara. I think you’ve seen enough of the States. It’s time to settle down and go to college, don’t you think?”

Kara had caved in and applied to UCLA. Alex was proud of her and Lena was… she was bittersweet.

“I’m proud of you, darling. It’s good to get out of this life while you can. You’re smart and you deserve that education,” she said as they sat on the good of the Impala.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kara frowned and kicked her dangling feet. “I’m going to miss chumming it with the both of you guys and hunting.” It was true that Kara was averse to the whole thing at first, but it really changed her life. Saving families, killing monsters, working with her girlfriend and sister, it was the life. But, she was also excited to get her education. She did want to be a reporter like her cousin.

“You’re going to be amazing, babe. Keep a low profile and don’t go on any hunts, okay?”

“Okay.” Kara playfully nudged Lena and they clinked their beer bottles together and drank until Alex fetched them to go back inside.

It was halfway through Kara’s first semester when they realized the strain the distance and the hunting had on their relationship. Even though it broke their hearts, the breakup was mutual. Kara’s workload was getting heavier and the monsters were becoming more dangerous on Lena’s end. 

When there were mysterious killings on campus of students with their blood being drained and bite marks on their necks, well, no one had to know it was Kara who stopped the killings.

Kara went on to live the college experience and had a blast. She had shoved the past two years into the back of her head and focused on the present and future. In her last year, she had managed to snag a job at CatCo as Cat Grant’s assistant. Her classes were all early in the morning so she would eat lunch then head over. The job tested her each and every day, but Kara was thankful for her training as a hunter. She would rather take on a pack of werewolves than deal with Ms. Grant when something went wrong (which was at least twice a week).

Once she graduated and worked full time, she made some good friends. Winn Schott who was a nerdy IT guy, and James Olsen who worked in the photography department and was a friend of Clark’s. Everything was going great until Alex showed up.

“Increased activity how?” Kara settled on asking once she managed to get her head out of the past.

“A lot of demons have been prowling around and Lena’s been obsessed with it for some reason. Saying she’s close to figuring something out, but I don’t know. I could never read her as well as you could and we’ve been apart for a while now. Anyways. Are you coming? I wanna get going before the trail goes cold.”

“Yes, of course I’m coming. I’ve got to talk to Ms. Grant first.” Kara dragged her sister to her desk and asked her to wait. She walked into the office tentatively and waited for her boss to look at her.

“What is it, Kiera? I’m busy,” she snapped.

Kara pushed her glasses up (she didn’t need them but it helped with her ‘innocent girl’ look) and cleared her throat. “I need to leave and take the rest of the week off. There’s a family emergency.”

Cat stopped typing and looked at her assistant. “It’s Tuesday, Kiera. You can’t leave on such short notice.”

“I realize that, Ms. Grant, but it’s truly an emergency. Lives are at stake.”

“Lives are always at stake. You can leave tomorrow.”

Kara didn’t have time for this. Lena was missing and she needed to be out there looking for her! “Ms. Grant with all due respect, it is urgent I leave as soon as possible. My family is at risk and she needs me,” she emphasized. Even if they were broken up and hadn’t actually seen each other in years, Lena was still one of the most important people in her life.

“Very well. Send Mr. Gomez in.” Kara nodded gratefully and started hurrying out of the office. “And Kara, I hope you find her.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grant.” She grabbed Alex’s arm and started to drag her out of the building. “Let’s stop by my apartment real quick to grab some clothes and snacks. Jericho isn’t too far from here, we can still make it before nightfall.”

“God, you have an apartment?” Alex smiled at her little sister. “And a steady job. And you graduated from college. I am so proud of you.” She gave the blonde a side hug.

“Yep.”

Alex pulled out her keys and unlocked a car. It was black with red accents. “1965 Ford Mustang,” she announced proudly. “Won in it a gamble with some other hunters. Lena helped me fix her up. She’s amazingly good with cars. I’m pretty sure she could disassemble and reassemble the Impala with her eyes closed.”

“She does love that car,” Kara agreed. Though, she loved watching Lena work on her baby. Her biceps flexing as she fixed whatever was inside the hood, the sweat dripping down her brow, the grease smudging her face when she would try and wipe it away, the- Woah. “I sure hope we’ll be back by Monday. I stood up to Cat Grant, and I don’t think she’s very happy with me right now.”

Alex laughed. “You’ve always had a big pair on you. Now tell me where to go so we can go save our girl.”

“Right!”

Little did Kara know that she was not only getting herself back in the game, but she was diving headfirst into what could be the start of the apocalypse.

[esperelizium]

The Evil Eye

Why am I so happy? (Continuing to pool and crawl up the soles of her shoes, blood flows out from bodies still suspended in air. The girl, Vega, shows a facial expression of terror and delight as she grips her side, trying to hold herself back despite the grin stretching out from her face) Why can I be happy when.. when.. Do I just not, believe that, my friends are.. dying? (With a crack, one of the bodies bends in half, their spine crushed down as though they were emptied of worthy liquids, and falls to the floor) Someone.. Please.. “Dear goooooooooOOOODDDD!!”  (Attempting to show self-control, Vega stomps her foot and screams, only making herself dizzy and of shorter breath. She inches away slowly from the scene) “Oh Vega~ Please, you have to scream louder, you know how their thoughts can get!” “Vega! Get out, go!” “Please Vega, please! I know it feels impossible, but you have to move!” How? How do I move.. How do I leave them here? Wh- “Henri will fix this, but you have to go NOW sweety!” “There’s no way we can fight this anymore, she has to get out NOW.” (Guided along by the thoughts of her friends, Vega inches closer to the exit, though her movements are outpaced by the insane laughter coming from the darkness. As Vega tries to speak verbally, the only sounds she can muster are haggard gasps and breathless laughter) I have.. to find Henri.. I have to.. find Henri.. Henri.. Henri.. I have to find HENRI. “REEEEE!”  ((Finding the strength to exert self-control, her arm pulls forward and snaps back towards the door. With a crash, the entire world falls down and Bita finds her arm with a fresh gash after slamming it into the corner of her bedside drawer)) ((ENTER Bita, student of the local state university, native from Xenizora, KO. She is YOUNGER THAN her peers, has long hair cut with straight edges around her shoulders, and currently wearing a gas mask)) Oh my god. “Fuck!” God, that really hurt! But, oh that dream, that was so horrible, that was so.. ((Suddenly overwhelmed, Bita begins openly sobbing. The fear of her situation, the relief of being not in that situation, and the hopelessness she experienced crash down on her. She eventually notices her heavy breathing and, taking pity on herself, calms down and wipes her eyes)) “Wow.. That was really horrible..” But, I’m okay. God, I’m really in Babel, city of psychics. I wonder if that means I’m a Seer now? Heh, naw, although.. I mean, that was my first violent nightmare, would that make that one a real visio- wait, who the fuck is Bita? “Hahahaha!” ((Bursting into laughter, Bita reveals that her actual name is VEGA. VEGA is 18 years old, a six month resident of Babel, and self-identifies as Vega Suquaria the Medical Savant)) I should probably avoid forgetting my own name. And letting my dreams provoke such stress signals in the future. ((As Vega adjusts to being awaken, she rises and begins preparing for her school day. As a university student, she resides on campus and currently lives in a dorm. She has one roommate, spends a set amount of minutes preparing herself and cleaning, and leaves a bag of general needs on the ground by her bed.)) Today is.. Todaaaaaay is.. “You sound like you need help.” Huh? Did someone- “Yeeeeeeesss. Hehe.”  (A hand shoots up and Vega, who is standing in front of her backpack, turns around to see her only roommate waving her hand from her bed. ENTER Selphy, the Roommate)) “Selphy! You’re awake?” “Yeeeeeeeesss. Again. You’re having trouble remembering what DAY it is?” Oh god, am I actually losing it? “Um! Noooo! I’m just having trouble remembering how to pronounce it!” “It’s pretty much universally understood. Shishi.” “Ohhhhh. We say Yam Shishi in Xenizora. But than-” “You know, you can just wear your talisman to bed if you don’t want nightmares.” “Huh?” “Ugh, you’re going to make me actually wake up, aren’t you?” ((The blanket on top of Selphy pulls away as she shivers, suddenly reaching out and grasping the wall. She lets out a soft, but long yawn as invisible hands pull and steady her into a sitting position facing away from Vega.)) “You don’t have to leave for class just yet.” “No, why? Is something wrong?” “Maybe. But it’s you who has a problem.” ((As soon Vega moves towards Selphy’s bed, Selphy realizes she is facing the wrong way and makes a big show of shuffling to turn around on her bed, revealing that she has giant headphones on, deep wells of crust in her eyes, and small patches of unshaved stubble around her jaw)) How can she even hear me? She’s decked out in noise cancellers.. “Because you say in your head everything you’re probably saying out loud, psycho.” ((It is finally revealed that Selphy has not been- “Don’t even bother, we all have to do the trope at some point. I just took a little longer to get caught because my roommate is so delightfully distracted.” ((Folding her arms, Vega shows that she is upset by stifling a grin.)) “Don’t pretend to be awake! Wake up Selphy!” ((Pouting, Selphy wipes away her eyecrust and pulls her headphones down, though she only occasionally peeks through her closed eyelids)) “Good morning” God, her voice sure is raspy when she wakes up. I wonder if she smokes. “Good morning!” “So, I guess there’s two things. First, welcome to the academy.” “EEEEE.” Holy Academy of St. Banaved, only academy of the five nations to offer full research funding for undergraduates, boasting the highest approval ratings and success stories outside of its own business, highest traffic of locals between all nations, including every sapient genus known to visit the care centers. “Yes, EEEEE. Second, where is your talisman?” ((Vega gives a hard blink, sending the equivalent of a long and awkward pause to Selphy, who registers Vega’s absolute lack of thought for a sustained amount of time)) “You were so excited just a second ago.” “I um, honestly I probably threw it away.” “Oh my god.” “What?” “I’m going to guess that your reception guide was an asshole from the Night Sector and deliberately did not explain the importance of the Despair Talismans.” “Ummmmm, I definitely did not get talismans explained to me.” “Well, lucky for you, I keep a spare. And by spare I mean, I’m a badass who doesn’t need a psychic pacifier.” ((She points to the shared bathroom)) “It’s in my top drawer, just take it.” “Um, thanks.” ((Vega rises to look for the talisman)) “I can tell from your voice that you’ll need motivation to keep that with you, so listen. Babel comes with a secondary atmospheric level called the PSY layer. It’s about as notable as the Eitr layer in Xenizora, so you should be used to it.” “Babel is literally as close to the Eitr clouds as Xenizora, so-” “I’m not shitting on your mountain town, calm down.” Fucking mountain town, Xenizora is a metropo-” “Don’t stop looking for the talisman and don’t talk over me!” “..Fine.” “Damn, do you know it takes a lot of effort to like, verbally talk to you when I was practically taught to do it only to be super duper polite?” ((Vega breaks out into laughter as she rummages through a mess of sprays, combs, and what look to be paintbrushes)) “Geez, you’re literally so polite.” “Anyway! Because of the PSY layer, you’re bound to sense the energy of someone’s thoughts, even if it’s unintentional and especially if you aren’t focused elsewhere. Which can have really bad consequences.” “Like what?” How am I supposed to be focused when it’s so dark in this drawer and the cords from the hairdryer and twisting this into a literal maze? “Turn on the light, take out my hairdryer, and look for it.” “Stop reading my thoughts!” “Stop not having a talisman and STOP. TALKING. OVER. ME.” ((Vega bites her tongue as she does she’s told, wiping small tears from her eyes)) “Anyway, as I was saying. Dire consequences. I think the Angels usually do patrols through the Day Sector because tourists always pose such threats, especially during their first few days. But, you have getting distracted while driving, people who get really distracted and just fall down into the clouds. It’s usually not so bad because the city’s really started warning people at aerostations and at welcome centers to maintain their talismans. Strange that you completely missed it.” “To be honest with you, I can’t even recognize it right NOW.” ((The contents of the drawer fully lit up, separated, and rearranged, Vega remains unable to discover the talisman and dissolves into simple amusement. Rolling her eyes and squinting, Selphy stands up and finds the talisman right away. Blurry for some reason, the object reveals itself to Vega who receives it with a bit of reluctance)) Why does this thing fill me with such- “HEY. WHY ARE YOU GIVING ME A CLEARLY CURSED OBJECT? ((TBC))

[manuelmueller]

1 + 1 = 3 - a teaser

Here it is! The promised first 3000-something words of the official first installment of the Fabiverse. It will probably be a few months until I start actually posting it, but as it is, I hope this makes you curious enough to stay tuned for it!

Manuel’s world comes crashing down on a warm Monday in September.

He’s in a good mood. Being back in training, back with the team, back to playing makes him feel like a person again and he soaks in the smell of the freshly cut grass, the warm air surrounding him and the laughter of his teammates. Despite feeling a small bout of nausea right at the start of training, like so often these days, being back on the pitch comes natural, easy to him, and he doesn’t give it more than a fleeting thought that disappears quickly when the first ball comes flying his way.

He wipes away the sweat that has been trickling down his forehead in tiny beads and quirks a private smile when he sees the field players making their rounds a few meters ahead of them. He’s missed all of it terribly, has been craving it ever since he’d obtained that godforsaken foot injury during the game against Madrid. Missed it so bad that it almost made him feel sick at times – and now that he’s back, he’s positively buzzing.

Just that morning in bed, just after they’d woken up, Thomas remarked how much happier he’d looked recently.

“It’s as if you’re glowing,” he said with a fond smile while stroking Manuel’s hair, chuckling. Manu blushed and rolled his eyes as usual when his boyfriend showered him in compliments as Thomas leaned down to kiss his temple.

Now, the memory ignites a fond smile and a short tug in his stomach.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sneaks a look to where the field players are engaged in pair exercises by now. It only takes him mere seconds to take locate of Thomas’ mop of mousy brown curls among the sea of red jerseys. They have been getting quite long again lately, just the way Manu prefers them. A small sigh escapes his lips when he recalls how Thomas looks in the mornings or right after a shower, some of the curls dangling over his forehead, making him look much younger and even more carefree than usual.

He startles a bit when Toni snaps his fingers in front of his face, demanding his attention.

“Hey! Don’t get too distracted, loverboy.” He sounds amused, but his eyes tell him that Manuel should probably focus back on his work again nevertheless.

“Sure, boss,” he mumbles, grinning a bit when Toni rolls his eyes at him. They’re not too far apart in age, and because they’ve been friends and colleagues for quite a long time, way before they were coach and protegee, the older man always objects being addressed in such a way.

He’s one of the only people at Bayern who know about him and Thomas, and even if Toni often teases him mercilessly for his ‘perpetual heart eyes’, as he calls it, Manu is glad that he managed to open up to him – it makes his life so much easier to not having to hide from his coach, too, even if it means he’s had to endure Toni’s quips and winks again and again.

The older man returns his grin openly as he ushers Manu back between the posts. Sadly, their mirth is short-lived.

After he’s kept another few shots Toni had aimed at him, the coach ushers Manu, Sven and younglings over to the others to practise free kicks and corners. It’s Arjen who takes the first kick, and the jump is as much of a routine as it should be – Manuel catches the ball with practised ease – but it’s the landing that changes everything.

The first thing Manu feels when his foot gives out underneath him is surprise. ‘Oh,’ he thinks, ‘that’s not supposed to feel like that.’ Then, the pain flares up, and he hears his own cry as if it’s coming from far away.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s going down before he’s already laying on the turf. The pain is surging through him like a tidal wave, and it’s with horror that he realizes that it’s the same damn foot, the same damn feeling he knows way too well.

Toni is talking to him, but he can’t understand a word over the obscenely loud hammering of his own heart and his pounding head. He clenches his teeth together, flinching when someone else rushes to his side. He recognizes the hand that comes up to brush against his arm by its gentleness, though its owner’s face blurs in front of his eyes. For a desperate second, he wants to call out Thomas’ name, reach for him, but his throat feels clogged, and the only thing that comes out is a painful mewl that, to his ears, sounds like the noise of a wounded animal.

He wants to smile when Thomas clutches his hand in between his own, rubbing circles into his palm, but he barely manages to perceive any of his teammates huddling around him; their voices inaudible, blurry, though he can hear someone call for a stretcher – he throws up as soon as they try to sit him up, groaning when his ankle twists a bit, making the bones in his foot shift, the piercing pain making it so abundantly clear that something is well and truly awry. Thomas is still holding on to his hand, but he’s pretty sure in all the ruckus, no one is paying that particular detail any attention.

Manu retches, but this time, nothing comes out, and as soon as his body stops convulsing, he feels his consciousness slip away from him.

---

Thomas is gone when he comes to again. Manuel knows the infirmary well; all too well, especially after last April’s debacle, and the second thing he notices is how the pain is still there. Possibly, it’s worse than before. He winces, and the doc shoots him a sympathetic look. It’s enough to make Manuel know it’s exactly as bad as he thinks it is.

They take him to the clinic, and the x-rays only show what everyone has already feared. He clenches his fist as he stares vacantly at the black and white image of his damn middle foot, that damn bone that snapped right in the middle yet again, and has a hard time biting back tears of frustration as the medical assistance takes some blood samples and injects some pain meds straight into his veins.

They wrap his foot like a Christmas present and hand him some crutches. Manuel grinds his teeth. He knows he will be transferred to Thübingen for the upcoming surgery the next day, but they allow him to go home to pick up a few necessities at least, trusting him to know his limits after he sustained the same injury bare months ago.

Thomas is home when he unlocks the door. He’s sitting on the couch, springing up as soon has he hears the key being turned. He rushes to Manu’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist in such a protective way that Manu could genuinely cry.

“It’s the midfoot again,” he says, and hates how his voice sounds devoid of anything but resignation, how he turns his head away when Thomas reaches to cup his face in his hands, the lines on his forehead harsher, deeper than usual. “I need to pack, my surgery is tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He won’t. He can’t, there is a game to be played the next day (auf Schalke, and the fact that he’ll have to miss it stings Manu more than he would like to admit) – but still, Manu appreciates the sentiment and wishes for it to be true for just a single stupid second, almost smiling knowing that Thomas would willingly abandon everything in a second just to be by his side. Instead, he shakes his head.

“They need you here. You’re the captain now.”

Thomas manages a half-smile and surges to kiss him. It tastes bitter, just like the upcoming separation, but his hands rest warm and comforting on Manuel’s hips. They linger before they separate, and when he brings Manu to the door, Manu doesn’t dare to turn around again, fearing that he would be unable to leave once he’s cast a look upon his concerned expression.

The morning’s nausea returns when he’s in the car. His driver isn’t of the talkative sort, and Manuel is grateful for it. On his request, they make a pit stop halfway as the sky is slowly turning orange and purple, and his driver buys him a bottle of coke that he downs in the next half an hour. It’s sugary, and he can feel his athlete’s body rebelling, but it eases his motion sickness to the point where he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore.

His foot hurts worse again, and Manuel hates his life.

---

He never sleeps well in hospitals, and this night is no exception. By the time the surgery comes the next morning, he feels fatigued and grumpy as well as slightly anxious. No matter how many times you go under the knife, no matter how good the surgeon is, it’s always a risk. Sure, his feet are only an afterthought, his hands the real moneymakers, but still he can’t get rid of the tiny, irrational fear that he will wake up and won’t be able to walk on his own two feet ever again.

It doesn’t help that the medical assistance as well as his nurses keep whispering and looking at his files, and even the doctor frowns when he first skips over them. Still, no one is telling him anything, and in the end he’s glad when he gets sidetracked by his phone.

Thomas has sent him a string of concerned messages ever since he left, and Manuel smiles at the so clearly concerned tone that Thomas tries to overplay with his dry sense of humor and a rather lengthy retelling of how Niklas almost managed to fall asleep in his bowl of cereal that morning.

Chatting with his boyfriend is enough to distract him of what’s to come for the next hour or so, keeping him busy until the nurses come to prepare him for surgery, still smiling when they roll him into the operating theater.

Despite his worries, it all goes well. It’s a standard procedure but it’s still a relief when his surgeon smiles at him, albeit a small one, as he knows that this time the recovery period will be longer, much more arduous than the last time. He knows that they need to be more careful, or his career could potentially be over. But so far, everything is looking good, he’s happy for now – or well, he would be, if the door to his room didn’t suddenly open again several hours later, revealing a doctor he’s never seen clutching an old-fashioned clipboard, her lips pressed into a tight line as she enters besides two nurses Manuel already knows.

“Herr Neuer, there is something else we need to discuss,” the doctor says after an awkward silence, and Manu’s heart drops at least five stories deep.

She introduces herself as Dr. Anna Braun, is probably in her early forties, and looks quite nervous to be here, which isn’t common for doctors. That, in turn, is making Manuel’s stomach churn, painfully reminding him that he really doesn’t enjoy hospital lunch that much, either.

“We need to talk about your blood test results.”

Until that moment, he never understood people who lived with the constant fear of being diagnosed with a deadly disease – cancer or something equally gruesome like that – every time they go for a routine checkup, but in that moment, as Dr. Braun talks in medical jargon about his hormone levels and some other increased components in his blood, his mind starts racing. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying, only numbly nods when they roll him out to another room, faltering only when he realizes that it’s one where they do ultrasound scans.

He has no idea why he just makes the connection to what the doctor said when the medical assistant starts spreading cold gel on his stomach.

Being A2-negative always has felt natural to him. He was checked as a kid, of course, just as all the other boys, even though back then, at age four, he had no idea what it meant. He remembers the slightly relieved look his mother shot him though after the doctor announced his test result though, a fragile smile tugging at her mouth, as if she was afraid of fully letting it show.

Once he’d learned what the term meant, at the beginning of secondary school, in their first awkward sex ed lesson, it became a medical term like all the others, and most of his peers didn’t pay much attention to it, rather starting to giggle whenever the teacher said ‘penis’ or ‘vagina’. He was normal, his twelve-year old brain concluded, part of the majority of men who weren’t able to conceive children, even if they ended up being – and most of his male classmates had either laughed or fake-gagged at the term – homosexual.

His adult self knows better, of course, knows that being both A2-positive and A2-negative are in fact perfectly normal – the former making up about a fourth of the male popularity of the world – but he is still glad for being the way he is, especially when through the grapevine he hears about yet another young promising football talent who’s been rejected by a first league club officially because of some transfer issues, but unofficially because no one wanted to risk having to go through the trouble and media nightmare of a pregnant, male player and they never even cared about if the player involved were actually interested in men or not.

You’re advised to go in for a second test as an adult, Manuel knows – because a toddler’s sexual organs aren’t fully developed yet – as soon as you realize you are into men.

Manu never did.

Sure, doctors have medical confidentiality, but in football business, nothing stays private for long, especially not dicey information like that. Of course, it wouldn’t reach the outside, the media, the public; but the bosses would catch wind of it in no time, and Manu doesn’t want to – can’t – imagine what would happen if they knew about his and Thomas’ more intimate relationship that goes so much deeper than being teammates and captain and vice-captain.

And after all, false diagnoses are one in a thousand.

Now, he slowly, very slowly, realizes this might have been a mistake.

“Dr. Müller-Wohlfahrt and his team already observed your unusually high human chorionic gonadotropin levels in your blood yesterday, and they asked us to run the tests again,” Dr. Braun says, and Manuel’s stomach twists. “And now we’re just looking if –”

“There,” the specialist operating the ultrasound interrupts, “there it is.”

Manuel turns his head so fast that his neck pinches in a really uncomfortable way. The image on the screen is blurry, and he can’t really make out anything until … sure enough, there’s a little head, a pair of little arms, two tiny, crunched up legs.

He feels dizzy, and his nausea returns with a sudden vengeance.

“I’m,” he croaks, and Dr. Braun gives him a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re pregnant, yes. Congratulations.”

It doesn’t take no time at all even for Manuel and his amateur gaze to realize how big the fetus already looks. Men don’t get periods like women do, so he has no way to pin down when exactly he conceived – he gulps at the thought, feverishly wondering if he’s just dreaming, if this is all not real, if he still hasn’t woken up from the surgery yet – but the ultrasound assistant estimates that he’s in his sixteenth week.

Manuel’s mind reels when the doc reveals that that means he legally can’t get an abortion anymore.

“I understand this must come to you as a shock,” Dr. Braun says after they’ve rolled him back to his room. “Your medical file claims you’re A2-negative, and you never came in for a second test for your A2 either, is that correct?”

Manu nods numbly. What is Thomas going think, he wonders with a slightly hysteric edge, what will the Hoeneß and Rummenigge say? Will he be kicked out of the club? Surely they won’t keep him like this, out for the next few months not only because of a broken foot but a child growing in his belly.

He tugs at his hospital gown and rests his hand on his flat stomach, wondering how he didn’t notice that it feels tighter in a different way. (He isn’t sure if he imagines it bowing out just ever so slightly underneath his palm already.)

Dr. Braun asks him a few more questions and ends with inquiring when he last had intercourse with a male – three days ago, he admits with burning ears, but at least the doctor seems relieved when he reveals that he is in a steady partnership with the father of the baby. Sure, she might not directly be involved with the PR nightmare that this is going to be, but her smile is genuine when she says that it will help him having someone to support him through all of this, especially with his already hindered mobility and the difficult environment of his profession.

They transfer the data and his newly updated medical file back to Bayern, and he feels the panic rushing back through him when he realizes that it means they will already know when he comes back. He pinches his arm once he’s alone in the room, wincing when it stings, and then blankly wonders how this could, how it is inevitably going to turn his life upside down. He has no doubt that it will, but for now, he hasn’t fully processed the situation yet and it feels like it’s someone else’s problem, like he’s just a casual observer to this entire debacle.

His phone dings, and his smile is forced when he sees that it’s Thomas, asking how the surgery went. For a moment, his thumb hovers over the keys undecidedly, then he settles for great :) It’s not even half the truth, but his churning stomach refuses to deal with that particular minefield.

He makes his way out of the hospital on crutches, a shoulder bag filled with dozens of pamphlets about pregnancy, childbirth and everything it entails weighing him down. As he waits for his car, leaning against the wall with his crutches next to him, he catches himself placing his hand on his stomach again and again. Unconsciously, Manu lets it roam over its expanse, pulling the t-shirt up, letting his fingers graze over the tight skin. Strange to think there is a little person in there. He doesn’t feel like the idea of a baby is a part of him, still desperately wants to cling to the belief that this is all a mistake and everything is as it should be–

It doesn’t help.

He’s pregnant, that’s a fact, and in a very strange way, it suddenly feels like a part of his body is not his own anymore.

The car pulls up in front of him and yesterday’s driver shoots him a polite smile and asks if everything went well – Manu only nods, too lost in his own thoughts to form proper words.

He doesn’t check his phone not even a single time the whole way back, doesn’t even let Thomas or anyone else know when he will return.

Instead, he vacantly stares out of the tinted windows as his thoughts race through his mind while the truth – his new reality – slowly starts sinking in.

[leaughrilke]

we are the impact and the glue

find it on: ao3 ff.net

my ko-fi

They've never talked about kids, Lena realizes abruptly one night when she's, of all things, glued to the television and watching Kara battle it out with a pair of six-armed Fort Rozz escapees. She's not sure what brought the thought about—it probably started surfacing when Kara ducked a blow and swooped down to move a little girl that had wandered into the street out of danger, making sure to tuck the stuffed animal she'd dropped back into her arms.

It doesn't fully land until she's watching Kara get slammed into the concrete by one of her opponents and seeing the DEO agents on the ground rushing forward. In the seconds before Kara staggers to her feet and shakes it off, Lena thinks about how very little they've talked about the future. How so much of that is Lena's doing, too afraid that she'll lose Kara one way or another the moment she starts laying down plans.

She's not sure she wants to continue like this anymore, not when she has Kara, more than human, better than she could ever dream of being—why put it off when she has the best partner to plan with?

It's become routine in the nearly four years they've been together; Kara is injured and ends up in the DEO's med bay, Alex fussing over her until Lena arrives and accepts the baton. She beats them to the DEO this time, lead foot on the gas and emotion pressing against her ribcage, making it hard to think anything other than Kara, Kara, Kara.

Kara had managed to get her clearance for certain areas of the DEO as a present for their anniversary a couple years ago, meaning that Lena no longer had to wait outside the building until Alex or Winn or J'onn arrived and took her to Kara. It's something that Lena's never taken for granted, this trust in the form of an ID card, pressed into her hands so gently. But it's moments like these that she's so grateful for it that she could cry.

Lena waits in the medical room, seated beside the sun bed that Kara's sure to be relegated to for the next few hours. When Kara limps in, leaning heavily on J'onn with Alex just behind them, lips pressed into a thin line, Lena straightens in her chair, slides her purse to the floor and stands.

She's not so foolish to think that she can help Kara more than J'onn can at the moment, or than Alex can in the next, but Kara's entire posture relaxes when she sees Lena and her smile is small, but Lena's still sure it could power at least the top ten floors of her building. Lena likes to thinks that she can help a little, at least.

She stays on her feet until Kara's been carefully rolled onto the sun bed, biting her lip as her girlfriend winces at the movement. J'onn is quick to leave, gruffly instructing, "Rest, Supergirl," before he disappears back into the maze of halls whence they came.

It's only when Alex starts her checks that Lena takes a seat. There's still a level of tension in the air, left over from the scare of watching a nigh-invincible superhero get thrown around like a ragdoll, so she stays quiet as Alex worries over her sister.

"You should've waited for back up," Alex scolds as she shines a light in Kara's eyes, checking her pupils. "That shit show could've been so much worse."

Kara scoffs, ducking the slap Alex aims for her shoulder. "How was I supposed to know they'd both have six arms?" she asks, the indignation in her tone clear. "Who expects twelve arms, Alex?"

"I—," Alex breaks off, swinging her gaze to Lena. "You're with me on this, Luthor," she more commands than asks, raising an eyebrow at her when Lena hesitates.

"Would you have guessed I'd be ducking twelve arms, Lee?" Kara asks, turning to pout at her girlfriend as well.

Oh no, absolutely not. Lena has learned never to get involved when the Danvers sisters argue, even over something relatively benign such as this, even when Kara's safe and they're arguing about things in the past. She says as much, earning a half-hearted glare from Kara ("We're not that bad," she grumbles) and a look of begrudging respect from Alex, though she's obviously a little irritated she didn't side with her.

Lena won't say it out loud, at least not now when Kara's laid up like this, but she does agree with Alex.

"Alright dummy," Alex says finally, soothing any hurt from her tone with a kiss to Kara's forehead. "You've got to hang here for a couple hours to charge up. I'll be around, but I'm sure I won't want to be in here." She directs the last part towards Lena, giving her a significant look. A look that very obviously said no 'I'm happy you're alive' sex until you are somewhere far away from me.

Lena had no intentions of going against Alex's wishes—one intensely awkward encounter was more than enough for her.

After Alex leaves, it takes Kara all of a second before she's trying to sit up. "Oh no, no," Lena huffs, up on her feet in an instant and pushing Kara back onto the bed. "You're here until Alex clears you."

"I just wanted to kiss you," Kara whines.

Rather than responding, Lena leans forward to kiss her girlfriend chastely. Some of the urgency, the need to be near her has worn away now that Kara's in front of her, beneath her hands and lips and still so warm and whole. The sudden press for plans, for the future has dulled enough that Lena's heart settles back where it should be and some of the knots in her stomach untie themselves.

When Kara's this exhausted, she likes to just listen, to let someone else do the talking for once. It had taken Lena quite some time to adjust, to learn to ramble in detail about the tiny inconveniences of her day, but now it's second nature. She waits until Kara's settled back onto the sun bed before she starts in on her investor meeting this morning, the one she'd had to pry herself away from Kara for. The reminder sets Kara's cheeks aflame and Lena cuts herself off to tut, "You weren't blushing this morning," earning her a soft laugh, though it's tempered by the wince that immediately follows and Kara pressing a hand to her likely still bruised ribs.

That's enough to throw the reality of their lives back into Lena's face. The change must show on her face (and to think she used to be so proficient at hiding her emotions—just another thing lost in the wake of Kara Danvers), because then Kara's trying to sit up, grimacing as she goes.

"Alex told you to rest," Lena scolds her, pushing down on her shoulders in an attempt to get her girlfriend to lay back.

Kara relents, finally, but frowns up at Lena just the same. "What's wrong?" She points an accusatory finger at Lena—or, rather, Lena's forehead. "You're doing that thing with your eyebrows."

There's no use in lying—there's no instinct to either. Lena just shifts so that she's leaning her elbows on the edge of the sun bed and takes one of Kara's hands in her own, bringing it to her lips for a soft, brief kiss before setting it back at Kara's side. She clasps her own hands then, rests her chin on the back of one.

"Today was terrifying," she admits quietly. "Those moments before you got up were some of the—," she pauses, searching for the right word. "Some of the worst of my life."

Kara's brows draw together as she presses her lips into a thin line, the corners of her mouth twisting down. "Lena," she breathes and it looks like she wants to say more but they both know there's no promise she can make. Lena's made her peace with that.

"We should talk about this when you're not laid up like this—."

"Lena."

"Would you—I mean," she stumbles over the words. Stops, stills. Kara's always given Lena her full attention when she speaks and, by this time, Lena's used to it, used to someone caring about what she's saying and thinking and feeling, but now it feels heightened and she struggles to get around the lump growing in her throat. "Have you ever thought about—."

Lena's face heats up when she finds she can't force the words out. Because this should be easy, because this is Kara, but the words are sticking at the back of her throat and Lena can't find a work around for them.

There's gentle pressure on her hand and Lena looks down with a start, only just now noticing that Kara's pulled her clasped hands apart and is holding one in her own; she's leveling Lena with a soft, steady gaze, one that Lena's grown accustomed to receiving from Kara.

But this time feels different, more significant. Lena's has the altogether irrational thought that this is one of those now or never moments, that if she doesn't ask the damn question, she'll never get around to it and, while she's entirely happy with the way things are now, there's a part of her that's itching for tomorrow.

"Have you ever thought about the future?" Lena asks, and it's not the real question, but she hopes Kara understands what she's getting at. A small part of her berates herself for her words—concise language, some voice that sounds too much like Lillian hisses. Because they have talked about the future and they have even talked about their future.

Finally, Lena asks in a small voice, "Kara, do you want children?"

And the moment hadn't been light by any means, but now it crystalizes, freezes, and the weight behind whatever answer Kara has feels like it could break this, break them. Because Lena's not sure if she wants children, but she's not sure that she doesn't, and this was the wrong time to bring this up, she knows, not now, not when Kara's exhausted and Lena's emotionally wrought. But she's said it and now, when she looks up, she sees the very careful way Kara's watching her.

Lena thinks she's seen that look before—that night when all the pieces fell into place for them, when Lena had finally put words to the warmth that would bloom in her chest every time Kara's smile was directed at her. When Kara gave her this look before she leaned in, before she asked if she could kiss Lena. It's not searching, really. Or, if it is, it's searching with a purpose, for recognition of something that Kara's feeling as well.

Which is why Lena's not all that surprised when Kara answers, "I'm not sure, but I think so. Maybe."

She leaves what would surely follow her answer unsaid—only if you want them too. Only if things calm down. Only if I could keep them safe. Only if the reality of their lives could somehow sync up with the reality that would be raising children.

"Oh," she hums, turning it over in her head. It's silly now, after she's the one that posed the question, but Lena's never really given the idea much thought. Never let herself wonder much further past the general nebulous concept of children. She loves children, a fact she only discovered a handful of years ago when she had the time and means to begin to partner with local orphanages and group homes; she knows Kara loves children, if the delight on her face whenever she clocked someone's baby at Catco was anything to go by. She shouldn't be so on edge because of an answer she knew was coming. "Right," she manages.

"Lena, that doesn't mean—."

"No, no, I'm not upset or—or anything like that." And she's not, truly. She's just—worried is probably the best word. Worried that she won't be able to give Kara everything she wants and deserves. Worried that the universe will intervene in some other horrifying way. "I just want so badly to—to be able to know I can give you that, if you want it."

Kara's hand slides over Lena's, palm warm when Lena flips her hand over to lace their fingers together. "That's—Lena, if we have children or not, it's not all on you. It'll be a decision we make, together. But," Kara murmurs, shifting to face Lena fully, "maybe you were right. This probably isn't the right time to talk about this."

It's not. Kara's bruised, exhausted, and Lena is drained, still reeling from the scare earlier in the night. She just wants to be home, with Kara; wants to be warm and safe and curled up in their bed—Kara's bed, technically, but that's more a formality than anything else. Lena wants to go home. She wants this all to feel settled, wants this weird thing that's taken hold of her chest to go away.

Lena nods, lays her free hand over their conjoined ones. "Okay," she acquiesces. "I'll call Alex in?" When Kara nods, Lena stands, keeps her hands over Kara's for as long as she can as she moves towards the door. "But we're talking about this later."

...

It doesn't come up for another two years. Lena means to bring it up sooner, has a thousand different opening lines for that conversation, but any time she gets the nerve to, the universe has the perverse sense to throw another crisis their way; one time it's Lillian reappearing and wreaking havoc on one of L-Corp's production facilities in Bangkok, sending Lena halfway around the world for weeks and sending the DEO into crisis management mode to try and get a handle on whatever it was Lillian was planning.

The next time, it was the first weekend both she and Kara had absolutely zero work commitments and Lena had planned on it, she had, but then Kara had to help with a fire outside the city and when she came back, soot covered and smelling of smoke, burning rubber, she'd wanted a hot bath, a glass of wine, and to be held. Who was Lena to refuse her?

Time and time again, something came up. And now they're here and Kara's on one knee and Lena—Lena can't. Not with this hanging over them. Not with how far away Kara's eyes get when she talks about Krypton, talks about the traditions, the culture she lost in the losing of her home. When she thinks about how Kara will have to lose the promise of that all over again, just because Lena's unsure.

"Lee?" Kara breathes, starting to stand, to reach for Lena, but she shakes her head, shakes her off and joins her on the floor.

"We never talked about it."

"Talked about—?" Kara starts, before trailing off. "Oh. Yeah." She shifts so they can sit side by side, leaning up against the kitchen counters. Lena reaches up, back blindly, flips off the stove. They'd been in the middle of cooking dinner when Kara had asked. She doubts they'll get back to it, regardless of what happens next.

It gets very quiet. For several long minutes, the only thing Lena's human ears can hear are the sounds of her and Kara breathing—still in sync, still matching breath for breath—and the clock, relentless. Finally, she breaks the silence.

"I do," she says, staring at the wall, catching Kara turning towards her out of the corner of her eye. "I do want to marry you."

Kara lets out a breath, reaches for Lena's hand. She laces their fingers together, keeps looking at Lena while Lena moves her gaze to their joined hands. When it becomes clear she's not going to continue—at least not without a little push, like most things—Kara exhales, "Okay. Well, I want to marry you too." She pauses, then huffs out a laugh. "Obviously."

She pauses again. Squeezes Lena's hand gently. "So, we want to marry each other," she says slowly, waiting for a further explanation.

The words stick in Lena's throat, but she forces them out anyway. "I still—I'm still not sure—," she chokes on the rest of the sentence. Swallows the words instead.

She's not sure how to put it? Not sure the best way to say that she thinks she wants it—wants the kids and the house and the minivan, wants it all with Kara, but that she's still so scared, so worried that maybe Lillian broke her, made her something entirely incapable of the sort of love that parenthood requires.

But maybe—maybe, she thinks that Kara understands. Because she's nodding and pulling Lena into her lap and holding her close. "I want you," she assures her evenly. "Everything else is…everything else, you know? I want to marry you because you're you and I love you. Alright?"

Kara leans in, tilts her chin down, asking for something—through the fog, Lena recognizes the motion instinctually, leans in as well to rest her forehead against Kara's. "I love you too," she says in response. "I want to marry you."

"So that's a yes?"

"That's a yes."

...

"How would you want to go about it?" Lena asks, resting her chin on Kara shoulder and smiling at the baby in her arms.

They're on Earth-1, visiting Barry and Iris after the birth of their first child; Nora is wonderful, chubby and bright eyed and gurgling happily at every person that holds her. She's probably the strongest argument for parenthood that Lena's ever encountered.

Which is why she's even managing this now, even figuring out the words to put to her feelings. Kara lit up when baby Nora had been passed to her, her entire demeanor shifting, her attention moving immediately to the grinning infant in her arms and—god. Lena knew.

It was innate, inherent; in one moment, she wasn't considering it again, wasn't thinking about anything beyond how entirely adorable the baby was and the next her heart was cracking open at the very idea of having this, having Kara glowing, having a little baby that looked at them with as much adoration.

It was enough to make Lena think logistics; think about how Kara can't really pull off a pregnant superhero, but how she's a high dollar target for hitmen. Think about how just about every adoption agency will take a look at her name and turn them away.

She can't let her mind go too far, needs Kara's input first.

And—jesus. Kara's looking at her like she's a goddamn miracle.

"Are you serious?"

And it feels new, feels fragile still. Not them, but this sense of certainty within Lena, the cautious wonder in Kara's voice. She considers her next words carefully.

"I think," she starts slowly, "that it would be naïve of us to consider starting a family without first discussing specifics. What path we want to pursue, when we want to aim for—." Lena breaks off, catches her breath. Catches Kara staring at her, full of awe. "What?"

"You're not just saying this because you think it's what I want to hear, right?" Kara asks, brushing her hand over the downy hair on Nora's head. "You actually mean it?"

This thing, this part—it feels important. Like whatever Lena says or does now predicts their future trajectory.

She nods carefully, small smile growing wider to reflect Kara's blinding joy.

...

They talk to Alex, briefly, when they return. No specifics, just—is it possible? Is it silly to consider it? Lena is just as happy to adopt – slightly prefers it if she's being honest, even with the obvious additional hurdles they would face – but she knows the level of comfort afforded to Kara if they were to have a powered child, a child that she couldn't accidentally hurt somehow. Even if the thought terrifies Lena a little, takes her breath away.

But there's still that image in her mind, a little golden child, shining brighter than the sun itself. She wants that, Lena realizes. She desperately wants that.

"We don't have to," Kara says one night. They were just home from the DEO after Lena went through a battery of tests just to see if she was even a viable candidate and, quite frankly, Lena is exhausted from baby talk. Exhausted from learning all the ways it could go wrong and leave them bereft, devastated.

Lena's spent a lot of time crying over all those things—always when Kara's on Supergirl rotation, out of super hearing distance or too distracted by more pressing matters to listen. It could be fine, but Lena is human and fragile and this hypothetical baby may be as well, might be just as susceptible to the pitfalls of pregnancy, if not more so, combining two species' DNA. Even still—

"Don't be ridiculous," Lena huffs. She doesn't mean to be short, she really doesn't. But it's tiring to go over things she thought they'd already decided. "I'm fine."

"Lena."

Kara's watching her from the bed, cross legged and leaning up against the headboard while Lena busies her hands with anything – anything but this. But facing facts. But approaching this head on.

She has to, though. They promised this in their vows: to always be honest with each other. To stop hiding the bad parts of themselves away.

"I'm terrified," she manages, tears springing unbidden. Kara reaches for her and Lena drops the laundry she was folding, crawls onto the bed to join her wife. "There are so many things that can go wrong."

"We don't have to—."

"I want to, though," Lena interrupts, tired of that same argument, knowing it was always made for her benefit. "I want this and now I know all the ways I may lose it."

Kara leans forward and pulls her close, one hand reaching up to pull the pins from Lena's bun, then the elastic before she shakes her hair free. "I'm scared too," she says quietly.

Lena doesn't know how to make this better, easier for them—that's Kara's wheelhouse, really. Always quick with a smile and something to take Lena's mind off whatever it is that's worrying her. Lena's not sure how she does it.

"But we're scared together, okay?" Kara murmurs, pulling Lena out of her own mind. "That's the beauty of it. We're in this together."

And she sounds so earnest and so entirely Kara that Lena can't help but nod, can't help but be pulled into her wife's embrace, can't help but collapse against her. Can't help but find some comfort in how her hands are a little unsteady as she begins to card through Lena's hair.

They're in this together. Lena can work with that.

...

Sometimes, late at night when Kara's been asleep for a few hours at least and Lena's kept up by the insistent pressure on her ribs – when it's just her and the kiddo awake, Lena's terrified. Which feels wrong, considering how much she wants this child, considering how happy she was when she found out about them. But sometimes, when it's very late and Lena presses a hand to her belly only to feel a little foot or elbow press back, she's choked by fear.

How is she to know for sure if she's even up to the task of motherhood? It's not as if she has any shining examples to follow; her own mother – her birth mother – is little more than a fever dream now, the ghost of a hand pressed to her forehead when she was very small and very ill, the lullaby she finds herself humming when she's particularly tired or worried.

And Lillian – well. At the very least, Lillian serves as a playbook of what exactly she should not do.

Here is the root of her fear then: it's not that Lena doesn't want this child. It's that she wants them so much, perhaps more than she had wanted L-Corp, perhaps more than she had wanted Kara – and there's a part of her that worries that the universe will realize that she has already been given too much.

With each passing day, Lena loves the little person she carries even more. And with each passing day, she knows the price she would pay were she to lose them grows exponentially.

Loving a hero – that comes with its own terrible math. Lena knows it well, has done it time and time again to try and pinpoint exactly how much it would hurt to lose Kara, how terribly she would be devastated in her absence. She's dedicated an inordinate amount of time to thinking about the stop-gap measure she'd need to put in place to ensure that she wouldn't slip down the same path as Lex had, that she wouldn't let heartbreak and grief cloud her vision so entirely that she could not see the good of the world anymore.

But there is no math to be done with a child. Anything Lena can imagine now – she knows it would be worse. Ten times, a hundred times, an infinity of grief that would only get worse as the years pass, as she marks what would have been their birthday, their prom, their graduation.

She's not sure there are enough stop-gaps or safety measures or reminders in the world that could keep her mind free of that awful, mind-numbing grief.

On very bad nights, she's started wondering if that's what really sent Lillian towards Cadmus; not the loss of Lena – she'd never dream of ranking so high in her mother's priorities – but the loss of Lex. He may be living, but her brother is little more than a shell of himself and, perhaps, that might be worse.

Was that what truly did Lillian in? She'd never been all that warm or caring of a mother before, but she hadn't been so outright cruel – had made an effort even, sometimes. But then Lex happened.

The few times she's mentioned these fears to her therapist, she'd been redirected to the question of whether Lillian had ever actually been a mother to Lena or if that was just the remnants of the woman's emotional abuse talking. But even if it was, the fear remains.

Tonight, she can't seem to remain still and slips out of bed slowly, trying as hard as she can to allow her wife to remain asleep. Kara's taken to getting up and staying up with her whenever she can't sleep, but that's unsustainable for them both and, when it comes down to it, Lena can move around her schedule to allow for napping – the perks of owning your own company.

The nursery is across the hall, the door left open and windows cracked just the slightest to allow the lingering smell of fresh paint to air out. They'd painted it mint (Seafoam green, she hears Kara admonish her) the weekend before, but the smell had stuck around. Even still – Lena loves to be in here.

The furniture isn't assembled yet, but it's all here, boxes placed roughly where they've planned on the actual pieces to go. There's stacks of onesies and tiny pairs of socks in storage containers, a short-term solution until the dresser they picked out is set up.

And there, in the corner, is Lena's favorite thing.

When Lena had mentioned, off hand, the faint memory she had of being rocked to sleep by her mother when she was very small – no older than two, she thinks, for the timing to be right – she hadn't thought anything of it when Kara had asked if she remembered what the chair looked like. She had, in fact, and she'd been so pleased for a reason to speak it into existence that she hadn't considered what it might mean that her wife was so interested in a chair from thirty years ago.

When Kara had told her to cover her eyes before she led her into then-office, the meaning became quite clear, quite quickly.

The glider looks old and comfortable, more like the one that she remembers than Lena even thought possible. For the briefest moment when she had first seen it, she had actually wondered if Kara had somehow gone back in time to retrieve it – it wouldn't have been the most outlandish thing Kara had done just to be sweet to her.

Lena had cried then, when Kara had led her into the room to see the first piece of the nursery in place, their desks shifted aside to make room in the windowed corner with the best view.

She still feels just on the edge of tears now as she pads into the room and eases into the chair, hooking her foot around the leg of the ottoman to pull it closer and prop her feet up on it.

It's silly but – even the deep emerald upholstery feels the same. Lena remembers being too short to quite get into the chair of her childhood, remembers the feeling of the fabric rubbing against her arms as she tried to find purchase to haul herself up into it when her mother wasn't around. She thinks about how her own child might form the same memories and begins to cry in earnest.

She doesn't speak about this much, about the hole in her chest the feels about the shape and size of her mother. Often, Lena doesn't think that she could find the words for it even if she wanted to.

How do you mourn a woman you hardly remember?

There's no one to ask, to gather details from in order to hold her closer, remember her fully. Perhaps Lionel would have told her, if she'd known to ask him when he was still alive. Perhaps, if she was very brave, Lena could have investigated on her own.

But the truth comes down to this: Lena can find herself struggling to remember her mother's name, some days.

The thought makes her cry harder, biting down on her lip to try and keep quiet. The baby moves again, unhappy and pressing up against Lena's ribcage.

Part of her fear is this, too. Her mother had been her whole world and then she had been gone in an instant, in the space of a breath. She had been smiling at Lena on the lakeshore in one moment and then she had fallen beneath the water in the next, never to return. And Lena remembers the ache in her chest, feels it still sometimes, the heaviness of absence, the knowledge of everything that may have been better, everything she may have avoided if her mother had resurfaced.

She'd never want to leave a child like that, she thinks.

There's some comfort in knowing that Kara would be there to hold their child's world together, some more in knowing the strength and resiliency of the family that Kara has built, the family that welcomed Lena and accepted her with warmth and care and love. Their child would not be left alone, that much Lena knows for certain; they would never know the same grinding loneliness that Lena feels creeping in the shadows on nights like these.

"Lena?" comes Kara's gentle voice, still in their bedroom but not for long. In the time it takes for Lena to suck in a single, shuddering breath, Kara must realize what's happening and then she's there beside her, faster than Lena can track, pushing back the hair in her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Sweetheart," Kara murmurs softly, so softly, breaking Lena's heart just to mend it again. "Come here."

Lena doesn't fight Kara as she scoops her up carefully, arranges them so that they're both curled up in the glider, Lena tucked up against Kara's chest. Why would she fight the care her wife is offering her? She knows that there was a time, not long ago, when she would have shied away from being seen like this, from being cared for like this. But they've both done a lot of work on themselves, on their relationship; Kara knows when to give her space and Lena knows when to not push for it.

They don't speak. Lena cries into the crook of her wife's neck until her eyes are itchy and her head is throbbing. Kara's arms are warm around her, grounding her to this life, to the home that they share, to the fact that she's not in this alone.

When Lena quiets, Kara presses a kiss to her temple. "What got you thinking?" she asks quietly.

"My mother." And when Kara opens her mouth, Lena clarifies. "Shannon, I mean."

A rush of air, as if Kara's deflated by the statement. "Oh."

Her arms tighten just a little, her hold a little firmer. They don't often discuss their shared grief – two motherless mothers, stumbling around in the dark. Eliza has done so much for them both, has raised and loved Kara just as she is, has accepted Lena and cared for her as if she had been doing so from the start. But the ache is still there, recognizable between the two of them. It's likely it won't ever really go away.

They stay like this for a long while, long enough so that the sun is beginning to crest over the city around them, the weak pink of sunrise filtering in through the shades over the windows.

"I'm going to call Snapper and let him know I'm taking the day," Kara tells her as the city comes to life below them. Somewhere further out in their home, Lena hears the gentle chimes of coffee maker turning on.

"Kara, that's not –," she starts to protest, until she looks up and is silenced by the look on her wife's face.

She looks raw. Stripped down and vulnerable, fear and worry and love in equal measures written across her face. Even down to the eyebrow crinkle.

Kara leans down to kiss her forehead, her touch warm. "Let's go back to bed," she says.

The baby kicks out once, twice, startling them both into giddy laughter. They've been kicking for quite some time now, but it's still a wonderful surprise when it seems like they do it in response to their voices.

"I think the kiddo agrees," Lena laughs, her voice still a little thick.

...

Despite being quite sore, Lena's not sure she's ever been so pleased to wake up in a hospital.

It's a bit of a tight squeeze, despite it being a queen bed that came with the outrageously expensive private suite Lena had booked. Between the IV and monitors that Lena's still attached to and the amount of pillows Kara had insisted on tucking behind her (which Lena grudgingly admits is helping relieve some of her discomfort), it's almost as if they're squeezed into a single together.

But despite all that – when Lena opens her eyes, she's greeted with Kara, still in the sweats and old NCU pullover she threw on in the rush to get to the hospital, gazing down at their son adoringly.

"I don't think I'll ever quite get over this," Kara murmurs. She's always been superhumanly good at knowing exactly when Lena's woken up. "He's just…gorgeous," she marvels.

"He is," Lena agrees. How could she not? Despite how light his downy hair is – he nearly looks bald, Lena thinks – his lashes are dark and lush against his chubby, soft cheeks. Lena doesn't think she's ever seen a more perfect baby, and that's taking into account her own bias.

Kara manages to drag her attention away from their son – Lena's not sure how, really – and she turns her adoration to Lena. Even now, after all these years, she's still not entirely sure she's deserving of it, but she basks in it just the same.

"How are you feeling, Lee?" Kara asks, slipping one hand out from under Finn's swaddle to cup the back of Lena's head, bringing her in for a brief kiss.

Lena hums in contentment against her lips before she groans a little as she shifts back. Even with as little as she moved, she can feel the ache in her body spike. "Like I just went through the trial of childbirth," she grumbles half-heartedly, easing back against her pillow wall carefully.

Kara laughs, a delighted sound. "I'm not laughing at you," she promises, wrinkling her nose at Lena's look of faux-annoyance. "I just – we have a child, Lena."

And Lena can tell that she's searching for more words, but she doesn't need them – Lena knows, feels it just the same. This tender, open hearted thing that's sparked inside them, that's burning them up from the inside out in the best way. Lena could cry from happiness.

She does, actually, laughing as she wipes at her face and then laughing some more when she catches Kara doing the same thing, albeit awkwardly, her reach a little stunted with how she's holding Finn.

"Here," Lena says, reaching forward despite the sharp spike of pain. She wipes her wife's cheeks gently, her thumb brushing over her cheekbone, looking for any extra point of contact. "We have a child," she echoes, awestruck as she turns her attention back to their son, still slumbering in his mother's arms.

For all the pain and worry, all the fear and missteps – Lena can't fault them, can't bring herself to carry any residual anger or disappointment over things long past. Not if it brought them here.

Finn sleeps on in Kara's arms and Lena feels the insistent tug of sleep pulling at her too, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. The doctor had warned them that this could happen, that her body might need a little extra recovery time.

"You should sleep," Kara tells her softly. At Lena's drowsy look, she adds, "I'll wake you when it's time to feed him."

Well – there goes her argument.

As much as Lena would like to stay awake, her body has other plans. But here, in the quiet of their room and curled up beside her wife and child, Lena thinks that it might not be the worst to fall asleep like this again.

[welllpthisishappening]

Nights Were Mainly Made for Saying

It's possible. Emma is certain. She's going to fix this. She's going to save him. By time traveling. Which is totally, absolutely possible.

She's read about it. There's a theory.

So, no one has ever actually done it yet, but that doesn't mean she can't or they can't try and she just needs a little help. From Killian Jones. And his magic.

Rating: Like a very high T teetering on the edge of M AN: I wanted to write something spooky. So I wrote about witches and time travel and Hamilton references. Can we still make Hamilton references? Has the time passed for that? Who cares, this is a time travel fic. It’s also absurdly long. Just like...because. I have no excuse. You should probably listen to Arctic Monkeys’ entire discography because that’s totally the vibe I was going for. Also because Alex Turner may be a vampire. That joke will make sense later.

On Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

“Say that again.” “No.” “Swan.” “I know you heard me the first time,” Emma growls, trying to push her way through the half-open doorway. Killian, however, doesn’t move. If anything, he grows several feet, eyes widening and an expression on his face that appears torn between disbelief and incredulous.

And possibly furious.

Or worried.

Emma can’t really tell the difference.

This might have been a mistake.

She huffs, shoulders drooping with the force of her own frustration. “I don’t get why you’re being such a jerk about this,” she mumbles, kicking at his ankles like they’re friends or something.

They’re not... not friends. Not really. Killian’s been around for as long as Emma can remember because he’s been David’s partner for as long as Emma can remember and magical folk alway tend to flock towards each other.

It’s some kind of defense mechanism, she’s positive, a twist of their genetic makeup or something because magical folk are emotional and prone to immediate reaction and neither one of those things ever works out very well in the real world. So they’ve got to be around each other. To make sure no one else figures out they’re there.

Strength in numbers or whatever.

No one really knows how magic started or why it only appears in certain people, but they’re there and some sort of quasi-community and support system Emma never could have imagined when she was sitting in a foster home in Minnesota, certain the way lights always flickered around her was just a byproduct of an exceptionally difficult puberty.

Magic was in her blood. As they say. Or as Mary Margaret would say because Mary Margaret loved to say things like that and promise things like that and Emma had nearly collapsed when she felt the particular rush of her magic at freshman orientation.

It went from there. Mary Margaret never left Emma’s side, or vice versa, and David appeared sophomore year, a rush of power and positivity that was questionably good at brewing things and they found more magic in New York, of the literal and metaphorical variety, a family and a certainty and nothing bad was ever going to happen.

Except, of course, when one of your magical friends is murdered in cold blood, alone, without any suspects of any kind. Then, you know, the cliché loses a bit of its weight.

Emma kicks at Killian’s shin that time.

He scowls, lips twisted and head tilted at an angle that cannot possibly be good for his neck. And, for the first time since Emma marched to his front door fifteen minutes earlier, she takes a second to look at him. Really. Because he looks like shit. Really.

There are bags under his eyes and a hint of red in his gaze, like he’s gotten approximately forty-seven minutes of sleep in the last few days. His hair is longer than usual, curling behind his ears and the NYPD t-shirt he’s got on has a hole in the right sleeve.

“Swan, I swear to God,” Killian growls as soon as the toes of her boot collide with his ankle again. “If you don’t stop assaulting me, I’m going to--” “--What? What could you possibly threaten me with? Ignoring my requests again?”

“Oh, they’re requests now, are they?” “Obviously,” Emma sneers, and this is not going the way she thought it would at all. She, admittedly, did not think it was going to go great, but the whole thing has been a disaster from the get and she’s averaging less than forty-seven minutes of sleep a night.

“Strangely enough I’m not getting that at all.” “Because you’re being the most difficult person on the planet.” “I really don’t see how that’s true,” Killian argues, and, that time, Emma’s foot comes up against an invisible barricade. The pain ricochets up her thigh, lingering around her knee and there are not enough curses or spells for all the things she wants to do to Killian Jones.

And that, really, is her problem.

Because Emma doesn’t really like Killian, but she doesn’t really hate Killian and she knows he’s the only one who will even consider going along with this plan.

It’s a relatively crazy plan.

“That’s a cheap trick,” she accuses, but he just flashes her a grin and his eyes almost look normal. Emma has no idea what his eyes normally look like.

The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, even without saying it out loud.

“I hate to repeat myself, love, but, again, I really don’t see how that’s true.” “Magician.” “Ah, that’s rude.” “A fact,” Emma growls. He hasn’t taken the barrier down. He’s lifted his eyebrows instead, the smirk settling onto his face like it’s putting down roots. “Listen, I’m going to do this whether you want to help or not, so--”

She’s not entirely sure what happens after that.

It’s a rush of something, magic and feeling and a hint of emotion that may be concern or something fundamentally deeper and far more important than that, but it leaves Emma breathless anyway, mouth falling open as she tries to take it all in. Killian jerks forward, fingers wrapped around Emma’s wrist, like he’s nervous she’s going to start disappearing right then.

She’s fairly certain that’s not how the spell works.

His fingers are impossibly warm.

“I can’t keep doing nothing,” Emma says, voice dropping of its own accord. The words scratch their way out of her, fighting their way to the surface because they’ve been sitting in the pit of her stomach for weeks and Graham didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t deserve to be alone.

He didn’t deserve to die.

Emma is going to fix this. She’s a goddamn witch.

“There’s not anything for you to do, Swan.” “We both know that’s wrong.” Killian sighs, thumb tracing across the back of her wrist. “That’s all speculation. No one’s ever actually done it.” “That you know of.” “You are pulling at straws, love.” “If that’s what I have to do, then, yeah, fine, I’m pulling at straws.” Emma wishes her voice would pick a volume and stick with it. Instead, it cracks over every other syllable, tears welling in the corners of her eyes and stinging retinas that are in desperate need of a set sleep cycle. Killian doesn’t blink. “Graham was a good guy.” “I’m not questioning that. Good is a vast understatement.” “Don’t you want to know what happened?” Emma presses, and she’s starting to sound desperate to her own ears. “It’s...it’s driving me insane. There are too many coincidences for it to be the accident David thinks it is.” For half a second Emma thinks she imagined the next few words out of Killian’s mouth. For half a second she thinks she’s actually delved into complete and utter insanity. For half a second she’s terrified.

But Killian doesn’t blink and his thumb is still pressed flat against her skin and Emma’s lungs are incredibly grateful when she takes a deep breath.

“Say that again,” she whispers.

The smirk turns into a smile. “I feel like we’re going in circles, Swan.” “Killian, c’mon, I--” “--I think it was a witch.” Emma’s entire body sags when she exhales, head colliding with Killian’s chest and she barely considers the fact that he didn’t barricade that before she’s wrapping both her arms around him. She mumbles something into his shirt, nonsense that may just be thank you several dozen times and that doesn’t really make sense, but David wouldn’t listen and Mary Margaret couldn’t listen and Graham did not deserve to die.

Alone.

He died alone.

“Did you tell David that?” Emma mumbles, Killian’s head shake almost audible.

“He’s not interested in that. The department said it was cut and dry. Wrong place, wrong time, and a weak heart, but it was…”

He trails off, Emma’s heart thundering in her ears because she knows how that sentence is going to end. It’s impossible. The medical records don’t make any sense. It wasn’t a heart attack or a stroke or anything remotely human.

It was magical and wrong and Emma is going to fix it.

Before it happens.

“You don’t know this is going to work,” Killian continues, a warning there that Emma ignores.

“I’m more optimistic about it than I was, like, four days ago.” “Why is that?” “Because I tried four days ago and it didn’t work.”

“Emma!”

She jerks back at the sound of her own name, eyebrows furrowed because they’re not friends and he never calls her that, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives her pause. She bites her lip. “It didn’t work,” Emma repeats. “So, you know...no harm, no foul. Or whatever.” “That’s not whatever. That is…” Killian exhales sharply, tongue flashing between his lips and Emma has to dig her heels into the floor to stop herself from moving. “You can’t do that again, love. Please.” Emma nods slowly, an agreement without considering what she’s agreeing to. She can see the muscles in Killian’s throat move when he swallows though, and he’s going to do damage to his jaw if he holds it any tighter. “I don’t think anyone can do it alone,” she says. “I...it’s not simple magic.” “Because going back in time should be impossible.”

“Not in theory.” “And what happens if it doesn’t work?” Emma shrugs, a flush of fear creeping up her spine and settling at the base of her skull and the magic seems to spark in her fingertips. Killian laces his hand through hers without a word. “That’s why you’re here,” she says, and those words have a weight to them as well, a certainty she didn’t expect, but kind of needs because she’s not entirely what will happen if this doesn’t work.

Killian’s lips twitch. “And you didn’t think to ask David or Mary Margaret?” “David won’t and Mary Margaret can’t. You know that. And…” “And?” “You also know you’re better at magic than both of them. Don’t laugh at me.” “Why would I laugh when you’re complimenting me so nicely, Swan?” Emma flicks his chest, another twist of his eyebrows and quirk of his lips and his fingers are back around her wrist as quickly as if he’d teleported them there. He might have. He’s very good at magic.

He’s very good at everything.

It’s frustrating.

“We can’t just go into this blind, you know,” Killian says. “There’s got to be a plan and an escape route and--” “--And I’ve got that. All of it. Well, most of it.” “Most of it?” “You’re going to be the worst time travel partner, I know it.” “That’s assuming this works.” “It’s really not helping my confidence or my magic that you keep pointing out the likelihood of failure,” Emma mutters, trying to pull her hand back to her side. Killian’s fingers tighten. “The books are clear. It’s all about getting the incantation right and, well, you know...having enough power. I don’t...it didn’t work on my own and you’re the strongest magic I know. So either you agree or you don’t and we just...we never know what happened and we don’t fix it.” Killian considers that for a moment, eyes tracing across Emma’s face like he’s looking for the lie or the inevitable jab at his character. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything. She holds her breath.

He taps his thumb on the back of her wrist again.

“You want to fix it?”

Emma hisses. “Was that not obvious?” “It felt wrong to assume.” “He shouldn’t be dead.” “The world’s not all that interested in that, I’m afraid.” “Yeah, well, fuck the world,” Emma says, and Killian’s eyes widen. “Listen. I…” “Ok.”

She’s positive she imagined it again.

That’s a frustrating habit to have picked up in the last few moments.

Emma gasps, stumbling back at the certainty in those two letters and the force of the magic around them and she’s certain they’re setting off several metaphorical alarm bells to every other being in a hundred-block radius, but ok is echoing between her ears and she’s almost hopeful this will work.

“Ok?” Killian hums. “You’re right. He shouldn’t be dead and I don’t think he died the way we’ve been told. There’s something wrong here. So, if you want to figure it out, then...seems wrong not to help somehow.” “What a gentleman.” “Something like that.”

“Alright,” Emma says, drawing the word out cautiously like she’s nervous he’s going to change his mind. “So, um…” “I’m not particularly interested in time traveling with you immediately, love. And if we’re going to assume our success is based entirely on the strength of our magic, then I’d suggest we aim for a well-placed full moon on Halloween.” “There’s a full moon on Halloween?” “You’re a very observant witch.” Emma clicks her tongue, but he’s also got a point. Several of them. She hopes she doesn’t regret this. She hopes this works.

“Just like that?” Emma asks. “Full moon on Halloween and you’re ready to go back in time and prevent a murder?” “You came to me, Swan.” That’s another point.

Emma’s going to scream. Or curse him. Or something else. Something less aggressive, but possibly just as drastic as cursing.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I did.” The floor creaks when he moves, stepping away from the doorframe and Emma shudders as soon as his arms wrap around her. It’s like...something or everything and the magic in her veins practically sings, a certainty and confidence and she buries her face against Killian’s chest without asking.

His fingers drift across her spine, tracing between her shoulder blades like he’s following a path he can see and Emma lets her eyes flutter shut. She’s exhausted and worried, but she’s also tired of both of those emotions, and even more tired of seeing Mary Margaret cry and David ignore the possibility that there’s magic in New York they’re not aware of. So Emma doesn’t move, just breathes in the scent of laundry detergent and something that smells a bit like salt and it’s as if time gives them both a second to be.

Just to be.

Emma assumes that means time is on their side.

She appreciates it.

“You can’t tell David or Mary Margaret,” Killian says, the words far too loud in a moment Emma didn’t particularly want to end.  

“No, no, I won’t. They wouldn’t...they’d try to stop us and--” “--I know, love.” Emma doesn’t think he realizes he keeps switching between endearments – he’s got nicknames for everyone, sarcasm and smirks and a distinct lack of sincerity that always seems to fall by the wayside whenever he glances her direction. She’s not sure he realizes that either. And she’s got no idea when she did.

Probably before deciding to time travel with Killian Jones.

“If I say that we should meet at moonrise, are you going to actually make fun of me?” Emma asks, leaning back in just enough time to see his tongue find the corner of his mouth.

“Absolutely.”

“Ok. Good.” “Maybe a few minutes before moonrise. Just to be safe.” “That’s what we’re being? Safe?” Killian nods. “When playing with uncharted magic, yes, but ...you’re right. I think this could work.”

The magic around them grows, strong enough that Emma is surprised she can’t actually see it. She can feel it though, like it’s cracking through the air and weaving between them, connections and knots, all of them twining together and twisting and it’s not as terrifying as it probably should be. It’s comforting.

“Moonrise,” Emma repeats, taking a step back and Killian’s hand falls to his side. “Here?” “Less likely for David or Mary Margaret to appear unannounced, yeah?” There’s something on the edge of his voice, but Emma’s too preoccupied with her pulse and her magic to linger too long on it. She hopes that’s not a mistake. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Ok, so, uh, it’s a date?” Killian chuckles lightly, hair grazing his eyebrows when he nods. “It’s a date, Swan.” 

She sends Mary Margaret and David an email.

In case this doesn’t work.

Or something.

It seems less hokey than taping a note to their apartment door – which is only a few doors away from Emma’s apartment door, but it also feels a little less emotional and a bit more detached and Emma doesn’t bring anything except her phone with her when she walks fifteen blocks to Killian’s building.

He answers on the third knock, a different NYPD shirt and sneakers that look new. There are candles everywhere, more than few stacks of paperwork littering the floor. Emma’s eyes dart around the room, not sure what to land on because she’s now only a little worried they’re going to burn to death before they can even start the spell.

“What the hell is this?” she asks. “And did you buy new shoes?” Killian doesn’t quite glare at her, but it’s an admirable effort. “Why is David already texting me?” “I asked you first.” “This is...not a big deal. Did you tell David and Mary Margaret what you were doing?” “No!” “Swan.” “Not...directly.” “Emma,” Killian groans, and she wishes he would stop doing that. It’s messing with her mind and her center and she needs both of those to be as perfect as possible. Her magic is vibrating, she’s positive.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. We are running out of time.” “We are literally trying to time travel. We have more time than we could possibly know what to do with.”

“So then ask me this question when we’re in the past,” Emma mutters. “Did you work on the pronunciation for the spell? That’s important.” “I’ve cast spells before, Swan.” They’re both dancing around each other, deflections and distractions and neither one of those seem entirely appropriate a few minutes ahead of what they’re trying to accomplish, but it’s also the basis for their entire relationship.

Emma wishes her mind would shut the hell up.

She can hear kids laughing on the street below them, trick-or-treaters and humans without any knowledge of the magic that exists around them and sometimes threatens them and if there’s a witch out there killing other beings, then they’ve got a moral obligation to stop it.

Together.

She sighs, a breath of air she probably needs, and it takes less than a full moment for Killian to move into her space. His fingers are still warm when they brush over hers, twisting her hand to place something in her palm.

It’s a moonstone.

“Where did you get this?” Emma asks in disbelief.

“I’ve had it.” “What?” “Hold onto it, ok?” Emma nods slowly, lips suddenly dry because at some point her mind decided to start breathing through her mouth and moonstones are supposed to protect travelers. She doesn’t ask if he has one for himself.

“Alright,” Killian continues, grabbing several candles and moving them around a photo on his coffee table. Emma nearly chokes. It’s the crime scene, police tape obvious and a body even clearer and her vision spins as soon as the realization slams into.

He must feel the shift in her magic because he spins as soon as Emma’s breath hitches, a mumbled hey, hey and something that sounds like it’s alright, love and she nods as soon as his thumb grazes her cheek.

“Fine,” Emma promises. “I’m fine. You seriously know how to say all the words, right? I don’t want to end up, like, in the prehistoric age.” “I highly doubt that’s how it would work, Swan. Plus, every theory I’ve read says if you want to travel, you need visual of where you’re going. We’ve got that.” “You’ve got that. Why do you have that?” The tips of Killian’s ears go red. It’s a tell. It’s been a tell for years. “I already told you. You weren’t the only one with suspicions.” “You’ve been researching this!” “That’s a very dirty-sounding word. I’ve been...looking into it. That’s all.” Emma hums, but that realization seems to crash into her with the force of several eighteen-wheelers and the stone in her hand feels as if it’s vibrating. “Sure,” she says, taking a step around him and it feels like a million miles. “Alright, so we focus on the picture and the moment and--” “--Cast the spell? Yeah, that’s usually how it works.” “I’m going to kill you and leave your body in the past.” “That is violent.” “Happy Halloween.”

Killian barks out a laugh, teeth finding his lower lip. “C’mon, Swan. We’re getting very close to the witching hour.” “That’s not how that phrase works at all.”

“C’mon.”

She doesn’t argue that time, sinking onto the far ground at the far edge of the coffee table. It isn’t easy to keep her eyes away from the photos, but she’s going to lose her nerve if she sees, and Killian is right – it’s time.

“You ready?” he asks, like this wasn’t her idea and Emma nods brusquely, taking his hand when he holds it out. Still warm. “Try to stay in rhythm when we talk. The world likes that, usually.” Emma laughs, but it’s not a joke and her whole body starts to tremble as soon as Killian waves his hand over the candles. The flames jump, a flash of blue light and energy and she knows she’s speaking, can hear her own voice echo around them, but it feels like she’s watching it as well, hovering above the scene like she’s totally detached.

“Buailín, bean an taistealaigh, féachaint ormsa,” Killian says, care on every letter. His fingers don’t leave Emma’s, growing tighter with every moment. Her palm is sweaty, she can feel the moisture, making it difficult to hold her grip, but he doesn’t let go.

She digs her nails into the back of his palm.

“Cibé an bhfuil mé ag taisteal san aer, ar thalamh nó ar muir,” Emma continues.

The flames shift again, a flash of red and anger – the emotion almost palpable in the air, as if the air is angry at them for trying. Emma squeezes her eyes closed, doing her best to fight off the wave of nausea in her stomach, but the smell only gets more potent.

It’s like burned rubber and ashes, disappointment and fury and none of it is right. She’s shaking now, quick jerks that send pain through all of her limbs and into the base of her spine, moisture pooling at the bottom of her neck.

The smell grows.

And Emma gasps when she hears it, a cry of despair that seems to rip across all of time. Her eyes snap open, if only to check that she’s not actually being ripped apart as well. It feels that way, agony and an emptiness that seems to stretch out as far as she can see.

Her eyes widen, trying to find an end, but it only looks more vast the longer she stares ahead, a never-ending wasteland of darkness and nothing.

Alone.

The word flashes in front of her gaze like a neon sign, taunting and Emma shakes her head. It doesn’t move. The feeling grows, blooming in the very center of her chest like there’s a black hole there, and Emma can’t breathe.

She tries to lick her lips or swallow back the cry in her throat, but she feels like she’s standing on the edge of something, any movement certain to leave her falling into the abyss in front of her.

“Swan!” She doesn’t hear it at first. It’s nothing more than a wisp and want, but he yells again and squeezes her hand and Emma grips the moonstone as tightly as she can.

“You’ve got to finish it, love,” Killian says, and, that time, Emma hears him perfectly. “You can do it. I know you can.”

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Swan. You’ve got to say the words.”

“Cosúil le talisman--” she starts.

“--i mo phóca clochfaidh mé.”

His hand never leaves hers. And everything goes dark.

Emma wakes with a start, eyes scanning the room and there’s no one there.

She sits up slowly, wincing at the ache in her right palm and her fingers barely unclench. There’s a moonstone in her hand.

“Oh shit,” Emma breathes. “It worked.”

It takes her a frustratingly long amount of time to figure out where she is, her apartment looking almost foreign without the empty takeout containers and piles of half-finished laundry she’d accumulated in the weeks after Graham’s death.

She shouldn’t be in her apartment.

She should be in Killian’s apartment.

She should–– “Oh shit,” she hisses again, leaping out of bed and wobbling as soon as her feet hit the floor. “Killian! Killian, are you here?” Silence.

Painful, vaguely terrifying silence.

“Killian?” Emma hates how small her own voice sounds, but bits and pieces are starting to come back and she’s not sure this worked the way she thought it would. Something about this is wrong. There shouldn’t have been that noise or those feelings, a flash of magic Emma is certain wasn’t hers. Or Killian’s.

Killian.

She jumps at the knock on the door, a quick rap of knuckles that’s practically exuding impatience. Emma swallows, tapping her fingers against the pajama pants she’s inexplicably wearing. Oh. Oh.

They hadn’t gone back to the crime scene, but they’d gone back to the day. And Emma had woken up in her apartment wearing pajama pants with a snowflake pattern on them because Mary Margaret had bought them for her last Christmas. It was a very bad joke.

The knock is louder the second time.

Emma twists her wrist, magic crackling between her fingers as she jogs towards the door. He’s halfway to a third knock when she swings it open.

“Swan,” Killian mutters, a note of wonder in his voice and she belatedly realizes it might be the first time he’s seen inside her apartment. They’re not really friends.

“Hey.” It’s an absurd response, all things considered, but Emma’s brain is firing a mile a minute and her magic is moving even quicker and she’s not entirely prepared for the look on Killian’s face. His entire expression shifts down, lips falling and shoulders sagging.

She’s almost surprised there’s not some soft of blue aura around him, just to really drive the point home.

“Oh,” he nods. “Ok, I um--”

He moves to walk away, which really is almost more absurd than Emma’s hey, but then she waves her hand and he crashes into an invisible wall that wasn’t there two seconds before. Emma assumes that means she’s won.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t...don’t go. Please.” Killian turns around slowly, the heel of his hand rubbing his jaw. “Did you just magic a wall for me to run into?” “I wasn’t really thinking.” “Yuh huh.” “Were you...were you thinking? When you came over here?” “You’re doing a rather abysmal job of beating around the bush here, Swan.”

Emma scoffs, waving her hand again so no one else is injured by her invisible wall. In the past. They’re in the past. “That’s because I’m not entirely sure of the rules.” “I think we’ve broken right by all of those, don’t you?” “Look who’s beating around the bush now,” Emma accuses, reaching forward to stab a finger into his chest before she can reconsider it. His fingers curl around her elbow, another expression that she’s possibly hoarding or recording for posterity, and she can’t think when his tongue drags across his lips. “What exactly do you remember?” “About time traveling with you?” “Oh my God.” “Enough that I realized where we were when I woke up this morning. I’m going to go ahead and assume you remember too?” Emma nods. “That was…” “Horrendous?” “Yeah, something like that.” “Did you hear the screaming?” Emma asks, but one glance at Killian’s face is enough of an answer. “I didn’t expect that.” “Neither did I. And I don’t think it was time.” That catches her by surprise. “What? What was it then?” “I think it was the person who killed Graham.” Emma’s eyes widen, and she’s glad Killian is in front of her so she can rest her palm flat against his chest. “But that noise. That wasn’t--” “--We didn’t think it was human, love.”

“That didn’t sound like a witch,” Emma argues. “That sounded like...I don’t even know what. Every horrible thing in the world. That can’t be right.” “If you’ve got another suggestion, I’m all ears.” Emma scowls. She doesn’t have another suggestion. She’s got negative suggestions. “You want some coffee?” And, really, she shouldn’t be keeping track, but Killian’s face keeps doing things and responding to her and he hasn’t tried to move her hand away from him. So, she adds that expression to the list she’s only maybe kind of keeping and tries to smile like any of this is normal and Killian’s step is almost steady when he crosses the threshold.

He puts four spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee.

And they try to come up with a plan.

It’s a garbage plan. It’s a garbage, shit, terrible plan and Emma can’t help the whimper that falls out of her as soon as Killian’s phone goes off, David’s frantic voice on the other end because Graham’s dead and they’ve done all this before.

David only looks a little stunned when they show up at the crime scene together.

“What the…” he mumbles, shaking his head like it’s all a dream and Emma wishes it was.

She and Killian had left her apartment hours earlier, patrolling the twenty blocks around where Graham was found. There wasn’t anything. No clues. No nothing. Everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

And Graham looked even more pale in person than in the photos.

Emma turned on the spot, head colliding with the jut of Killian’s shoulder as he tried to tug her closer to his side.

David’s eyes were going to fall out of his head.

“What the hell is happening right now?” he demands. “How the hell did you get here so fast? How did both of you get here?” Killian ignores all three questions. “What’s your gut reaction to this?” “What?” “Your gut reaction, Nolan. Now!” David flinches at the acid in Killian’s voice, gaze flitting from his partner to Emma and back again. It reminds her of a pinball machine. “The coroner thinks it’s a heart attack,” David mumbles. “No outward signs of struggle and no witnesses and--” “--That’s not what I asked.” “What the hell are you getting at? You’re making it sound like you’re looking for something nefarious here.”

Killian sighs, letting his cheek rest on the top of Emma’s head. They’re not friends. They’re not friends. They’re time-travel partners. Who failed. Completely. And immediately.

David appears to be choking.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on with you two.”

Both Killian and Emma ignore that as well.

“There wasn’t anything, David?” she asks instead. “Nothing suspicious?” “Should there be?” “I don’t know.” “Sure you don’t.” Emma rolls her eyes, falling back on tried and true when nothing feels like that. Killian’s arm tightens around her shoulders. “What was Graham doing here?” Emma presses. “We’re not anywhere near his apartment.” “It’s a city, Em. People go out. Right?” She’s positive he doesn’t mean for that last question to sound as unsure as it does, but the world appears to be playing one long trick-or-treat joke on her and Emma can feel the tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, I guess,” she mutters.

Her eyes dart back towards Graham, though, medics and the coroner and she can dimly make out the crinkle of a body bag unfolding. Killian's mumbling in her ear, quiet promises and assurances that don’t make any sense at all, particularly with David glowering at both of them.

“There wasn’t anything, Swan,” Killian says, not for the first time that day.

“That is impossible.” He chuckles against her hair. “Yeah, that seems to be the theme.”

“We didn’t do anything. We didn’t change a single thing.” “What?” David shouts, drawing the attention of several uniform officers. He waves them off, shifting on his feet and one of the streetlights above them flickers.

“Don’t do that,” Killian warns. His fingers are moving now, tiny semi circles on Emma’s shoulder that seem as natural as the breathing she desperately needs to do.

“I’m not doing anything. Why did you get here so fast?” “We were in the area.” “We?” Killian glares, turning Emma on the spot and resting both hands on her arms. She feels kind of dizzy. She assumes that’s a byproduct of time travel. It’s probably not.

It’s definitely not.

“Maybe we were wrong, love.” “You are lying to me,” Emma hisses. “Right to my face. You know this wasn’t a heart attack.” David curses again, stomping his foot for good measure. Emma doesn’t blink. Killian inhales sharply. “I don’t think we did it right, Swan,” he says, soft and cautious like speaking too loudly will make it real.

“Did what right?” “That noise. Whatever it was. It shouldn’t have been there. And I think it’s got something to do with us. And Graham.” Emma sighs, an agreement sitting on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t say it. She’s far too busy crying.

Killian doesn’t flinch – again. Just lets her head crash into his chest and holds onto her, ignoring whatever sounds David is making as several different police officers try to get them to move. There’s a gurney working its way through the crime scene.

“C’mon, Swan,” Killian says. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

She lets him direct her back towards her apartment, never asking how he knows about hot chocolate or the cinnamon she sprinkles on top. She sits in the corner of her couch, crying even after the tears stop falling.

And they don’t try to come up with another plan.

There’s not anything to say.

Something is wrong.

They just don’t know what.

Emma has no idea what time it is when her eyes start to flutter, but it must be close to midnight, Killian shifting slightly next to her. Her heart stutters. “Hey, hey,” she says sharply, grasping at the side of his jeans like he’s about to disappear. “Don’t...um, don’t go. Please.” He turns slowly, staring at her with an expression she’ll probably think about every time she wakes up and just before she goes to sleep.

He nods.

“Yeah, ok, Swan.”

She falls asleep easily, her head on Killian’s thigh and his fingers toying with the ends of her hair and it’s almost enough that Emma doesn’t hear the scream as soon as the clock in her kitchen ticks twelve.

Emma wakes with a start, eyes scanning the room and there’s no one there.

She blinks, the frustrating sense of familiarity tugging at the back of her brain. There shouldn’t be anyone there. She’s home. In her apartment. Where she lives. Alone.

It’s...she can’t remember what day it is.

The phone on her nightstand is already ringing, a flash of color and vibrations and Emma hates the little lurch her heart makes when she notices the name.

Killian Jones.

She nearly knocks the phone on the ground in an effort to pick it up, slamming it against her ear. “Hi,” she says, and it comes out like a sigh.

“Hi.” “What day is it?” “My phone claims it’s September 12th.” Emma drops her phone.

She yanks the blankets away from her legs, staring wide-eyed at the pajamas she’s wearing again. Or still. Or, maybe, again. Words get confusing when time travel is involved.

And Emma has never hated a joke Christmas gift more in her entire life.

“Fuck.”

He’s yelling her name into the phone, loud enough that it nearly makes Emma laugh because the whole thing is absurd and impossible and they probably should have discussed leaving the past more. Emma just assumed it would...happen.

Magically.

God.

“Swan?” “Yeah, yeah,” Emma mutters, nearly falling out of the bed as she gets her phone back to her ear. “Still here.” “So, uh, it appears we’ve done a few things wrong here, love.” “You can say that again.” “Was that a joke?” “Not an intentional one.” Killian hums, and Emma pinches the bridge of her nose, the threat of a headache pulsing behind her left eye. “Ok,” she continues. “So. What do we do? Are we sure it’s still September 12th?” “I really doubt my phone would lie to me. Or NY1.” “NY1 is incapable of lying. Did he read the newspapers?” “Same as they were yesterday.” “Holy shit.” “Those were my sentiments exactly.”

“What do we do?” Killian makes a noise, not quite words and something that sounds a hell of a lot like confusion. “Try to find something again? Maybe it’s a gift from the universe?” “That seems like an awfully chipper mindset.” “Ah, the power of positive thinking. Also I just watched the same news story about a school in Crown Heights that’s getting its first-ever playground for the second time in as many days and it’s done wonders to my mindset about the world.” Emma laughs, easy and normal. She imagines Killian smiles. “You want to come over and drink more of my coffee and come up with a plan that, this time, doesn’t suck?” “I thought you’d never ask, Swan.” 

 It takes a full week before Emma believes the plan is impossible.

The plan continues to suck. Or sucks even more and Emma is standing next to Killian at a crime scene she’s certain she can describe in minute detail at this point.

For the seventh straight day.

David stormed away from them in a huff five minutes before – as soon as Killian growled walk away, Detective when David spotted his fingers wrapped around Emma’s – and no one’s paid them a second glance since. They’re standing stock still, a few inches of space between them, but Killian hasn’t tried to move his hand and Emma is gripping it like several metaphorical anchors.

She wonders why Graham looks so pale if it was a heart attack.

It wasn’t a heart attack.

“At what point do we just throw in the white flag?” Emma asks, not taking her eyes away from the coroner. His name is Victor. They learned that on the third day.

Killian turns towards her slowly, eyes frustratingly blue and decidedly distracting. His expression is unreadable. “Why would we do that?”

“There’s nothing here, Killian. We’ve searched every corner within fifty blocks. Nothing has changed. We haven’t done anything.” Emma’s voice cracks on the last word, an anger she’d been doing her best to avoid. And neither one of them have acknowledged the very real possibility that they may be stuck on September 12th for the rest of their lives.

They’ve got no escape plan.

She should have prepared better. She thought her magic would react better. Her magic, however, seems to be at the crux of Emma’s problems. It’s as if it’s developed its own rhythm in the last few days, a tide that’s coursing through every inch of her, warming her from the inside out and keeping her slightly off-kilter. It boils under her skin, a determination to do something because they haven’t talked about that noise either.

The noise that pounds in Emma’s memory and lingers on the edge of her consciousness every single night. At midnight. Every single night.

“Maybe there isn’t anything to do,” Killian whispers, and Emma doesn’t miss the defeat there.

“Hence my white flag joke.” “You’ve got a habit of making very poorly timed jokes, love.” “It’s a very misplaced defense mechanism. I think it drives Mary Margaret insane.” “I sincerely doubt that.” She doesn’t need the rush of feeling shooting down her arm to know he means it, the honestly in his voice strong enough to permanent damage to the space-time continuum. He nearly smiles when she meets his gaze.

“That was nice,” Emma mutters.

“It happens from time to time.” She nods, pulse fluttering and Killian’s eyebrows shift when he feels the change in her magic. “I don’t know what we’re missing. There’s got to be something. What did we do wrong?” “I don’t know.” “I”ll be honest and tell you that’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

He laughs, more than a little sarcastic, and for one absolutely, insane moment Emma is certain he’s going to kiss her. He stares at her like he’s about to, eyes tracing over her face and lingering for a moment on her lips, but then he blinks and it’s over and they’re still stuck in some weird Groundhog Day situation with no new clues and a terrifying shriek to end every day.

She probably wouldn’t have argued the kiss.

The corner has to ask them to move out of the way of the gurney.

God.

“I think we’ve got some time to figure it out, Swan.” “Was that a joke?” “Probably worse than yours, right?” “Decidedly.” Killian grins, not quite as exhausted as it’s been while they’ve been chasing ghosts and possible magic and Emma chews on her lip to remind herself that they’re not really friends. She can’t figure out why he agreed to help her.

She can’t figure out how he’s not furious she’s inadvertently trapped them in the past.

“Hot chocolate?” he asks, and Emma nods out of habit and want. Killian’s smile widens. “Good. I’ve got some theories about marshmallow to chocolate ratio I want to test out.”

They eventually decide that the optimum number of marshmallows in a coffee mug is seven, which seems kind of arbitrary, but Killian is quick to point out that it’s magical, Swan and Emma is willing to be charmed. So she doesn’t argue.

And she doesn’t say anything when, this time, he slides down next to her on the couch, pulling her flush against his chest with an arm around her waist and her hair in his eyes.

It’s comforting, safe and warm and a slew of positive adjectives that are probably as impossible as getting out of whatever loop they’re in because Emma’s breath catches as soon as her eyes close and the sound echoes off the walls of her apartment.

He finds her hide-a-key the next morning, letting himself into her apartment with a smile and coffee in hand. Emma blinks sixteen times at the sight.

“You’ve got to move that, Swan,” Killian says, groaning when he almost hands her his over-sugared coffee. “It took me almost no time to find.” “You’re a cop. And magic. You are literally made to find secret things.” “Made?” “Ask me that question again after I’ve finished the coffee.” Killian chuckles, dropping onto the edge of Emma’s bed. She watches him over the top of her coffee cup, a forced energy and certainty that should probably grate on her nerves more. She finds it kind of endearing.

Mostly because she’s kind of hoping he’s doing it for her.

She’s, like, seventy-five percent positive he’s doing it for her.

“What’s your deal?” Emma asks, and Killian arches an eyebrow.

“I saw that Crown Heights story again today.” “And?” “And I think we should take a day off from crime-fighting.” “What?” “I think you heard me the first time, love,’ he drawls, letting his hand rest on her outstretched leg. “And if we’re going to be stuck here for awhile, then we’ve got some time to...do other things.” “That’s insane.”

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “That’s practical.” “How you figure?” “You hear the noise last night?”

Emma nearly chokes on her coffee, Killian’s expression turning serious. “Yeah, I did,” she says. “It sounded worse, didn’t it?” “Like it was getting ripped apart. So I think we’ve got to change our approach, Swan. We’ve exhausted this avenue of the search, it’s time to find something different.” “By ignoring the search completely.” “Yes, exactly that. You ever been to Veselka?”

“The pierogi place?” “I think they have other things besides pierogies,” Killian argues, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and it would be really nice to not spend an entire day thinking about death. “But the pierogies are supposed to be legendary. Or so the rumors say.” “You’ve never been there?”

The question lingers in the air around them, buoyed by mutual magic and possible hope and Emma burns her tongue when she all but gulps down the rest of her coffee. Killian shakes his head again.

“Not once. But I’ve got a deep appreciation of Polish food.”

Emma scoffs, still charmed. Consistently. For the past week. Despite the lingering scent of death. “I really like the idea of a mass quantity of potatoes stuffed into some kind of pasta thing.”

“It’s a date then.” “Is this you picking me up?” “Something like that.” Killian stands up, offering a hand and another smile, or possibly the same smile, and Emma’s going to let him move her hide-a-key. “Get showered and we’ll go. A whole day of doing things we’ve never done.” “You’re very optimistic.” He doesn’t answer, but Emma thinks she hears him say something like that again as she turns on the water and they order every single pierogi option Veselka offers. The waitress looks at them like they’re insane.

They honestly might be.

Oh hey, there’s a second chapter. It’s also on Ao3. 

[babayagainthemidst]

Exactly 2 years today. Got a doctor checked on me. That was a terrifying day of my life, tbh. 'Twas like 9 months before this very day of the same month(kapoya analyze uy😂) when I started feeling it, inside of me. But I just ignored it knowing I'm feeling healthy y'all though I kept on having episodes the following months(geek). The episodes stopped after the super lockdown I think, and rarely feeling it for the following months. But then somewhere before this month of 2 years ago(samuka sa pag analyze uy🤦) I got a super episode which I decided to see a doctor and checked on me (happy 2 years😂). The results was terrifying and my soul was like wanting to depart from my body(which didn't happen🙈). What I thought was something like just minor stingy but turned out to be the worst of all the worst. Nah! I was muted for the following days, was a bit lost, everything's empty and also the most frightening nightmare happened that totally wrecked my gasping heart. Everything went gray and the thought of me bearing it was totally sane and unacceptable. I decided to get a second opinion but the result's the same. Did my own research and made myself understand everything(this 3 consonant letters, not contagious tho but I'll be bearing it for the rest of my life😣). It's not curable but there is one thing that could stop the sting and episodes. Ek! I'm not into 'it' tho and still not seeing myself with that 'thing'. Due to what happened on those days I quite doubt myself and it was the first time of questioning my worth. That month and that year was the most nerve wracking event of my life. For the thoughts that wasn't heard, tears that was hidden, sleepless nights and I cried without sound like the silence alone is killing me. Every piece of me burst out and burnt down, left alone. Lost my job, distanced myself from my family, totally closed my doors, and I became someone I don't want to be, like someone from my past but more of no vision, was juggling of finding my way back and thinking of ending my life(which I didn't do anyway����). No warm hugs, shoulder to lean on, not a tap on my shoulder nor a single comforting words. Saklap! Like every inch of my body and soul was lost.

2/2

Words are better left unsaid, I felt that the real ones respected my silence but I know too well who among the real ones stayed and chose to understand my silence. But those days was the most trustworthy version of myself and no one really knows about it(my decision). Instead I did rise up, smiled and atta girl, gear up the best fitted suit I could ever have, bravery and hope. So it was never enough reason to bend down my knees and give up on my life. As time goes by and years came in my life I did understand everything, fully, being strong isn't enough if you lack passion in everything that you do. Despite every bad words I heard around, the never ending comparison and the head to foot stares jusme I don't care. I'm too tired with everything but I ain't giving a shit on giving up. We ain't cowards! All I know is that I'm doing what I want(with passion, panalo ako dito)coz it's not about how fast or slow I'd reached my destination but its about on how I enjoyed, learned a lot, accepting my flaws, forgiving myself and people, dealing with sudden twists and gaining self-love on my travel. I'm having a lot of fun and making sure I'll never regret my decisions(not rushing things but savoring every moments) and we'll never doubt myself anymore, ever. I am more than enough(says Ma🤗). Got the best support system and respect from my beautiful family and my few friends, this awesome life? dang! got my job and the never ending guidance from Him. So what else could I asked for? Yes, I do still maintain my medication and yakult's highest paid actor rn plus the patience I gained in this journey😉. Looking back and seeing how far I've come makes my heart giddy🙃. Almost halfway there and still picking up the pieces of what's left in me but I know, I'll get there(wherever this life leads me)💯. I'm posting this to appreciate myself for being tough enough in facing the hindrances and getting through procrastinating times. I am and will always be grateful for everything. Yeah, I'm proud of myself. Here's to manifesting for greater life, healing with time, more of being independent, still not growing up🙄but growing old🙈and for a stable and peaceful mind. Cheers to that😉.

11/19/22

[beefybuffybucky]

The Reunion

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader - Avengers x female!Reader

Request: Hey Bae 😚 would you like to do an imagine where you were Buckys wife in the 40s and after he got taken by Hydra you went through the same fate. Now 70 years later they found you during a mission captured and take you to the compound. Bucky feels overly happy but fears you won't recognise him, but you do. So over the time you slowly get along with the new life and also your feelings for Buck didn't change, you just experience a more intense love life 😉 this would be great & some smut hehe -anon

Warnings: Smut/NSFW (18+) - fingering and oral (female receiving) - some language - a wee bit o’ angst

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: College is really stressful and I’ve had such a bad mental week, it’s been great. Any ways, here’s some good ol’ smut! There’s plenty more where this came from, so I hope it’s what you were searchin’ for. Requests/asks are still open, so feel free to drop somethin’!

Bucky’s P.O.V.

Y/N. Her name was Y/N.

It’s missions that this that remind me of her. The flakes falling around us bitterly kiss my face as Steve and I trudge through endless mounds of snow, heading for the large, rusted metal door embedded in the rough stone of the mountain. This is where I was kept under HYDRA control - where my previous life has ended and this new one began.

Y/N was my comfort - she kept me grounded. We had first met during a night-out in the city. I had convinced Stevie to go to a club with me, and she was the first woman I saw when I stepped into the dim room. We spent the whole night drinking and chatting, and by the end of the night, I knew she was the one that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with - I just never knew our time together would be so short.

“Buck,” Steve’s stern voice shuts-down my thoughts. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I sigh, gripping the machine gun in my hands tightly. Steve pulls out a small device from his pocket and attaches it to the lock on the door. A gradual beeping echoes through the frozen air and a quick, bright flash of light follows. I shield my face as bits of metal and other pieces of the lock shoot from the door. Steve grabs his shield off his back as he pulls open the door, nearly tearing it off the hinges.

“Let’s go,” Steve nods towards the entrance and disappears into the dark stairwell. The heavy smell of must and old, stale metallic air attacks my senses. Memories of the past begin to flood into my mind as we step into the elevator leading down to the lower level. The last time I was here, the Avengers had been falling apart, and I lost my arm...Again. After a while, the team was able to make-up, everything went back to normal, and I even got another arm from Tony. About a month ago, we got some word about possible HYDRA activity at the old base where I was held. Most of the team were gone on other missions, so Steve and I were assigned to the mission. The goal is to basically sweep the building and clear any suspicions about HYDRA whereabouts.

The elevator coming to a stop jolted me from my trance, and the door painstakingly creaks open, revealing a large room full of scrap metal and destroyed machinery. The only sound I could hear was a low, distant humming and our boots shufflings across the dusty cement floor. A soft, weak light being cast from across the room catches my attention and I tap Steve’s shoulder, pointing the gun towards it. His expression hardens as we cross the room and he prepares himself for what we may encounter.

Another smaller, ancient door blocks most of the light - all it takes it one quick hit from Steve’s shield to send the door flying off its hinges. The faint, yellow light radiates from a pod pushed against the wall at the other side of the room.

“Is that a…,” Steve lowers his defense as confusion softens his features.

“Another cryo-pod,” my chest tightens at my own words. I slowly walk passed Steve, my feet resistant to move at first. I sling the gun across my back as I near the pod. Thin wisps of icy air whirl from the bottom of it, and as I step up to the glass casing, I can make out the faint outline of a body. A small panel of controls is to my right, and I instinctively reach for it as my heart-rate begins to quicken.

“Bucky? What are you -”

Steve’s voice is cut off by a loud whirring sound as I hit one of the buttons on the panel, opening the containment pod. It slowly lifts, a thick stream of icy wisps cascading over the edge of the platform. The figure inside is completely still, but a faint, rhythmic heartbeat sounds out over the room. As the glass finally slides away completely, I manage to get a clear view of the figure lying dormant inside. Most of their face is covered by a mask, but it’s obviously a woman.

Stepping carefully onto the platform, I grab onto the edge of the pod for balance and cautiously reach for the mask. My hand stalls as something stings in my heart. The way her hair falls messily around her face and the softness of the skin around her closed eyes remind me of Y/N.

“Are you okay? What is it? Who is she?”

“Any more questions, Stevie?” I shoot over my shoulder. I turn my attention back to the woman and gently unclasp the mask from her face, letting it tumble to the floor. My heart stops as my chest floods with an odd mixture of fear and horror.

She looks exactly like Y/N. Everything about her features is the same.

“Y/N,” I breathe out through my teeth.

“Bucky? What’s wrong? What are you -” Steve’s voice hitches as he comes to a halt behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know that his face is twisted in confusion and fright. “It...It can’t be. She looks like -”

“Y/N,” I finish for him, my voice shaking with emotion. “It’s Y/N.”

“I still can’t believe it’s her,” Steve pants as we run down the hallway towards the elevator. About thirty seconds ago, we got word that Y/N was finally awake. After we found her, we called in for backup and Tony and Bruce met us with another jet with medical supplies to care for her. She’s been asleep for only a few days - which is better than not at all - and as soon as we got the call from Banner, I grabbed Steve and here we are, running for the nearest way down to the clinical level. My heart is bursting with excitement, but my mind is shrouded in uncertainty.

What if she doesn’t remember me?

My thought almost made me stumble over my own feet, but I managed to keep my balance as we slowed near the elevator. The ride down felt like an eternity, and when the doors finally opened again, I went running down the hall and into the lounge area in search of Banner, leaving Steve in my dust.

“Barnes,” Banner’s gentle voice calls out from behind me, I quickly whip around and jog over to where he was standing near a doorway that led into a small, dimly-lit room.

“Can I see her?” I puff, trying to peer behind him into the room, but he stands on his toes to block more of my view, resting his hands on my shoulders.

“I-I’m not too sure if that’s the -”

“Banner,” I whisper, nearly begging. “Please.”

His hands drop to his coat pockets as he chews the inside of his lip as he debates my request. His eyes dart over my shoulders, and I can only guess he’s looking at Steve in search for an answer.

“I’ll go with him,” Steve’s voice comes from behind me.

“Fine.” Banner sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I can’t promise anything,” his gaze drops to his shoes as he turns to walk away towards the main desk. Steve’s heavy hand gingerly clamps down onto my shoulder as he comes to stand next to me in front of the doorway.

“You sure you can do this?” His voice is quiet but caring. I nod in response and will myself to walk into the room. A small bedside lamp is the only source of light in the room, but it’s enough to illuminate her soft, breathtaking features. Y/N is sitting on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. The tops of her toes barely brush over the shiny floor. Her Y/H/C hair was clean and neater than it was when we found her, and her brilliantly Y/E/C eyes shone through the darkness.

“Y/N?” I tenderly whisper. She blinks at me, brows furrowing.

“J-James,” she mumbles, tears beginning to gather in the corners of her eyes. Slowly, she pushes off the bed and pads over to me, stopping about a foot away. She carefully raises a hand and brushes the pads of her fingers down my cheek, lingering over my jaw. Her touch is warm and inviting, and I instantly crave more of it.

“It...It’s really you,” a silent tear slides down her cheek as she shakily whispers.

“Yeah, doll,” I croak, attempting to hold back my own tears. “It’s really me.”

Suddenly, she throws her arms around me, burying her face in my chest as a silent sob racked through her body. A deep, raging happiness blossoms in my chest as her form presses into mine, and at this point, I can’t hold back the tears any longer.

She’s actually back - she’s back in my arms, just like how it used to be, and I couldn’t be happier.

Reader’s P.O.V.

It’s been weird trying to adjust at the compound. It’s been nearly three weeks since you were brought here, and every day has been a new adventure. The rest of the team is overly nice and welcoming, which is helpful, but this way of life is so new to you; actually being able to work with a real team rather than doing solo assassinations and missions, in general, is a big improvement, and so are the living conditions.

But the best part about being rescued and brought to the Avengers was getting to be with Bucky again. Before this, you had nearly given-up all hope of ever seeing him again. You knew he was the Winter Soldier, and most of the time, the commanders and other HYDRA operatives would try to keep you as brainwashed as possible to avoid the possibility of you or Bucking knowing that the other was being forced to work for the same organization.

When you were reunited, it felt like you could truly be alive again - it was like a breath of fresh air after being stuck inside of dirty, old room all day. You were terrified of him not remembering you, but he was worried about the same exact thing, too.

He’s been almost hesitantly distant since that day, as if he’s still scared that you’ll just wake-up one day and not remember him - he’s definitively not the same cocky, confident man you had met back in the 40’s, but that doesn’t change the fact that you love him more than anything on Earth. His hair is also longer - a lot longer than before - and a dark beard spreads across his jawline, neck, and up into his cheeks a little bit. You wish he would open up to you more, but him keeping his distance is understandable. It’s probably not easy to adjust to this sort of thing.

A soft knock on the door stirs you from your deep thinking, and you slide off your bed to answer it. You quickly throw on a large shirt to cover your body since you had only put on a pair of panties after your shower before you lost yourself in thought.

You turn the handle and open the door a few inches to see who it was.

“Hey, Bucky,” You hum, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Can I come in?” He smiles back, but it's almost forceful.

“Yeah, of course,” you chuckle lightly and step aside, opening the door for him to enter. He walks past you and you take a second to turn around before kicking the door shut behind you.

“Please,” you motion to the bed. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, running his hands down his thighs in the process - one of his key nervous habits.

“So,” you sigh, sinking down onto the bed next to him. “What’s on your mind, pumpkin?”

“I haven’t heard that pet name in years,” Bucky chuckles, a genuine smile playing at his lips. “I just, uh…,” he clears his throat, dropping his gaze down to his folded hands. “I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” You fold one leg under you and lean a little closer to him. After a few long seconds of having no answer, you put a soft hand on his thigh. “You can tell me anything, Buck.”

His slowly lifts his head and looks at you, his eyes soft with love and edged with worry.

“Do you love me?” His voice nearly cracks, prompting him to gently bite his lip.

“Oh, baby,” your brow furrows as pity begins to pull at your heart. You bring your hand to his face, lovingly cupping his cheek, the roughness of his beard scratching your palm. “Of course I do,” you intimately whisper.

“I...I j-just…,” a muscle in his jaw twitches as he struggles to spit out what he wants to say.

“James,” you rub your thumb across his cheek lightly. “I love you. I always have,” you reassure him. “I always will.”  You lean up and ghost your lips over his, giving him a soft, tender kiss. As you slowly pull back, you let your hand drop to his chest, his heartbeat quickly thumping beneath your touch.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” he whispers near your lips. “I’m just scared of losing you.”

“I promise,” you take his metal hand with your free one. “You will never lose me again.”

His eyes cast downwards again as his jaw tightens, another look of uncertainty settling into his features.

“I...I wanna show you somethin’,” you tell him, pushing off the bed and padding over to your dresser. Pulling open the top drawer, you grab a thin necklace with a ring on it and delicately hold it in your palm, then walk back over to sit next to Bucky.

“Here,” you offer him the chain. He looks at you for a second, his gaze flicking between your palm and your face, then hesitantly takes it from your hand. As he begins to examine it, his features soften, a basically-visible wave of realization hitting him.

“T-This...It’s…,” he chokes, his head quickly snapping up to look at you. “It’s your ring. Your wedding ring.”

“Yeah, they actually let me keep it for a while before storing it away with some of my other things I had when they took me,” you explain as you scoot closer to him. “Steve found it when they found my files.”

“I can’t believe you have it,” Bucky silently gasps as he turns to you. “After all this time.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” you confess to him. “You’re the reason I kept going.”

“I love you,” he desperately breathes as he encaptures your lips in a searing, passionate kiss. His warm, rough hand slides to your neck to deepen the kiss, his fingers running through your hair. You tug on his shirt, gently pulling him closer to you as you lay back on the bed, letting him crawl over you as he quickly tucks the necklace into his pants pocket. He briefly breaks the kiss to pull his shirt off his body, tossing it somewhere behind him. Your hands roam his body as he quickly swipes at your lower lip with his tongue. You swipe back, letting his tongue fight you for dominance. After a few hot moments, you gently bite his bottom lip, earning a low groan from him. His hand slides under the thin fabric of your shirt and the tips of his fingers brush across the bottom of your breast, the sensation of the touch leaving goose-bumps in its wake. Using your hands, you gently push him away from you, both of you panting for air as you lean on your elbow to take off your shirt, letting it fall off the side of the bed.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” Bucky moans. “You’re so beautiful.”

His head dips to the crook of your neck as his metal hand ghosts over the skin of your outer thighs up to your hips. He makes his way down your chest, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, then stops at your breasts as he takes one of your nipples into his warm mouth. A soft moan tumbles from your lips as he massages the neglected breast, your back arching off the bed. Your hand tangles through his soft, brown locks as heat pools between your legs. Bucky pulls away and the cool air of the room attacks your sensitive nub, making you silently whine in protest.

Bucky plants warm, wet kisses down your abdomen, stopping at the hem of your panties. He dips down further and lightly kisses your inner thigh, letting his lips hover above your panties.  

“God, doll,” Bucky lowly mutters. “You’re so wet.” He presses a kiss to your fold, prompting you to faintly buck your hips to his face. “Someone’s eager,” he chuckles against you, the scruff on his face pricking at your sensitive skin.

“J-James, please,” you beg, one hand grabbing at the sheet beneath you as the other slides up your chest to pinch and toy with one of your nipples.

“Whatever you want, darlin’,” a devilish smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and he hooks a metal finger through your panties, ripping them off in one smooth, effortless tug. He wasted no time in teasing you. His warm tongue flattens against your wet fold as he licks from your hole to your clit. He makes tight, slow circles around your clit, your hand flying to his head as your back arches once again, your moans filling the room around you. The coil in your stomach quickly began to tighten as he inserted a finger, slowly pumping it in and out of you as he continues to toy with your sensitive bud.

“O-Oh, fuck, James,” you gasp. Your hold on his hair tightens, earning a low, vibrating hum from him that sent waves of pleasure racing through you. “I-I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby girl,” Bucky encourages. He adds another finger, setting a faster pace. A few pumps were all you needed to come all over his fingers. You nearly scream his name as you hit your high, your sense becoming overwhelmed with desire and pleasure. As you come down from your high, your eyes flutter open to see Bucky shuffling out of his pants, his bearded chin slick with your juices. He crawls back up your body, planting feathery kisses along the way.

“Good job, darlin’,” he praises in your ear, sucking at the skin near your jawline again.

“I want you to fuck me, James,” you breathlessly pant. “Please, I-I need you.”

“Anything for you, doll,” Bucky chuckles against your skin. He positions himself in front of your entrance as he passionately kisses you. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, James,” you whisper back, cupping his face with both of your hands. He starts to push into you, his head dropping to the crook of your neck as he thrusts further into you. Both of your moans filled the air as he bottoms-out, your hands dropping to his shoulder as you adjust to his size.

“F-Fuck, doll,” Bucky groans lowly into your neck. “You’re s-so tight.”

He starts to pull back out before he thrusts back into you, his pace gradually becoming faster and faster. The coil in your stomach began to tighten again as you started to approach your second end, your walls fluttering around Bucky.

“Oh, sh-shit, darlin’,” Bucky moans a low, delectable moan. “I’m so close.” His thrusts become harder and faster as he chases his release, his thick cock twitching inside you. “I want you to come around me, doll,” he pants. His metal arm sneaks between you two and rubs at your clit, causing you to succumb to the desirable sensation once again.

The coil in your stomach snaps as your orgasm hits you like a train, Bucky’s name tumbling from your lips like a prayer. He quickly hits his own releases, his hot seed coating your walls as his delicious moans of pleasure rip through the air. After a few moments of trying to come down from your highs, Bucky pulls out and collapses next to you.

“That was -”

“Amazing,” you finish his sentence, a goofy smile playing at your lips. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Just like you,” Bucky adds, kissing your temple before rolling off the bed and walking into your bathroom. He returns with a warm washcloth and cleans you up, then hands you his shirt he was wearing earlier as he pulls on his boxers. Before climbing back into bed, he fishes something out of his pocket from his jeans on the floor. The bed dips under his weight as he climbs back into bed, pulling you close to him, your head nestled into his chest.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he murmurs, holding your ring between his fingers. You beam at him and hold up your hand, letting him slowly slide the ring onto your finger.

“A perfect fit,” you joke, tilting your head up to kiss him.

“I love you more than you could ever know,” Bucky whisper against your forehead as he pulls away from the kiss.

“I love you so much more, Bucky,” you hum, settling back into his chest.

The warmth of his body and the sense of protection that washed over you by being in his arms blanketed your mind, easing you into some of the most soundless sleep you’ve had in years. The last thought you remember is thinking about waking up in his arms, safe and sound - forever.