#we see them a few years younger looking around a smaller table awkwardly but still excited to play for the first time

[rafescoke]

Older ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

#Part 2

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe falling in love with a Maybank wouldn’t be too bad.

Warnings: Smut! (Reader is 17, Rafe is 19), substance, swearing, reader being an asshole

A/N: I do not condone doing any sexual activities if you’re underage and everything that I wrote are solely for entertainment purposes. Take care of yourself always <33

p.s; send requests!

“What the fuck!”

“Good, you’re awake,” Rafe groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palm against the bright sunlight. He sat up straight, trying to regain his bearings and sighed.

“I can’t remember anything.”

“You can, you just choose not to,” Rafe replied, walking towards the bathroom. He felt the morning breeze nipping at his skin from the open window, and blamed it on the uncertain weather of Obx. Last night, he would’ve stripped naked if it wasn’t for the girl sleeping right next to him.

“Oh my god, where are we?”

“A hotel,” he mumbled from the bathroom, leaning onto the sink before reaching for the toothbrush. “We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking about that,” she grunted, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have a phone?”

She grabbed for the red phone by the bedside table when he muttered the answer, dialling her brother’s phone number with trembling fingers. She sucked in a breath, waiting impatiently.

“Hello?”

“JJ! I-”

“Save it. I heard everything. Are you really that fucking stupid, (Y/N)? Rafe fucking Cameron?”

“What?” She sat up straighter, her hair falling down to her shoulders. Rafe watched her from the mirror, his eyebrows raised and his eyes worried.

“Don’t play dumb with me, fuck,” he groaned, “Come back home now, or I won’t talk to you ever again.”

“JJ-”

She sighed when JJ hit the end call, throwing the phone onto the bed exasperatedly. She understood why he was acting berserk at the thought of her and Rafe, but why would he even made this into a huge issue?

“You okay?” Rafe asked, wiping his lips with the towel. “Is it the brother?”

“Yes, it’s the brother, and he wants me home,” she grunted, pulling the covers off of her and standing up. She stumbled backwards, still feeling so light, but put her hand up when Rafe tried to help her. “Can you order an Uber for me? Please? I lost my phone.”

Rafe scoffed, putting the discarded shirt on the floor over him, “Don’t be stupid. Let me drive you home.”

“He’s gonna kill you,” she sighed, biting her lips. Rafe had to look away, pushing away all unwanted thoughts.

“Let him,” he mumbled, grabbing his car keys by the television and fixing his hair without even looking at the mirror. He huffed, thinking it must’ve been better, and waited for her by the door.

“Oh god, I look like we fucked,” she groaned, putting her head down as they walked quickly to the car. Rafe laughed, watching her beside him, and shrugged. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes, it’s a bad thing,” she widened her eyes, and waited for him to unlock the car. “We’re not the same, Rafe.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t care about the whole kook and pogues thing,” he asked, half-amused. He watched as she entered the car, not saying anything. He placed a hand on her lap, and watched as she grunted again.

“Don’t.”

“You were begging for it yesterday,” he smiled, igniting the engine before focusing on the rearview mirror. “Rafe! Please, just touch-”

“I did not say that.”

“You did,” he nodded, and laughed again. “Not exactly. But you did wanted me to fuck you.”

“That’s not me, that’s the alcohol.”

“Oh, does daddy know you drink?”

She stiffened, and Rafe cursed silently at the sight of her frown. He completely forgot how she had confessed to him yesterday, and took a glance at her before sighing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Like what? What are you sorry for?”

“(Y/N), I forgot that-”

“I didn’t say shit to you, Rafe. Can you please shut up and just bring me home?” She yelled, her eyes flaring in anger and her chest heaving. Rafe stayed shut for a second, being caught off guard for just wanting to console her, but he decided to let the calm side of him took over.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

The drive to the outskirts of The Cut was silent, and Rafe didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. He stopped at the gas station and asked her if she wanted anything, but she stayed silent as ever and looking out of the window at a random bald guy pumping his car.

“Fuck, you’re impossible,” he grunted when he entered the car again, placing a chocolate milk on her lap. She jerked at the cold temperature of the bottle, and gave him a glare.

Rafe couldn’t deny the sudden tug on his heart when he turned into the corner to the small house located at the end of the road, biting his lips and constantly glancing at the girl. He wasn’t scared of JJ, but he was dwelling on the possibility of Luke Maybank hitting (Y/N). He wished he could be with her, but even a crazy man would say that’s beyond impossible.

“Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, stepping out of the vehicle before flinging the door shut. Rafe grunted at his door shutting roughly against his car, and wondered why girls would even do that when they’re mad.

He watched as the door opened to a furious JJ, his eyes bloodshot red and his hair frenzy. (Y/N) said something to him, and Rafe read the lines of ‘I don’t want to hear it’ and ‘not bringing you to a party anymore’ from his mouth, and before he could read anything else, JJ’s eyes met his.

“Yo, is there a problem, Cameron?” JJ yelled from his front porch, flailing his arms as he walked towards the car. Rafe cursed, fumbling with his break, all while listening to (Y/N) trying to hold her brother off.

He sped away, glancing at the rearview mirror as the small house became even smaller, and let out a tired sigh.

It must be fair, he guessed, for JJ to act like that with him. Rafe went absolutely crazy when he found out that Sarah was with John B, constantly thinking about how he wouldn’t treat her as good as anyone else. JJ must’ve been thinking the same way, but Rafe didn’t know how he could convince JJ that he would never hurt her in any way possible. He shook his head at the thought, thinking how they wouldn’t even be a thing, not when the only proper communication they could have is when she’s drunk.

The next few days were a blur to him. Everytime he went down to the restaurant to catch a glimpse of her, even the tiniest look, she would return back to the kitchen and a different server would come and serve him.

It was like she was trying to ignore him, and Rafe knew something happened. She didn’t have the usual glow with her, that smile she’ll put when she’s talking to the bratty customers, and she was even yelled at by the manager in front of everyone, to which she yelled something back before yelling ‘I quit!’ and running towards the exit.

Rafe wanted to run after her, but knew he would annoy her even more. The good thing from that was he wouldn’t have to spend more money eating the tasteless food now, but he didn’t know where to look for her anymore.

It had been 2 weeks now, and Rafe still hasn't seen her since the day in the restaurant.

“God, you’re fucking hooked.”

“No, I’m not,” Rafe shook his head, attempting to drink the cold drink to ignore his friend. Topper rolled his eyes, patting his back before sighing.

“And she’s a minor, too.”

“It’s just 17,” Rafe shrugged, “And I’m still 18. Technically.”

“19 next month,” Topper reminded him, “There’s a long list of girls who would die for you and you’re after a pogue?”

“Don’t say that,” he groaned, pushing the glass further from the edge of the table. “And I don’t like her. I just think about her.”

“Whatever,” he shook his head, “But tell you what. There’s a party tonight, and it’s going to be huge.”

“Not interested,” Rafe mumbled, thinking of a peaceful night of sleeping instead of out partying. He didn’t feel like meeting Dee too, who had been trying to contact him since the day of the bonfire night.

“Come on,” Topper groaned, “It’s only for a few hours. A few hours to let loose.”

“I’ll think about it,” he lied, wanting to end this conversation already. He didn’t feel like drinking or snorting anything, and he wasn’t even sure why. All his teenage years, Rafe had been a party animal, always there at every party in Obx and just enjoying his life.

He didn’t feel like that Rafe Cameron anymore.

“Maybe (Y/N) would be there.”

His head perked up, “No, she won’t.”

“She will,” Topper shrugged, “Everyone’s going to be there. Are you not desperate to see her or something?”

Rafe thought about the possibility of this, and even if she’s not at the party, he was sure he could find her friends and ask them about her.

He sighed, “Fine.”

“I’ll pick you up at 9. Relax, man. You look like your fucking father.”

Rafe laughed with Topper at that statement, his heart set on one thing; (Y/N).

. . .

The loud music thrummed against his eardrums as he tried to cloud his mind, his head already ringing from the amount of drinks he had tonight.

Topper and Kelce had told him that he was too worried about the uncertainties, and he had dwelled so much on that statement that he decided to down so many drinks one after another.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Topper mumbled to Kelce, watching as Rafe situated himself on the sofa, head back, grunting slightly. “But whatever works, I guess. He’s fucking hooked, I swear.”

“Fuck, is that (Y/N)?”

Topper widened his eyes at the sight of the younger girl with Carter entering the party, his arms around her shoulder as he greeted his friends. He thought about amazing she looked, and how he understood Rafe now, but he didn’t know she would come here with a plus one.

He couldn’t let Rafe see this.

“You wanna go back home?” He laughed awkwardly, placing himself beside Rafe and glancing at a giggling (Y/N) with Carter. He looked at Rafe nervously, and cleared his throat. “I’m tired, man. We should go home.”

“Nah, I’m okay,” Rafe replied, feeling his body relaxing. “You’re right, man. All I need is a party.”

“Ha-ha, yeah, now all you need is your bed.”

“What the fuck?” Rafe laughed, turning sideways to look at the state of Topper. He laughed again, “What’s wrong with you? Is Sarah here or something?”

He looked around, his mind woozing, and what greeted him felt like a smack across his face.

(Y/N) Maybank and fucking Carter.

“Oh, fuck,” Topper said to no one in particular, and grabbed Rafe’s hand before he could stand up. “Chill, man. They’re just talking.”

“He tried to touch her,” Rafe mumbled, his eyes flaring up. Why would (Y/N) even allow herself to be in the same room as that stupid boy? She ignored him for 2 weeks, and now this?

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Topper warned, knowing that this would bound to happen. He didn’t know it would be this quick, though.

“Is killing him stupid?”

“Jesus, Rafe, just don’t do anything, okay? If he tries to touch her again and she looks uncomfortable, then do-”

Rafe stood up before Topper could finish his sentence, walking to the pair with a frown settled on his face.

“Cameron,” Carter greeted, a smirk tugging on his lips as he pulled (Y/N) closer. “What’s the deal?”

“What are you doing?” Rafe hissed, looking straight at (Y/N) as she tried to look away. He turned to Carter again, “The bruise looks a little bit dull. Want me to colour it for you?”

Carter stepped up, to which (Y/N) quickly placed her hand against his chest, rolling her eyes. “Stop it. Carter, let’s just go.”

“Are you serious?”

“Rafe, just go,” she threw him a look before parting away with a smirking Carter, to which he groaned and cursed angrily.

“I need a drink,” he said to Topper, and Topper hesitated before handing him his glass. He watched him downed the remaining content of the glass, placing the bottle next to him before throwing his head back again. He tried to say something, but was halted when he saw Dee walking towards them.

“Hey, Rafe.”

Rafe looked up to her brown eyes and sighed, “What do you want?”

“Do you wanna talk? Like somewhere?”

“We can talk here.”

“I mean like privately.”

A sudden thought occurred to Rafe, and he formed a sly smile; if she could do this to him, he could do it back.

When (Y/N) tried to pull away from Carter, saying she needed the bathroom, she had come across a drunk Rafe flirting mindlessly with the same girl who had asked her to reheat her pasta. She watched from the corner, feeling some kind of an emotion in her, and went back to Carter, who was in the mid of a conversation with his boring friends.

“I need you.”

“Now?” Carter glanced at her, “We just arrived.”

“I need you,” she pulled him again, to which he quickly bid his goodbyes to his friends and following her to the extra rooms upstairs.

It was like a reflex; Rafe saw her pulling that obnoxious guy upstairs, and he didn’t think twice before going after her, leaving Dee alone again, all stressed out.

He felt a wave of anger as she laughed at something he said, his hands balling into a fist. Carter tried to kiss her, to which she flinched quickly that his lips had connected with her cheeks instead, and watched as she giggled.

“I can fuck you right here and right now,” Carter sighed, still so absorbed into the moment and the thought of touching her. (Y/N) laughed, pinning him against the wall, and whispered into his ear.

“In a few minutes.”

Rafe watched as he laughed, his hands around her waist now, and all he felt at the moment was to punch the shit out of that pogue for touching her.

“I need the toilet,” she held a finger up, and placed a soft kiss against Carter’s cheeks as he groaned, muttering a ‘in a minute’ before fleeing to the far end of the floor. Rafe glanced at Carter before walking towards the bathroom, his heart hammering against his chest.

“You’re satisfied now?”

(Y/N) looked up from the sink to the mirror, watching Rafe’s reflection before sighing. Her heart soared, and she felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the angry boy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I really don’t understand you,” Rafe said, walking closer towards her. “Why are you back with that guy?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, turning to look at him, to which he slowly filled the gap in between them. She gulped at him being too close to her, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I can do whatever I want, Cameron.”

“So ignoring me for 2 weeks and making me jealous is your plan all along?”

“There’s no plan, and you know it,” she scoffed, and tried to push him away. She yelped when he tightened his fingers around her arms, keeping her in place.

She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Is this your payback for me not fucking you?” He whispered, his eyes glancing down to his lips, and he thought about biting the pink lips and fucking her until the next morning. “Huh? Is that what you’re mad about?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” she sighed, “I’m a minor, remember? Isn’t your reason as to you’re not fucking me is because I’m a minor?”

“Oh, I see it now,” he laughed, tilting his head backwards before inching closer to her lips. He could feel her temperature rising, and couldn’t push the amusement in his body for getting her all worked up. “It is because I don’t fuck you. Do you feel rejected?”

“Fuck off,” she said, trying to push him again, but to no avail. She hated how turned on she was in that moment, and wished she had had her priorities straight.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” He asked slowly, his lips grazing against her cheeks. She held her breath, and watched as he laughed. “Now you won’t speak?”

“Rafe, I-”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” He repeated, his breath heavy. He looked down to her lips again, noticing her biting it, and cursed silently. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Huh? I can’t hear you.”

“God, yes, yes,” she placed her forehead against his, and she could feel her core begging to be touched. She pushed her thighs together, finding some kind of friction for release.

Rafe trailed his fingers down to under her skirt, his mouth slightly apart and his breathing heavy as he watched her squirm, her eyes closed.

He bit her lips, “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, watching him intently as his fingers slipped into her panties, teasing her entrance and sending her in an euphoric state. She moaned lightly, and tugged on his wrist before he could continue.

“We’re still in the bathroom,” she said, her thighs trembling for his touch.

“I’ll fuck you in the living room if I have to,” he grunted, and before she could say anything, he turned her over so she could stare at herself in the big mirror.

She bit her lips, hearing him unbuckling his belt and positioning himself before her. She never imagined it to be like this; but she was sure anyways. She never wanted anyone so bad as much as Rafe.

“Faster.”

“Patience,” he groaned, and looked at her through the mirror. He licked his teeth, “Beg for it.”

“Fucking hell, no,” she rolled her eyes, to which he quickly grabbed her face and forced her to look at him through the mirror again.

“I said beg for it.”

“Please,” she whispered, and pushed herself against him, to which he grunted at the sudden touch. He grabbed her waist, pulling her close, and slowly slid himself into her.

He watched as she closed her eyes as he pounded into her, holding his hand against her mouth to shut her moans. He grunted again, telling her to open her eyes, and she obliged quickly.

“Oh my god,” she moaned against his hand, feeling so good that she didn’t ever want to let go.

“Wrong name,” he muttered, trailing his hands down to her neck now, and watched as she clenched around him, sending him to complete stars.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he expressed, feeling himself getting sloppier, and his hands dropped to the sink to stabilize himself. Her moans were getting louder now, and he didn’t care, because all of his wet dreams before were coming to life.

“I’m close,” she stuttered, feeling all of him inside her now, and she swore no one had done it the way he did. Her hands grabbed onto his, feeling so close now, and screamed as she released herself.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling himself out and turning away from her, feeling all kinds of shocks as he came, his chest heaving and his forehead clammy.

Before he could guess their next move, (Y/N) pushed him against the wall, lowering down to her knees and gazing up at him from her position.

Rafe groaned, feeling himself getting hard at just her look, and bit his lips. “Still so sensitive.”

“So?”

“Oh my god,” he grunted, gripping onto her hair as she wrapped her lips around him, bobbing her head and Rafe had a sudden thought of how amazing she was. He felt the familiar feeling approaching again, and grunted again.

“You’re so good, baby.”

She hummed, sending vibrations throughout his whole body causing him to jerk forward, piling her hair up into a ponytail and helping her hit all of the spots to reach his end. He could feel her teeth grazing him, and he could’ve sworn he felt his heartbeat stopped.

“Fuck. You’re killing me,” he expressed, feeling so close now, and before she could prepare herself, the hot load hit the back of her throat, and she giggled as he pulled himself away.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing.”

She showed him her tongue, all coated with his seed, and Rafe felt like kissing her and marking her as his forever. He didn’t ever want to let her go, now when she was like a precious gem to him.

She swallowed his load slowly, gazing at him with those eyes again, and Rafe had to turn away to stop himself from getting hard again. He placed a soft kiss against her cheek, pulling his jeans up and helping her dress down.

“We should do that again.”

“Oh, we will,” he smiled, turning the faucet open to wash his hands. He waited for (Y/N)’s turn and turned the faucet off before opening the door.

(Y/N) walked past him into the public, and before he could think of anything else he pulled her against his chest again.

“What?”

“We still haven’t kissed,” he said, and watched as she blushed heavily. “Do you wanna kiss?”

“I don’t kiss older guys,” she huffed, her mouth forming into a smile. “Wait until I’m 18.”

“Are you serious?”

She laughed, pulling herself away from him, “I’ll think about it.”

“You know where to find me, Maybank.”

-

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[snelbz]

Life As We Know it {Chapter 15}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta looked in the mirror and figured she looked decent enough. Having not been on an actual date in quite some time, she felt a little off her game, but the dress she had chosen felt better than the others she had tried on.

After admiring the deep, crimson color and the way her breasts looked in the low neckline, Nesta sprayed her hair and slipped on her heels before grabbing her clutch and walking down the stairs.

Nyx was in the living room, bouncing up and down in his exersaucer. When he saw Nesta, he grinned.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and hoping her lipstick hadn’t rubbed off. “Cassian?”

“Kitchen!”

“I’m heading out,” Nesta said, leaning back up.

He was a room away, in the kitchen, making the gods knew what for their dinner. Nyx always ate whatever she made for him, but it was typically a challenge. Earlier in the week, Cass had started deviating from his generic meals for Nyx of jarred baby food and puffs. It seemed like it didn’t matter what the man fed him, Nyx adored it.

She made her way into the other room and stood behind a chair at the kitchen table and cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be home too late,” she said, drumming her fingers along the wood.

Cass glanced back at her and his eyebrows rose. “You sure? You look pretty nice for shouldn’t be home too late.”

Blushing, she said, “We’re just going to dinner.”

He turned back to the stove, where he was sautéing some broccoli and carrots, but she caught the smirk on his face. “I doubt dinner will be the only thing he wants to eat.”

A knock from the front door halted whatever her response was going to be.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Cassian blinked. “Are you going to get that or should I?”

Nesta huffed as she made her way back through the house and opened the front door.

Balthazar was there, that glorious smile plastered on his handsome face. His brown eyes went wide in appreciation. “Wow. You look incredible.”

Nesta looked down at her dress before saying, “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks-.”

“Alright, don’t keep her out too late and make sure she doesn’t drink too much.” Nesta spun around to find Cassian leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “She’s not a pretty drunk.”

She widened her eyes at him, not sure if he was joking or not. The glimmer in his eyes said yes, but she couldn’t be sure.

Balthazar narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze trailing down Cassian’s arms. “Are you Illyrian?”

Nesta swore she felt the tension in the room thicken at the three words.

“I am,” Cassian said, and she wondered if the flexing of his arms was intentional or not. “So I’d be real careful what the next words out of your mouth are.”

Balthazar smirked and unbuttoned one of his shirt sleeves, rolling it up to reveal—

Illyrian markings.

Cassian’s brows shot up and Nesta looked back and forth between the two of them.

“You’re from Illyria?” Nesta asked, once it was clear that Cassian wouldn’t say a thing.

“I am,” Balthazar said. “Grew up in the mountains. Moved here nearly a decade ago, but my parents still live there. I go there a couple of times a year.”

Cassian whistled before Nesta could say anything. “The mountains are beautiful. My mom used to take me up there for a getaway when I was younger.”

“Ah, yeah, I love it there,” Balthazar said. “I’d love to move back someday.”

Nesta cleared her throat, awkwardly. “I hate to break up this bonding moment, but we do have dinner reservations.”

“Right, of course,” Balthazar said, nodding. He stepped back, letting Nesta by. “If you’re ready, we can go.”

“Cass, have a good night,” she said, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

“Yeah, y’all, have fun,” he said, smirking at her as he closed the door behind them.

Balthazar walked Nesta to his car, opening her door for her and heading to his own side, climbing behind the driver seat. They rode in silence for a second before Balthazar said, “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nesta, despite herself, blushed as she looked over at him across the car. “I am, too.”

*

Cassian hadn’t been lying when he told Nesta he wanted her to go out with the doctor. If she had a boyfriend, he’d be less likely to think about sleeping with her again.

But he hadn’t expected to see another Illyrian at the front door. There would have been no way he could’ve known, since Nyx had only had to go to the doctor once while they’d had him, but surely Rhys would have mentioned that his son’s doctor was Illyrian at least once. There weren’t many Illyrians in Velaris, most of them choosing to stay in Illyria, to the north.

He hated that Balthazar was a nice guy.

A great guy.

A damn Illyrian.

While Nesta was gone, Cassian tried to keep his mind off of her on her date. And yet, it’s all he could think about, which was ridiculous. Nesta deserved to be happy, deserved to have fun.

And Cassian wasn’t complaining. He loved hanging out with Nyx, loved doing all the things that uncles did. And yet, Cassian felt off.

Everything was better when Nesta was around.

Nyx whimpered and Cassian seemed to understand as he lifted his nephew out of his bouncy seat and cradled him in his arms.

“Aunt Nesta will be home soon,” he crooned, bouncing Nyx.

The baby still looked around, looking for her.

For the first couple months after the accident, Nyx had constantly looked around, constantly searched for Rhys and Feyre. But recently, he hadn’t been looking around much anymore, and when he was it was for one of them.

Silently, Cassian had hoped it didn’t mean he was forgetting about Rhys and Feyre.

He sighed, carrying him to the kitchen. “Uncle Cass wants some ice cream, how does that sound?”

He clapped once and Cassian chuckled. He got a big bowl, with two spoons and settled back on the couch, Nyx next to him.

Nyx’s bites were much smaller, and Cassian tried his best not to laugh when his eyebrows bunched together, a little brain freeze hitting him unexpectedly. After he’d had a few bites, Cassian set him down on the carpet, letting him crawl over to where his toys sat on the floor.

“When are you gonna walk, dude?” He asked, watching as he banged two plastic blocks against each other.

Nyx had mastered pulling himself up right before he turned one. Yet for whatever reason, he still hasn’t taken his first steps. He and Nesta talked about it a lot, and they’d discussed whether it was something they should ask his doctor about.

He supposed Nesta could do so tonight if she was so inclined.

“It’s about time for bed, you know,” Cassian said, watching as Nyx threw his toys across the living room. “For you and me. Once you go to sleep, I’ll be right behind you.”

Nyx made a noise that nearly made Cassian laugh out loud.

“Exactly,” Cassian went on. “So, let’s get you in your pajamas, then Uncle Cassian is going to relax for a while.”

Nyx didn’t protest as Cassian carried him upstairs and started to get him ready for bed. Cassian gave Nyx a bath and got him into his pajamas before he laid him in his crib. After patting his belly, Cassian went back downstairs and laid on the couch.

He laid in silence for ten minutes before deciding that Nyx was sound asleep and nothing would wake him.

Now, all he could think about was Nesta’s date.

He didn’t let himself think about why that was.

*

Nesta wasn’t sure she had laughed this hard in months. She was actually fairly sure she hadn’t.

Not since before the accident.

“Wait, wait,” she said, using her napkin to dab underneath her eyes, having laughed so hard that tears slipped out. “There were how many people there?”

“At least two thousand at the game and way, way more watching on TV,” Balthazar replied, cringing, reliving the time he’d accidentally been pantsed during a championship baseball game in college.

And had left nothing to the imagination.

Nesta was laughing again, but took a sip of her wine and shook her head. She was having an amazing time. The conversation was coming easily, the food was delicious, and Bal had made a spectacular wine choice.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m having a good time,” she admitted, surprising herself.

He brushed a thumb over her knuckles and smiled. “I am, too.”

Nesta looked down where their hands met. His hands were interesting. Softer than she expected, but strong. Not rough, at all, like Cassian’s were.

Her eyes snapped up to Bal’s.

She wasn’t going to think about Cassian.

“You know, I hear they have amazing desserts here,” Nesta went on, keeping her hand in his.

“I hear the same,” Balthazar said. “In fact, I may have ordered us a sample board while you were in the ladies’ room.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Balthazar nodded with a grin. “I figured why only taste one when you can taste them all?”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Just as dessert came, Balthazar ordered another bottle of wine, and Nesta was blown away. Once again, she knew that doctors made good money, but it was surely the most extravagant date she had ever been on.

Having already eaten the cheesecake and the pavlova, Nesta scooped up a bite of chocolate cake and moaned. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed, delighted.

When she opened her eyes, Balthazar was watching her, intently.

Nesta’s cheeks turned pink.

If she would have been asked to sleep with Balthazar a week before, she would have surely said yes. But now? Even with that look in his eye, she hesitated. He was handsome. Sexy, even, and she was certain that underneath his suit he was built like a Greek god. He was charming. He was kind. He was a perfect gentleman.

On paper, he was complete and utter perfection in every single way.

A part of her — a bigger part of her than she liked to admit — however, couldn’t shake the pleasure she had received only nights before by someone who was very much not the man sitting across the table from her now.

“I’m stuffed,” Nesta said, at last, draining what was left in her wine glass.

“Happily stuffed or in pain stuffed?” Balthazar asked, his voice a little quieter, that look in his eye remaining.

Nesta chuckled, softly. “Oh, happily, for sure.”

“Good,” Balthazar replied, and waved to the server for their check.

They were back in his car within fifteen minutes, and Balthazar reached across the middle console to take Nesta’s hand.

She let him.

“I have to confess,” Balthazar began, his voice just above the soft radio, “that I don’t want this night to end.”

“Does that mean that you’re taking me out again?” Nesta asked, looking over at him.

He smiled, not taking his eyes off the road. “Does that mean you’re saying yes to another date?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” she replied, tracing the line of his long fingers with her free hand. She quietly admitted, “Though, I won’t have another free Saturday for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s okay.” He pulled their joined hands across the console and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I can wait.”

His lips were warm against her skin, and he had just a bit of stubble on his face, enough to tickle, not to scratch. She swallowed roughly, wondering again what he would be like as a lover. From what she knew of him, she was almost sure that he would be sure, slow and calculated. Everything he’d do would be to ensure her pleasure, which she certainly wouldn’t be opposed to, but…

She wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted anymore, not when she knew how amazing it could be to be with someone who was completely unleashed, who was frenzied as he tried to bring her to release, and—

Balthazar said something and Nesta was completely lost in her thoughts. She cleared her throat, grateful he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry, I was out of it for a moment.”

He chuckled quietly. “It’s okay. I asked if you might want to see a movie one night this week, if you had any free nights?”

Nesta thought about it for a moment. “I’m free on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” he repeated, and nodded. “Alright. Thursday. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect,” Nesta said, smiling as Balthazar pulled into her driveway.

He parked, got out, opened Nesta’s door, and walked her up to the front door. “Until Thursday, then.”

“Until Thursday,” she promised. He leaned forward and kissed her, softly.

It was a quick kiss, but it was nice.

They said their goodbyes then Nesta was opening the door, making her way inside.

The house was quiet, as she expected it to be at a quarter till eleven. After slipping off her shoes and setting her clutch near the door, Nesta was tiptoeing through the house, only stopping when she caught sight of Cassian sprawled across the couch.

She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed as she looked at him. He had one of Nyx’s stuffed animals clutched in his hand, halfway behind his head almost as if he was using it as a pillow. One of his legs hung off the side of the couch, his foot pressed flat against the floor, and Nesta couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as she stood there, looking at him. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep, his face relaxed and almost boyish like this. It was so at odds with the smirking mischief she usually saw there. She wondered if this is what he would have looked like if she would have asked him to stay in her bed the other night. Shaking her head, Nesta quickly banished the thought, not wanting to detract from the almost perfect date she’d just had.

Glancing around the living room, she noticed that it was an absolute wreck. Toys were strewn everywhere, as if they’d been thrown as far as Nyx’s little hands could manage them, and a completely melted, but mostly empty bowl of ice cream sat on the coffee table. Unable to stop the quiet chuckle, she silently picked up Nyx’s toys, putting them back in the basket where they belonged. She also scooped up the remains of the bowl of ice cream and carried it into the kitchen.

She turned the water on a low stream and was rinsing out the bowl when she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

“You’re home early.”

The rasp in his voice made her knees weak.

She looked over her shoulder to find Cassian leaning against the doorframe, his eyelids half fallen, one hand scratching the back of his neck.

Nesta chuckled. “Early? Must not be too early if you’re drooling all over the couch cushions.”

Cassian huffed a laugh as he came up behind her. “You don’t have to do that. I was planning on cleaning it.”

“No big deal,” she said, placing it in the dishwasher. “I’m pretty awake, thought I’d take care of a few things anyway.”

Cassian nodded as he leaned back against the island. “So…”

Nesta turned and crossed her arms as she leaned back against the counter. “So.”

“Did you have fun with Doctor Wonderful?” Cassian asked.

“I did,” she said, leaving it at that.

He waited for a moment, but when it was clear that that was all she was going to give him, he asked, “Yet you’re home before midnight and are wide awake enough to clean up after me and the baby?”

Nesta knew what he was asking, what he was insinuating, without voicing the words.

Why didn’t you go home with him?

“It would seem so,” she replied, a hand reaching up okay with the charm dangling from her necklace.

Cassian’s eyes tracked each motion as the charm zipped back and forth along the chain. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip and he nodded. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

She wasn’t sure if she was waiting for him to say something else, but when he abruptly turned and headed for the stairs, she blurted, “How was your night?”

Pausing, Cassian turned back to look at her. He laughed quietly, and said, “My night doesn’t matter, Nes. Just as long as you had fun. Goodnight.”

He didn’t give her a second to reply as he turned the corner and she heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs. A moment later, his door closed.

Nesta spent far too long thinking about his words after he left.

Just as long as you had fun.

Why did such kind, simple words bother her so much?

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 11 - The Introduction

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: Fluff, smut (just a good ol' handjob in a tub and implied smut) and a lil bit of angst/tense situations + uncomfortable talks/thoughts of pregnancy and trauma.

Summary: Unprepared for the consequences, the reader has to put up with two new arrivals, even though there's something off about them. Something more than just the shock of survival.

Word Count: 6.810

Author's Note: This chapter is set between April and July 2036, I apologise bc the reader is slowly turning into her own character, like Dolly's becoming an OC 😭 but yeah I love you all so much, thank you for reading my series 🥺💗

Enjoy!

"Well, well, what have we here."

The trio halted in their tracks as your voice echoed in the stables, your flashlight shining on them.

"Hey, Dolly," Ellie turned around, dying inside. Beside her was Cat and Jesse, turning around with pursed lips. "What'cha doin'?"

"Oh not much- patrol, you know," You said nonchalantly, walking towards them with threatening steps as you did. "Making sure people don't sneak off in the middle of the night with the horses. Kinda like what you three are doing."

"We weren't sneaking off," Jesse chuckled, but the panic in his voice gave him away easily. "We're just here to... feed the horses?"

"They're being fed regularly, you know that, so cut the crap." You spoke sternly. "Where the hell are you all off to?"

"We were just-" Ellie took over. "We're meeting with Dina. Eugene is there with her."

"What for?" You inquired. "What does Eugene have to do with whatever it is you're planning?"

They were struggling to reveal the truth, but Ellie knew better than to lie. She knew that, as long as it was the truth you wouldn't get angry; it was your thing and Ellie had noticed it from the Boston QZ, so she gave a look to Cat, whom you suspected to be Ellie's girlfriend, and she spoke: "Eugene has weed."

"Ex-cuse me?" Your eyes widened with a long blink at the three words. You weren't against it or anything, but you were just shocked- How and where in hell did Eugene find weed?

"Yeah, shit- Uh, we'll head back," Jesse mumbled.

"No it's-" You quickly recovered and fixed your posture. "How?"

"We were going to find out," Cat offered an apologetic smile.

"Christ," You chuckled. "Oh, Eugene, Eugene..." You quickly look around, a devilish smirk spreading across your face. "You know what? Go."

"Are you serious?" Ellie asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. I'm not gonna rob you bunch from your teenage years," You chuckled. "Under one condition: I'll ride with you all."

"Oh, okay," Cat grinned excitedly and proceeded to climb on a horse, Jesse mirroring her actions after he offered his thanks.

"Okay," You pointed at the rifle you had in your hands after climbing on a horse. "Let's ride quick, I'm probably gonna get in a lot of trouble as it is, so..."

"Thanks, Dolly," Ellie spoke after she settled behind Cat.

If Eugene wasn't there, you wouldn't have let them out and would've proceed to fetch anyone who was already outside. You knew they could handle themselves, but you just didn't want anything to happen to them. It had just finished raining so it was extremely dark outside. After the quiet and fast ride, you saw them off into the partly wrecked building.

"If it's legit, we'll bring you some." Jesse smirked after the girls waved goodbye and walked in.

"Go on, get!" You chuckled and shooed at him, then began riding back the way you came while ignoring the offer, which was actually quite enticing.

It was near dawn when you heard a bunch of horses riding at full speed, nearing your position. The sky was turning a bright shade of blue, and you couldn't deny the beautiful scene in front of you. The air smelled of earth and remnants of rain from a few hours ago and there were the occasional chirping of birds and a squirrel here and there - the peace however was gone the moment the horses appeared. You immediately shot up from your place to see what was going on, shoulder aching a little whenever you gripped your rifle (the bullet which had teared its way into your flesh right before your showdown with Axel, although healed for the most part, still hurt).

You let out a relieved sigh when you recognised Ellie's red hair and Eugene's white ones, then you saw Dina and Jesse, but there were two other people you didn't know riding with them. You blinked a couple of times after you lowered your rifle, then shouted down to Cedric: "Open the gate!"

You made your way down and immediately went over to Eugene and the strangers, hand on your rifle just in case: "Hey, what's going on?"

"Cedric, take them to Kat, have her take a look at their wounds," Eugene instructed and he immediately obliged. After they disappeared and the kids went to put their horses in the stables, he spoke: "We were on our way back here when we heard shouting, found this couple fighting for their lives against a dozen infected in the woods. We took them down easily and offered them help afterwards... They're a bit freaked out, but they'll be okay."

"Okay, I'll let Ma-" You suddenly stopped, realisation dawning on you. "How the hell are we gonna tell Maria?"

Eugene looked deep in thought for half a minute, then spoke: "Tell her it was me and Dina. We were patrolling anyways-"

"What about the couple?"

"We'll ask them to say it was just the two of us, and to decrease the number of infected, problem solved. Relax, will ya?"

You nodded quickly, then walked off after telling him to alert the kids about the plan.

You stopped by the infirmary first. Daisy and a new medic, Angie, were tending to them and Cedric was standing guard while Kat wasn't present. You walked up to your patrol partner and tapped his shoulder: "You can go now, I'll take over from here."

"Sure," He shrugged, yawned, then waved goodbye. You slowly approached the beds the pair were sitting on, opposite each other, the grip on your rifle strong.

"How are you two holding up?" You said awkwardly, making them look between themselves before the woman spoke.

"We'll be okay... Thanks for helping us."

"Right- sure," You sighed quietly. "Could I ask for your names?"

The young woman looked at her partner once more, as if asking for permission, then looked back at you: "I'm Kiki... This is my husband Ward."

You nodded and offered a simple nice to meet you, but didn't give your name to them. Instead, you turned to Daisy: "Let me know when you're finished."

She nodded and proceeded with her stitches before you left the room. You weren't the one to judge people right off the bat, especially in the apocalypse. A lot of newcomers (including you) came here looking bewildered and drained because they were either almost eaten by a pack of infected or murdered by bandits, simple as that.

Ward was a brunette with a dark stubble, thicker than Joel's and had short, black hair. His nose was large but suited the rest of his face just fine, with big, dark brown eyes. A scar ran over the crook of his nose down his cheek and he looked hardened, just like everyone else. Kiki, on the other hand, was also a brunette, but her features weren't as sharp as Ward's, or she was just much younger than him. She had long, black hair and her eyes matched the colour; she was also smaller than Ward, with a petite figure. She was very beautiful, too and looked frightened rather than hardened.

Around ten minutes later, Daisy walked out: "Angie's finishing up, but I'm done. I'm heading over to check on other patients, if you need me I'll be there."

"Okay," You nodded and walked back inside. The couple was neatly patched up and sitting quietly, eyes wide. When you walked in, Kiki jumped, but relaxed the same moment she saw your face. "Must've been through a lot, you two..."

"You could say that-" Kiki murmured, then looked over to Ward, who didn't seem to take notice of he conversation. There was a gash on his chin and he was squeezing the hell out of the bed sheets as Angie worked on the wound. He didn't make a single sound, but the nurse looked a little distressed. "Do you-" Kiki abruptly asked. "Do you run things around here?"

"Uh- No," You turned your head towards her, your grip on your rifle never faltering once. "No, I'm sort of responsible for the security. The boss lady will be here soon."

"Lady?" Kiki looked genuinely confused.

"Yes." You offered a simple nod. "I'm gonna ask something of you both. Don't worry, it's something simple."

Ward immediately intervened before Kiki could open her mouth: "What?"

"Relax," You warned, keeping your eye on him. "Angie, could you give us a minute?"

"Of course, I'm done anyways," She practically threw the equipments onto the small table next to the bed, took off her latex gloves, tossed them into the trash and ran out.

You gave Ward a hardened look, then spoke, walking between their beds, keeping them in your vision: "When the boss comes here, she's going to ask you a few questions... I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about the kids' being there when they found you."

"Why?" Kiki asked, worried.

"Well, they weren't supposed to be outside- Except for the girl with long, black hair and the man who brought you here. It'd save us a lot of trouble if you didn't mention them."

"So, what, you expect us to lie?" Ward huffed.

"No." You spoke coldly, rivaling his hostile tone. "I'm simply asking you to leave out the part where there were 4 kids- There was just one. Besides, she may not even ask about it."

Your staring contest with Ward ended when, as if on cue, Maria, Tommy and Eugene entered the room. You saw the fright in Kiki's eyes, so you spoke calmly: "Hey, it's okay. That's her, the boss lady- and her husband."

"Boss lady?" Tommy chuckled and stood next to you, Maria and Eugene mirroring him.

"It's okay," Maria spoke: "We got this, you can go now."

You nodded once and reluctantly walked out from the room. Stepping outside the infirmary, you came across Cedric waiting by the entrance. You shook your head towards the gates with a simple: "Let's go."

Cedric was almost 15 years younger than you, had even younger features than someone would have in their 30s. He had chin length, dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes fleeing to green. He was a calm and collected person, unlike most people in Jackson. Your tactics and strategical thinking were similar, which made patrol much more effective and easy.

Both of your shifts ended around two hours later, when the sun was up completely and shining down on the streets, calling people to duty; it was, however, your call to hit the bed. After turning over your weapons and heading your separate ways with Cedric, you walked over to your house, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of seeing Joel.

You hadn't seen each other in almost three days due to different shifts but, with the weekend off, you could finally rest in your husband's arms.

You quietly entered the house and tiptoed up the stairs. The bedroom door was closed, he was obviously still asleep. Normally, he'd be awake by 7AM, but lately he'd been really hard on himself with patrols- it was only right he treated himself to a few extra hours of sleep. You really wanted to crawl next to him, or just take a small peak inside the room to see him, but you knew better. He awoke to the slightest creak of the bed when you got up, or simply turned to drink some water. You wanted him to rest though, that came first, so you used the bathroom outside your room to get cleaned up, then moved into the bathtub to treat yourself. It had been a while since you let your muscles rest and relax in the deliciously hot water.

Not even five minutes later after you settled in the warmth, you heard the slow opening of the door. You opened your eyes to find Joel with nothing but his boxer briefs on, heart beating with ecstasy and joy at seeing him in his sleepy state: "Hey," You giggled. "Morning handsome."

"Mornin' baby," He rubbed the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" He smirked as he proceeded to take off his underwear.

"Probably not," You smiled apologetically, he'd quite possibly woken to the sound of the water filling. You extended both of your arms to him, calling him to your embrace while stretching and yawning: "Come here, I missed you."

The words made Joel stop in his tracks for a short moment, heart wearming at them, then walked over to the tub with his naked glory: "Scoot."

You simply leaned back and parted your legs, offering him to lay against you. He obliged, got in and sat, making the water level rise when he laid down against your chest. Your left arm rested on his chest, partly hugging him, while your right hand went through his hair. You gave him a kiss on his neck, a lovely kiss which made him sigh contentedly: "M-hm, I missed you too. Missed this..."

You wanted to stay like that forever: Caressing his hair and the occasional, soft kisses against his jaw, cheek and neck which made his heart melt. You could sense that this small gesture made him very happy, which in turn made you hug him tightly.

"What do you say we..." You purred into his ear. "Ditch the dinner plans for tonight, hm?"

His eyes were closed when he spoke: "Why? Got somethin' else in that pretty little mind of yours?"

"Yeah," You confirmed, running your hand up and down his chest. "We could do something, just the two of us."

"Like...?"

"Hmm, like movie night? Or you can play me something?"

"Only if you sing." He grinned.

"Nope, scratch that," You chuckled and shifted under him a little. "Or we can just... You know, fuck." He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness. "What? You don't want to?"

"I didn't say that," He turned a little and looked up into your eyes with a brilliant smile. "I'd love nothing more, actually, but these are Jesse's parents." You sighed, disappointed, saying I know, I know. "We have two days to ourselves, (Y/N)- You can have me all to yourself, except for a few hours."

"Fine," You growled jokingly, smiled and kissed his lips softly.

What was intended to be a simple kiss now slowly moved in the direction of a filthy make-out session, his tongue parting your lips with ease and meeting yours. Joel grabbed your calf and caressed it slowly, while you took advantage of his distraction and sneaked a hand down his abdomen.

You shifted a little more to the side and took his cock in hand, which made him sigh and drop his head on your shoulder: "(Y/N)..."

"Hmm?" You hummed with a smile when your thumb pressed on his slit, making him hiss and become harder. "Let me take care of you, huh?"

You watched Joel's brows drawing together when you slowly started to pump him. You kissed the pulse on his neck, then moved down to his collarbone. His grip on your leg was more solid the firmer you worked his length, and he jumped ever so slightly when you bit down on his collarbone. His erection grew bigger by the second all the while you sucked and bit a small hickey on his skin.

"Shit..." He shifted in the water, pulling himself upwards so that you didn't have trouble reaching for his shaft.

"You want me to go faster?" You whispered and kissed his shoulder. He nodded but didn't speak and let you work your magic.

You picked up pace, flicking your wrist and focusing on the underside of his head, making him groan broken, unclear profanities. After a while, you felt him tense under your touch, his breathing turning a little laboured.

"(Y/N)..." He sighed through gritted teeth, letting you have your way with him.

"That's it..." You cooed and continued kissing him. Soon, he let out a loud groan and came, making you moan quietly.

Seeing Joel like this -relaxed and euphoric- was always a treat, moments like this where it was just the two of you; no infected, no survival, no bullshit from tha past. You were aware of how it was a luxury to do the things you were able to do: Taking a hot bath, finding someone you loved and marrying them, sleeping on a bed with clean sheets without worrying if infected or bandits were going to jump you.

You were grateful, you were reminded of this everyday, but it took its toll on you, too.

A lot of people, innocent kids were out there, suffering- dying, surviving... You wished you had the power to help them all and rebuild, but you were aware of how dangerous it was out there. It was simply too risky to leave Jackson. You weren't some superhero, after all.

Not a hero...

"What's got you thinkin'?" Joel snapped you out of your thoughts, his fingers ever so gently tracing your cheekbone as you laid on the bed across each other. It was night-time, after dinner with Jesse and his parents and, of course, a round of much needed love making. You both were a little sleepy, definitely content with sweat covering your bodies like a thin layer of blanket.

You looked into his eyes from where your head was -which was on the crook of your elbow, resting on your pillow- and gave him a phantom of a smile, nodding slightly: "Nothing in particular. You?"

"You," He smiled, which made you chuckle. Convincing Joel that you were absolutely, 100% okay was getting trickier as he'd spent just enough time to sense a depressive episode's approach; you didn't want to burden him with your self-doubt and self-loathing, as you hated it when his mood shifted for the worse because of you. "Wonderin' what goes on in that head of yours."

"Wish I knew that myself," You grabbed his hand which was tracing the left side of your face, then turned the back of it for a kiss.

You knew, though. While you and Joel were helping with the dishes in the kitchen, Jesse's mother, Robin had asked if you were planning on having any children. The question you'd been dying to avoid had finally been asked, which made you drop the plate you had in your hand into the sink. It truly was an off-guard moment for you, which startled Joel, but luckily the topic was never brought up again after the plate in question shattered into pieces. You weren't sure if you wanted a child, not after the incident with Miles.

The moment when the contents of his skull splattering onto the ground while he was in your arms- under your supervision haunted you day and night. You never talked about it to anyone, and no one had asked, but it only intensified after your wedding. Because you knew what people had in their minds: Will we be seeing a Joel or Dolly Jr. running around?

You were fucking old, too, and so was Joel. Even if you didn't know whether you'd be able to carry due to that, there was no point in risking it either way, since I clearly suck at watching over kids.

"I think you do," He pushed himself closer to you and sneaked the hand against your mouth onto your waist, propping his arm up and putting his head against the palm of the other. "You just don't wanna talk about it. Which is okay, y'know." You nodded, smile growing a bit wider. "We've been over this before, but If you ever feel like- y'know... you're borin' me or something-"

"I know," You offered a full smile, pushing your thoughts away at the best of your ability. "I see you, Joel Miller," You then put a hand against his chest, where his heart should be: "I know you, you know me... You know what I think?"

He gave you a curious look, but it got replaced with something that hinted excitement when you ever so slowly pushed him on his back with the hand on his chest, then straddled his hips. Joel chuckled: "How is it that you still have this much energy after only four hours of sleep?"

The sleep in question took place after the 'mingling' in the bath. Warm April breeze, even warmer covers and warmest above all, Joel's body pressed against yours, both of your hairs wet and drying on their own as you slept in your lovers arms. He woke up after an hour or so, lingered there for awhile, just enjoying your presence by his side; he then quietly left you to sleep- lord knows you needed it.

"You're just getting old, baby," You giggled and leaned down to kiss him, his hands immediately going to your hips. "Not complaining, though."

An uneventful few weeks passed as Jackson entered the first week of June. Two losses in the town, but no new arrivals after Katie- Kiki and Ward. No raids as well, so overall it was calm.

After reporting in about the week in general, one evening, Maria asked you to stay behind: "It's time for Ward and Katie to go through the test," She declared. "We gotta see if they're fit for patrol or not."

"You got it. When?"

"Tomorrow. I already notified them, we'll meet at the northern training post-"

"We who?" You ran a hand through your hair.

"You and me. Robert and Eugene were supposed to be there originally, but they'll be off hunting." She explained and you nodded. Without further ado, you walked out and made your way back home.

The next morning, Joel accompanied you to the training post. Normally it was your day off with him, but training awaited. The weather was particularly hot for an early morning, so it came to you as a little shock when you saw Kiki, who was wearing a rather thick looking blouse. You didn't question it of course, but it made you think.

"Alright," You cleared your throat, after a quick greeting, stepping into the open training area. Joel and Maria remained inside, arranging the medical needs list while keeping an eye on you three. "I'm gonna put you two through a little test. Maria tells me you decided to stay here in Jackson, so we need to decide which duties you're fit for."

Ward remained incredibly still while Kiki nodded. Her hands were resting between her knees, while Ward had his arms crossed. They were sitting on a bench under the shade: "It's going to get a little physical, but I assure you I'm not going to hurt either of you." You turned around and walked over to the middle of the area: "Right, let's start with you, Kiki."

She gave a panicked look to Ward, but he just nodded with a thoughtful frown, rather than a permitting glare. Over the weeks they had been in Jackson, people sort of got used to their non-verbal interactions, even though some people found it suspicious. She got up and made her way over to you and, by the look on her face, regretted her outfit of choice as she tried to loosen the collar.

"If you want to stop- at any moment, let me know," You reassured her. She nodded, went to roll her sleeves up, but stopped immediately. You acted like you didn't see it, then proceeded to get in stance and lift your hands up: "Okay, let's start with something simple. Show me your stance."

She gave you a blank stare: "My what?"

"Your... stance, you know, fighting stance?"

"I don't have one," She simply shrugged.

"Okay," You sighed quietly. "Then show me how you punch."

She threw what could've been a proper punch but it was weak, you immediately caught her fist in your palm. She panicked and pulled back, and you immediately let go. You glanced at Ward, who seemed to be on high alert.

"Again," You got into stance and she obliged, throwing another weak punch your way. Her stance was there, actually, and her punches came through like she knew what she was doing, but the impact wasn't effective.

It went on a couple more punches, which you caught in your hand each time, until she spoke: "Why do you do that?"

"What?" You lowered your hands.

"You keep holding my hands," It was as if she was more annoyed than confused. "Can you not do that?"

"It's a reflex-" You explained, glanced at Ward again, then looked back at her. "I do it with everyone I train, but if you don't want me to then it's fine."

Not everyone, only the ones with punches as slow, weak and predictable as hers.

"Okay, now let's try some... combos," You added and got in a more secure stance. "Throw one punch after another. Fast and hard. Don't hold back."

"I'm not holding back," She grunted and did a typical boxing combo, which, generally, only people trained in boxing knew- but her punches were still weak. You remained quiet and let her go at it for a few rounds.

You suddenly took a step back, raised your hand up to the same level as your face and spoke: "Kick."

Instead, she went to kick you between your legs. A rush of panic and years of reflexes kicked in and you caught her feet between your knees. You looked up with a what the fuck was that? expression on your face and waved your hand in the air: "I meant here."

"We're fighting, right? We need to be unpredictable," She said with a tone of... irritation? Was she snickering?

"Do I look like a bandit to you?" You let go of her leg, giving her a displeased look.

"You did say you wanted to see what we were capable of."

Where was this sudden confidence coming from all of a sudden?

She was always a little weird with you. Not that you saw her too often but the moments when you two were together, one minute she'd look like she wanted to be your friend (which was when Joel was around), other times she'd remind you of a cruel, rank-wise superior back in the Boston QZ (which was when Joel wasn't around).

You gave her a hard look: "Alright. Let's see how you're gonna do when someone's actually fighting you, then."

Her expression went from somewhat cocky to seriousness as you took a few steps foward and towered over her. Your instructions were simple and clear when you spoke: "I'm gonna put you in a lock. Wriggle out of it."

You slowly grabbed her wrist, giving her time to get ready and process what you were doing. Then, you twisted her arm carefully around her waist and turned her around, pressing her arm on her back, only for her to suddenly squeal: "Okay! Enough!"

You quickly took a step back, startled at her reaction, you weren't even applying the slightest pressure. Ward suddenly shot up from where he was sitting and yelled: "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything!" You frowned.

"It's okay!" Kiki suddenly stepped in front of Ward who was advancing your way. "I panicked, she didn't-"

"Woah there," You suddenly heard Joel and Maria approach the field. Confusion was superior to your anger at that moment: Had you really hurt her?

"Calm down," Maria put her hands on her hips. "She specifically warned you that she wouldn't hurt you under any circumstances. Relax."

You gave Maria a grateful look as he defended you: "I didn't even apply pressure- Look, no one's here to hurt you on purpose."

Ward and Kiki stared into each other's eyes, and by all means it was not a romantic moment, then the bigger of the two finally groaned: "I think she's had enough. For today."

"You think?" You unintentionally slipped it out, but the companions by your side seemed to agree with what you were getting at. "Do you want to stop Kiki?"

"Um," She looked at the three of you, chewing on her bottom lip, then answered quietly after a tense moment of silence: "Yeah, I think I should stop."

"Fine," You said, trying to keep your voice as netural as possible. "Let's continue with you then, Ward." Before anyone could say anything, you and the man you challenged found yourselves back on the middle of the combat area. "Show me your stance and let's begin."

He did as you asked but didn't wait for you to size him up, throwing a punch into your palm as soon as you lifted it, startling your audience. That didn't stop either of you from starting off with a much quicker and a harsher routine, which seemed to have everyone on edge.

You didn't counter once, but it was as if he was forcing you out of the defensive with his strikes, not to mention he was forcing you to step out of the area.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Tommy half jogged over to where the three were standing, watching you two roll from a snowball into an avalanche. Ward was grunting with each hit missed, anger taking over his features, while you kept your cool. It was as if he was riling himself up because he couldn't land a punch - his aim was messy and unstable, which was nothing compared to your years of disciplinary training.

"Okay, I think you've proved your point, Ward." Maria spoke loudly after Tommy's sudden entrance, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"I agree," You grunted and dodged a rather heavy looking punch, rolled over behind him and got up immediately; before you could say anything else, thinking he had stopped, you momentarily let your guard down. Everybody seemed to have thought the same, but what none of you saw coming was the exceptionally hard blow on your nose.

"What the fuck?!" You heard someone, weren't sure who, yell as you saw a blur of people rushing toward you when you stumbled backwards, hands wrapping around your possibly broken nose with a brief shout.

Giving into your anger, before anyone can get a grip of what you were doing, you launched yourself at Ward: "Son of a-" You grabbed the collar of his shirt and headbutted him: "Bitch!"

It was beyond everyone just how fast you had moved, broke his nose with an equally strong strike and had him falling on his arse. Kiki rushed to his husband's side, Maria to yours while Tommy kept Joel from ripping Ward to shreds. You were sure you were going to pass out when Maria got a hold of you, feeling as if you were under water with the blurring of your vision and hearing. The adrenaline rush in your veins kept you from losing consciousness, though.

"(Y/N)?" Maria's voice got clearer each passing second as you chased the lingering faint away from your mind, finally opening your eyes completely to see a displeased face. "(Y/N) are you okay?"

"Yeah," You sighed, whipping your hands in the air around your waist to shake off the droplets of blood from your bleeding nose as best as you could, tears at the corners of your eyes. "Just fine and dandy."

You felt the familiar, calloused hands of Joel gently hold your elbows as Maria turned around to see to Ward: "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Joel," You nodded and wiped the blood on your white t-shirt in a pissed, exhausted manner.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You heard Maria growl at Ward, who was still shaken and sitting on the ground, face looking about the same as yours. "You can't just come up and punch people because you got angry at them! This is Jackson: You're not outside, and she isn't your enemy."

"It's okay- I'm sorry Maria- He's a little, uh," Kiki whined on her knees where she had knelt, but went quiet when he looked behind her to see you and Joel.

"You're not his mother, Katie," The blonde spoke, more calm now but no less strict. "He can speak for himself, and the same goes for you."

There was an intense moment between the three, while Tommy nodded at what Maria had said, his hands on his hips, looking at them disapprovingly: "Alright, c'mon, let's get you to a doc."

Joel in the meanwhile, like a mother duck, studied your nose and held a piece of cloth against the bleeding. He kept you focused on him while Maria and Tommy handled the other couple: "Fuckin' bastard..."

You chuckled at the way he grumbled as he wiped the blood off your nose gently: "Got what he was asking for though, don't go around wanting to kick his ass."

"Yeah, that was a pretty damn good hit..." He spoke, but his voice faded into the background when you curiously looked over to see what was going on, only to come across Kiki's face first things first. What you saw on her face sent a shiver down your spine.

Anger.

Not because you hurt Ward though, no. It was more than that.

It was jealousy.

You knew both because you had spent enough time with her to understand what that look meant, and her expression wasn't hard: It was soft, a certain yearning spread across her features as her eyes went back and forth between you and Joel. You couldn't tell what irked you the most: The way she looked at you, or him. You seemed to add more to her anger, while when she stared at your husband (and stared at him longer), there was longing and confusion.

The moment you made eye contact, she immediately turned around and scurried off, leaving you two and Maria alone.

"Hm? Dolly?" You heard Joel again once you brushed off the odd stare you got from Kiki.

"What?" You gave him a puzzled look.

"I asked if you wanted to have this looked at," He repeated in a soft voice. Most of the time, with small scratches or wounds which didn't need stitches or weren't cut too deep to get an infection or anything, you preferred handling it on your own to not waste the town's medical supplies.

"No, I got it," You nodded quickly and took a step back, feeling your nose while Maria approached you both.

"What the hell was that, (Y/N)?" She had her hands on her hips as well.

"I don't know, Maria," You emphasised each word, making your discomfort and irritation show. "...I have a few ideas though."

You moved inside, away from the burning sun and began discussing your first impression.

"So, what do you think?" Maria asked from behind her desk. Two pairs of eyes watched you quietly as you sat up on your chair, still holding the cloth up to your nose.

"Well, they're definitely not military, I can tell you that much. They don't know the first thing about combat - Kiki doesn't, anyway." Something's not right with them, you wanted to say, but decided to keep it to yourself for the time being and continued: "She's weak, can't even throw a punch. Almost lost her shit when I put her into that lock- I couldn't even put her into the lock, she just screamed."

"Yeah, what was up with that?" Maria asked but didn't demand an answer, it was more like a rhetorical question. You explained how she also went out of the training routine and tried to kick you, but again, it was weak.

"It's actually not that she's weak, but more like she's holding back," You said thoughtfully after a moment of silence.

"How do you mean?" Joel spoke for the first time.

"I mean, you can feel that she's holding back on purpose." Much as you hated your years in FEDRA, your experience with training and being trained came in handy on a daily basis - as much as you hated it, you were also grateful. "While Ward, on the other hand," You shifted in your seat, annoyed, "Fights like a feral beast, and I can tell that wasn't his full potential."

Joel growled quietly and crossed his arms. You then continued with your observation: "I don't want to be too quick on my judgement, but there's something not right with them."

Tommy walked in at that moment: "Well, that was a shit show."

"What happened?"

"They argued the whole way," Tommy sighed and pulled a chair between you and Joel, then sat exactly the same way his brother was sitting. "It was... weird is one way to put it."

"Let's keep them under supervision for awhile," You offered.

"You're volunteering?" Maria raised a brow.

"Hell no, not after that anyway. My existence would just antagonise them."

"What are you suggestin'?" Tommy turned to you.

"Put them through another training session with Walt, he'll know what I'm talking about... And Eugene found them, so maybe he'll be up for the task."

A moment of quiet and glances were exchanged among the family, then Maria cleared her throat: "Fine, we'll see what the other's think of that and vote for it."

"Okay. Now if you'll excuse me..." You murmured and got up, walking out of the room absentmindedly, deep in thought. A headache settled to the front of your head and you felt fatigue take over as soon as you stepped outside, while you left the other Millers confused.

"Hey," You heard Joel's soft voice from behind you not much later, which made you stop in your place and turn around. You gave him a blank stare, the cloth holding hand dropping to your side to reveal the smeared, dried blood around your nose. Without any rush, he walked over to you with a worried look and stood right in front of you.

After gazing into each other's eyes fro a while, Joel no doubt searching yours to understand what was going on and you just finding comfort in his, he slowly took your empty hand in his. With a soft tilt of his head in the direction of your house, you blinked once in acknowledgement and started walking with him.

Your anger and irritation started dissipating the more you walked like that, hand in hand and in silence, but your headache and slowly worsening mood, the taste of blood on your tongue remained. Not many words needed to be said with Joel, he knew what you needed by just one look. You were sure if Kurt saw you like that, he would laugh until his lungs couldn't take it: Look at you! Although the thought made your heart warm, it wasn't enough to lift the corners of your lips. You unconsciously held onto Joel's hand tighter as you walked to your house, and he returned the gesture, a simple gesture- an assurance that let you know he had you.

Once you stepped inside and he closed the door while you stood in the hallway, he walked up to you and held your shoulders and gave you a soft, still concerned look. You looked up at him with a soft sigh through your nose some seconds later, and finally spoke: "I'm gonna... I'm gonna go lay down a little."

"Okay," Joel gave you a reassuring smile and placed a kiss on your forehead. "You let me know if you need anything."

"Of course," You smiled back, a lifeless, small but an equally reassuring smile. Joel watched you climb up the stairs slowly, thinking about how long it would take you to feel better while also thinking of how he could make you feel at ease during the time.

His fears were similar to yours: He didn't want you to feel responsible or upset because of his own self-doubt and self-loathing, and he hated having you show all the effort to make him feel better about himself, about the things he had done. You kept assuring him that that was what being partners was all about, that you do what you do for him gladly and would continue doing it for as long as you were able (which meant as long as you were alive). He was glad to have you by his side, but of course didn't rely on you as if you were a rehabilitation centre, and it went both ways.

While thinking about all of this, with a cup of coffee in hand and sitting on his porch, his ears perked up at the round of laughter coming from behind the house. It was then, when he came up with a plan to make you feel better, even in the slightest.

Ellie.

���————

tags: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[baby-n-boo]

Not Alone- kid!wilbur, older kid!techno, very little kid!tommy, even smaller kid!tubbo, dad!za.

The sun rose bright and warm on the small cottage in the forest, shining familiarly through the thin curtains to wake the thirteen-year-old splayed across his bed, legs tangled in the blue, sheep printed sheets that were a little too small for the bed itself. He groaned, and rolled over, almost falling off the bed as he moved, it being far too early to be awake, especially on a lazy day such as this one. It wasn’t like he had anything to do, no school, no sparring practice, not even any chores. A perfect day to stay in bed until the sun went away again.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t afforded that luxury, as his door was thrown open, slamming against the wall as it swung, and the cool dawn breeze washed over his exposed skin, ruffling his hair gently. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” an excitable voice squeaked, before a weight threw itself at the bed, making it bounce wildly. Coughing, with a breathless “oof”, he couldn’t help but open his eyes now, to see the almost-vibrating form of his younger brother, a grin splitting his face almost in half. “oh, hey Will.” he muttered, wearily, and reaching for his glasses. “What’s, uh...what's up?” Fighting back a yawn, sure he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep now the kid had invaded.

Wilbur bounced again, his hands flapping excitedly, as he grinned. “It’s my birfday! Happy birfday to me, happy birfday to me!” he squeaked, starting to sing as he slid back off the bed and started spinning in circles while singing. “Techy! Sing with me!” he gasped, holding his hands out towards his brother eagerly, making it hard for the teen to refuse, as he smiled weakly. “I’m getting up, don’t worry.” Techno assured, as he slithered reluctantly out of bed, pulling on the first shirt to reach his hands- one of Phil’s donated pieces- and took Wilbur’s quivering hand. “Yeah, uh...” he started, not really singing, though the nine-year-old didn’t seem to mind. “Ha-Happy Birthday, I guess?” he sounded tentative, like he hadnt quite done it right.

“Yay! Thank You!” Will’s grin only got bigger, showing the gap where his front tooth used to be, as he dragged Techno towards the bedroom door. “Cummon, Techy! Everyone else ‘s already up! Dad sent me to come get youuuuu.” He couldn’t stop talking, excitement flowing through his very veins, at the very premise of a birthday. Techno didn’t quite understand what was so important about it, or what significance it held, especially if it meant waking up so ridiculously early on a summer morning. Still, he muffled his groan as the sunlight streaming through the front windows hit his eyes, trying his hardest to smile encouragingly whenever the kid looked back to him. Even as his head pounded and his broken glasses dug into the bridge of his nose.

Seeing the rest of the group sat about the coffee table, which had been piled high with presents, Techno couldn’t help but wrap his free arm about his chest, as it ached. Tommy was bouncing almost as much as WIlbur, holding a small, sloppily wrapped bundle tight in his lap, like it was precious, whilst Tubbo, the youngest of the boys, was sat, wedged right up against the edge of the couch, nervously gripping Phil’s sleeve as he saw the eldest be dragged in. Phil, himself, had taken a comfortable seat right in the centre of the couch, a sheepish smile on his face as he saw Techno’s bewildered face. “Hey Will? I don’t think he wants to be pulled everywhere?” Phil drew the boy's attention, chuckling slightly as Wilbur rushed an apology, stumbling over the words, and threw himself into the dining chair that had been hastily decorated with some balloons, to signify a birthday boy’s throne.

Trying to clear up the misunderstanding, Techno held up a hand, ignoring how the too-big sleeve flopped over his fingers, and muttered his own apology. “No, really, it’s my fault, I...i wasn’t going fast enough. It’s fine.” The words fell on deaf ears, however, as Phil smiled apologetically for Will’s behaviour, beckoning the eldest of the four over to sit with him. Instead, he elected to sink down, crosslegged onto the floor, leaning awkwardly against an armchair, and hugged his knees to his chest to hide the way it was aching. It wasn’t like it was a new position, he liked to sit on the floor, and Phil had stopped questioning it now, sure he would sit on chairs when he wanted to, but, especially today, he could enjoy the fact the spotlight was as far away from on him as it could possibly be.

Subtly combing his fingers through his bed head, he watched through strands of unruly, candyfloss hair as Will descended like a vulture onto the pile of gifts with Phil’s blessing, surfacing with the biggest one. He looked to the fatherly figure for approval, and, after he received a nod, dug all ten of his fingers into the thin wrapping at the same time, yanking to open it in only the way a nine-year-old really could. Shreds of paper went everywhere, Tubbo giggling as a piece landed squarely on his nose, Will’s eyes racing hungrily over the bundle of brown and black that fell out. “It’s a coat like mine, I thought you might want to have one.” Phil explained, as Will unfolded it to reveal a rather less tattered trench-coat than the one Phil was speaking of, the one hung beside the door. Squealing, he held it tight to his chest, almost tripping as he ran over to Phil, and threw himself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm gunna wear it everyday, and ill be so cool!” He promised, ignoring how Phil was laughing openly at how big it was. His hands barely even came to the elbows, the tails dragging on the floor behind him as he excitedly ran to his little brother to show him. “Look, Look, Look, Tommy! I’m so cool!” he yelled, as Tommy almost bounced right out of his seat.

“Uh-huhs! You look awesum, Wilby!” the blond grinned, his hair falling over his eyes as he nodded enthusiastically. Wilbur seemed to glow at the praise, his mind racing a million miles an hour as Tubbo nodded to back up Tommy’s point, the sun seeming to shine specifically on him in that moment. “We’re gunna have such cool adventures! Oh, Dad, Dad, Dad, can I go play? I'll be really good, promise!” Will begged, pointing to the window, through which he could see a few animals milling around, the salmon in the river playing lazily in the sun spots. Phil looked amused, shaking his head a little, as Techno stifled a snort. “Maybe later, lil siren. For now, look! You’ve still got more presents! Tommy, how about you give Will yours next?” He carefully redirected the point, relieved as Tommy gasped, and whirled round to grab the brown paper wrapped bundle from where it had fallen to the cushion during their bouncing.

Pushing the sleeves up, and suddenly looking a whole lot more mature as he did so, Wilbur accepted the gift, graciously thanking his little brother, even as the paper almost fell apart in his hands. He tried his hardest to be gentle with it, especially as Tommy watched on, sure that it was precious. And, as he finally unwrapped it from the tissue paper, and it fell into his hand, he couldn’t help but gasp. A small, hand-engraved locket had fallen into his hand, the chain thin and delicate, as it rippled between his fingers, dangling down. Cautiously opening it, Will smiled wide, faced with a picture of his dad, hand on each of his son’s shoulders, Tubbo sat in front of them, all wearing genuine smiles. That was sweet enough, to have his family staring back at him, but the other side held a picture of a pink haired pre-teen, wearing strangely formal clothes, but recognisable all the same. “Techy! Techy look!” Will smiled, rushing over to thrust it in the half-piglin's face, so he could see. The addition of his own picture in the clearly family-heirloom made Techno’s heart flutter a little, especially as he could tell it had been Phil’s experienced hand that had put it together. He replied with a sof smile, and a quiet “huh, ‘tis me, yeah. Thats pretty cool, Will.”, trying his hardest to catch Phil’s eye to send a grateful look his way, though the old man seemed to be purposefully looking away, a slight blush the onbly sign it had affected him at all.

Gently slipping the chain over his head, Will let the heavy piece rest halfway down his chest, as he headed back to the presents, not seeing how Techno’s eyes had glossed over a little at the gesture. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice as the pile slowly dwindled, more and more activities or toys or clothes spilling out of the bright paper, almost drowning the kid, at least not until a ball of paper caught the side of his head, making him zone back in. Quickly scrubbing at the tears that had, rather embrassingly, slid down his cheeks whilst he hadnt noticed, Techno turned his head towards the perpetrator of the assault, scowling slightly when he saw it had been a laughing Phil.

“That hurt.” he complained bluntly, rubbing at his pointed ear, where it had caught him, adjusting the course strands of hair he had tucked behind said ear, instead of tying it up. “Sorry, son. It’s just, we’ve been calling you for a couple minutes now.” he apologised, rubbing his neck awkwardly, especially as Techno’s eyes widened at the endearment. Before he could question it, however, Phil spoke up again. Or at least, tried to. “I was gunna-” he started, before Wilbur jumped in, having changed from his pyjamas to a loose, hempen shirt and some jeans, with, of course, his precious jacket.

“We’re gunna go play! You wanna come with us?” he enthused, pulling his boots onto the wrong feet in his excitement, and making Phil have to stoop from where he was helping Tommy with his buttons, to swap them over. “Let’s play revolution!” he continued, Tubbo following mutely but happily behind the two boys as they ran to the door, his oversized, hand-me-down green shirt flopping around as he moved. “It’s no fun with just one, two of us! Tubbo doesn’t count when we play, he’s too small.” he protested, as Techno went to shake his head, really not feeling up to playing pretend with the boys that day. He had too much to think about. Phil wasn’t having any of it, though, picking up his sunhat from the hook and calling across the room. “Come on, Tech, We’ll all go, I have to head into town to get something anyway, you can come me if you arent going to play with them.” He left no room to wriggle out, making Techno heave a sigh, and nod, slipping away to his room to change. He could hear the excited screams as Phil opened the door to let all three of the littler kids out, and the following yell to “be nice to Tubbo!” as Tommy obviously left him behind to run into the cooler woods.

It didn’t take long to slip into a light, ruffled front shirt and some black dress pants, Techno feeling more comfortable in the antique style clothes, though he couldn’t help sinking down onto his unmade bed, as his stomach ached harder. It might have been hunger, since he hadnt eaten anything since the previous night, but, hearing the faint whoops of Will as he started up one of his too-complex games, Techno knew it wasn’t anything as physical as that. No, it was much deeper.

Quietly wrapping one arm about his stomach again as he headed out, having shoved on some boots, and thrown his too-long hair into some semblance of out-his-face, he tried to paste on a sort of smile for his adoptive carer, sure he’d never hear the end of it if he showed how much he wanted to frown. He did gain a small eyebrow furrow, but, luckily, Phil had the sense not to push, instead pulling out a wide brimmed straw hat for the easily-burnt half-piglin, and passed it over. “Here, we have to go get the cake for later, I had it made specially by that baker in town.” He was reading off a scribbled grocery list, clutched in one hand as he grabbed a basket with the other, not even looking away from the writing to catch the rest of the stuff trying to tumble out of the cupboard, and shove it back in. Techno nodded quietly, knowing the one he meant, and planning how best to Not-Be-There, since it was probably the busiest store of the waterfront on a normal day, never mind today, when everyone would be seeking pies and pastries for their summer parties. He notoriously wasn’t good with crowds, though he didn’t dare tell Phil this, in case it was a nuisance, instead opting to take a peek at the list, and offer to get something else at the same time.

The sudden burst of helpfullness didn’t escape notice, but, given how much he had to get, Phil didn’t much mind, setting the teen on the job of collecting fruits, and stashed the list away in his pocket, to plot the rest of when they got there. He wasn’t sure how long his boys would be out, but he really didn’t want to keep them waiting too long if they got bored before he got back. Having pre-prepared a tray of snacks and water bottles earlier in the day, he quickly propped the door open with a foot, popping it on the low, end table just outside, for precisely that purpose, before waving a hesitant Techno through with a smile. “Out we come, then.” He joked, pulling out the key to lock the cottage door behind them both, his shoes thudding familiarly on the worn stone step, reminding Techno he wasn’t gunna be going on his own, as he shuffled awkwardly between feet.

He wasn’t used to going out without his cape about his shoulders to help hide him from the world, but even now, he could feel the sun beating down on his shoulders and back, warming him almost to discomfort, even without the thick layer of velvet. He cleared his throat, easily falling into step just behind Phil as they passed the squeaky, broken gate, and straight into the field across the road, taking the wooded path shortcut, much to the relief of the teen, not sure he could have made it all the way up the main road and back today. The rustling of the wheat, and foraging of smaller animals was all that breached the comfortable silence that settled over the two of them as they walked, having established that neither was good at small talk months ago, back when days still came and went in darkness.

They had their own minds for company, for the most part, Phil seeming to hear songs on the wind to hum along to tunelessly whenever he felt like it, and really, Techno wouldn’t have it any other way, especially as it gave him something else to focus on, other than the weird feeling he was struggling to put a name to. He may have squealed slightly as a cow wandered across their path, spooking him a little, and causing Phil to chuckle, squeezing his shoulder a little with his callused hand, but, if he had longed for the warm touch to linger a little longer, well that was between him and the trees.

Before long, the trees thinned out, bit-by-bit, interrupted by houses where they would fit, until, by some strange occurrence, they found themselves stood in the town square, like they had been there all along. Still not used to how sudden it felt, Techno spun gently to get his bearings back, before pulling on the basket. “I’ll...i’ll go to the market, if you want to go get the cake before it gets too busy?” he offered, flinching at the merchants hawking their wares at the top of their lungs only a little ways away. Phil nodded, seeing an opportunity to join the three-person queue, hurrying off with barely another word than “Meet back here”, leaving Techno stood, clutching the basket to his chest, in the middle of the path.

Luckily, most people knew Phil, and so, by extension, Techno, in this small village, shaking their heads good-naturedly as he wandered the stalls, looking for the carrots. Trying to ease the furrowed brow he always seemed to wear, they called out jokes, or offered discounts, but he mostly kept his head down, shoving the number of vegetables he needed into the basket, and holding out the money to the appropriate local merchant. Really, he needed to buy Will a gift, since he had flat-out forgotten what the day was, and he really didn’t want to give Phil a reason to put him back out on the street where he had found him.

Finding he barely had enough coins left in the small pouch Phil had handed him for a hunk of cheese, Techno sighed, dejected, sure he was going to have to pick a flower and pretend it was important, and turned to leave. His last hope was a new stall, tucked right in the corner, boasting rare and wonderful treasures he was sure would be cheap tat. Sidling up to the stall, he tried not to be intimidated by the trader keeping their head shrouded in the shadow of their green cloak, and instead, muttered “Do...Do you have anything for a handful of bronze?” like it was something to be ashamed of. The merchant gasped, pulling back the blanket that had covered their wares previously, to show a distinct lack of prices. “Anything here may be purchased for your budget.” He spoke smoothly, as if luring Techo into making a mistake.

For the most part, he had been right, it was cheap tat, painted bright colors to attract fools. But leaning up against the side of the rickety shelf, stood a gleaming wooden instrument, as if begging to be bought, as if it wanted to be played. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing it was perfect for Wilbur, no questions asked. Pointing to it, he nodded. “I want that.” he spoke bluntly, leaving no room for error, watching as the strange merchant picked up in a gloved hand, and inspected it. “Ah, yes, a wonderful choice. I am sure it will be in good hands. That will be five bronze then.” He held out the spare hand, for Techno to upend the coin purse into, watching as five scuffed, browning circles fell out. Snapping the hand shut before he could take the coins back, the strange merchant lifted the instrument over the desk to Techno, knocking back his hood in the process. “Very good.” He spoke, not seeming to notice as Techno backed away, eyes transfixed on the smiling mask he wore over his own face.

Slinging the carrying strap of the instrument over his shoulder, Techno took off running, the basket of carrots banging against his leg as he moved, only daring to look back when he got to the familiar vegetable stalls he had grown up with. The merchant was gone, only a dusty corner left where he had once been, as if it had all been imagined. Rubbing his eyes, behind the broken rims of his glasses, Techno panted, sinking down onto the bench he had been told to meet Phil back at, and tried to calm himself by rubbing his fingers up and down the thick material of the strap. It didn’t make any sense, but, shaking it off as the old man walked up with a carefully balanced patisserie box, he stood and smiled, holding up the basket. “Got ‘em.” he spoke quietly, feeling slightly better at Phil’s affirming smile of praise.

“We should hurry back, Tommy’s attention span isnt too long.” Phil chuckled, speaking fondly about his middle son, shuffling the box to a more sustainable position. “Then, cake! Which I'm sure everyone is excited for!” Techno nodded softly, watching as the baker’s daughter, Niki, ran across the square, chasing pigeons and laughing. She was only a few years younger than Will, but somehow she looked so much smaller, more innocent. He only hoped the best for her. Hoped she would grow up loved and cared for.

Pulling his attention back to the present, he saw Phil had already strated walking, hurrying to catch up with him, and walk in time. The journey was so much quicker on the way back, the path clear of wandering cows, Techno even finding some suspicious looking mushrooms he might have been able to make a soup out of, just growing at the foot of a tree. He didn’t dare pick them, knowing how many people walked their dogs through the wood, but he did make a mental note to research them in one of Phil’s many books when he got some free time.

Soon enough, they were heading back through the wheat, greeted by three tired looking kids, as they lazed about in varying levels of sleepiness on the front lawn. Laughing as Wilbur instantly perked up at the cake box, Phil ushered his boys aside, handing the heavy and cool box to Techno whilst he unlocked the door, trusting him with the responsibility. He didn’t take it back as everyone rushed in, either, letting Techno go last so he could get the box onto the dining table with minimal little kid help. It was a nice feeling, especially as Phil got everyone cleaned up and seated, giving the eldest the honor of opening the box, to reveal a white frosting covered cake, “Happy Birthday, Wilbur” piped on the top with yellow, cursive icing. Practically bouncing off the walls, Wilbur begged his dad to let him have some now, to which Phil reluctantly relented, moving to get plates and a knife to cut the cake with, with the warning they were only allowed a small slice, so they would still eat their lunch. Tommy didn’t seem particularly pleased with the news, protesting “but daaaaaad” loudly, giving Will the perfect opportunity to start talking Techno’s ear off.

“Birfdays are the bestest! I want it to be a birfday everyday! You get cake, and presents, and....and....cake!” he smiled wide, humming happily to himself as Techno offered a tight smile, the feeling only getting worse. “When is your birfday, Techy?” Will asked curiously, as Phil came back with a stack of chipped mismatched plates, and a small utensil to cut the cake with. “Yeah, actually, Tech, when /is/ your birthday? I havent seen you celebrate...” Phil chimed in, seemingly confused when Techno slumped, shaking his head a little.

“I...i,uh, don’t have one?” Techno whispered, flinching as Tommy yelled “What!” at full volume. “Everyone has birfday.” Wilbur seemed confused, especially as Techno shook his head. “Not me. I don’t know when mine is. My family never told me.” He continued, eyes flicking to Phil, who was frozen in panic-stricken thought. Wilbur nodded quietly for a moment, then leaning over a dozing Tubbo towards the cake, and smeared his finger in the icing, rubbing out his name from it, leaning back grinning with his icing coated finger in his mouth. “There. It can be today.” he spoke as if it was that easy, Techno gaping at how kind the gesture had been, his mind not caught up enough to protest, not even as Will pulled the locket from around his neck, and put it round his brother’s. “Happy birfday, Techy, from your family.”

[thedeathdeelers]

Trevor doesn’t remember when he first starts thinking of his bandmates again. His dead bandmates, that is, and just thinking the word dead makes him want to curl into the fetal position all over again like when he was seventeen. He thinks he starts remembering them when a decade has passed and Carrie is born. He was twenty-seven and there was this little baby with big eyes and small pink fingernails in his arms, when he thinks ‘She’ll never get to meet her uncles.’ He doesn’t cry then, but it’s almost as if his baby girl can feel his sadness because she starts screaming in his arms and it's enough of a distraction that he rocks her to sleep without thinking of the boys again that day.

He keeps them locked away in the back of his mind for the better part of five years until kindergarten rolls around and little Carrie with her curly pigtails and glittery Hello Kitty backpack comes home excitedly talking about her new best friends.

“Daddy, they are so cool! Flynn has dinosaur stickers and she gave me one. See!” She points to the top of her right hand where there’s a green pterodactyl cartoon sticker firmly slapped on. “And Julie has this huge purple crayon and she let me use it to write my name!”

At first, he’s beyond excited. His little girl made friends on her first day, which shouldn’t have been such a surprise now that he thinks about it since she has always been a little go-getter. Still, he ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ at the right moments as she talks his ear off about her new friends. By the end of the first week, Carrie has decided she wants to invite her best friends over for a small back to school party with just them and lots of pizza. She reminds Trevor three times Friday night not to forget that Flynn likes Hawaiian pizza and Julie likes orange Fanta best, and that he should become best friends with their parents because she’s decided they are all going to grow up and live together.

He laughs and a twinge of ache in his chest reminds him for a moment of a time when he was younger, not as young as Carrie maybe but just as naive. He remembers for a second flashes of running around playing tag at the park and scrapping the top of his thumb’s skin off. He still has the scar.

He can still remember Alex pulling a Batman sticker out of his pocket and taking him to the public restrooms to clean the cut. Alex the worrier, even at twelve, rambling about getting the cut infected and the proper way to tie his shoes and doesn’t he ever think about where he’s walking.

“Bobby! Oh my god, please tell me you don’t need stitches!” He can remember floppy blonde hair and blue eyes and gasping breaths. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt, you idiot, your eyes are watering.”

“Maybe I’m just mesmerized by your beauty, dude,” he can hear himself replying to try and ease the rigid shoulders and deep frown on his friend’s face. “Really, man, I’m fine. Just a little blood.”

“Let’s just get you to a bathroom and wash it off, okay?” But Alex had been hiding his eye roll and curling lips and his shoulders no longer made him look like an awkwardly hanging scarecrow. It was enough to make him forget his thumb was throbbing and dripping blood.

The scrape is deep enough that it bleeds for a while into the sink, he can still picture the reddish water as it goes down the drain. He and Alex had met in the back of their sixth grade English class, Alex was shy and constantly biting his nails while he was just trying to catch a nap without getting in trouble. They’d bonded over a mutual silent agreement: Bobby held Alex’s hand under the desk when he had to read aloud in class and Alex would nudge him with the right answer when the teacher would call him in the middle of a power nap.

“Gatsby is gay,” he can remember Alex whispering to him when Miss Augustine had called him one time in class. He remembers repeating it without a second thought and realizing only seconds later what the fuck he had just said. He remembers wanting to turn to Alex because he knows there’s something important in the interpretation for his friend. He knows it by how Alex sometimes stares at that soccer player, Gabriel, who sits two rows in front of them. He knows by how Alex turns red when the guy notices him staring and the anxious way he strums a beat with his fingers. He wishes he could turn to him and say he accepts him no matter who he loves without saying it because he knows Alex isn’t ready for that discussion yet. But they’re in class so instead he turns to his best friend and gives him an overly exasperated look, hoping it conveys how he has no idea how he’s going to dig himself out of this one but Miss Augustine had smiled and just went about her lesson.

They never talk about it but a few days later, when he plops his copy of the book onto Alex’s desk before class he smiled and says, “You were right. Daisy was totally a beard. Nick and Gatsby were totally in love.” And reading shitty Fitzgerald - who stole more than half of the amazing work written and attributed to him from his wife Zelda, and as a feminist Bobby knows that’s just some misogynistic bullshit he cannot tolerate even for a school grade - is all worth it. Because Alex looks at him with a look of pure joy that makes him feel like he just scored an extra carton of strawberry milk at lunch (and that’s immense happiness because everyone loves that’s pink milk.)

He’s thinking about the park with a bloody thumb when he hears the doorbell and goes to answer it. And suddenly all the excitement of meeting his daughter’s new friends leaves his body as a chill kisses his spine. Nothing prepares him for seeing the girl from the Orpheum staring at him with a taller, blue-eyed man who must be her husband. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open, What are you doing here? He wants to ask. Are you a ghost? But before he can, he feels Carrie wiggle her way past him and leap into two pairs of arms. He can just make out black, thick boxer braids, deep brown skin, and a bright mint feather boa above Carrie’s head and he knows he’s just met Flynn. The other arm wrapped around his daughter is attached to a girl slightly smaller than both of them, a huge mass of curls making her appear their height with light brown skin and a wrist covered in macaroni jewelry. And that must be Julie, which means, he looks up to see the parents in front of him - the girl from the Orpheum is her mother and he’s never going to be able to forget that night again.

“Flynn’s parents asked us to take her because they were running late for a dinner reservation they had scheduled months in advance. I hope you don’t mind just us,” the man says with a friendly smile as he reaches his hand out. “I’m Ray Molina and this is my wife, Rose.”

Rose, Trevor thinks as he briefly thinks back on that fateful night. Size beautiful, he can practically see Reggie handing her their band’s t-shirt. He can almost feel Luke leaning his arm against his shoulder and telling her that he’d had a burger for lunch. He didn’t even have to look to know Alex was rolling his eyes at how bad his flirting game was. It was like losing them all over again, only he couldn’t; this was his daughter’s day and he couldn’t wallow in pity. He has to host, so he reaches his trembling hand out and offers the best smile he could offer.

“Hi Ray,” he turns to his wife. “Rose,” he nods and watches as her polite smile fades into a softer one, a genuine one, “I’m Trevor.”

She doesn’t correct him on his name. She doesn’t even look to be affected to be honest, until Trevor leads them inside and she sees some of his awards on the walls. Ray is busy helping to serve the pizza and soda for the girls and it leaves him alone with Rose. She doesn’t mention the award for ‘Now or Never’ new hit single on the Billboard 100 or its being #1 on VH1. Rose doesn’t have to, all she has to do is look at him and Trevor feels himself turning back into the scared kid who showed up at the hospital screaming about his friends. Screaming to the nurses who told him he wasn’t looking for a hospital room, he was looking for the ID numbers of bodies at the morgue. He gives her a slight head shake, as if to plead with her not to bring it up. She nods, but he feels his guilt grow heavier as she leans up to gently smear a line across his name TREVOR WILSON next to the title for up-and-coming artist.

It’s Carrie with her signature giggle and yell that makes them head for the kitchen. “Daddy, can you come sit down! Before we eat we have a surprise!”

They walk in to find Ray sitting amusedly at the dinner table. He beckons them to sit down with him and Trevor can’t help but laugh at the scene in front of him. The girls have obviously gotten into his stage makeup and Carrie, Julie, and Flynn are wearing matching bright red lipstick and glitter on their cheeks. Flynn is sashaying with her boa as Julie holds Carrie’s pink one, and Carrie has her hand on her hip as she strikes a pose before snapping her fingers and triggering the sound system. ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua starts blaring in through the speakers and the three adults share a look. Should they turn off the song? It is highly inappropriate. But to do that would mean having to explain why it’s inappropriate and do they really want to ruin a song that as far as their kids are concerned is about Barbie living in her Barbie world?

“Hey!” Carrie yelps and their heads all snap back to the girls pouting at them, “We are trying to give you a concert! Don’t make us waste all of Flynn’s cool moves!”

“Okay okay,” he shakes his head, “Don’t you have more cool moves to show us, Care?”

“No,” his daughter gives him a dead serious face, “we have limited choreography.” She says it with such a puff of dismay and sass that Trevor can’t help but let out the loudest laugh he has in a while. There’s no way Carrie even knows what she’s saying but she must have heard it when he was on the phone with his agent who was arranging his next music video.

The thought pops up before he can squash it, Alex would’ve loved her sass, he would’ve loved to dance with her. But it doesn’t hurt as much, to think of Alex smiling and dancing with glitter everywhere.

It’s not long until Rose and Ray are laughing along too and the three watch the girls spin, twirl, improvise lyrics, and throw their feather boas around long after the pizza has grown cold. - 🌙 (so this is the first bit and each bit shows how I decided to headcanon bobby met the boys in school and remembering them and leads you to rose confronting him and learning about the boys before her death ahhh ok let me know if it’s ok 🙈)

excuse me this is

really good????

more please 😌

[anarchyduck]

[appear] “ i need help. please. ” gerfra

So sorry this took for-freaking-ever OTL ---------------------

Takes place: 1942, Paris

  Germany does not find sleep easily anymore. The wheels in his head continue turning, agonizing over battle plans and strategies, over conversations he held with subordinates and superiors. He thinks about the paperwork that sits untouched on his desk, in untidy piles that would usually dive him made. A half empty bottle of brandy sits in the middle of it all, a glass of it in his hand as he stares out the window to the Parisian streets.

 A rapid knock breaks through his thoughts and he stills, waiting. It is late and he is not expecting company at this hour. Another knock pushes him to move. He sets the glass down on the desk as he crosses the room, hand on his pistol as he nears the door. Thoughts filter through one by one, all with the touch of paranoia as he wonders who it could be.

 “I know you’re there.” A voice, tired and strained, and slightly muffled through the wooden door. “Don’t be rude.”

 A moment of shock stills his actions but then Germany opens the door. France stands before him, his clothes shuffled and worn. His face is narrower than last time Germany saw him, and he looks in need of a shave. More alarming than that is the blood that covers the side of his face.

 “I need your help.” He says before Germany can ask. Tired blue eyes fix on him. “Please.”

 He should not. He knows he should not. The last time he saw France was nearly two years ago after taking Paris. How tall and mighty France stood high even after being defeated. He was bloody then too. Though he was hurting, he walked with his head held high and greeted him with the same grace and charm Germany remembered him for. He came willingly and there was no need for shackles. Few days later, France was gone. Now here he stands, dressed in dirty clothes at his door.

 Germany pulls him inside, closes and locks the door behind them. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 France laughs dryly. “I could say the same about you.” He stumbles in his step before sitting down heavily in the closest chair. He groans as he leans his head back, his eyes falling close as he rests.

 Germany realizes the strange situation he has found himself in. His enemy enters his living quarters in the dead of night, wounded and exhausted. He doubts France has the strength to fight back. The thought of radioing it in snakes into his mind. He should call it in. France would be arrested, placed into the cuffs that he avoided before. It would certainly resolve some problems. His superiors would congratulate him for the capture. Something about it does not sit well. The mental image of France being carried away to execution makes his stomach churn.

 He finds himself walking to the bathroom to retrieve a first aid kid and wet washcloth. France is still in the same position when he returns and, were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Germany might have suspected him to be dead.

 A chair scraps across the wood floor as Germany pulls it around the coffee table to France's side. He sets the kit down and, with the cloth, begins to carefully wipe the blood from the man’s face. “What happened?” he asks.

 “Just a touch of carelessness on my part.” France replies. His eyes are still closed, though his brows twitch together every so often.

 “Thought you had gone south.”

 “I did, for a time. But I missed my city.”

 Germany continues cleaning the blood away and finally finds a wound at France's hairline. It is clotted and closed now, though he wonders if it needs stitching. His brows pull together, and he moves the cloth away with a frown. The thought from before resurfaces once again, gnawing at his mind. A little voice tells him to call for reinforcements and another tells him to take care of it himself. Other questions came to mind, the top of them being why was France back in Paris?

 France's eyes open and he tilts his head to look at him. He looks awful, Germany thinks. Cheeks are hollower than he remembers. Dark circles beneath his eyes and a day-old bruise on his jaw. A still healing scrape blemishes his cheek and he looks tired. Worn thin. “So?” he asks, drawing Germany from his observations. “How bad is it?”

 “It’s fine. You’ll live.”

 “What wonderful news.” France says and Germany cannot discern if it was sarcasm or not.

 He stands and takes the bloodied cloth to wash in the sink. When he returns, France is helping himself to the brandy at his desk. Germany stills a moment and thinks of the many secret documents laying open on his desk. The paranoid voice hisses in the forefront of his mind and he chooses not to pay mind to it. Instead, he looks at the man standing by the window that overlooks the city. How delicately he holds the glass as he drinks, the moonlight in his hair.

 “Quiet night.” France says. “Never could stand the quiet when I was younger and now, I don’t mind it much. This industrial age is so noisy that I almost wish for quiet nights again.” He takes a sip then looks to Germany. “Suppose you wouldn’t know much about those nights, would you? Long before the wonders of electricity and automobiles.”

 “Why are you here, France?”

 “This is yours, yes?” France picks up the other glass of brandy Germany left on his desk and holds it out to him. “Drink with me. And do not worry, I didn’t poison it.”

 “I wasn’t thinking that.” Germany retorts as he takes the offered glass and, if to prove his point, takes a sip. France smiles lightly in approval.

 “We both know it would take more than poison to harm you.” he says calmly. “It is exhilarating, no?”

 Germany frowns, mind scrambling to catch up. “What?”

 “Conquering. The rush of new territory folded into you. Better than any drug in the world. Better than sex.” France chuckles lightly as Germany’s cheeks color red. “Once you have that first taste, you only crave it more. Don’t you, Germany?”

 “I don’t believe that’s an accurate description.”

 “But you do understand, don’t you? The good and the bad of it.” France swirls the liquor around in his glass. “All that territory, it doesn’t belong to you. Your body becomes a war within itself and you crave more in hopes it will satisfy the ache.”

 “Why are you here?” Germany asks again.

 France exhales a sigh and, for a moment, stares into the swirling brandy. Then he takes a drink and says, “Wonder if I could take a bath while I’m here?”

 Just how long does France intend to stay, he wonders. His mind wars with itself, frustrated he cannot gauge a proper read off the Frenchman. A thought that sounds awfully like his brother tells him to not to trust France. Do not turn your back, it says. Then again, Gilbert said that about many other nations. His chest tightens slightly at the thought of his brother and quickly pushes it out of his mind.

 “Yes, of course.” he replies, and France smiles again.

 “Thank you, my dear.” He finishes his glass in one swallow then sets it down onto the desk. Germany watches him go down the hallway and hears a door close. He drums his fingers around the glass in hand and looks to the empty one on the table. Pipes rattle in the apartment walls as he faintly hears the rush of water and he wonders how he has fallen into playing host to his enemy. He knows the trouble they will both be in if someone caught them.

 If.

 Germany’s mind falls back on France’s hollow cheeks and before he realizes it, he is in the kitchen preparing to reheat soup from earlier.

 France emerges sometime later. In the time spent, Germany has cleared his desk and consumed another glass of brandy. It is enough to finally take the edge off and silence the whispers that slither in his mind. Soup is sitting warm on the kitchen stove, its smell taking over the small apartment. He wonders if it will be enough. If France will take it alone or if he will distrust a meal from his enemy. He looks up as his new guest enters the kitchen and frowns lightly.

 “Are those my clothes?”

 “Found them in the wardrobe. Hope you don’t mind.” France finishes buttoning the cream-colored shirt, leaving the last few buttons at the top undone. It hangs from his body though not in the same way it does to Italy. Though he is broader and taller than France, Germany cannot help thinking the clothes should not hang off that much. “God, I remember when you were smaller.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “You used to be this cute little darling that Prussia adored showing off. And now look at you, all grown up.” France exhales a sigh as he ties back his still damp hair. Few stands escape to frame his face and it's then Germany notices he has shaved. The shadows beneath his eyes remain, as does the bruise on his jaw. His eyes drift upward to the cut on his forehead and feels relief when he sees it is nearly healed. His gaze catches France’s and he sees the man smirking at him. “See something you like, Germany?”

 Germany’s face warms and he hastily turns away towards the stove to lift the pot and stir the soup. Behind, France chuckles lightly and he wonders how much of this the man enjoys. All of it, he realizes. Would it be too late now to throw him out of the apartment? His jaw tightens for a second as he ladles some soup into a bowl and sets it down on the table.

 “Thought you would be hungry so I…” he trails off awkwardly as he catches France’s still smiling at him. He is not sure what about this time.

 “How kind.” France muses. He takes the seat and stirs the contents around in the bowl with his spoon. Faintly, Germany wonders if the man will take food from him. Would he think it was poisoned? But then the worries fade as France begins to eat.

 “Entire city is rationing and here you are with real meat.” he comments between bites. “I thought all resources were going to the front.”

 Germany’s jaw tightens as he frowns. “They are,” he replies.

 “Don’t suppose you have cigarettes on hand, do you?”

 “I don’t smoke.”

 France raises a brow at him and puts his spoon down. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin metal container from his pocket. “Then what’s this?”

 “Gift.” Germany replies. “But I don’t smoke.”

“Hm. Mind if I do?” France asks as he pulls out one of the cigarettes from the box. He quickly lights it and inhales deep, holds it, then exhales. Germany waves off the smoke that wafts in his direction and moves to take the other seat at the table. They sit in relative silence. While France smokes and eats, Germany once again attempts to figure out the situation he has found himself in.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimes twice as France lights his second cigarette. “Does it ever stop?” he asks suddenly.

Germany frowns. “Does what stop?”

“Those gears in your mind.” France leans back into his chair, cigarette between two fingers as he looks at him. “They have been excessively turning since I arrived. You’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

“I am curious, yes.”

France hums in his throat and brings the cigarette to his lips. Smoke curls in the light as it floats about the room. “You wonder if I am here to steal your precious plans. Stuff papers and secret documents into my trousers and carry them off to my leaders.” He takes another drag, the end lighting on the inhale. “Or perhaps I sneak into your bed and slit your throat while you sleep.”

 Germany’s brow furrows. “The thought crossed my mind, yes.” he says tensely. “Why else would you come back, knowing the danger.”

 He laughs and flicks ash into the empty soup bowl. “My dear, I’m not crude like Arthur.” he says. “Besides, in my current state, I could not hurt you even if I wanted to.” 

“Then what do you want?” Smoke swirls around France and it reminds him of Bismarck. When Prussia brought him to Versailles to be crowned as the new German Empire. He had his first cigar then and found it distasteful. It made his eyes water and the smell clung to his clothes for days. France had been there too. Silent and seething from across the room when Wilhelm was proclaimed emperor.

“What I want,” The memory fades as France begins to speak. “I cannot have.” He takes another long drag and Germany wonders if he intends smoking it down to the end as he did the first one. “Least not immediately, so I will settle for second.” 

“Which is?” 

 “A soft bed to start,” France’s lips curl into a smile. “And perhaps your warm company.”

“No.” Germany says immediately and leaves the table, ears growing warm as France’s laughter trails behind him.

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 5

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 6,000~  Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, violence (kinda?), mentions of abuse

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

The next weekend you took Yoongi out to get a tag. Jungkook and Jimin took care of the cafe for the day, so you had the afternoon to take care of your errands. After extensive googling you found a shop on the other side of town that had a variety of choices, so that was your first stop. 

The store had lots of hybrid supplies, and after browsing around for a bit you found the tags. Most were obviously made for collars, but a small display on the bottom shelf held the new earring-style. Yoongi looked through them for several minutes before holding up one for you to consider. It was a simple metal hoop with a pendant spike that held the tag. 

The tag itself was just a small microchip that held all the ID information. You’d received Yoongi’s in the mail that morning. For several years the tags were actually used like pet microchips, placed under the skin. Thankfully that was deemed inhumane a decade ago, so tags were made wearable instead. The earring design made the little device far less noticeable, though some people still force hybrids to wear a collar. You thought it must be rather degrading, but Jimin liked to wear his on a choker.

Yoongi held the earring he’d selected up in the mirror and nodded approvingly. “This’ll work.”

“I like it!” you agreed. “It’s pretty.”

His face visibly reddened and you regretted your choice of words. You were about to correct yourself when you caught a trace of a smile as he turned toward the register. You followed him and purchased the earring. In the car, he used the mirror on the visor to replace his old earring with the new one. He tilted his head to assess the piece, then turned to show you.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t realize it’s a tag if I didn’t already know,” you said.

He shrugged, turning back to the mirror and nodding. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

On your way home you stopped at the store to buy soju and restock on a few snacks that Yoongi had gone through rather quickly. Saturday was your usual movie night with your family. You’d skipped it the previous week, not sure if Yoongi was ready for a big social gathering yet. But the boys really wanted to have a welcome party for him. Jungkook in particular seemed excited, saying he had a surprise. Him and Yoongi bonded quickly over the previous two weeks, Jungkook even came over a few times after his classes so they could play music together.

That night was going to be the first time all of your boys were together since Yoongi came to stay with you. Despite your nerves, you knew they would make him feel at home. Yoongi was quiet on the drive home, but you could tell he was nervous. His leg bounced rapidly, hands clasped in his lap.

“You’ll like them,” you said abruptly. You reached over and took his hand. “And they’ll like you. I promised I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, remember? This is my family, and that means they’re your family now too.” He nodded, meeting your eyes for a moment before turning to look out the window.

By the time you got back to your place you had about an hour before the boys arrived. Jimin and Jungkook were coming straight back after they closed the cafe. You tidied up and pulled out the take-out menus, then grabbed a couple of extra blankets for the couch and loveseat; Jimin and Jungkook liked to be warm. Yoongi puttered around after you, helping clean up and remaining more or less glued to your side until seven’o’clock rolled around.

A knock came at the door between the apartment and the cafe, and you hollered for them to come in. Two bunny ears peaked inside. The owner of said ears quickly followed as the smaller boy behind him pushed him through the door. Jungkook waved at Yoongi, who stood slightly behind you. Jimin smiled brightly. You flashed him a look; a reminder to keep it chill. He nodded understandingly and approached to pull you into a hug.

“How was your day, noona?” he asked, nuzzling into your jaw. 

He pulled away and you ruffled his hair. “Good! How was the cafe today?” You glanced behind him to Jungkook. “I hope it wasn’t too crazy.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Nah. It was busy, but nothing we couldn’t handle,” he said, placing an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “Did you have a good time shopping, hyung?”

Yoongi glanced up at him and subconsciously fidgeted with the new earring. “Yeah, we found a tag that looks alright. So that’s good,” he finished awkwardly. He seemed so nervous, even with the addition of just one new person. You hoped it wasn’t too soon to be bringing everyone around. You didn’t have much time to worry as the doorbell rang. Yoongi trailed behind you as you went to answer it.

The rest of the guys stood on the step, holding what you assumed to be food.

“Jin-hyung and I grabbed takeout on the way,” Hoseok said, gesturing with two large bags with the logo of your favorite Thai restaurant on them. Jin held up a box containing even more takeout containers. 

“You’re the best, Hobi! I’m starving.” You took one of the bags from him and stepped aside to let him in.

“He’s the best? What about me?” Jin asked, indignant.

“You’re alright,” you said. He pouted and you wrapped an arm around him, grinning.

Namjoon and Tae followed you inside. Tae went to the table to set down a box before hurrying back to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, even his tail curling around you to keep you close.

“I missed you, noona!” he said, nose buried in your hair.

You laughed and hugged him back. “I missed you too, Taetae.” You hadn’t seen him since the night you found Yoongi. The tiger hybrid made a rumbling cough-like noise in his chest, which you knew meant he was happy. 

After a moment, you turned to see Yoongi hovering awkwardly next to the kitchen island watching the whole exchange with his hands folded in front of him. Upon seeing everyone looking back at him, he quickly looked down to the floor and bowed politely.

“Welcome,” he said, directing his words toward the three human men standing around the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?” His voice was soft and polite, words oddly hollow. You hurried over to him, startled by the sudden shift in behavior. You wrapped an arm around his slight waist and waited for him to meet your eyes. He looked at you for a moment before seeming to come back to himself. He shuffled his feet, nervously and looked up at the guys again. 

“Thanks, Yoongi, but don’t worry about us. We can grab stuff if we need it,” Jin assured him, heading to the fridge to grab a beer to illustrate his point.

“Yeah, hyung. We basically live here,” Joon added, ruffling your hair before walking over and plopping down on the couch.

Hoseok threw Yoongi a sunshine-smile. “So, Yeoji-noona tells me you’re a musician? She said you’re incredibly talented.” You shifted awkwardly, but didn’t remove your arm from around Yoongi just yet.

“Yeah!” Jungkook said. The bunny bounded over, childlike excitement in his eyes as he scanned the room. His eyes landed on the kitchen table and he took Yoongi’s hand to pull him that way. “I’ve got something to show you, hyung!”

Yoongi followed, ears twitching curiously as he eyed the box on the table. Jimin came to join them, sitting cross-legged on a dining chair. Everyone else observed quietly, curious, but not wanting to crowd Yoongi.

“I’ve been wanting to give you this, and hyung said it’d be a nice welcome present!” Jungkook said, gesturing for the older boy to open the package.

“Present? This is for me?” Yoongi asked. He glanced at you, as if looking for permission. You smiled and gave the tiniest nod of reassurance. Yoongi pulled open the box and slid out a canvas bag. He glanced up at Jungkook one more time before unzipping it. Inside was an electric keyboard. You saw Yoongi’s jaw clench and he continued to stare blankly at the instrument. Jungkook shifted from foot to foot.

“I know it’s not brand new or anything, but Joonie-hyung got me a new one for my last birthday and he said I could sell the other one if I wanted. I thought maybe you’d like to use it. At least until you get a new one. If you don’t want it I can take it back…” the boy rambled nervously. 

Yoongi looked up sharply at those last words. “I- I can keep this?” he asked. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah. It’s a gift. You’re really talented, hyung. It’d be a shame if you were stuck without a keyboard.”

Yoongi looked from Jungkook, to the keyboard, then back again. Then he surprised you all by pulling the younger boy into a hug. Jungkook stiffened at first, clearly surprised. But then he returned the hug, a bunny smile creeping onto his face. 

“Thank you, Kookie. Seriously,” Yoongi said quietly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

Namjoon appeared beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You blinked rapidly when you met his eyes; when had they started watering? Namjoon simply smiled before returning his attention to the men at the table. Jungkook spent a few minutes showing Yoongi some of the keyboard’s features while the rest of you set up the food on the coffee table in the living room. As much as you hated to interrupt, you had to call them away before the food got cold. Yoongi scanned the food on the table.

“I’ve never tried any of this stuff before,” he said.

“You’ve never had Thai food?” Taehyung asked, horrified. Yoongi shook his head. 

You filled a plate with things you thought he’d like and passed it to him. His eyes widened as he took in the precarious tower of food. You might’ve gotten a little too enthusiastic with your servings.

“Jeez, noona. Leave some for the rest of us!” Namjoon teased. The other boys snorted, but you ignored them.

“Try these. If there’s anything you don’t like you can give it to me,” you said. Yoongi cleared his plate in record time, even getting seconds upon your encouragement. His lack of pickiness when it came to food continued to impress you. After you cleared the plates away you settled into your favorite spot on the couch with Yoongi on one side with his arm around your shoulder, and Jungkook on the other. Jungkook laid his head on your lap so you could pet his ears. You smiled as Yoongi took your free hand and laced your fingers together, resting his cheek on your head.

A contented sigh escaped you and you looked over your mismatched little family, catching Namjoon and Jimin exchanging a look. Jimin turned to you and you raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but he just smirked. You frowned, looking to Namjoon instead. He chuckled and turned his attention back to the movie. Jungkook had selected some b-movie he read about online. It featured mostly bad special effects, bad acting, and cheap jumpscares, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. 

You could feel Yoongi already dozing, his breathing deep and even against your hair. How he could sleep through the loud musical stings that seemed to happen every twenty seconds you couldn’t fathom. Despite the poor production quality, you got pretty into the movie. Your attention was split between trying to keep up with the convoluted plot, petting Jungkook, and drawing soft patterns on the back of Yoongi’s hand.

When the film ended you shifted, giving Yoongi’s hand a gentle squeeze to wake him up. He blinked at you, looking around as you sat up and started clearing glasses and drink cans away. He stretched before moving to help you.

“Why don’t you sit and chat with the guys for a bit?” you suggested.

“I’ll help you, noona,” Jungkook said. He, Jin, and Namjoon helped you clean up while the other boys visited.

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Yoongi fidgeted nervously in his seat, uneasy without you next to him. Jimin sensed the discomfort and moved to sit next to him. Tae turned to face the other boys from his spot on the floor.

“So, how’s it been? Staying with Yeoji-noona, I mean,” Tae asked.

“Good. She’s really good to me. I owe her a lot,” Yoongi said.

“From what I hear she doesn’t feel you owe her anything. I think the last few weeks she’s been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time,” Hoseok said. Yoongi blushed, but failed to hide his smile at the statement.

“It’s definitely the happiest I’ve ever been,” Yoongi said quietly.

“Well we’ve been dying to meet you,” Taehyung interjected. “Jimin won’t shut up about you.”

Jimin’s tail flicked. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had another kitty around.” Yoongi finched, tail wrapping protectively around his waist. Jimin continued, not noticing. “I mean, Tae is a cat. But you can’t exactly call a tiger a kitty. I miss purrs and snuggles from my other kitty friends. Tae doesn’t really purr. He makes this funny coughing sound instead.”

“It’s called ‘chuffing’ thank you very much,” Tae protested. Jimin’s tinkling laugh filled the room as the two bickered good-naturedly, but Yoongi’s mind was far away. A voice echoed through his mind, but not from anyone in the room. The man’s voice came from memories he’d pushed away and tried to forget. He curled in on himself, ears flattening as he tried to push the images of his past away.

The tone of the guys’ conversation shifted and he thought someone might be calling to him but their words sounded like he was hearing them through glass.

“Hey, hyung.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder and his body reacted before his mind could. He lashed out with a fist, and flinched away from the person’s touch, toppling off the couch in the process. A yelp of pain and surprise cleared a bit of the fog from his mind and he glanced at the faces surrounding him, pupils blown wide as adrenaline coursed through him. Rather than being comforted by the reality in that moment, he only felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

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You were laughing with Jungkook and Jin when you heard Namjoon’s shout of surprise. You whirled to see the boys suddenly quiet, startled expressions on their faces. You hurried into the living room just in time to see Yoongi getting off the ground and darting away into your bedroom.

“What happened?” you asked, turning to Namjoon for an answer. He held a hand to his cheek, the skin already bruising beneath it.

“I’m not sure. I came to check on them and Yoongi-hyung seemed… off. I must’ve scared him because he freaked out and hit me,” he said.

“We were just talking and then he got really quiet all of the sudden. Then when Joon-hyung touched him he just-” Taehyung trailed off with a shrug.

“Is he okay?” Jimin asked. He looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“I’m sure he’s okay, Chim. I’m gonna go take care of him,” you ruffled the boy's hair. “Jin, can you get Joon some ice?”

Jin nodded and led the younger man back to the kitchen while you hurried after Yoongi. You pushed open the door gently. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on.

“Yoongi?” you called softly. You scanned the room, but didn’t see him. “Sweetheart where are you? What happened?”

Your eyes fell on the door of your closet, which was slightly ajar. A sliver of sock-clad toe poked out. You approached quietly, not exactly sure what was going on, and opened the door. Yoongi sat on the floor, half buried in a pile of sweaters you hadn’t bothered to hang up after wearing them once.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. You crouched in front of him, leaning close to hear better. He flinched away as you drew closer and your heart broke.

“What?” you asked.

“Please…” he whimpered.

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand. What happened? Please what?”

“I messed up. I was bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t make me leave. Please,” he repeated over and over like a mantra. His ears were flat against his head. His whole body trembled.

“Oh, Yoongi,” you cooed, reaching out for him. He shrank away again, but you didn’t give up. “Yoon, it’s me. Please, can you come out?” He finally met your eyes, scanning your face for anger before carefully crawling out of his hiding place. When he finally accepted your outstretched hand you didn’t hesitate to pull him into your arms.

“I’m so sorry, noona. I’m so sorry. I was bad. I know I’m in trouble but please don’t get rid of me.”

“Sweetheart, I would never get rid of you.” You pulled him close, nuzzling into his hair as he tucked his face into your neck. “This is your home. And you aren’t in trouble. No one is mad at you.”

You sat quietly for a moment, just stroking his hair as he took deep shaking breaths, struggling to slow his breathing. When he seemed to have calmed down a bit you spoke again.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened?” you asked gently.

“T-that name. It just made me think of my old master,” he said the last word with venom in his voice. “Kitty, that’s what he called me and- and I just felt like I was there again. Back with him, at the club. And I- I couldn’t- It-” the panic seemed to be returning and you held him tighter, shushing him, trying to shield him from the rush of painful memories before they could overwhelm him again.

“Hey, hey. Slow down. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. You’re here, with me. I’ve got you.”

He nodded against your shoulder, clinging to you as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning.

“Let’s get you off the floor, yeah?” you said, coaxing him to his feet and guiding him over to the bed. You tucked him in, pulling an extra blanket up from the foot to tuck around his shoulders and placing a soft kiss in his hair. 

“I probably should go check on the boys,” you said, glancing toward the living room. You could hear them murmuring, discussing quietly.

“Wait.” He looked anxious at the prospect of you leaving his side. “Can’t you...” He couldn’t seem to get out what he wanted to ask.

“Okay,” you said. The idea of being away for him at that moment tore at your heart more than you’d admit. You crawled under the covers and snuggled up to him. He tucked his face into your neck; that seemed to be his favorite spot. What you weren’t aware of was that your scent was such a comfort to him, it was the only thing that could push the shadows from his mind in moments like this. You slipped your phone out of your back pocket.

You put your phone on its charger and wrapped your arm around Yoongi again.

“Are they mad?” he asked suddenly.

“What? No, of course not.”

You felt him sigh, breath warm against your collarbone. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled away from you to look you in the eye. “I know I’m in trouble. You have to punish me. I hurt your brother. And I could hear Jimin. I made him cry. So what are you going to do?” He averted his eyes, clearly expecting you to hurt him somehow.

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek to make him look at you. “Yoongi, you are not in trouble. Namjoon is not mad at you. He understands, in fact he was actually worried about you. And Jimin was only crying because he hurt you. He didn’t mean to say something that would upset you. He understands what it’s like to have things you’d rather forget,” you said sadly.

“Is-Is he still here?” Yoongi asked.

“I think so.”

“Could I-? I’d like to apologize,” he said. “To him and Namjoon.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you studied him. “Are you sure? You could talk to him after your shift tomorrow. You don’t have to do this now.”

“I don’t want them to worry.”

You scanned his face, but he seemed certain. You sat up, tucking a blanket tighter around his shoulders before calling, “Jimin, Joonie, can you come here for a second?”

Yoongi fidgeted with his fingers beside you, and you reached over and wrapped his hand in yours. There was quiet shuffling outside your door before a shock of pink hair and white ears appeared through the door.

“Hyung?” Jimin’s voice was even softer than usual, barely audible to your ears. He slipped through the door, Namjoon following cautiously behind him.

Yoongi cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m so sorry I hit you Namjoon. That was bad of me-”

Namjoon stopped him. “You have nothing to apologize for, hyung. It’s not your fault that other people hurt you. I’m sorry I scared you, even accidentally.”

Yoongi nodded his gratitude, thinking for a moment before turning to Jimin.

“And Jimin, I’m sorry I reacted like that. I didn’t mean to upset you...” He stopped short when he realized there were tears streaming down the younger man’s face. “Oh s***. Did I make it worse?” Yoongi said. He turned to you confused and concerned.

“No, hyung. I’m just so sorry. I-” Jimin sniffled and wiped at his face with his sleeves. “Can I hug you?” 

Yoongi looked startled, but he nodded. Jimin practically ran over and sat next to Yoongi, hugging him tightly and burying his face in his chest. After a moment’s hesitation, Yoongi wrapped his arms around him. There was a beat of silence before a soft, melodic purr started to fill the quiet.

“I know what it’s like to have… bad things happen. And I’m so sorry I made you remember.” Jimin’s grip on the back of Yoongi’s sweater tightened. “If you need to talk about it, you can talk to me, hyung. Anytime.”

Yoongi nodded again, a purr started to echo from his chest as well as he tried to keep himself together.

Namjoon and Jimin left a few minutes later, and Yoongi settled back in with you. He fell asleep quickly after all the guys left. You snuck away as quietly as you could to wash your face and change into pajamas, but found yourself rushing to return to his side.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Over the following months you tried to get Yoongi out of the house more. As the winter warmed into spring he went and performed in the plaza some days. One particularly sunny afternoon you had to go see your supplier since there was an issue with your latest order. 

The two of you strolled casually down the street toward the restaurant supply company, window shopping as you went since your appointment wasn’t for another twenty minutes. Yoongi pointed out a couple of items in shop windows, and you filed away his preferences for later. He finished paying you back for the things you bought him a few weeks before, so you looked for any and every opportunity to spoil him. Not because you thought he needed it, but any time you were responsible for that gummy smile blossoming on his face it warmed your heart like nothing else.

You passed a shop on the corner a block from your destination and paused when you noticed him lingering by the window.

“Yoon? What are you looking at?” You turned and joined him at the window. It turned out to be a salon, not a shop. You looked Yoongi over. His hair had grown since he’d come to stay with you, to the point that he tied it up with one of your hair-ties when he was working on something.

 “Do you want to get your hair cut?” you asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I should, huh? I actually like this.” He pointed at a poster in the window. The man in the picture had kind of a mullet going on. You couldn’t tell what color it was since the picture was black and white, but it was clearly a lighter color.

“This one?” You pointed at the picture, confirming. The cut wasn’t really your style. But if Yoongi liked it, that didn’t matter. He’d be adorable in any style. “Yeah,” you said encouragingly. “I think your hair is long enough.”

“What? No, I meant the color. I’d be cool to have lighter hair.”

“You wanna dye it?” you asked, surprised. You hadn’t expected him to be interested in something like that.

He nodded. “Do you think it’d look weird?” He suddenly seemed unsure, turning slightly away from the window, ears turning down slightly.

“No! I think you’d look cute in any color!” In your haste to reassure him you entirely missed the pretty blush that appeared on his cheeks. “You should try it,” you said.

He looked back up at the picture, contemplating. “Would that be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. It’s your hair.” You laughed and ruffled his soft black locks with your fingers. “Do you want to do it today? If they have an appointment you can do it while I go to my meeting.”

His tail swished behind him, ears perked forward. “Really?”

“Of course! Let’s see if they have any openings.”

You entered the salon, the bell chiming cheerfully above you. “Welcome to Worldwide Handsome Salon! How can I make your day more beautiful?” the girl at the reception desk greeted you. You turned to Yoongi, waiting for him to speak.

“I’d like to have my hair cut and colored,” he said quietly.

The girl glanced from him to you. “Of course, we happen to have an opening in 15 minutes if you were looking to have it done today.”

Yoongi nodded.

“Great!” the girl chirped. “I’ll go grab one of our stylists for a consult.” She hurried off to do so. You and Yoongi took a seat in the waiting area.

“That works out perfectly! I’ll come pick you up after my meeting. Is that okay?” You didn’t say what you were actually asking, though you knew he understood what you meant. ‘Will you be okay without me?’

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good.” You took his hand, bouncing it happily on your lap. “I can’t wait to see what you do!”

The stylist emerged from between the rows of chairs and counters, greeting you with a big smile. He wasn’t very tall, but he still managed to be imposing. The lean muscle in his arms stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt, and he carried himself with more confidence and power than you would’ve expected from him. His hair was a shockingly pure platinum, and he pushed it back from his face as he approached to greet you.

“Hey! I’m Jackson.” He reached out to shake your hand, shaking Yoongi’s as well.

“He’s our best hybrid stylist,” the girl chimed in from beside him.

“I thought I was the best period, Irene,” Jackson teased. The receptionist, Irene, giggled and turned away.

“That too.” She bowed to you and Yoongi. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She returned to her place behind the front desk.

“I assume we’re doing something for you today?” He inclined his head toward Yoongi with a small smile. “Alright, what are we thinking?” He directed the question at you. You frowned at him before turning to Yoongi, again waiting for him to speak up.

“I want it cut and colored,” he said. 

Again, Jackson glanced at you expectantly. “Do you know what style you want exactly?” he asked politely.

“Don’t ask me, it’s his hair,” you said, getting a little irritated. Yoongi, sensing this, took your hand and leaned closer to you, tail wrapping soothingly around your leg.

Jackson’s eyebrows rose, apparently surprised. “Sorry. You have to excuse me. Most people who bring their hybrids in don’t give a damn what they want.” He smiled awkwardly. “Alright man, what are we doing today?” He addressed Yoongi this time, giving him a genuine smile and seeming almost relieved.

“I was thinki-”

“Wait!” You interrupted him, pulling your hand free so you could cover your ears. Both men looked at you, startled. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Yoongi grinned and nodded, happily agreeing to your plan.

“Text me when you’re finished, and I’ll come pick you up. You have your phone and your card?” Yoongi nodded. You got him a debit card once he started earning wages at the shop so he wouldn’t have to carry everything in cash. The account was technically under your name, since hybrids couldn’t have their own, but shopping was a lot easier for him with a debit card.

“Alright, call me if you need me.” You leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “Have fun!” you called as you left the salon.

Jackon observed how Yoongi watched you leave, brows raised.

“What?” Yoongi asked when he caught the other man’s expression.

“Nothing,” Jackson said casually. He smiled and glanced after you. “It’s just nice to see. You guys seem happy together.”

Yoongi colored, but couldn’t hide the grin that appeared on his face.

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After your meeting, you went to the coffee shop next to the Worldwide Handsome Salon. You tried to busy yourself reading over the documents your supplier had given you, but it was hard to focus when you could hardly wait to see what Yoongi had done. You hopped out of your chair a little too energetically when he finally texted, drawing an irritated look from fellow patrons you’d startled. You bowed apologetically, dropped your dirty dishes in the bus bin, and hurried next door.

Irene greeted you when you entered. “Hi! They’re just finishing up. I’ll let them know you’re here.” She got up and disappeared into the maze of mirrors and counters. A moment later she returned, Jackson in tow. He flashed you a proud grin.

“You know, I think this might be some of my best work.”

Irene nudged him with her elbow and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it has nothing to do with him being handsome to start with.”

Jackson waved Yoongi over and he peeked out from behind a mirror. Your eyes widened as you took in his slightly curly honey-blond hair. Yoongi measured your reaction, black ears twitching nervously as he stood before you.

“What?” he asked when you didn’t say anything. “Do you not like it?”

You broke into a smile and finally couldn’t hold back a delighted squeal.

“Oh my god I love it!” You stepped closer to him. “Can I?” You made grabby hands at him and he leaned his head down so you could reach better. Somehow, the light color and soft waves made his hair look even softer. Upon feeling it you found it was, in fact, extremely soft. 

“Agh!” You made an exasperated sound, overwhelmed with affection for the soft boy before you. “You look so cute!” you cooed.

Yoongi pouted a little. “Jackson and Irene said I look handsome,” he protested.

“And handsome.” You nodded in agreement, scratching the base of his ears. He purred and leaned into your hand. “My handsome honey boy.”

Yoongi’s eyes opened quickly and you wondered if he disliked the nickname. But his gummy smile quickly reassured you before he wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your neck. His purrs rumbled through his chest and into yours, tail swishing happily behind him. You chuckled, continuing to stroke his hair.

“It looks great,” you said, placing a soft kiss in his hair. You glanced up at Jackson and Irene. She was watching the exchange with her head resting on Jackson’s shoulder, starry-eyed. You blinked, coming back to yourself and stepping away from Yoongi.

“Thank you so much for taking good care of him,” you said.

“Anytime,” Jackson answered. “Please come again. We do women’s hair too, you know.”

Jackson took his leave as Irene walked you to the counter to pay. Yoongi swiped his card with a bit of pride, though you winced at the hit his funds were taking. You were happy for him, since you knew independence was important to him. But you still wished he’d let you take care of him a little more.

Irene smiled as she watched the two of you, Yoongi’s free hand firmly clasping yours. “You two are really cute together,” she said. “You don’t see a lot of human-hybrid relationships like yours. It’s refreshing.”

You looked at her dumbly for a second before realizing what she meant. “Oh! We aren’t a couple,” you said. Yoongi flinched beside you and released your hand to put in his pin number. Irene frowned, not convinced.

“What about you and him?” You nodded to the direction where Jackson had gone. 

Irene blushed and stammered, effectively redirecting the conversation. “Jackson? We aren’t, like, official or anything. Just coworkers. And friends. He’s technically my boss, too.” She laughed awkwardly, busying herself getting Yoongi’s receipt. You let the subject drop, heart beating oddly fast. Were you seriously that worked up by the suggestion of you and Yoongi being together. 

You glanced over at him. The muscles in his jaw were tight as he focused determinedly on reading the ingredients of a shampoo bottle he had picked up. You hoped the statement hadn’t made him too uncomfortable. One of your greatest fears was Yoongi feeling like he owed you that. From what little he’d told you of his background, he wasn’t used to having a choice. You’d never want him to be with you out of some ingrained sense of obligation.

Yoongi interrupted your thoughts when he spoke. “Thank you,” he said again, bowing politely. Then he took his receipt and quickly turned to leave. Irene gave him a sad smile as you hurried after him. What was that about?

“Yoongi, wait up!” you jogged after him. When you caught up you looped your arm through his. You examined his face, but his expression was totally neutral. You tugged on his arm to get his attention. “What should we do for dinner?” He gave a noncommittal grunt. “What do you feel like eating, honey boy?” His stoic expression cracked a little, even as he turned his face to hide it. You laughed triumphantly.

“How about meat? Hanwoo?” you suggested, knowing his weakness all too well.

His eyes sparkled at the mention of the dish, which the two of you reserved as a treat for special occasions. He nodded, finally rewarding you with a small smile. You tugged on his arm playfully and dragged him toward the alley housing your favorite barbeque restaurant, happy that any tension seemed to have faded.

[agentofscifi]

Super Genius Marinette Ch. 2

I hand the taxi driver a few American bills as payment just after he sets down my bags on the sidewalk. I was right in front of the Avengers building, which had a small collection of reporters outside of it. The man smiles as he pops back into his car. I give him a small wave as he drives off. Swinging my backpack over my shoulders and I take both of my bags by the handle, wheeling up to the door. The reporters, for some reason, didn’t seem to notice me until I was typing my password into the keypad by the door.  

“Ma’am? Who might you be and what business do you have with the Avengers? Are you with the other children who have been seen entering this building?” A darked haired woman is holding a mic out to me, her cameraman fixating on my face.  

I shrug as the door opens up on its own. “There will be a press conference later this summer to answer all of your questions. That is all I will say for now.”  

I wheel my bags through the door, leaving behind the small gaggle, who were still attempting to ask my questions. A few of the workers on the bottom floors look at me weirdly as I pull my bags into the main elevator.   

“Hello FRIDAY, how are you?”  

“Very well, Ms. Stark. Your father is located on the communal floor, would you like to go there first, or visit your floor?”  

“The communal floor, please.”  

“Of course.”  

I pull up my sunglasses from my face and quickly pull out my phone. I sent a quick text to my parents back in Paris that I arrived at the tower. As The elevator dings at the floor, I tuck my phone back into my back pocket and grab both of my bags. I walk out the door into the general floor, high heels clicking on the tiles. Several heads whip around and look at me from the couches.  

“Crap.” One of the men, Clint Barton, groans. “Tony, your security sucks! There’s another Captain America fangirl up here?  

I raise an eyebrow. “Ok, first of all, I am not a Captain fangirl. He puts up a good fight, but he needs some serious wardrobe help.” Said man flushes at my words. “Secondly, the security is fine here, I helped set it up. Thirdly,” I look up at the ceiling. “Friday?”  

“Yes?”  

“Where is my Dad?”  

“Right here, my little genius!” My father practically runs me over as he goes to hug me.   

The people at the couches stare. “You have a kid?   

I pear over my father’s shoulder. The collection of Avengers were all staring at us with gobsmacked expressions. “Yes, he does. Who’s asking?”  

One of the guys sticks his arm up. “Sam Wilson. When did this happen?”  

“14 years and 364 days ago.”   

Sam Wilson stares at me with wide eyes, “So, you’re 15 tomorrow?”  

“Yup.”  

“Are you French?” Steve Rodgers decided to pop into the conversation at this point.   

“Yes, well not technically. Dad,” I gesture to my father, “is American. My Mom is from China, she moved to France to study baking. She married my Papa who’s ½ French. I did grow up in Paris, however.” Rodgers nods.  

Thor puts a large hand up. “Does this mean the other younglings here are your children too?”  

Dad sighs. “No. I’m mentoring them. Mari is my only child.”  

“And we were never told because?” Clint Barton is still looking between my Dad and I.  

I shrug. “I wanted a normal childhood. Being the daughter of Tony Stark would have made my childhood crazy. This was before Ironman and the Avengers became a thing.”  

Clint nods in agreement. “Fair enough. Why are you here now then?”  

“My little genius,” My father kisses my cheek. “Is starting MIT in the Fall!”  

“Oh, God. She’s a mini you!” I easily recognize Bucky Barnes from his signature metal arm.   

“But with better fashion sense!” I give all of them a winning smile.  

“Can we come back to Captain America needing fashion help.” The Black Widow is grinning from her place next to the couch.  

The Avengers all look at me with expectant gazes. Barnes looked all too happy at the topic. I simply shrug. “You look like America's 4 year old daughter after she’s finally allowed to pick out her own clothing. You were practically glowing, that outfit was so bright. It’s like you were asking for the enemy to notice you. Get a stylist!”  

Steve Rogers’ face starts to turn red. “It worked back in the 40’s during the war.”  

“No, honey, it didn’t.” Bucky and Sam are starting to laugh behind their hands. “People just loved you more than they disliked the suit.”  

Rodgers’ face is a deep red right now. “It’s an iconic antique.”  

“Then put it in a museum and leave it there.” Bucky finally snaps and roars with laughter. Sam isn’t far behind as he lands on the floor to roll around.  

“I’m sorry, who is the tiny french girl who’s verbally beating up Steve?” Bruce Banner is standing by the elevator with the most confused expression on his face.  

“Tony’s daughter, apparently.” Clint shrugs.  

“And Tony has had a daughter for how long?”  

“15 years.” I give Banner a bright smile. “I’ve read several of your papers. Your gamma radiation and nuclear physics work is amazing, but I preferred the stuff on Biochemistry. I have some ideas I was hoping you take a look at.”  

Bruce blinks a few times. “I-15 years-What kind of ideas?”  

“Bacta patches. I want to see if I can make them real. I’ve written out some formulas, but haven’t been able to really talk to anyone about them yet or test them out.”   

“Uhh...Sure. Bacta patches, like from Star Wars?”  

“Yup.”  

“Tony, your daughter is a fashionista and a nerd. I’ve only ever heard of such rare creatures.” Bucky was no longer laughing at Steve, but still looked too happy.   

“Technically, I’m a fashion designer.”  

“Tony, you daughter is a fashion designer and a nerd.”  

“Who has an IQ of 265!” My Father is smiling down at me, pride filling his eyes.  

A glass drops and shatters across the floor. “Holy shit!” is whispered from someone in the room.  

My Father ignores all of this. “Well, I’m going to introduce Mari to the rest of the kids. Carry on!”  

I give a small wave to the stunned adults. “Bye! It was nice to meet all of you! I’ll speak to you later Doctor Banner.”   

My Father pushes me into the elevator, leaving several flabbergasted Avengers. I raise an eyebrow as the elevator moves down a few levels. “You didn’t tell them about me.”  

He snorts. “And miss that interaction. That was so much better than I could ever have ever dreamed.”  

The door dings open and I’m suddenly in a smaller version of the top floor living room. There were 9 teenagers sitting around a coffee table, a variety of bags scattered around the couches and loveseats. All of the heads look up at me when I come in.  

The oldest male swears in english. “Damn it Stark, how many of us are you going to kidnap?”  

I raise an eyebrow and turn my head up. “Kidnap?”  

My father gasps dramatically. “Kidnap? I did not kidnap! Your parents practically threw you at me once I showed up.”  

One of the other boys snorts. “Aunt May is still angry about Germany. She said if you showed up at our house again, she’d throw you out the window.”  

My father shrugs. “Your Aunt is a terrifying force of nature.”  

A blonde girl rolls her eyes and walks up to me. A hand shoots out. “Gwen Stacy, I’m from New York and I’m 17.”   

I take her hand. “A pleasure.”  

The oldest boy sticks his hand in the air. “Harley Keener, Tennessee. Also 17.”  

The boy with a terrifying aunt gives me a small wave. “Peter Parker, Queens. 16.”  

Brown haired latina woman gives me a nod. “Anya Corazon. I’m from Brooklyn. 16, as well.”  

The last guy briefly looks up from the computer in his lap to give me a smile. “Ned Leeds. I’m from New York and I’m 16, too.”  

The girl next to him does even look up as she waves. “MJ. New York. 17. Nice shoes.”  

I glance down. “Thanks.”  

MJ nods, still looking at my computer. She nudges the guy on the floor next to her foot.  He pulls off his headphones and gives me a wave. “Oh, hey! Miles Morales. Brooklyn native. Freshly 16.”  

A girl about my age looks up from the small project in her hand. “Riri Willaims, Chicago. 15.”  

Lastly was a girl who looked even younger than me. She waves from her seat on the floor by Riri. “Peni Parker, no relation to Peter Parker. I’m from New York. I’m 14, but will be 15 in two months.”  

I wave back. “Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Stark. I’m from Paris and I turn 15 tomorrow.”  

Harley chokes on the drink he’d just swallowed. “I’m sorry, Stark?”  

I nod. “Tony’s my Dad. We’ve just kept it on the downlow so I could have a normal childhood.”  

Everyone one is looking at me. I simply shrug it off. “So, you guys are all going to the International Technology Showcase in D.C. this summer, right?”  

There’s several nods. “Yup.” Peni gives me a wide smile. “We’ve all got stuff to showcase. What about you?”  

“I’ve got my showcase pieces.”  

My Father claps me on my shoulder. “Ok, now that you are all here,  can give you guys a tour.”  

Ned shuts his computer and Riri sets the components in her hands down on the coffee table. I set my backpack on the ground as my father guides us to a door on the right. He flips on a switch to reveal a large game room, complete with several large TV’s and game consoles. “This is the Game Room.”  

He walks across the main living room and flips on another light. A huge kitchen with a large table sits in this room. “Kitchen and dining room are here.”  

He points up. “Bedrooms are on the next two level. Boys on the next floor, girls above them. All of the rooms have labels and there is a central living space where the stairs and elevator dump you out. The floor below us is a training room. The two floors below that are labs. Engineering labs on the upper floor and a Biochem lab on the floor below. We expect to see you all at some point, so don’t live in isolation.” Dad walks back over to the elevator. “Have fun, just don’t blow up the building.” We all watch him wave as the elevator door closes.  

It’s silent as everyone looks at each other awkwardly. I roll my eyes after a few seconds. “So, Star Wars marathon? Who’s in?”  

Ned and Peter immediately stick their hands up, to the amusement of Gwen and MJ. Riri nods. “I’m up for anything. What are we doing for dinner?”  

Miles shrugs. “I don’t know how to cook.”  

I roll my eyes. “I’ll order pizza. How does a Deluxe, Margarita, and a Meat Lover’s sound.”  

“You getting drinks?” Harley raises an eyebrow.  

“A couple two liters, some normal breadsticks and some of those dessert pizzas that look like someone dumped a whole bag of sugar and icing on top.” I get a nod from Harley.  

Anya nods. “I don't know what you all are going to do over the next hour, but I’m moving in. Pizza and movies in an hour or so?”  

I pull out my phone and start to put in the order. “Should work. I don’t know about you all, but I am putting on sweatpants.” I grab my bag from the floor and handle of my suitcase as I make my way to the elevator.   

Peter starts to pull out his wallet. “How much do we own you?”  

I shake my head. “Nothing.”  

Peter shakes his head. “That doesn’t seem fair.”  

I raise an eyebrow. “My Dad is a billionaire. He paid for a quart of strawberries with a Jaeger-LeCoultre watch. He can buy us pizza.”  

“A Jaeger-LeCoultre watch, serious?” Riri looks absolutely annoyed.  

“Stark just gave a bunch of teenagers 6 floors all for ourselves with no supervision.” Harley snorts. “He doesn’t seem to think everything through.”  

“He has FRIDAY watching us.” I press the confirmation button on the Pizza. “Pizza will be here in 45. But, ya. My Dad has FRIDAY and KAREN keeping an eye on all of us.”  

Harley gets a look in his eye. “We have babysitting monitors!” A scary smile graces his lips. “I say we revolt!”  

Gwen face palms, but it’s too late. MJ, Peter, Riri, Peni and Miles all look too excited. Frankly, so was I. “Anyone know a lawyer?” Riri is grinning now too.  

Peter sticks his hand up. “Mathew Murdock.”  

Anya seems to be getting excited too. “So, what are we rebelling?”  

“Baby monitor protocols!”   

Gwen rolls her eyes, but caves. “We need more than that!”  

I bite my lip. “We also need time. We need our own AI.”  

“How are we adding in our own AI to the tower?” Ned has his computer under his arm as we enter the elevator.   

“I helped design the security for this building. Once we have our own AI, I add them to the tower’s system. Once we’ve done that I’ll take FRIDAY out of our 6 floors and add in our AI.”  

Silence for a second as the elevator doors close. “Can you keep Tony out of our floors?” Peni is practically vibrating.  

“I can keep everyone off our floors.”  

Harley throws his arms into the air. “We revolt at dawn!”  

“After the Star Wars Marathon!” Peter and Ned have thrown their arms into the air too. Peni joins in with Miles and soon several teens are cheering in this tiny elevator.   

I blink a few times and van’t help the smile that forms onto my face. How did my dad find these crazy teenagers?  

Before ~~~~~ Next

[alirhi]

Toy Soldiers chapter 1

Title: Toy Soldiers Chapter: 1/? Fandom: MCU Rating: 18+ Focus: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes Summary: Wounded and delirious but grateful (and shocked) to be alive after his fall from the train, Bucky thinks he's been rescued when he's pulled from the snow. It doesn't take long for him to realize he would have been better off dead. WARNINGS: Language, references to (and possibly graphic depictions of; we'll see how it goes) torture, brainwashing, violence, rape Notes: I don't want to give much away here, but I do want to assure you all that no, I don't ship anyone appearing in this chapter. I'm also not yaddayaddaing the arm thing. more detail on that later.

Once, he would have been grateful to be brought back home to the States. He didn't know it, really, but he was so close to home. It didn't matter, though; just like in Europe, he never left the lab.

“How-” His throat hurt. Was it from how little he'd spoken lately... Or from how much he'd screamed? Wincing, he swallowed, coughed, and tried again. “How long...?”

“Your arm should be operational within the week,” the pretty brunette with the clipboard and the funny accent told him. She looked and sounded so familiar... “If that's what you're asking. Just relax, Sergeant Barnes. You're in good hands.”

It wasn't what he was asking. He didn't even know what she was talking about.

“I trust you'll take excellent care of him, Doctor Zola.” Her clipped, accented voice was steely as she turned to face the small man in the corner that Bucky hadn't noticed. Voice softening as she laid a hand softly on the prone Sergeant's shoulder, she added, “He meant so much to...” She stopped abruptly, cleared her throat, patted Bucky awkwardly, and turned away. “Well. Anyway. Do what you can; I'll be in touch.”

Forgetting for a moment that he didn't have a left hand anymore, Bucky reached for her. He was stunned when her skirt caught on something shiny.

Even more so when that 'something shiny' turned out to be attached to him. “How... What...?”

Dark brown eyes, warm, soft, and so familiar, locked with his as she gently pried the metal fingers loose from her skirt. “Rest, Sergeant. It will be alright.” She stepped lightly out of his reach and the authority returned to her voice as she headed for the door. “Surprising level of dexterity already. Do pass my compliments on to Stark, Doctor, won't you?”

“Stark?” Why did that name ring a bell?

“Of course, Agent Carter.” The little toad in the corner, Zola, sounded so insidious. Bucky hated him already. There was something unnervingly familiar about him, too. As the pretty brunette left, Zola approached him with a grin. “Sergeant Barnes,” he hissed, “You will be the new fist of HYDRA.”

So, he was still in HYDRA's clutches. They'd moved him, he knew, but-

Stark. Agent Carter.

He gaped at the toad, barely registering the reflection of his own stunned, scruffy face in the smaller man's glasses. Zola. Son of a fucking bitch.

The little bastard was quick. He darted out of the way as Bucky surged up and made a swipe for him. He grabbed someone else in a lab coat, instead, and didn't even hesitate. HYDRA. He hadn't nearly died trying to bring them down, only to turn around and let them keep experimenting on him without a fight. The scientist's neck snapped with a very satisfying audible crunch before Bucky was pinned, subdued, and injected with something that made him woozy.

So, Howard Stark and Peggy Carter were working with HYDRA. Fucking traitors. He was still fighting, flinging people off of him and watching in vague amazement as a couple of them flew clear across the room. Apparently deciding the drugs weren't working fast enough, one of them injected him again.

As it finally took effect and the world started to slow and dim, Bucky's last coherent thought was I hope Steve doesn't know.

“How long have I been here?” he finally managed to ask in a scratchy, gravelly voice the next time he was aware.

“A few weeks,” was the dismissive answer he got from one of the younger lab coats. He noticed they stayed out of easy reach as often as they could.

Weeks. That didn't seem right, but it was a relief to hear. If it'd only been weeks, then maybe Steve was still holding out hope; maybe Bucky hadn't been declared dead yet. They'd be looking for him...

His head cleared a bit more, and his heart sank. He'd said 'here', and they'd probably interpreted that literally. “How long,” he tried again, swallowing several times when his throat still ached, “since the train...?”

“Train?” That confused the kid he was talking to, and he glanced at one of his companions.

The other man, late thirties at least by the looks of him and annoyingly familiar, stepped forward. His voice was soft when he spoke, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened rabbit. “It's 1955, Barnes. It's been ten years since you went missing on that mission. We all thought you were dead.”

Ten years?! “Ten... fucking years?” He surged up off the table, only to be caught and held back down.

“Take your hands off him,” the other man snapped, waving the lab coats back. “This man is a hero.”

“He's dangerous, Stark!”

“He's Cap's right hand, for god's sake!”

“Stark.” Eyes wide and feeling panicked, Bucky reached for him. Howard didn't so much as flinch; he let Bucky grab his arms, and even helped him sit up. “Howard. Howard Stark – I remember you. I... Where's Steve?”

The pain in Howard's eyes answered him before his mouth could. Shaking his head in desperate denial, Bucky sank back against the chilly steel. “Don't. Don't you fucking dare.”

“You've never been afraid of anything, Barnes.” Howard winced, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for him, but he didn't. “What did those bastards do to you?”

Closing his eyes against the stab of pain did nothing to ease it; all it did was bring up a rush of dizzying, confusing images. Cold. Blood. Bright lights and gleaming steel. Foreign tongues swirling around him. Pain. White-hot endless nauseating pain...

“Where's Steve?” This time his voice came out a choked whimper, and he appreciated the kindness when no one around him commented on it.

The answer, when it came, was exactly what he'd been dreading: “He's dead. I'm sorry. He went down...”

Tuning out the soft cadence of his once-idol's voice, Bucky sagged against the table. Dead. He's dead. Stupid, reckless, good-for-nothing punk...

“Is he crying?”

“You wanna mind your damn business, Johnson? He lost a brother; let the man grieve.”

“I-it's just... He's been so volatile... I didn't expect-”

“What, human emotion? Try showing some, or get the hell out.” He felt Howard lean closer, and his voice was weirdly gentle again as he murmured, “I'm sorry, Barnes. I know you two were close.”

“Get...” His throat closed. He swallowed a couple of times, allowed a tiny sliver of gratitude when the rim of a cup was pressed to his lips and he got a sip of water, and tried again: “Get out.”

“Alright, Sarge. Alright. I was just checking on the arm.”

There was a soft thunk thunk against something metallic, accompanied by an odd tickling vibration in his shoulder and chest, and then some shuffling. It sounded like someone was moving away, and someone else was coming closer. Bucky didn't bother opening his eyes to find out what was going on.

“He's overwhelmed. Let's- Is that really necessary?”

“He's dangerous, Stark.” That voice sounded too close for comfort. He felt something cold and hard clamp down on his right wrist, and heard the clack of metal against metal on his left, and then a jab on the right. “We either leave armed guards, or this. We can't just let him wander.”

“You're treating him like a crazed murderer.”

“Well, he did kill Simmons.”

“...Right. I forgot about that. Oh, whatever. Fine. Sorry, Barnes, these guys...”

Bucky faded out before he could hear the rest of what Howard had to say. It was just as well; he didn't care what he had to say. Steve was dead. Stupid punk went and got himself killed. It'd been ten years, which meant Bucky's whole family thought he was dead, too. He had no one. Did anything else really matter anymore? This time, when oblivion came, he didn't fight it. He embraced it.

“You will be the new fist of HYDRA...”

The next time he woke, he was screaming; it wasn't enough to drown out the echoes of the little Swiss toad's insidious voice in his head. Why the fuck was he so cold?

“I told you not to put him back on ice!” That clipped voice, the lilting accent... Who was she, again? “He's a human being, for god's sake! He's not an ice cream cone!”

His teeth were chattering so hard his jaw ached as a blanket was thrown over him and tucked up under his chin. What was happening? Who were these people? Who was he? Everything was so foggy...

“Doctor Zola said-”

“Ugh. I'll deal with the good Doctor. Just... Get out of my sight, you wretch! Sergeant Barnes, are you alright?”

Barnes. Sergeant Barnes. “Three two,” he croaked automatically as memories slowly began to resurface. “Five five...”

“Shhh. Enough of that, soldier.” A soft, warm hand stroked his cheek and he smiled softly, leaning into it. “You're safe now.” There was a sharp hiss, and she whispered, “You're still so cold.”

A rustle of cloth made him open his eyes, and he was somewhat startled to see the pretty brunette hastily tugging off her clothes. “Um... Hey, now, you're lovely, Doll, but...”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Half frozen to death and your brain scrambled and what little mind you've got left is still in the gutter. Typical bloody man.”

“What-”

“You need body heat,” she snapped as, down to her underwear, she slid under the blanket with him and pressed in close with a shiver. “You haven't got any at the moment. So take mine.”

“Seems like you kinda need it.” He was pleased when that comment earned him a soft chuckle from her, and he brought his arm up to wrap around her. She was so warm...

“I'll survive.”

“Thank you.” I know her... How do I know her? Punky? No. Punk loved her. P... Pe... “Peggy.”

With her face pressed against his chest, he felt her soft smile, and a little warm glow inside when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “That's Agent Carter, thank you, Sergeant,” she teased.

Bucky managed an exhausted smile at that. It hurt; his lips were chapped from the cold, but he didn't care. It felt nice to smile, like he hadn't done it in years. “Right. Only Steve got to call you Peggy.”

They both went rigid at that, and Bucky winced as memories started to float back to him. Steve utterly failing to flirt with this woman, pining for her, talking about her, staring at that photo he stuck inside his compass... Steve...

“He's dead.” Howard's words, soft though they'd been when he spoke them, rang like a gong through his head.

“How...” He choked, shivering from more than the cold, and tried again. “How did he die?”

“Stubborn foolishness,” Peggy whispered, her voice just as choked with pain as his own.

Bucky nodded to himself, closing his eyes. That made sense.

“He saved the world.”

He smiled softly and held her just a bit tighter. That made sense, too. “Did you love him?”

She was silent for what felt like an eternity. At first, he thought she might refuse to answer, but then, so softly he almost didn't hear her, she murmured, “I always will.”

“Me, too.”

Another long silence stretched on, and then she told him, “You're all that's left in the world of him, Sergeant. The two of you were as close as any family...” She lifted her head and he glanced down at her, surprised to see how intensely her eyes shone; she was trying not to cry. “So you're forbidden to die, do you hear me? I won't allow it.”

“Then maybe you should turn up the heat in here a little,” he joked, trying to make them both smile, but failing miserably. “Feels like a morgue.”

“Yes, well...” She dropped her head back onto his chest. They were both shivering now; dimly, Bucky recalled that he hadn't been in the first few seconds after he woke, and that it was supposed to be a good sign that he was. “As long as a certain appendage doesn't suddenly get 'rigor mortis',” Peggy was saying, drawing his attention back to her, “I'm sure all will be well.”

The joke wasn't all that funny, but he was so surprised the prim and proper Englishwoman had made it that he laughed. With a rueful grin he shot back, “I'd have to find it first, Doll.”

That got a startled, tired giggle out of her, and then they both lapsed into a pensive silence.

[lukecastellandeservedbetter]

11. Test Flight

a/n: oh man, this one is like, a lot. it’s longer. but y’know. worth it. 

shoutout to @book-lover-like-no-other because it was their sweet comments on the last couple fics that motivated me to write more. 

read the others!: Masterlist 

The group that was heading out- Jason, Piper, Annabeth and Luke -were gathered around the Argo II as Leo bounced around excitedly. “So? You guys ready to see it?” He asked, grinning ear to ear. “You guys are going to love it, I promise.” 

Everyone looked at each other admittedly a little unsure, but agreed nonetheless as Leo led them up to the deck, talking a mile a minute. The group nodded along. 

“Did you catch any of that?” Piper whispered to Jason. 

Jason shrugged. “Something about a turbine?”

Luke suspected they wouldn’t understand what he was saying even if he did speak at a normal speed. 

Leo showed them all the special features, how the ship practically ran itself so they wouldn’t need an actual crew. 

As they headed into the cabin of the ship, Luke squared his shoulders a little, suddenly on high alert, the long hallway bringing back memories of his time at sea. Annabeth glanced at him and raised her eyebrow. “What?” She prodded. 

Luke looked down at her surprised. “Oh. Uh,” He tried to force himself to relax. “I don’t exactly have… calm memories of ships.” He mumbled. 

“Yeah me either,” Annabeth bit out, turning back towards the front, reminding Luke of the time years ago, when he’d kept her, Percy and Tyson prisoner on board. 

As if he could forget. 

Luke sighed and looked around as Leo showed everyone their rooms, each one tapering off into their own to explore until it was only Luke and Leo. 

“You’re gonna love this,” Leo said to him, the way he had to every other person who got to see their room. 

Leo opened his door and stepped inside. “I did something special in here,” He said, pressing a button on the wall under the light switch. . 

A compartment opened up, one of the dummies from camp came out of the wall, and the bed folded up neatly into the wall, creating a space big enough that Luke could swing a sword and not be worried about destroying the wall. 

“But… why?” He asked, looking at Leo. 

Luke hadn’t spent a whole lot of time talking with Leo, except for the one time Chiron tried to get Leo to learn swordplay, and the time Leo asked him questions about how the Princess Andromeda ran with a crew when he learned that Luke had spent a better half of 4 years on a ship. 

Obviously a yacht and a Greek battleship were slightly different, but the size was relatively the same, and it would still take a crew to man. 

“Well, I know Jason asked you specifically to come on the Quest,” Leo explained. “And when we were talking about the Princess Andromeda, I could tell it wasn’t something you liked thinking too much about, but you still did for the good of the crew,” He told him, leaning against the wall. “You train alone a lot, so I figured it’s one of the ways you deal with it all. You just got settled back on dry land, and now we’re throwing you back onto a ship.” 

Luke looked around the room again. “It’s perfect Leo, thank you.” He grinned at him. 

“You’re welcome.” Leo perked up- it wasn’t often he got genuine praise for his creations. “C’mon, we should head back to the deck.” He pushed the button, and the dummy went back into the wall, the compartment closing, and the bed came out soundlessly as the pair headed back to the upper deck. 

Jason, Piper and Annabeth headed down the ship, but Luke stopped Leo. “Hey, have you done a test flight yet?” He asked Leo. 

Leo shook his head. “That was the plan for tonight.” 

“Do you think… do you think we could go to Manhattan?” He asked. “I should see Sally before we go get Percy.” 

Leo thought about it. “Yeah I think we could probably pull that off.” He said slowly. “You wanna go tonight? I got clearance with Chiron for the test flight.” 

Luke nodded. “I really appreciate it, Leo, thank you.” 

“Yeah, no worries,” He grinned. “Meet back here just after curfew.” 

“Sure thing, just don’t get eaten by the Harpies.” Luke warned before heading off the boat. 

-

The test flight was a little rocky, but eventually it smoothed out. Luke gave the address of the apartment building and Leo kept the ship afloat as he found it, typing in a couple codes before nodding to Luke. “So is this the sort of mission you need back up for?” He asked curiously, leaning against the side of the ship as Luke adjusted his sword on his hip. 

He figured it was better safe than sorry at this point. 

He regarded Leo for a moment. “What about the ship?” Luke pointed out. 

“Oh, Festus can handle it for a few minutes.” Leo nodded and looked around the ship. “But I also understand if you want to see Sally by yourself.” 

Leo looked a lot younger than he usually did, smaller almost. It was odd, of course Leo was younger and smaller than Luke, that was obvious. But Leo’s personality was always so big, he attracted attention. He had a particular aura about him, and whether people wanted to or not, there was something that drew other half-bloods to Leo. Maybe it was his reckless abandonment of rules or his faith in his own work that anyone would be jealous of, but he was always so loud and confident that Luke figured he had just adjusted to demigod life better than most. 

Luke understood exuding a smooth confidence in order to hide the rocky edges underneath. 

“It’ll probably be good for Sally to meet the guy who built the ship that’s going to save her son, right?” Luke offered a smile and patted his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

The light in Leo’s eyes came back a bit and he followed Luke down to the roof. 

Luke tried to remember the way Percy showed him to get to the apartment from the roof. It had been a while even before Luke had gone back to camp since he had needed to escape up to the roof from the tiny apartment. He appreciated them accepting them into their home, but sometimes when Luke was alone in his room, he got claustrophobic. After being trapped in his own head for a year, sometimes no room had enough space for him to breathe. 

He managed to find the ladder and climbed down carefully, showing Leo all the right spots to step before landing on the fire escape soundlessly. Leo was a little less graceful, stumbling a bit and making a rattling sound. Luke winced a little at the sound but helped his companion up and slid up the window, climbing inside to the living room, helping Leo in. 

The living room was almost exactly how he had left it, save for an addition of a picture frame. 

It was a picture of Luke and Percy on his first trip to the cabin roasting marshmallows, Percy in the middle of retelling a ghost story he had heard his mom tell a million times. Luke remembered that trip, it was the first vacation he’d ever been on. 

His stomach squeezed a little and he looked around. The little glass blue bird Luke had gotten as a gift for Sally as a thank you with his first paycheque sat neatly on the coffee table, Percy’s Xbox was collecting dust on the television stand, and he could see Paul’s favourite coffee mug on the end table from, he predicted, this morning. 

There was a sound from around the corner in the hall, and Luke drew his sword, instinctually moving in front of Leo as he got in a ready stance. Leo found a place beside him however, pulling out a hammer from his tool belt. 

Luke would try to convince him to start using a better weapon when they weren’t in imminent danger. 

Quick as a flash, Sally had turned the corner and taken her own protective stance with her shotgun pointed right at Luke’s chest. 

There was a moment they stood there before Luke sheathed his sword. 

“Luke,” Sally said surprised, before lowering the gun and looking at Leo confused, and back to Luke. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to check in on the apartment, and you, and let you know that I think we found him.” Luke explained. 

Sally’s face changed completely- she looked 10 years younger. “Come in then, let’s get you boys some food-” 

“We can’t stay long,” Luke told her softly. “Leo only got clearance for a test flight.” 

Sally looked dismayed and shook her head, crossing her arms. “I swear, you and Percy like getting in trouble.” 

Luke shrugged with a little smile. “It’s in the job description.” He motioned to the young demigod beside him. “This is Leo, he’s the guy that built the ship that’s going to take us to Percy.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you Leo,” Sally smiled warmly. “Can I at least package you boys some cookies?” 

“I will never turn down cookies,” Leo grinned brightly. 

Sally nodded and headed to the kitchen, returning moments later with a rather large bag of cookies. Luke nodded to Leo who shook Sally’s hand. “It was nice to meet you Sally,” Leo said happily and headed back out the window and up the fire escape carefully. 

Sally looked at Luke. “So? How long?” 

“Not too long,” Luke promised. “It’s sort of… a quest. Of sorts.” 

Sally gave Luke the You aren’t telling me everything, are you? Mom look. He sighed. “We have to go to Greece after.” 

“Greece?” She nearly yelled. 

“We aren’t ready for Greece yet!” Luke jumped in quickly before she freaked out. “We’re going to retrieve Percy. I’ll bring him home so you can see him and then we train for a little bit and then off to Greece we go.” He told her. 

“But I’ll get to see Percy before he goes again?” She clarified. 

Luke nodded. “I promise.” 

She nodded slowly. “And how are you holding up?” She asked softly. “With everything?” 

“I think… I think I’m okay.” He mirrored her nodding and fiddled with his sword handle. “I just want to come home and go back to work.” He admitted. 

“I know,” She said quietly. “I really do appreciate this Luke, I know… I know the campers aren’t always forgiving or kind.” 

Luke shrugged. “I know I deserve it.” He said honestly. “There’s not much I can really do about it. I can’t blame them for hating me. I would too.” 

She sighed and got up, giving him a big hug. Luke was taken back a little and hugged her awkwardly. 

“Come home safe, alright? Both of you.” She murmured to him. “I need you two to be safe out there. All of you.” 

“We’ll be safe, don’t worry mom.” 

It slipped out, and Luke went red from embarrassment when Sally pulled out of the hug to look at him quizzically. 

“Sorry, sorry, it just slipped, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” She said, though she had tears in her eyes. “You’re a part of this family now. I don’t mind.” 

Luke wondered how many times Percy had promised her that he would be safe and wouldn’t make her worry, and how many times he broke it. 

And how many times had it been Luke’s fault?

He took a deep breath and pushed that thought away. There was no sense dwelling on it now. 

Luke nodded, still a little embarrassed and took a step back. “Thanks for the cookies, we’ll see you soon, okay?” 

She nodded and waved goodbye. 

Luke climbed back up to the roof and up to the ship where Leo was eating what looked like his fourth cookie. 

“Ready to rock and roll amigo?” He asked cheerfully. 

Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at Leo’s face, his mouth surrounded by blue crumbs and chocolate. “Yeah I’m good to go, you?” 

“Heck yeah!” He grinned and set the bag of cookies down before running around to bring the ship back into motion. 

Luke looked up at the night sky, at the constellation of Zoe Nightshade, a little lost in thought. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘You owe me nothing,’ he thought. ‘But please. Keep our travels safe. Let me bring him home. I owe him that.’ Luke paused and looked up at the sky. “Please dad.” He murmured out loud. 

He didn’t remember the last time he prayed to Hermes. 

[cyndecreativity]

Zodiac Chronicles - Trouble in Tauri - Ch. 1

Trampled paths carved through a thin layer of snow in two opposite directions, converging on a small schoolhouse that rested by a stream. The wider path led between a pair of farms and into the village proper a few miles off. The smaller path consisted of only one set of very large tracks, boot prints of an unusual size, that led to the small stream and back to the door. Tristan eyed his large tracks as he closed the schoolhouse door and hoped the midday sun might melt the snow enough to obscure them.

Tristan backed away from the door and turned slowly, careful not to bump his horns on the doorframe or any of the other students. The villager children paid him no mind, hanging their heavy woolen coats, hats, and other cold weather gear on the hooks in the mudroom. Several of the girls even seemed happy to see each other, giggling and shrieking with glee, leaning to whisper conspiratorially as they headed to their seats.

The young ones, the calves, moved awkwardly, as calves do, and climbed onto the benches to hang their scarves and hats up. Some preferred to stuff their things into the bins below the benches. After the removal of their hats, one of the calves became surrounded. Tristan just barely made out their young pronunciations of shock and amazement at the nubs protruding from the center one’s scalp. It would be several years for the nubs to turn into anything even resembling horns, but with the arrival of the nubs, that calf become the coolest and most mature among the herd. He reflected on his brief moment of approval when his nubs arrived. And struggled to forget the subsequent frustration and terror from his peers as the nubs grew larger and longer than normal.

Struggling against the memory, Tristan frowned and dropped off his gear on his half of the mudroom. The boys of the class lingered to remove their gear. Ladies first, as the manners say, and the calves have little sense of propriety. Tristan gathered his materials for class, plus an ancient Herbology almanac.

“We didn’t think you’d make it today, Jorgus. Are you okay? What happened to your father?” Tristan’s ear perked up at the voice of one of the other boys.

“Doesn’t really concern you, does it, Seamus.” A thud as the Jorgus, a gangly bull with fresh horns in his brown hair, threw his bag down on the bench under his hook.

Tristan turned and watched Seamus, a sturdy young bull with black hair and a square jaw, furrow his brow. “I’d think it concerns all of us! The attacks have been happening more often, yeah? And with all our Dads-”

Jorgus growled and tilted his head, jerking his horns with agitation. “Seamus, just drop it, okay?”

Seamus shared a look with the other boys, Jorgus’s usual group, and nodded. “We’ll… catch up on the way home, then?” He did his best to sound optimistic.

Tristan watched the boys turn away one by one to leave Jorgus to finish. Mortimer, the youngest among them, his hair still almost white, received a light whack from one of the other boys. Jorgus turned to check on their departure and caught Tristan’s prying eye. He sneered and tilted his horns at him. Tristan started and jerked back to his own preparations.

Part of him wished he could walk home with those boys, to make a group of friends and… do whatever friends do together. He wished he could talk about the orchard with them, about the plants along the path, about their crops, and the state of their land. He wanted to make friends his own age. But he knew how he looked, how they all looked more like his younger siblings. Not just because of his incredible size, but the older Lunars, those that heard the voices, told him he had aged far too quickly, gaining a few years in a few months as a babe. Blessed by the Spirits, they called it. He called it a curse.

He took the last bench at the table in the back left of the large open schoolhouse. This area in the back typically held the eldest students, the ones closer to the front reserved for the younger calves, or most in danger academically. He held the bench in the back for years simply due to his size, too large to sit anywhere else in the room. He might block the view of the other students was the official reason, but mostly he took up a desk and a half on a good day.

Unbidden, he remembered vividly the pain in his chest the day the girl he typically sat next to, perhaps eleven at the time, had complained before class that he had crushed her hand when attempting to use his ink and bone splinter. He barely remembered swinging his arm out far enough to touch her. The teacher had simply calmed the girl down and offered him the bench in the back. As he moved, he watched the girl’s best friend eagerly move up to take his seat with no objections from the teacher. He sat in the middle of the bench and spread out comfortably over the two-desk wide table. He felt his size for the first time and tears stung at his eyes. He looked up as Miss Shaunessy moved to the blackboard and continued with class, though not without offering an apologetic smile. That remained his table for the following four years.

The aging Taurus woman, not old, but not as young as she used to be, walked down the center aisle of the classroom. Wrinkles threatened at the corners of her eyes, a few locks of silvery hair threaded into her hair buns under each horn. She assessed the youngest calves first and shot harsh glances to the gossiping girls as he walked by. At the head of the room once again, she smiled to the class and listed off her plans for lessons that day. Calves first, as their attention span dwindled as it grew toward lunch, then the higher education lessons for the older children.

As the drone of the teacher buzzed in the back of Tristan’s ears, his mind drifted to the work left in the orchard. Wasps had moved into a section of the trees that he would need to discourage from the area. An increasingly common occurrence, but nothing difficult. Fruits and flowers had been scattered under a few trees, easy enough to clean up and add to the compost bin. With the shorter days of the season, he pondered how much light he would have to work with. He opened his almanac and started to thumb absently through the pages, scanning the detailed diagrams as they passed. He paused on a page and studied the flora depicted. It had to be the flower that appeared at the edge of the grove a few days ago. He tugged a sheet of parchment out of his bundle and dipped his bone into the ink well on his desk to scribble the page number down.

At midday, the teacher encouraged them to take lunch outside, the sun shining brightly for long enough to raise the temperature a few degrees. Tristan hesitated in the mudroom as the others filed out with their bundles. When no chuckles or insults found their way to him, he peeked outside and found the ground moist with melted snow. He heaved a small sigh of relief, forced into a sharp exhale as Jorgus elbowed him out of the way. Tristan straightened up to allow the boy and his friends passage.

Tristan turned back to his things and caught sight of the Mayor’s daughter, Isolde, watching him. He furrowed his brow to her, a simple unspoken question. She stiffened, blushed, and turned back to her things to hastily throw her scarf over her head. It caught in her little female horns, the movement too fast or still not used to her horns’ length. The flush moved to her ears as she disentangled the knitted muffler to drape around her neck. He chuckled quietly, despite himself, as she hurried outside with her wrapped bundle of food. Tristan returned to his desk to eat his salad in peaceful loneliness.

Dismissal usually marked a feeling of relief among the students as they darted from their desks and gathered their things. Today, however, the girls from that morning gathered together to whisper again, pointing to Jorgus occasionally. Tristan slowly gathered his books and papers and lifted his inkwell to stopper it.

“I told you to drop it!” Jorgus’s voice filled the small building, startling and quieting the girls for a moment.

His friends, the group of boys around his age, shrunk away again. Tristan looked down to his desk, dotted with splatter from his inkwell, and pressed the stopper in. A bin under the bench in the mudroom held the spare cloths to clean spills with. He lifted his eyes back to the scene as the girls’ whispers grew again. Jorgus unceremoniously scooped up his things before Miss Shaunessy could approach him.

Seamus, Mortimer, Geremiah, and Brandon followed him to the mudroom. Tristan rounded the wall that separated his desk from the mudroom and crouched down to seek the box of throwaway cloth under the bench.

“Oh, and students! Please do not forget to travel in a herd as you head directly home.” A few of the students groaned. “I’m just telling you what I’ve been told, sweetings. They also emphasized not being out after dark. Winter has shorter periods of sun, which means you will have less time to dally. And there is always safety in numbers.” Miss Shaunessy sauntered the length of the classroom as she spoke to fix Jorgus with a particularly intense gaze. He sneered. She turned around and caught sight of Tristan. “Oh, Tristan, I noticed you weren’t paying very close attention during lectures today. Did you need help with anything I covered today?”

He shook his head. Miss Shaunessy noticed far more things than the previous teacher. He grabbed a cloth stained with spots of paint and ink and stood to shake the fabric to her with a hopefully gentle smile.

As he stretched to his full height, she leaned back slightly to keep her eyes on his, but she did not show any fear. She merely smiled back and patted his arm. She shifted out of his way and walked with him the few steps back to his desk. “You don’t have anyone to head home with, do you, dear?”

He shook his head. A silly question.

She nodded. “You do live alone on the other side of those woods… Would you like me to go ask for an escort for you?”

His brow furrowed.

An uneasy smile crossed her face, a mix between nervous amusement and worry. “No, I suppose you’re big enough to handle most things on your own. But you’re still just a boy, despite outward appearances. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of, is all.”

His breath hitched. He vowed to pay more attention to her lectures.

“You mean someone was attacked last night!?” A brown-haired girl with the smallest horns in the group lifted her fist to her chin, brow knit.

Evelynn, the blonde ringleader of the girls and owner of the largest horns, nodded as she made her way to the mudroom. “Isn’t it just awful? And the attacks are getting more frequent. That’s why they want us to walk in herds now.” She gestured to a pair of girls, both younger, as they scrambled for their things. “You heard that right, calves?”

The two girls, Flora and Aishling, chorused a “Yes, sissy!” and proceeded to haphazardly don their layers of clothing. The youngest children moved quickly, faster than their teenage counterparts, thanks to the small growths on their heads not yet formed into horns. Evelynn rolled her eyes and continued on to her hook to don her own set of weather gear. Miss Shaunessy smiled absently at the children and patted Tristan on the arm before wandering back toward her desk.

“But my father told me it was-“ Evelynn glanced at the group of boys across the mudroom and whispered loud enough for them to hear. “-Jorgus’s father that was attacked last night.”

The girls shared a gasp with varying reactions of surprise.

“You keep my name out of your dirty mouth, Evelynn!” Jorgus burst through his group of friends, finger pointed sharply at the ringleader of the gossipers.

Miss Shaunessy stopped in the middle of the building by the firepit. She shared a look with the mayor’s daughter Isolde still at her desk as she turned around. Tristan dropped the rag on his desk and moved into the mudroom. He had no intention of intervening, but his size intimidated most folk, forcing cool heads to arguments.

Evelynn swatted his hand away as she crossed her arms, big brown eyes glaring daggers into him. Her friends fanned out around her to cross their arms at Jorgus, though not all of them had their heart in it. One girl stayed behind, the brown-haired one, and glanced at Tristan.

Jorgus narrowed his dark eyes at Evelynn, his head tilted to brandish his longer and sharper horns at the girls. His friends, too surprised at his actions, took a few moments to step in beside their friend to brandish their horns, smaller than Jorgus’s but still as harmful if used properly.

Evelynn did not appear fazed, thought the tremble of her voice betrayed her. “My father told me that yours was injured last night while they were hunting. He said they had to take him to the doctor because his injuries were so severe.”

All the posturing broke. Whispers of “The Doctor?” moved through both groups, each losing their members to gossip, conjecture, and fear.

“He’s fine. He’ll be home by dinner tonight and tomorrow we’ll work on tilling the land.” Jorgus cracked his neck.

Evelynn’s lip curled. “Everyone knows that the no one comes back from seeing the Doctor.” She grinned, confident in her victory.

Jorgus tilted his head the other way. “Well my dad isn’t everyone else. The doctor told me himself that Pa would be back by tonight.”

Miss Shaunessy stepped slowly down the center aisle toward the two little herds of teens. She caught Tristan’s eye and nodded at him to step down. He lowered his shoulders and stepped back a bit, but remained ready in case Jorgus made the wrong decision.

Just as Miss Shaunessy entered the mudroom, the energy between the herds changed. Evelynn rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Young bulls and their posturing.” She grabbed her things and stormed out the door into the chilly winter air. “Come on, girls!”

Most of the girls shot hateful looks as they grabbed their things quickly to follow Evelynn. Maeve, the brown-haired one, moved slowly to grab her things and hesitated at the door. Jorgus relaxed slightly and straightened his head to glare at her. Maeve squeaked and disappeared through the door.

Jorgus growled and stalked back to his desk. His small herd of friends stayed in the entrance and moved to begin dressing in their jackets and scarves. Isolde hesitated, but returned to packing up her things. Miss Shaunessy heaved a small sigh and trotted down the center aisle back to her desk.

Tristan furrowed his brow. Only Miss Shaunessy, Jorgus, and Isolde remained in the schoolhouse building. He hoped, despite his own solitude, that Jorgus or Isolde had a group to walk home with. Especially if the monster sightings proved to be true. He hoped that Jorgus’s father recovered and that Evelynn’s gossip proved to be only that. But in the case that Tristan’s hope had no basis in reality, he knew the only tangible thing to do. He knew the only thing he wanted his whole life.

“Uh, hey, Jorgus.” Tristan lifted a large hand to wave awkwardly to the young man.

Jorgus jumped at Tristan’s low timbre and backed away, eyeing him up and down as he jammed a few scraps of paper in his bag. “What do you want, cullbait?”

Tristan’s brow furrowed despite being used to the insult. “I just… uh, wanted to tell you that… um, I’m sorry about your father. I know how… how difficult it is to-to worry about your father and, uh… I guess you’re the man of the house while he’s injured. A-and at least you still have your-your mother and your little siblings-“

Jorgus’s mouth lifted in disgust as Tristan rambled, his cheeks lifted to squeeze his eyes into a narrow, his brow furrowed. “What are you rambling about?” He thrust the last of his items into his satchel.

Tristan lifted a hand to the shaft of his horn to grip it and rub absently, a habit from when they had hurt growing in. “If… If you need any help-“

Jorgus spun on the larger boy. “Help!? From you?” He dropped his satchel on the desk. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten it through that thick skull of yours that nobody even wants you here.” He scoffed. “We’d want your ‘help’ even less.”

Isolde tightened the leather strap on her stack of books and papers. “Jorgus-“

Jorgus shook his head and turned to her, poking a finger at her face. “No, not even from you. Mayor’s daughter, as if that excludes you from suffering like the rest of us. I heard your father is sick. From that plague. The one from before. That it’s coming back.” He looked back to Tristan. “I also heard it’s your fault. You and that foreigner father of yours. Your mother knew about it and cast a spell to protect your land, but nobody else’s. That’s why you’re safe. And we’re not.”

Tristan’s arms quivered. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve just gone home, alone, like every night. He closed his eyes and gripped his horn tighter, his other arm lifted to cover his torso.

“And then you have the nerve! You continue living here, coming to this school, as if you have any right!” Jorgus tilted his head down to brandish his horns again. “You and your father should be driven out of town!”

A sharp pain on his arm startled Tristan. Blood blossomed on the arm over his torso.

“Tristan!” Miss Shuanessy bolted for the scrap fabric Tristan dropped onto his desk.

Jorgus, stunned, raised a hand to touch his horn. It came back red. He shook his head, he muttered something, and grabbed his satchel. Isolde hurried around the desks and stumbled as Jorgus pushed past her to run from the building.

“Come here, poor boy.” Miss Shaunessy pressed the fabric to Tristan’s arm. “That boy… He may be a handful but ever since his horns grew out the way they did…” She looked to Tristan’s face. “Don’t take it too personally. Like you said, he’s having a rough go of it. It was nice of you to try to connect with him and offer to help out.”

Isolde hovered by the edge of the row. Tristan looked to her, chest empty. He never should’ve tried. He knew what the town thought of him and his father. He knew better. Tears welled in his eyes and he pressed his hand to the cloth. Miss Shaunessy released him with the promise of salves or something, but Tristan had to get out. He had to go home.

He moved back to his desk and found Isolde holding his satchel, all packed and tied and ready. He barely registered the act, how she had moved so fast, and accepted his bag. He dropped the fabric and satchel to slip into his weather gear. A stray thought reminded him to be careful of the wound bleeding through his jacket as he only had the one. He growled. All because the town hated him. All because of a stupid rumor.

He grabbed his bag and ripped the door open. The sun had indeed melted all the snow outside, revealing moist and brittle grass. A few groups of kids lingered and chatted as they headed back toward the village. Jorgus’s little herd had waited for him, despite his protestations, and crowded him to point at his bloodied horn.

Tristan’s blood. He stomped down the short stairs. “All I wanted was to help, Jorgus Jones!”

Jorgus spun around at the voice. Terror pulled at his features at the massive bulk of Tristan charging toward him. He whipped back around and moved swiftly for the path that lead back to town.

Tristan growled. He wanted to stop him, to make him understand, to hold him responsible for injuring him. So many emotions threatened to split him open. “Everyone should be allowed to help each other! We’re a community! That’s what it means to be a community!” In his frustration, he looked to the rest of the students that have lingered to gawk.

A loud thud drew everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to Jorgus, groaning on the ground, a large root split through the soil at his feet. He writhed a bit and got to his hands and knees. A shrill chuckle can be heard from further up the path. Tristan caught Evelynn through the blur of his tears, hand in front of her mouth, as she laughed at the unfortunate bull. The rest of her group chuckled, one by one, with varying degrees of mirth. The laughter spread through the rest of the students, including Jorgus’s little herd. He grunted as he stood and bolted down the path, past Evelynn and her friends.

Tristan sniffed and continued to wipe his face, the cold winter air unpleasant on the slight moisture around his eyes. He slipped his satchel over his shoulder and checked the sleeve of his coat. A chill wind whipped past him and his hands hurt. He left his other accessories in the building. He turned around to head back inside and almost bowled over Isolde.

“Oh! Excuse me, Tristan.” She smiled brightly to him, in an uncomfortable way he could not place.

He barely nodded and attempted to move past her.

She gently placed a hand on his arm. He froze, eyes on the contact. He recognized her mitten, knitted by his father some winters ago and sold by the village seamstress Ciara. His brow furrowed. Her other mitten lifted to offer him his forgotten accessories; mittens similar to hers, a long scarf knitted by his father with a less intricate design, and a warm knitted cap that he tied around his horns. He muttered a thank you and dropped his sack on the ground to don the accessories.

She held his items as he donned them individually. “I agree with you, by the way.” He lifted his eyes to her. “We should be allowed to help each other, as a community. I think it’s just awful that we are so discriminatory to those that are sick and injured. Or who have been in the past.”

He nodded absently. Paranoia and fear shook his fingers. He looked up to the rest of the students, those that lingered, and found hateful glares. Isolde, the mayor’s daughter, held high regard among the town, high enough that even her father’s illness did not dull her priority among them. To find her speaking to him? He snatched his scarf and easily tossed it over his horns to drape from his shoulders.

Before she could continue, he hurriedly wandered away from her, down the path to the thick row of trees that separated his orchard from the school. He barely heard Isolde sputter after him, the crunch of dead plantlife under her boots with a few steps. He heard the whispers of the other students, however, and quickened his step. He should know better. And so should Isolde.

[voiceless-terror]

Unforgettable (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Eleven: Crying

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims, Sasha James (mentioned), Not!Sasha (mentioned)

CW: Discussion of Character Death

Summary:

A photo is shoved into his hands. It is him and Jon and some woman. They all look quite cozy, but for the life of him he can’t remember what this was from. An outing when he first started? But he always remembered a beautiful woman’s face, and he would definitely remember hers-

Jon finds a photo before he goes to destroy the table. He and Tim try to remember.

Jon is going to destroy that table.

He’s seen the statement with Adelard Dekker, he’s found and heard the tapes of the real Sasha. The Sasha that Melanie described. The Sasha that is not the Sasha who wandered off to the research department earlier that day. He knows there’s no chance of the real one coming back, the statement said as much. She’s dead. But maybe if he can destroy that thing and whatever houses it, he can give her some sort of peace. Give him and Tim and Martin peace. 

And maybe, where ever she is, Sasha will forgive him for being so, so stupid. For forgetting her.

His chair screeches back as he stands up, bumping into the cabinet behind him. He’s going to the nearest hardware store and he’s finding a goddamn weapon- a bat or an axe or anything that looks like it will get the job done. 

I thought it was pronounced “Ka-lee-o-pee?” Her voice was so friendly. So approachable, with its teasing lilt. But no, he and Sasha weren’t friends. They were colleagues, that’s all. He chose her because of her work ethic and no-nonsense attitude. Not because they were friends.

Something skitters at his feet. Jon jumps, his heart hammering as he sees a spider out of the corner of his eye crawl out from under the cabinet. It disturbs a few papers that were hiding underneath, their corners now visible. There’s something to the spiders, he realizes. He feels compelled to pick up those papers and see what they reveal. He follows this impulse.

In his hands are a few wrinkled notes from a previous case, one that he dismissed as fake right off the bat.  Not important. Jon sighs and moves to plop them on his desk when a smaller, thicker peace of paper falls onto his chair.

It is a photo.

There he is, several years younger. It must be from around 2013, when Tim first started at the institute as he’s by his side, smiling widely with a companionable arm slung around Jon’s shoulder. Back when he liked me. Even Jon is smiling in the picture, albeit awkwardly. But there is another in the photo- a tall, dark-skinned woman with long braids and round glasses. She’s got her arm around his other shoulder like they know each other. Jon cannot place her, but he was obviously comfortable enough with her to take this photo. He flips it over to the back to find a date, but instead sees an inscription in an unfamiliar handwriting. 

Jon- congrats on the promotion! Don’t forget your roots! - x Sasha

Sasha. This is- was his Sasha. And it is all at once too much.

His eyes began to water uncontrollably, a sob building in his throat. It was somehow easier to only have her voice, but to see her face and her note and the smile in her eyes and not remember any of it sends an unbearable pain through his chest. She was important to him and he couldn’t give her the dignity of remembering her face, even now.

There are sounds coming from his throat, horrible and wretched but he cannot stop them. He needs to find Tim. He needs him to see her face. He needs to know he’s not the only one who’s forgotten.

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

Tim is waiting on Martin to come back from the library- it’s been a hell of a day and he needs a drink, stat. He’s not good company these days, and Martin continually irritates him with his fussing and mothering both of him and Jon. But at least he’s someone, and Tim can’t be alone right now. It’s not like he could ask Jon or Sasha to come.

He starts to hear noises from his boss’s office, strange and sorrowful. Something long buried in him wants to go in there, make sure Jon’s alright. But the other half of him is too consumed in his rage at this stupid, paranoid little man he once called a friend. So he sits and waits. If Jon needs something he’s going to have to come to him.

And he does.

The door to Jon’s office swings open and he tumbles out, looking more pathetic than usual. And he's...crying? No, that wasn’t the right word for it. The sounds  coming out of his mouth are more akin to a stifled scream. In spite of himself, he feels his heart clench and he gets to his feet.

“Jon,” he starts warily. “What’s going-”

“Sasha!”  Jon’s eyes are wild as he stumbles forward, grabbing onto Tim’s shirt. He’s shaking so hard that Tim’s hands automatically go to his sides to keep him steady. “She’s- she’s wrong, Tim. We forgot Sasha.”

What? He had to be hallucinating or on some sort of drug. Christ, he really is that far gone.

“Jon,” he tries to pry the man’s hands off his shirt in vain. “Jon, go home or go to the doctor, I can’t-”

“Look!”  A photo is shoved into his hands.  Huh?

It is him and Jon and some woman. They all look quite cozy, but for the life of him he can’t remember what this was from. An outing when he first started? But he always remembered a beautiful woman’s face, and he would definitely remember hers-

“It’s Sasha,” Jon cries, giving Tim’s arms a feeble shake. Tim would roll his eyes but a sudden sense of dread is a leaden weight in his stomach. Who is this?

“No, Jon, no it’s not,” he insists, one hand shoving the man away and the other tightly gripping the photo. “I don’t know who the hell this is,” he says, even as his mind screams you know you know-

Jon stumbles against the wall, heaving breaths still not under control. He looks at Tim with wild eyes. “Flip it over, Tim.” He does.

There is a note. The writing is unfamiliar but the hand that wrote it is not. He sees a flash of a smile and a memory, a late night in the bar and a stolen kiss and that hand on his face-

“What the fuck is going on, Jon,” his voice is tremulous and the tears build behind his eyes, both in rage and unexplainable grief. “Who-  who is this?”

“Sasha,”  the one word is spoken like a mumbled prayer and Tim knows Jon’s right. “Come- come listen to the tapes, I have the tapes.” He robotically follows Jon to his office, watching blankly as the man collapses into his chair, still sniffling, and presses play on a tape recorder.

And it's a voice. It's her voice. Not the Sasha now, no, it’s the one he knew and loved and spilled his secrets to. It’s putting the voice to that smiling face in the photo that breaks him. Is he crying? He can’t tell. All he knows is that both Sashas are strangers to him but one is warm and comforting and telling him “I’m unforgettable,” in that sweet, teasing voice. “I’m unforgettable”- and yet her face keeps slipping from his mind even as he stares at it immortalized in print.

Jon is talking- something about a Not!Them, a statement, a table. He can’t comprehend the words.

He interrupts Jon’s rambling. “What are we going to do?” He asks, voice hardening as tears trail down his cheeks. There is a woman who sits next to him day after day who is not what she says she is. There is a woman, cold and distant and professional with a blank smile calling itself Sasha.

“I was going to...destroy the table. I don’t know what it will do, but it has to do something, right?”

“Maybe,” Tim agrees, though the sentiment is hollow. What can they do now, anyway? Sasha’s gone and there’s no place for him to lay flowers, no memorial with her name. All he has is a crumpled photo in his hands and the vague memory of Sasha’s voice as she wrote the words inscribed- I’m still pissed, but it’s not his fault. I think it would really help him if he knew we were in his corner-

He stares at the man in front of him. The man who most assuredly hasn’t been in his corner when Tim needed him most. The man he followed down from research in the hopes of finding something about the thing that took his brother. The man who damned them all to their fate, however unknowingly.

“Tim,” Jon says, his eyes desperate and bright. “Tim, we were friends.” He has a feeling Jon isn’t just referring to Sasha, not with the way those eyes bore into his own.

“Yeah,” he replied, returning the stare. His memories are scattered- nights out with Jon that had a third figure in the shadows, a woman he can’t remember but aches for. Not just a colleague but someone he loved, once. “We were.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950456

[aidemint]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐩 - 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: None!

__

There was always a boy with peach-colored hair that I would see in the village.

From the confines of my house, I would stare out the window and watch him meander about the streets of the city. He would always be clad in patterned robes with a mask strapped to his head, and a sword tied to his belt. I always wondered what it was for. Perhaps he was a samurai, like the ones I'd read about in the old storybooks, though he didn't quite look the part.

But one could dream.

As time passed, and the world grew older, I noticed that he was now accompanied by a smaller girl with jet-black locks. They would run together and weave through crowds without a care in the world. She looked younger, and wore an outfit with a similar design as his. A younger sister, I reckoned.

The more that I observed them, the more I would feel a certain emptiness inside my chest. I would get lost in my own thoughts more often, pointlessly staring at my hands as I curled and uncurled my fingers, watching pieces of my butterfly skin flake off and settle on the cuffs of my kimono.

It stung, but my heart ached even more.

I'd always wanted someone to keep me company.

It was a nice thought, something that provoked my imagination.

It helped me cope.

__

My condition was rare.

Though I was a whole being, I was forever cursed to live a wretched life filled with nothing but pain and agony. My skin would come off at the slightest movement or touch, which made washing myself or getting anywhere an extremely tedious task. And if the gods hadn't bound me to my hermit life enough, I had eyes that were not capable of rendering large amounts of light, which meant that I couldn't go out during the day if I didn't want to blind myself.

And I didn't want to lose my sense of sight, as it would mean no longer being able to see the peach-haired boy and his sister. So there was no other option for me. The day was detremental, and the night posed too many risks, with unimaginable monsters lurking around, so I had no choice but to remain as I was -- alone and weak.

I could only sit and watch the world pass by from the confines of my room, where I was forever trapped, cursed to my prison. As I had delicate skin and soft eyes that could not take in light, my flaws rendered me useless, and therefore I had to pay reparations to the world by staying inside.

There were many people that believed that I did something sinister in my past life, and that was the reason why I had so many imperfections now. In this age, it was commonplace to believe such a thing. I understood why they could even mention something as terrible as this, but couldn't help but feel sad at the thought.

Matters became even worse once my family got word of the rumor. Being especially spiritual, they immediately suspected me and made it their priority to discard the person that would bring bad omens into their family. They promptly left me with half of their savings and their old house, and moved away to somewhere else.

I tended to my belongings quite well and always cherished the little bits of home with gratitude, but I always missed them, despite never truly knowing who they were and what they looked like.

I hoped that they were well, without me.

But even though my family left, the rumor still remained, however, forever haunting me and my very existence. Speculations only grew as the years went by. The townspeople had somehow reached the conclusion that I had been cursed because my past life had not lived their existence justly.

Sometimes I would sit and wonder about it.

Was it really my fault?

Why did the gods condemn me so?

Had I really committed such a cardinal sin?

If I did, I think would've remembered it.

__

Most days were spent making woven goods that I sold to the townspeople in exchange for groceries and such things. On the mornings that the peach-haired boy came to town, I would wait for him by my window and patiently stare into the open until he came. He and his little sister would walk around the town, sometimes getting groceries, sometimes not. They looked happy when they were together outside, enjoying the many wonders of a fulfilled life.

How I longed to live like them.

But I wasn't truly in a position to complain, as there'd always be one person to stop by my house every once in a while.

Urokodaki always came to pay me a visit, which was nice. He would bring me miso soup and small bits of dried seaweed in exchange for woven baskets. Every month, he would even stay and tell me about his travels and tales from his life -- glimpses into the outside world that I never got to experience for myself.

And perhaps it was because he was so near and dear to me that I always drank the soup with fervor, making sure not to waste even the slightest drop. I hoped that if I appreciated it enough that it would never stop coming. I never wanted the stories to cease.

That bowl of miso soup was the only light of my life that my heart could hold without stopping.

I could never thank Urokodaki enough, even for such a small bowl of soup, but he seemed to be the gift that kept on giving.

One day he brought the peach-haired boy along.

When I opened to door to let the elder in, I gasped upon seeing him with the boy I'd watched for so long. Immediately starting to worry that the place was unfit for him to see, or that I looked too unruly, I accidentally strained my skin too much and tore a new gash into my shoulder. Wincing and biting back a cry, I tried to mask the pain, but relented as Urokodaki gently took my hand and led me inside so that he could bandage me.

At that moment, I knew that I would be unable to face the boy for the rest of the day. It was foolish of me to have hoped that another would be able to understand. Why should he try to understand? I was the town's hermit, a monster among the children, and a symbol of strife among the grown.

No words were exchanged that afternoon. We all just sat and ate, and after we had eaten, Urokodaki and the peach-haired boy departed. I cast no farewell gesture to the pair, only giving a small, sad smile to the elder has he exited my house.

Days passed and life went on in accordance to the usual schedule. It was boring, but served as a reassurance that nothing out of the ordinary would happen after that encounter with Urokodaki's student. But even if I was happy that my life was the same, I couldn't help but feel disappointed at myself. Subconsciously touching the bandage on my shoulder, I sighed while imagining what my life could have amounted to if I got to know the boy I'd been admiring for such a long time.

Cursing at myself, I angrily started to thread the reeds to a chair covering, fueled by the utter shame and regret in not jumping at the opportunity to know someone new. In doing so, I hadn't realized that someone was knocking on the door. The sounds from outside continued for a few minutes before I realized that they were there. Needless to say, I was particularly surprised. Urokodaki never came this early, and an unexpected visitor wasn't very common. Despite how unconventional a stranger was, they were always welcome.

I slowly got up to open the door and once I had unlocked it, I was met with an unanticipated face.

It was the peach-haired boy.

My eyes widened in shock, completely dumbfounded as to why he would come again. Had I not scared him off last time? I simply watched him as he awkwardly waited for a response from me. When I kept staring, he cleared his throat and decided to break the silence.

"Uh," he spoke, "Is it alright if I come in?" I blinked and immediately nodded slightly, moving as fast as I could to the side in order to let him in. He looked at my figure with a concerned expression while I shuffled to close the door behind him. It looked like he wanted to say something about it, but he refrained from it and moved to another topic.

"Is your wound doing alright?" he asked, matching my pace as we walked towards the table set in the middle of the closest room. I smiled at his consideration and felt a sudden tug at my heartstrings.

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt, so don't worry too much about it," I lied, "Besides, I get them all the time. I'm used to it." Despite this, the boy didn't look too assured, but chose not to press on.

When we got settled, he brought out the miso soup from his bag and set it on the table, along with two spoons and a small container of dried seaweed. I looked at the dish, anticipating it, but somehow, something didn't feel right. It felt like a stone had settled itself into my chest, weighing my insides down and putting my appetite to rest. Setting down my spoon, I gazed into the yellow-ish liquid and hesitated. This drew the attention of the pink-haired boy.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, wearing a small frown, "Have I done something wrong?" I shook my head gently, sighing and swallowing the dread that pooled in the pits of my stomach. There was one thing I needed to question him about. His response didn't matter, after everything I'd been through, but I needed closure.

"What do you think of me?"

The peach-haired boy looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

"After being in the village for some time, I imagine that you know what the people say about me." He went silent.

I had all the time in the world, so I waited. The boy seemed lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his breath steady and lips pouted, in perhaps perfecting a reply that was sweet enough for my ears.

When five minutes went by, I asked him another, simpler, question in case he couldn't comprehend my comment about the village.

"You do know what tall tales about me the children tell each other, right?" He nodded. I maintained a small smile through the query, though my eyes got darker with every proceeding question.

"What are they?" I'd already recognized that he knew I was aware of the rumors. The peach-haired boy paused before answering in a soft tone.

"They say that you're cursed. They think that you're a monster." I hummed and returned to the main topic at hand after his reply. The words stung, but after the countless tears that had been shed over time, I learned to take them.

"So do you think the same?" I inquired, "Am I a monster, with my butterfly skin and delicate eyes? With my scars and-"

"I think you're beautiful."

Stopping, I locked gazes with him and stared in skepticism.

Are you mad? I wanted to shout, Is this some kind of sick joke? A fetish, maybe?

However, I withheld myself and stammered more questions.

"Why did you take such a long time in the beginning?" The peach-haired boy looked away, a rosy coloration dusting his cheeks.

"I didn't know if you would believe me or not." The tenseness in the atmosphere relieved itself at that moment. I began to feel my throat conjure weird bubbles and my shoulders start to hunch up. A chuckle burst out of my mouth unexpectedly, and louder ones followed after. My vision blurred as tears started to leak out of my eyes and spill onto the sides of my face. The peach-haired boy looked starstruck, watching me laugh.

Once I had finished, I looked at him, gingerly wiping the water droplets off of my cheeks and chin, my irises clear and sparkling.

"Then that settles it," I said, hiccupping, "That settles it." The corners of my mouth remained upturned as I picked my spoon back up and mixed the soup so that it clouded up again. Taking a sip, I grinned as the liquid ran smoothly down my throat and sent shivers up my spine.

It was still warm.

__

After a few more meetings over the course of two weeks, I didn't see Sabito again for the next three months. It was disheartening, to say the least. Though I would always wait by the window in anticipation, he never showed up with the girl. Instead, there was a long-locked black-haired boy, clad in similar patterned robes as he. His eyes appeared as blue as the sky in a cloudless afternoon, and his jaw was angled finely. Guessing that the stranger was a replacement market-boy, I started to worry.

Has something bad happened to Sabito?

When the thought would surface, I simply shook it off, convincing myself again and again that the peach-haired boy was well. Urokodaki frequently updated me with messages via crow, that Sabito was training, and nothing else. This served as a reassuring factor to quell my anxiety through the days in which I felt especially lonely.

Unfortunately, it just so happened to be one of those hours. Currently, I was in a spell of panic.

What if he never came back? What if he perished?

Merely thinking about it made my blood run cold and my fingers numb. I wouldn't even know how to react if that happened. The only thing I could do was hope that Sabito was alright. I felt helpless, defenseless, utterly hopeless.

In my fit, I hadn't realized that there was a knock at the door. It took me a couple minutes to fully register what was going on.

Was this deja vu?

Getting up from my position on my seat, I moved quickly to the door, unlocked it, and was immediately met with an unfathomable sight.

Breathlessly, I began to cry. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks with haste, landing delicately on my robes. My hands were clasped over the smile upon my features, catching the gentle sobs I let out.

There Sabito stood, with longer hair and a small sack in his hand. He grinned, his lavender eyes crinkling as he did. I could see my reflection in his glossy irises.

"Master said it was my turn to bring the miso soup again." I laughed and tried to run towards him, but only managed a meager shuffle.

"Sabito!" I cried, my arms outstretched. He caught me in his embrace, gripping onto my robes as hard as he could without risking any injury being made to my skin. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took in his scent, his being, his presence with as much attention as I could muster.

"I missed you," he whispered, voice cracking, "So much." I sobbed, my chest filling with nothing but endless adoration. Eventually separating, I fluttered my eyelids open and gazed into his wisteria eyes, then kissed him. My heart jumped at the sensation. With fingers gingerly combing through his hair, feeling his soft locks and getting tangled in the new length, I basked in his presence and familiar scent. He kissed back with the same fervor, gripping my waist with his gossamer hands, sending me into paradise.

When we broke away, I couldn't help but smile at his dopey expression.

"Can I come in?" he murmured, placing a peck on my forehead. His voice was irresistibly smooth, like silk flowing in the wind -- undulating and perfectly formed. Giggling as he kissed my lips once more, I couldn't ignore how much I loved him and his being.

So of course, I let him in.

[mxvladdy]

A Break

Part Duo. Some fluff, some plot. I guess? I just like writing this one. 

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

Two

Hanzo left later that evening with a chaste kiss and a promise to call when he could. You watch him go, waving him off from your little balcony stopping only when he became lost in the sea of people below. The gold of his ribbon disappearing in the blur of faces and colors. Alone again you flop down onto your bed staring watery-eyed up at your ceiling fan. The quiet around you no longer the comforting kind, his soft-spoken presence a larger comfort then you thought. Already you missed the feel of him draped over you in bed, his gentle snoring in your ear.

Glancing at your alarm clock you debate whether it was worth it to get up and do something with your evening or just call it an early night. Fuck it. You were gloriously sore and sleeping sounded amazing right now. Work could wait for tomorrow. Laziness winning over you rose kicking off your leggings slipping under the covers of the freshly made bed, courtesy of Hanzo. Stretching out on his side of the mattress you reach out to your bedside table, fingers ideally pulling Hanzo's latest gift to you.

The metal of the pendant was cool to the touch. The light silver chain of the necklace shone brightly from the twilight outside. Thumbing over the tiny owl impression on the drachma you smile longingly. Slipping it over your head you tuck the coin under your shirt.  

Greece. What an adventure.

You wished he could have stayed longer this time to talk about his travels. Greece had been a place you dreamed of going when you were younger, but gave it up to get your career off the ground. That was your life now, bookkeeping and payroll. Our business needed you more than you needed to travel. Perhaps one day you could feel confident enough to leave the shop for a world tour. Or maybe even a romantic getaway with Hanzo, see if you were really compatible.

Admittedly your romance had been a whirlwind from the start. A drunken kiss with a handsome stranger that should have led to nowhere but a musty motel room followed by an awkward goodbye. But instead, you woke up with his number and a promise of an actual date. Half a year later Hanzo had a drawer of clothes and a toothbrush in the bathroom. Snuggling in deeper under the sheets you yawn clicking off your lamp drifting off with your phone clutched in your hand. You sleep peacefully wrapped in your boyfriend's warm floral scent till a light buzzing wakes you. Your phone vibrates, the light blinding you when you unlock it. Not that you care.

Hanzo (3:14am): 

Shuttle just landed. Be safe for me.

You (3:14am):

Always will :*

And you too please! I find myself rather attached…

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Ha. I will try not to freeze to death.

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Perhaps you could warm me up next time?

You snort wrinkling your nose at his flirting.

You (3:16am):

Yes sir! But it’ll cost you

Hanzo(3:20am): 

A price I will willingly pay.

Hanzo(3:22am): 

I must go, I’ll call when I get the chance.  

You (3:23am): 

Goodnight! Miss you already

You wake late the next morning groggy but warm, tangled in the sheets. Alarm screaming obnoxiously close to your face. Blindly, you swipe at the phone silencing the noise and rise. Waddling groggily you head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You arrive an hour late grinning ear to ear. Your friends and employees glancing up smirking at your poor excuse for calling in sick yesterday. You let them work heading to the back to get your workload started for the day. Setting up in the back of the store in your favorite corner you look over your new assortment of dried leaves, flowers, and fruits.

The background noise of the shop and quiet music overhead lulling you into a comfortable trance. You hum under your breath pulling your scale closer to you blatantly ignoring Tabatha. She circles you like a hawk, keen eyes looking for any opening to start grilling you. The heat of her gaze latching on to the blemishes and love bites you didn’t even bother hiding. Placing your pestle down you sigh turning to her. “Ok. Ok. Lay it on me girl.”

Tabatha moved in fast plopping down next to you grabbing your pile of dried lemon rinds. “In all the time I have known you I’ve never seen this.” She starts shaving the rinds down smaller. “You skipped work, unannounced. During peak season!” She rounds on you dumping the shavings into their allotted jar. “I’m so proud!” You laugh tension you hadn’t noticed you were carrying in your shoulders dissipating. “I’m serious!” She continues. “All this time and I’ve never seen you finally blow off some steam till he showed up.” Tabatha smiles and leans closer flicking a soft curl ticking your ear. “You know you have to bring him around for drinks and leftovers sweets. Shit, the rest of the team wants to meet him too! Your pictures don’t do him justice.” You nod promising to ask next time he came to visit.

The rest of the day moved on from there at breakneck speed, the front portion of the shop bursting with patrons. The back with employees running about, fresh herbs, pastries, and coffee carafes in hand. The din of your business running smoothly a comfort to your frazzled mind. You finish your newest blend with a flourish, sprinkling dried ginger into the jar closing it with a satisfying ‘snap’.  

“Yo Boss! Can you cover the front while I take my break?” Switching places you wish your employee a good break. Perching at the register you make small talk with a few regulars as the evening lull hits. Greeting a cluster of teenagers as they entered you pause mid conversation taking in the new customers coming in behind them.

Oh. Well, this was rare. Omnics came in from time to time sure that wasn’t unusual. You make it a point to welcome everyone equally, as did your employees. But omnics always came in with human companions or solo to pick up an order or gift. And they most certainly never glowed. You eye the two curiously. The green one wandering aimlessly picking up different jars of teas and homemade jams before being over a display case of brightly colored macaroons. The other taller one was dressed in baggy pants merely looked at the counter before making eye contact.

“Ahh~ greetings.” He spoke. His voice, while naturally monotone it held an underlying tone of levity. “I wish to inquire about your tea selections. I have heard you have a unique variety.”

“Oh course!” You blush embarrassed that you were caught staring. “We have a small selection of in house blends, but the bulk of our products are sourced from fair trade shops from India, China, Japan, and Africa.” You recite by heart pulling out your display tray. The omnic looked down at the cards reading each selection as you described them nodding along patiently.

“What a peculiar name?” He picked up your latest custom blend. Southern Dragon. “How do you come up with the names?”

“I let my staff pick and vote on names. But this one-” You smile softly popping the tin open. “I named after someone.” The tea itself didn’t look like anything fancy sure. The blend of reddish-brown sticks looked like something someone could scoop up outside, Tabatha had joked about it often. “ Hojicha, roasted in house with dried ginger and imported nashi pear. This is the first season we are caring it as I like to buy fruits only when in season. It isn’t one of our most popular yet, but many customers have appreciated the mild caramel flavor and slight sweetness of the peaches and gentle tang of the ginger.”

“I see, that sounds very pleasant. I would like a bag of that and perhaps the sharp lemon for my pupil.” You nod scooping out the desired amounts into two small bags weighing them swiftly.

“And anything for you?” You smile less genuinely at the smaller omnic as they all but swaggered over. You had felt his gaze the whole time you had been chatting.

“Hmm.” They leaned on your counter visor not leaving you, long metal fingers clicking on the marble counter top. “I’d take a small shortcake and a three-pack of macaroons, the matcha ones; if they come with your number.”

You freeze choking on your smile, even the other omnic seemed surprised.

“Genji-”  

“We have our business number on the bottom of our boxes and bags, and a popular online storefront.” You ring him up quickly handing him his order.

“Mmm. I was hoping for something more...personal.” They continued voice dropping low into a slightly clipped purr.

“No.” You cut them off quickly, smile gone. “I have a boyfriend.”

They gasp in mock shock. If they had lips you were positive they would be stretched into a shit eating grin. “What a lucky man.” They tip heavily turning without another word to the door, phone out texting animatedly. You look blankly at their abandoned companion waving a hand uselessly at the door.

“I apologize. He sometimes forgets himself. I hope my pupil didn’t offend? I would like to return at a later date.” They bow low in compensation. “I will have him apologize properly when we meet again.”

Meet again… You jerk your head awkwardly still processing what in the world just happened.

“Woooow,” Tabatha drawls wrapping an arm around you watching the two take their leave, the taller one levitating the moment they were outside. “ Wow . Popular with all types huh? Thought I was gonna need to come in here an’ knock heads.”  

“Please,” You scoff recovering to wipe down the counter. “That has to be one for the books, right next to that time I fell in the school fountain at graduation. All white- like a dumb ass.” Tabatha howls with laughter already walking back to your shared office.

“A beautiful day in history. But damn that green one was mighty pleased to hear you were taken.”

“Ha-ya.” You frown rubbing your arm. Now that you think about it it was kinda weird. Perhaps they were a friend of Hanzo’s. He never spoke of omnics, cowboys and old vets, but you would think highlighter green would stick out.  

Tabatha came back talking to the last of your closing staff noticing you were still looking out the window. “Hey- you ok?”

“Yea-yea. Just thinking about it now.” Your friend frowns discarding her armload to lead you back into your office dropping you in your chair.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. But how ‘bout you get started on the paperwork, and I’ll cover the front in case they come back.” You agree already pulling a stack of orders to you booting up your computer. You get a few hours of work done in peace as your employees filter out for the night, bidding you and Tabatha a good night. With a huff she collapses to the couch watching you work for a moment.

“You forgot didn’t you.” Hmm? Tabatha meets your blank stare dark brows raised into her hairline prompting you. Blinking you try slyly to look at your calendar. Was it someone's birthday? Anniversary? “ Gurl ." She jokes. "Dick that good you forgot whine and cheese night?” Oh. Oops. 

Whine and cheese night had been a tradition since grad school, then when you went into business together. Every last Sunday of the month you two had a few too many drinks and bitched about anything that came to mind that month. Tabatha chortled grabbing your keys and turning off your monitor. “Good thing I remember. I got some new vintages and some fancy cheeses I stole from my girl’s fridge.” She leads you out of the shop locking up the building pushing you out into the brisk night air. You walk the short distance to your flat listening to her talk rapidly about her upcoming trip with her girlfriend to France. “Handsome take you anywhere yet?” She asks finally taking a breath at your front door.

“Does the city fair count?” You ask flipping on the lights to your kitchen. You glaze at your friend's face. Clearly it did not. “He isn’t around often enough to do something like that. Not that I mind,” You add quickly trying to get your piece in before she decides to cut in, her frown growing. “We had plans to rent a beach house for a weekend but he had an emergency at work. After that, we just do stay in dates or stuff around town.”

“What, he always on call or something?” Tabby flops hard onto your floor pillow kicking off her shoes. “Or like too afraid to tell his boss off?”

You snort passing your lounging friend an overfilled glass of zinfandel. “Bit late for the background check ain’t it?” She accepts the wine gracefully wiggling deeper into the cushions stealing your remotes. “Besides, I like just having lazy days here. He travels a lot for work so I’m sure that gets exhausting. I doubt a road trip would be relaxing for him. I like just having him here even if it is to just sleep.”

“Rrrriiiggghhtt. ‘Sleep’ .” She snorts looking wholly unconvinced as you settle into your favorite recliner sticking your tongue out teasingly. The two of you get lost in your favorite show then, talking on and off between mouthfuls of pizza and chips. “So-” Tabatha rises a few hours later popping her back. Eyes going to the liquor cabinet dramatically. “Wanna bring out the good shit and tell me all about your impromptu to vacation day?” She wiggles her brows, popping the cork out of your favorite gin bottle pouring you way too much. Downing your first glass in one you hunker down for a long night.

For the second night in a row, buzzing wakes you. The vibrations sharp and rhythmic against your thigh. Groggy from booze and gossip you dig around your chair. “‘Ello?” You mumble wiping drool from your cheek.

“Ah. My apologies-I forgot about time zones. Would you like me to call you back.” Hanzo. You perk up a little stumbling over your passed out friend to your bedroom door.

“No-no. I wouldn’t want to miss this.” You beam rubbing the sleep from your eyes clicking your door closed softly. The haze of the day prior leaving you with his smooth voice, his soft chuckle in your ear made him feel like he was there. The warm presence on your back instead of your sweat-soaked tank clinging to your frame.

“The same can be said for me- but I really should let you sleep. I merely wanted to hear your voice before my… shift started.” Faintly you could hear the sounds of laughter and clinks of plates in the background.

“Where are you?” You ask beyond curious, hoping for a satisfying answer. He paused again, the sound of merriment and chattering fading into the background. “Breakfast and a shift change. It was my turn to cook along with a friend. He had an idea for a 'traditional American breakfast'. It is very hearty, the others are excited. I expect I'll have heartburn for the next week now.”

“Aww! You’ve never made me breakfast!” Ah shit. “Not that that’s a problem!” You backpedal. “Life is hectic and we both have hard schedules.” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hanzo shushed you gently over the phone. “No, you are more than within your right. I do not do all that I would like with you, yet you set aside time for me every time you can.” You snort into dead air. It wasn’t that hard for you, Tabatha all but forced you to take weekends off from work.

“It’s ok. Don’t make it feel like a duty, love. I just… wish we could do more couple like stuff you know?”  You twine your fingers feeling childish for even complaining.

“I understand that feeling, I have been neglectful. Allow me to make it up to you?” You hum faking thinking hard on your answer. “ Darling.”   Your chuckle behind you hand practically hearing the pout on his elegant face. He continues with a huff. “After this assignment I’ll ask for personal leave. A few weeks perhaps? We can do whatever.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[embeanwrites]

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 8

Masterlist

We pulled back into dad’s house. Walking back inside I immediately noticed Sumo was laying down with the old blanket dad was talking about earlier. He perked up the moment we walked in and started wagging his tail.

“He kept crying after you left, he’s a big softie.” My dad said through a mouthful of noodles. I smiled and walked over to pet Sumo and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sumo.” I said softly into his fur. I looked at the blanket. It was a faded blue and a lot smaller than I remembered it. Or maybe I was just a lot smaller in my memories with it. Sumo had chewed a few holes in it from carrying it around. After all these years, he hadn’t forgotten about me. I wondered if my dad ever took the blanket and thought about me. I sat next to my dad on the couch, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and stealing the container of noodles from him.

“Hey!” He yelled through a mouthful of food. I smiled.

“So, what are we watching?”

“You’re the guest, you pick.”

“Hmmm…Connor have you seen the original Muppet movie?” My dad laughed.

“That movie is older than me, (Y/n)!”

“I have not seen anything about ‘Muppets’.” Connor responded sitting down on the floor with Sumo. It was interesting, even though there was plenty of room on the couch he still chose to sit on the floor with Sumo.

“Then that’s what we’re watching. Everyone needs to watch the Muppets. If I could find a way to show it in my class, I totally would. Hey! Connor you could analyze it and see if there’s any way I could connect it to humans and androids or sociology!”

“Oh, your students must love having to watch old movies.” My dad snorted.

“Hey! I showed my class at (dream/school) ‘The Iron Giant’ and they loved it!”

“How on earth did you connect that?”

“Dad, it’s about a giant robot and people immediately assuming he was going to kill everyone, and, in the end, he was the hero. It’s literally perfect.” I laughed, grabbing the remote from the table and found the movie. I took my phone out of my pocket and placed it face down, so I wouldn’t get distracted. Clicking play I snuggled into the couch and continued eating.

“I'm Statler.

I'm Waldorf.

We're here to heckle

The Muppet Movie.”

“Why are some puppets and others human?” Connor asked, I looked over at him. He once again had tilted his head.

“They’re Muppets, Connor. And I wouldn’t question it too much, in the next movie they say a bear and a frog are twin brothers.” He furrowed his brow and kept his eyes intently on the movie.

As the movie went on, I couldn’t help but hum along to the songs. Muppets always felt like home. When I was younger, me, dad, and mom had a Muppet movie marathon on my birthday. I don’t remember much about what else we did, but I remember watching the movie and laughing with them. It was right before they got divorced. It was the last happy memory of all three of us I had.

Through the corner of my eye, I watched my dad move his foot to the music and laugh at the funny parts. I wondered if he remembered the last time we watched this together. I wondered if he ever watched them with Cole.

When the movie ended, I got up and stretched. Looking at the clock, I noticed it was only 7 pm.

“I’m going to change into my pajamas.” I said while picking up my backpack. “What room should I use?”

“You can use mine, it’s the one at the end of the hallway.” Connor said. I nodded and walked in.

The room had sparse decorations, which wasn’t too surprising. I could tell by what was on the walls that this must have been Cole’s room. I changed into sweatpants and a giant t-shirt, putting my dirty clothes in the bottom of my bag. I walked back out to find Connor putting a leash on Sumo and my dad cleaning up from dinner.

“Dang, Connor. If you had told me you were going to go walk Sumo I would’ve waited to change, so I could go with you!”

“I’m just taking him out for a couple of minutes. I will let you know the next time I plan on walking him. Come on, Sumo.” I smiled and walked over to my dad.

“Gun to my head, if you were to ask me if Hank Anderson would ever let an android live with him, I would say no way in a heartbeat.” My dad chuckled.

“Before Connor, I would’ve agreed.”

“What changed?”

“When we were hunting deviants, it was clear that they all just…wanted to be free. There were two girls that seemed to be truly in love. Connor’s mission was to bring in the deviants, but he had a gun trained on them and he let them go. I guess I just realized that humans and androids aren’t that much different.” I nodded as I kept my eyes on the front door.

“If you had read my articles you would’ve learned that sooner.” I said with a laugh.

“How did you know so early on?” I shuffled uncomfortably.

“I’m not really sure. It wasn’t one moment that made me realize. In undergrad I took a lot of sociology and history classes and I just kept seeing the same issues repeating over and over again. Humans have always had an “us vs them” mentality, so it was just the same thing we’ve seen since the earliest civilization.” My dad hummed.

“I don’t know how you got so smart. You certainly didn’t get that from me.” I laughed.

“I studied really hard and never stopped. Going into college I didn’t even know I was going to go to grad school and get my PhD. I just started learning and I never wanted to stop. Especially after I read about how some androids were being treated. I wanted to make a difference.” I sighed. “I’d like to think I’ve gotten most of my students outside their comfort zones and got them to accept androids as free beings, but I have a feeling that may be harder in Detroit.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you teach, but just by that statement I can tell you really care. Your students will see that too and that’ll get them to listen. There’s a reason everyone hates math, no one could be passionate about that.” I laughed. Connor walked back in with Sumo. The moment he unhooked his leash he came bounding over to me. “Man, he’s going to attack you every time he sees you.” I got on my knees and started petting him.

“Good, because I’ve missed him.” I scratched behind his ear and he thumbed his back leg. I got up and walked back over to the couch and stretched my legs out. Sumo followed me and laid down on the floor next to me, I reached over and grabbed my phone off the table. I checked my messages. A couple from friends back home. I bit my lip, debating if I should text Gavin. In the end I decided I had bothered him enough for one day.

“(Y/n), when did you want to go walk the rescue dogs?” Connor asked sitting next to my feet on the couch.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“He doesn’t, but I have too.” My dad grunted coming back to the living room.

“Why?” My dad shook his head.

“Captain Fowler is having the Lieutenant take some refresher classes and some of the detectives are getting together to discuss how android crime cases should be handled from now on.”  I sat up.

“Is it an open meeting?” I asked my dad quickly.

“Not that I know of.” He answered.

“Hm…ask the Captain if I could possibly assist you guys with that. I know I’m not a police officer, but I understand a lot about androids and humans. I even minored in forensics in undergrad, but that was a while ago.”

“I’ll ask him, I think it’s a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt to get more opinions on how to handle it. The government is sure taking their sweet time coming up with laws covering everything.” I nodded in agreement. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed, read your book a little before sleeping. See you guys tomorrow.”

“Good night!” Me and Connor said at the same time. My dad kept walking and waved a little before going to his room and shutting the door. Still sitting up I looked at Connor. His LED was blue and looking at my backpack.

“I brought a scrapbook if you’d like me to show it to you.” I said gently, grabbing my bag.

“Will it cause you more emotional distress to look at it tonight?” He asked softly, causing me to laugh.

“No, Connor. This is filled with good memories.” I got the book out and moved closer to him, so the book sat on both of our legs. “This is me with my freshman orientation group. I was so scared that day. The campus felt so much bigger when I started living on it, but over time it felt smaller.” I kept flipping the pages stopping to explain some pictures.

“That is Officer Chen.” Connor said pointing to an old picture of me and Tina painting each other’s toenails. I smiled.

“Me and Tina have been friends for a long time, before she went to the police academy, she would come to my dorm room to crash.” I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture and sent it to Tina.

 Look at these babies!

 “Officer Chen is on duty right now. She may not respond right away.” I sat my phone down.

“I know, but she’ll see it eventually.” I flipped a couple more pages. There were pictures of graduation and friends.

“Who’s that?” Connor asked pointing to a picture of me with a KL900.

“Oh, during my research I interviewed some androids. She was designed for social work. It’s been so long, but I think her name is Lucy.” Connor’s LED flashed yellow.

“She died during the revolution.” I looked intently at the picture, remembering how kind she was.

“She was a really good person.” I clenched the book a little tighter. “I wish I could have done more during the revolution. I helped a couple of androids, but if I had been in Detroit maybe I could’ve done more.” Connor awkwardly patted my shoulder.

“You were safer outside of the city. Hank would be upset if you had gotten hurt.” I nodded, closing the book.

“Could we look at the rest some other time? There’s a few more androids and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear about their fate.”

“Of course. Are you going to bed?” I looked at my phone.

“Nah, it’s only 8. If I sleep now, I’ll mess up my sleep schedule even more and wake up at like 4 am. What do you want to do?”

“Would you like to watch the second Muppets movie?” I smiled.

“So, you liked the movie?” Connor smiled back.

“It was interesting. I enjoyed the fact that they knew it was a movie.”

“Well, the next one is ‘The Great Caper’, but that one’s probably my least favorite.”

“Is it essential to watch them in order?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“God no, they’re a mess. Some of the ones that were made later have an order, but for the most part you can watch them in any order.”

“You can pick which one next.” I smiled widely.

“’The Muppets take Manhattan’, it is then!” I found the movie on the tv but waited to press play. “Hey, Connor. Sometimes you tilt your head a little. Is that in your programming or did you pick that up somewhere?”

“I was programmed to blend in with humans, it’s one of the few ‘quirks’ Cyberlife gave me, why?” I watched him, he looked as if he was about to tilt his head again but stopped himself causing me to chuckle.

“I’ve noticed you do it a lot and when Nines was in my office, he did it a couple times. I was wondering if you both were programmed to do that or if he picked it up from you.”

“I believe it is in both of our programming.” I nodded and clicked play on the movie. I patted the couch and Sumo jumped up next to me. “Sumo is not allowed on the couch.”

“It’s a special occasion, one night won’t hurt, Connor.” He frowned as his LED flashed yellow.

“It’s Friday night, there is no holiday today.”

“Exactly.” I said, turning my eyes to the movie. His LED changed back to blue as he sighed. He glanced at Sumo one more time, before finally starting to watch the movie.

 “Together again

Gee, it's good

to be together again

I just can't imagine that

you've ever been gone

It's not starting over 

It's just going on

Together again…”

[solangelover]

12 Days of Gifts: Day 12

A/N: IT’S LATE SORRY but I hope you like it cuz it turned out just how I wanted :) and it’s looooong

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

Prev | --

Nico got up early on Christmas morning. Today was the day. He actually had a planned gift for Will, not all these impromptu ones he and Will had been exchanging for the past week. Well, Will’s may have been planned, but Nico’s surely weren’t.

But he did plan his present for Christmas Day. Now that he thought about it, he briefly wondered if it was too much. After all, he’d been working out the details for months. But then he pictured the smile on Will’s face, and he knew it was the right decision.

—

“Will, get up!” Someone threw a pillow at the son of Apollo’s face, effectively jolting him out of his blissful sleep.

“Huh?” he asked as he sat up groggily.

“It’s CHRISTMAS!” Two of his youngest siblings jumped onto his bed and slammed him back into the mattress. He laughed and ruffled their hair, a pleased sensation washing over him. It was Christmas! His favorite holiday. And he had all his siblings around him, their random Christmas decorations about ready to fall off the walls and doorways.

It still felt like he was missing something, though.

Kayla trudged over to Will’s bed, picking up the youngest kid. “Get up and get dressed, dummy. Your surprise is waiting.”

Will looked up at her in question as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, the other kid crawling off to get ready. “My what?”

Austin popped up next to his sister. “You heard. Now get dressed and get out the door. We’ll take care of everything here.”

With one last confused glance, Will began getting ready for the day. He pulled on his favorite Christmas sweater—light blue with a melting snowman that said, “I’ll be back!”—and dark wash jeans. As he wrapped a scarf around his neck, Austin pulled him away from the closet and towards the door. “Okay, lover boy, that’s enough.”

“Wha—Austin!” Will sputtered. “It’s cold outside!”

“Not for long.” Nothing he said made any sense to Will. He was practically thrown out the door, sending him stumbling down the steps and straight into one Nico di Angelo.

“Nico!” Will turned red immediately, straightening up and trying to figure out what was going on.

“Geez, Solace, what are you doing?”

“I—I don’t know! My siblings just kicked me out, I think.” He frowned as he looked back at the now shut door to Cabin 7. “They said something about a surprise?”

He turned back to see Nico nervously fiddling with his skull ring. He stopped then, taking a deep breath and looking up at Will. “Um, I have a surprise for you. And, I really hope you like it...”

Before Will could even respond, Nico took his hand and, with a glance as his only warning, Will found himself pulled into darkness.

—

Shadow-travel was really weird. It felt like wind rushing past you as you run and tumbling through dark waters. It was also somehow nearly instantaneous. None of it made sense to Will. He found himself stumbling and nearly falling to the ground if not for Nico’s hands clamped around his arms. Will had to take deep breaths and instinctively latched onto Nico’s arms to steady himself.

“Sorry, you okay?” Nico asked.

“Yeah,” Will panted. “Just give me a sec.” Few more deep breaths. “Shadow travel?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, I forgot that it’s kind of disorienting at first.”

Will had gathered himself enough to step back out of Nico’s grasp. “A little bit. Are you okay? Where are we?”

Nico smiled slightly. “I’m good. Compared to the Athena Parthenos, traveling with you is nothing.” He looked around, causing Will to do the same. “Um, surprise?”

Will could only gape as he took in his familiar surroundings. The wide road, neat houses, green trees, shining sun. Even in the winter, Austin, Texas still looked good, unlike the cold and dreary New York he had been accustomed to. The boys stood in the shade of a medium-sized, faded yellow house with Christmas lights strung around the windowsills. Purple and yellow flowers filled the bed of soil near them.

Will still hadn’t responded when they heard faint Christmas music coming from within the house. Will froze, but Nico grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the front of the house. He seemed very comfortable with the situation, which surprised Will a tiny bit. It was clear that the son of Hades had planned this, but Will still didn’t have enough time to process his thoughts before he was pulled up the front steps to the door. With only a second of hesitation, Nico knocked. They heard movement inside and a second later, the door swung open to reveal a beautiful blonde woman. Her hair was done up in a messy but stylish bun and she donned a soft Christmas sweater pulled down over faded jeans.

They stared at each other, and, again, Will was too stunned to speak. Luckily, she recovered before him. “Will?”

“Mom,” he choked out, and before he knew it, she had flung the screen door back and had him in a bear hug, which he immediately returned.

“Oh, honey. I’ve missed you so much,” she drawled, her Southern accent comforting Will to his core. He hadn’t heard it in so long.

“Missed you, too.” Will found himself rapidly blinking to keep his tears from falling, even though he could already feel his shirt dampening where his mom pressed her face into his shoulder. “Sorry I haven’t visited in a while—”

“Hush, none of that. I know you have important duties at camp.” She pulled back to look in her son’s face. “I’m a busy girl, too, you know.”

Will couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I thought you were on tour?” No matter how long it’s been, Naomi Solace was still a talented alt-country singer with loyal fans. It’s not surprising that Apollo fell for her.

She glanced to Will’s left and Will suddenly remembered that Nico was right there, fiddling with his skull ring awkwardly. “Your friend here made sure I’d be home a couple months ago.”

Will turned to in amazement to Nico, who smiled shyly in response. “You… you planned this that long ago?”

Nico looked away and nodded. “I know you haven’t been home in a long time, and you love Christmas, so…” he trailed off.

Will shook his head in wonder. The next thing he knew, his arms were thrown around the smaller boy’s shoulders, his face buried in his hair. He couldn’t believe how incredibly thoughtful Nico was. “Nico, I… thank you. So much.” Small but strong arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed in response before letting go. Will probably could have stayed there forever, but Nico probably felt awkward with his mom standing right there.

Will looked back to his mom expectantly and found she had been watching them fondly. He cocked his eyebrow as the silence stretched on. “Oh!” she suddenly moved. “Come in, come in! It’s not as cold as New York, I’m sure, but I’m absolutely freezing! I’ve got some food in the oven, but I can make some hot cocoa for you boys as we wait…” Naomi rambled on, her Southern hospitality kicking in full force.

Will followed her into the house, pausing to grip Nico’s wrist and pull him along when he hesitated in the doorway. “Let’s go, Death Boy. Don’t you dare think about disappearing on me when you planned this whole thing.”

Nico huffed out a breath. “Well, I don’t—”

“You’re not intruding,” Will interrupted. “My mom probably made way too much food anyway.” He smiled when he felt Nico relax a little in his grip, shifting to squeeze his hand for reassurance.

—

After their brunch, Naomi was chatting happily with Nico, who nodded along and answered her random questions as best he could.

“Hey, Nico?” The boy looked up in question. “Do you have your prism? I should check in on my siblings at camp.”

Nico felt his pockets and pulled out the small prism Will had given him last week. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“You don’t know my siblings,” Will laughed as he politely excused himself from the table.

He went out into the backyard, holding up the prism to catch some of the sunlight that peeked between the clouds. Shining the light on the wall of his house, he dug out a drachma from his pocket and threw it in. “Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering and show me Kayla Knowles at camp.”

The light shimmered to show Kayla trying to wrangle her younger siblings in their cabin. A few new toys, and some weapons, could be seen in their little hands. “Kayla?”

She whipped around, relieved at the sight of her older brother even if he wasn’t physically there. “Will! How’s home?”

“It’s great,” he said with a soft smile. “Thanks for doing this, Kayla.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me,” she shook her head. “It was all Nico’s idea. We just had to make sure you were okay to leave.” A pillow flew across the room behind her; she just sighed.

“Still, thanks. I really missed my mom.”

Kayla’s eyes softened. “I know. That’s why we all agreed to do this.”

A beat of silence, and then Will remembered why he really called. “Oh, wait! So, what about tonight? Did Nico plan this before I planned my thing?? Has anyone come yet???”

“Will, calm down. Honestly, we’re lucky both you and Nico coordinated things with us. I told him that you guys should be back for dinner. Austin is manning the infirmary and we told people to meet him there.”

Will sagged in relief. He really had the best siblings. “What would I do without you?”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “You’d never get your man, that’s for sure.”

“Kayla!” he screeched, his cheeks heating up instantly.

“Just enjoy yourself, Will. It’ll be fine.” She smirked and waved her hand through the message. Will sighed, sending up a quick prayer of thanks to Apollo for his family, and went back inside.

—

It was around 4 PM when Nico said something.

“Um, I promised your siblings that you’d be back before dinnertime,” he said to Will. He looked uncertain, and probably uncomfortable with pulling Will away from time with his mom.

“Oh, of course, darlin’! You’ve got other family to be with on Christmas.” Will remembered his mother’s reluctance when she first let him stay at camp year-round. To see her so willing to let him go meant she truly understood the importance of his role at camp with his younger siblings. “Even if you’re still my baby, I hope you’re taking care of all your brothers and sisters.”

Will stood and hugged his mom. “Yeah, I am.”

After they broke apart, she turned towards Nico, who bowed slightly. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Solace.”

“Oh, sweetie, we hug ‘round here.” She pulled him in and kissed his head. It was so quick, Nico didn’t even have time to hug back before she held him at arm’s length. “Thank you, hon. I couldn’t have seen my baby without you. Come visit again soon! You’re always welcome here. Oh, Will!” She spun around and grabbed a CD case off the counter. “This is my newest album. Someone in your cabin liked my music, right?”

Will laughed as he accepted the gift from him mom. “Yeah, I think all of them.” They shared another hug, and Will wished he could stay in his mother’s arms not for the first time today. But he had people who depended on him. “I love you, mom. I miss you so much.”

“I know, baby. I love you, too. Visit when you can.” They both knew they couldn’t make any promises, their lives were too unpredictable for that. But it was enough.

Will didn’t want to freak out his mom, but she said that she knew Nico had some teleportation power considering how far they had come and Will hadn’t done it before. So, Will gripped Nico’s hand tightly as they fell into the shadows. He smiled at his mom before she disappeared from sight.

—

Nico stumbled out of the shadows and would have fallen to his knees had he not been holding Will’s hand. Even disoriented, Will could feel the darkness clinging to Nico.

“Nico!” Will gasped.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Nico reassured Will, his eyes closed against the sudden light. “Just dizzy.”

“Let’s go to the infirmary and get you some ambrosia.” They took another second to gather themselves before Will led the way to the Big House, still hand-in-hand.

Nico didn’t notice anything as they walked, too busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. After downing a piece of ambrosia, he felt much better. Then, he finally took in his surroundings. “Where is everyone?” The infirmary was oddly empty, and he didn’t really remember passing anyone in the camp.

Will shrugged, looking out the open door. “Maybe people are at the pavilion for dinner already. Since it’s Christmas, dinner might be early so the campfire can be longer, or something.”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot it’s still Christmas.”

Will gazed at him fondly. “Yeah,” he said before bridging the distance between them and pulling Nico into a fierce hug. “Thank you so so so much, Nico. I can’t believe I got to see my mom today.”

Nico paused only for a second before gently laying his arms on the son of Apollo’s back in return. “You both seemed really happy.”

Will scoffed in Nico’s ear. “Happy doesn’t even cover it.”

They broke apart and looked at each other. Their eyes told of things unsaid: gratefulness, kindness, care. Love is the only word that could encompass everything. But neither boy was ready to unpack that yet.

The moment ended when someone noisily came into the infirmary. “Oh, you guys are back!” Austin exclaimed.

Will immediately went over and gave his brother a hug. “Thanks for today.”

Austin laughed and hugged back. “No problem, bro. I hope seeing your mom was nice.”

“Even better.” Will stepped back and pulled the album out from his satchel. “My mom sends her love.”

“Oh, dude,” Austin breathed as he grabbed for the disc. “Everyone is gonna freak.”

Nico watched the brothers interact. He couldn’t help the persistent feeling of loneliness he felt from time to time when he hung out with the Apollo kids. He wished he could see Hazel, or not think about Bianca, or something along those lines. Sticking close to Will, who always made him feel welcomed, could only go so far (pretty damn far, but still).

Austin cleared his throat loudly, catching Nico’s attention. “Well,” he said a little too loudly. “I think everyone is going to dinner already, so you guys better hurry up!” He gave Will a pointed look. “Kayla has the others there, don’t worry.”

Nico didn’t think the Apollo cabin was too difficult to organize and get to dinner, but maybe the holiday just made everyone a little more hyperactive than normal. Will nodded seriously, clapping his brother on the shoulder with a sincere “thank you.”

Austin left ahead of them, leaving Nico and Will alone once again. “Feel okay, Death Boy?”

Nico nodded and got up to join Will by the door. “Yeah, all good. I just realized I probably should’ve called Hazel earlier.”

Will cocked his head in sympathy. “We’ll make sure you see her later, then. Gotta get some food in you!”

They smiled at each other and headed toward the pavilion, which was a lot louder than normal. It was glowing warmly, the light of the day fading much earlier now that they were well into winter.

Nico was used to blocking out the noise of camp, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of familiar laughter. He looked intently at the pavilion, still a little too far to make out any faces. As they got closer, one face popped out and shrieked, “Nico!”

The next thing he knew, brown curls filled his vision as he was tackled to the ground in a bear hug. Nico hit the ground and could barely catch his breath as he gazed up at the girl perched above him. “Hazel?” he wheezed.

“Surprise! Merry Christmas!” She beamed down at him, her expression full of joy and love that had Nico feeling winded from more than the hug.

“You—how—”

“Hazel!” An indignant voice Nico instantly recognized as Percy’s floated down from the pavilion. “We were supposed to surprise him together!”

She giggled as she helped her brother up, who still hadn’t gotten a full sentence out. “Sorry! Couldn’t help it,” she called back.

“What are you doing here?” Nico finally choked out, still staring at his sister in awe, though he distantly recognized that all his friends were present at camp.

Hazel smiled impossibly wider as she tugged her brother along. “It’s Christmas, silly! We wanted to surprise you and see each other.” Her eyes slid to the left, and Nico felt a weird sense of almost déjà vu when he realized Will was still walking along next to them, practically glowing with happiness. Didn’t he surprise Will just earlier today in a similar manner?

“You…?” Nico gaped at Will, unable to process words at the moment.

Will smiled at him as he always did. “I just asked if everyone wanted to come back for a Camp Half Blood Christmas party,” he shrugged. “I know you missed Hazel, and I figured, why not get everyone?”

“Aww, you missed me?” Hazel teased, and Nico turned red. “Will is downplaying it, though. He practically begged us all to come, even offering to pay for travel stuff. He went on and on about how it would mean so much to you, and to the rest of the camp, how it was good for your health, blah, blah, blah.” Now Will was coloring, though out of embarrassment or indignation, Nico wasn’t sure.

“So, you… did this for me?”

“I mean,” Will glanced away nervously. “Yeah. I-I did.”

Nico basically stopped walking, trying in vain to process his overwhelming emotions. Luckily, Hazel has always had a knack for knowing how to help him. She used her hold on Nico to spin him towards Will and nudged him forward. It was enough to spring him into action, instinctively raising his arms and wrapping them around the son of Apollo. He had been doing that a lot, lately, and he couldn’t say he minded that much. The hug was brief, but sincere, communicating to Will all the gratitude Nico could muster in the moment. He didn’t even know that his loneliness was obvious, and perhaps it wasn’t to anyone but Will.

Nico didn’t get any more time to think on it as more people approached him in front of the entrance to the pavilion. “Little bro!” was all the warning he got before he was swept into another bear hug, this time from both Percy and Jason. Nico grumbled and writhed on instinct, making everyone in the vicinity chuckle.

“Dude, I’ve missed you! I almost forgot how boring the mortal world was,” Percy said.

Annabeth appeared next to him to elbow him in the side. “I’d say your life could use a little boring, don’t you?” She smiled at Nico. “Merry Christmas, Nico.”

“How have you been?” He turned toward Jason, who had been between camps so often that Nico barely saw him in the past few months.

“Good,” he simply said.

“No fading into shadows, I presume?” The regal tone caught Nico off guard, and he spun around to see Reyna striding over from one of the tables. She wore a purple Camp Jupiter sweater and black jeans, a shocking change from her usual praetor uniform that Nico always pictured her in.

“Reyna!” They shared a quick hug that reminded Nico of the big sister figure and friend he found in the praetor. He really missed seeing her around.

Nico fell into easy conversation with everyone after greetings were finished with a small wave from Frank and nods to Piper and Leo, whom he always saw around camp anyway. It was almost surreal being with everyone in such a casual setting. No impending war, no godly interference, no fear of an attack; just teens hanging out and celebrating together.

They all ended up at the Hades table, and it was then that Nico noticed everything else going on in the pavilion. People milled about at every table, regardless of where they should have been sitting. Various Christmas decorations brightened the entire place, and laughter filled the air. It was the cheeriest Nico had ever seen the camp.

His eyes were drawn to a certain blonde healer laughing with his siblings. Will looked up and met Nico’s gaze with a bright and sincere smile, which Nico returned as best he could.

“He did all this for you, you know.” Nico turned to Jason, who gave him a knowing look.

“Well, it was kind of for everyone, right?” Nico looked around, but no one seemed entirely convinced.

“Nah, man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad we got to do this. But when Will contacted me and Annabeth, it was really about making you happy.” Annabeth nodded along with Percy’s words, as did everyone else.

Nico felt his cheeks heat up and he looked down, unsure of what to say. He missed the shared glances above his head as everyone tried to decide how much they should say about this.

Hazel took the lead and reach over to squeeze Nico’s hand. “I’m glad you have someone like Will around.”

Nico glanced up and smiled at his sister before turning his head to peek at the boy with sunlit hair and sky-blue eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

—

“Will!” Nico called as everyone was headed to their cabins for lights out. The Seven and Reyna were all staying for at least one night and agreed to hang out tomorrow since many were tired from travel.

The son of Apollo glanced back and grinned when he saw Nico jogging toward him. He told his sister to make sure everyone got to bed and shooed her off before turning back to the son of Hades. “What’s up?”

“I just…” Nico trailed off. “Sorry we didn’t get to talk too much at dinner and stuff.”

“Oh!” Will looked a little surprised. “No worries, Neeks! The whole point was for you to spend time with your friends. I’m just glad you got to see them. You seemed really happy.”

“Yeah,” Nico rubbed his arm bashfully. “Um, thank you. For tonight. I had no idea you were planning this.”

Will smiled—he probably hadn’t stopped smiling for the past 12 days—and shook his head. “I could say the same about your surprise for me today.” He reached out and took Nico’s hand, pleased when he didn’t pull away. “I can’t thank you enough for taking me to see my mom.”

“Guess we both had big plans for today, huh?”

“Yeah, luckily my siblings made sure it all ran smoothly,” he laughed.

They were standing pretty close together now, gazing into each other’s eyes and trying to convey everything they were feeling. It was impossible to put into words their gratitude, not only for today, but for everything that came with their friendship. There was more there, way more, but neither knew how to touch on that just yet. They were on the edge of something big, yet it felt like the next step.

“Hey, Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“I really love spending time with you.”

A beat.

“Yeah. I love it, too.”

 A/N: Ah guys I did it again, I failed to begin their relationship. Slow burn or do I just love friendship that much? Hard to say. But really, I am so impressed with how this 12 days turned out, I enjoyed writing it a lot and am actually proud of what I wrote! Thanks for reading and tracking along with me! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!