#what happened... is it connected to the mention of the nearby alley with the burned hair smell...

[yellow-yarrow]

also thinking about how the game says Cindy has trauma, probably connected to the home she had before...

[retrievablememories]

what happens at night | taeyong

title: what happens at night

characters: vampire!taeyong, reader, BP jisoo, side character ocs

genre: vampire!au, fantasy, angst

summary: There has been a vampire sighting in a nearby town. You and a few other amateur vampire hunters flock to the area for fun, but are soon in over your heads when you come face to face with a real vampire. 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some violence, use of weapons, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing

a/n: i got the prompt for this fic from this writing prompt post

writing vampire fic just reveals that i am maybe a little too intrigued with finding different ways to describe blood, lmao

also, this picture...are you fuckin kidding me

"Y/N, look. You aren’t gonna believe this.”

Adrienne holds the digital ledger out in front of you, and you look at it with tired, uninterested eyes until your brain registers what you’re seeing. Your eyes light up as you recognize whose face is on the screen.

“Taeyong.”

You take the ledger from her as she offers it to you, holding it tight with both hands.

“The Vampire King?” Jisoo perks up and gets up from her seat to rush over to see the ledger, peering wildly over your shoulder. Likewise, Percy makes his way over to the rest of you at a slightly speedier gait than his usual unaffected amble.

“Can’t be,” he says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief even as he looks over your other shoulder.

“But it is.”

The ledger’s screen displays the seal of Hawthorn Academy and its vampire registry, which holds the name, age, suspected location, and family lineage of every registered vampire in the world, along with a plethora of other pertinent details. On Taeyong’s profile, there is the familiar portrait of him you’ve always seen—his hair styled perfectly and curling over his forehead, and his eyes dark, piercing, and shining vermillion.

Under the list of Status Updates, there is a new entry from yesterday—a sighting nearby in the city of Dresden. Within that entry, there is a blurry, zoomed-in photo of a man in a dark trench coat and black boots, walking away from the viewer and down a shadowy street lit up with lampposts, almost too vague to be worth deciphering to the average viewer; but that silhouette is unmistakable.

“When was the last time Taeyong was seen out in public? I can hardly believe it,” Jisoo says, her voice practically trembling with awe.

“If he’s letting himself be seen, he must have specific intentions...whatever those are,” Percy notes.

“Let’s go pay Dresden a visit,” Adrienne announces, darting off to her desk and starting to gather up her essentials—phone and silver staff among them.

“Go? Pay it a visit?” Percy echoes, his mouth rounding on the word go and his eyes widening.

“Of course! Why not? Isn’t this exciting? A sighting of the Vampire King so nearby, and so recently,” Jisoo replies, grinning with all her teeth. 

Percy narrows his eyes at her, uncertainty marring his features. “Yes, but what about dangerous?”

“Come on Percy, it’ll be fun,” you chime in. “Think of it as a field trip for baby vampire hunters. Dresden is huge, anyway, there’s like zero chance we’ll actually find him.��

“Just take it as more skills training,” Adrienne adds, grabbing her backpack and heading off to her quarters to get the rest of her things. “Except this time, we’re actually in the field instead of that same boring facility.”

Percy grumbles to himself, but he knows there’s nothing much left to argue about; when the three of you outvote him on a topic, he has no choice left.

--

By the time the four of you arrive at Dresden, it’s dusk. The perfect witching hour for the vampires to be out, with the last bleeding streaks of the sun fading out of the sky. The lack of sunlight unnerves Percy even more—you can tell by his disturbed countenance—but he says nothing. He quietly follows you out of the train once it stops.

On the outside, you all look like four regular sight-seeing young adults, taking a trip from the next city over and ready for a night on the town; but most of your weapons and gear are concealed within your clothes and the backpacks you wear.

“There’s a slight blood scent here,” you note, taking in a deep lungful of air once you notice it. Indeed, there is the lingering hint of sweetness and iron, and something more musky and earthy underneath it—like decaying organic matter. The smell every vampire hunter is trained to be able to recognize—the odor of a vampire who hasn’t taken their scent blockers.

“There is, though I’m just barely picking up on it,” Jisoo agrees, waving her hand across her nose and screwing her eyebrows up. “God, I’ll never get used to that.”

“Do you think he’s been here?” Adrienne asks, leading the pack as you all walk through the train station.

“I would think a high-ranking, old-ass vamp would know better than to leave their funk trailing everywhere,” Percy disagrees. “Maybe it’s a younger one.”

“Maybe we could get an actual kill tonight, then. Our first,” Adrienne suggests, and though her tone is nonchalant, her expression betrays her enthusiasm.

You chuckle. “Wishful thinking, but maybe that would make the seniors stop treating us like children for once.”

--

Your group ends up bouncing from the train station to a pub and then to a nearby park, where a festival is being held. There’s bright lanterns, food, dancing, singing, and little kids running around galore, which makes you think these citizens either don’t know about the recent vampire sighting in their area or don’t care.

You all spend an hour mingling around and checking out the festival’s fun-filled offerings, chatting in low tones about the recent vampire appearance and trying to put your skills to the test to scout out any other vampires that might be hiding in plain sight within this mass of people.

“Hey!” Adrienne’s shout rings across the area, and you whip your head around in shock as you watch her take off running behind some teenage boy, maybe 12 or 13 at most, who has managed to nip the digital ledger from her belt and take off with it.

“What the fuck?” Percy barks, and you all shoot each other a wild, surprised look before you and him follow behind her.

“Guys, really? Don’t leave me here!” Jisoo calls out from behind you. “You don’t need three people just to get the ledger back!”

You and Percy round the alley corner that Adrienne disappeared behind and spot her farther up ahead, still hot on the boy’s trail and cursing him profusely. He’s a lot faster than he looks. Just before you can get a good look at him, he’s turning down another road with her behind him.

“Maybe we can cut him off. I’ll go down one of the connecting streets,” Percy suggests.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“That ledger is too important to lose to some street urchin, and the seniors will never let us leave campus again if we come back without it. You go that way, I’ll be down here.” He’s ducking into an adjacent alley before you can even respond.

“Shit…” you sigh and shake your head before running down the road he indicated.

You unstrap your silver staff from a hidden section of your pants and extend it, just to be safe.

This land is not overly familiar to you, with you only having been to Dresden a couple times before. You carefully navigate your way through the maze of interconnecting streets, listening for Percy’s and Adrienne’s footfalls, which have become distinctive to you by now, and the sounds of Adrienne’s yelling. There are few people on the streets, most of them at the festival or in their homes, which makes it easier to navigate and watch for the others as you catch glimpses of them rushing past neighboring alleys.

Percy bursts into the same alleyway Adrienne is running down, finally trapping the boy between them on either end of the narrow passageway. However, the boy remains undeterred from Percy charging toward him as he deftly jumps up onto a nearby closed dumpster and uses it to launch himself over the older man.

“Shit!” Percy makes a mad grab for the end of the boy’s shirt, but the boy is a few seconds faster and narrowly gives him the slip.

“Are you serious? You can’t catch a damn kid?!” Adrienne shouts; Percy only curses again and whips around to follow the boy.

You hear the commotion from a few roads over, and you make a beeline for the area.

Just before you make it there, Adrienne screams. The sound almost startles you into dropping your staff, and you tighten your grip around it. “Adrienne?! What’s happened?”

You reach the alleyway, your shoes skidding on the ground as you nearly overshoot it, but Adrienne is nowhere in sight. You look around confused and alarmed with your chest heaving, but there is no trace of her — when she was there only seconds ago. “Adrienne?” Repeating her name still doesn’t bring her out, and you see nothing as you walk farther into the narrow back street and search every shadow and corner. Something dark and distressing settles in your stomach, and when you catch a whiff of that blood-decay smell on the night breeze, your unease turns into an avalanche of fear.

“Percy,” you whisper, and you take off again. “Percy!”

Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, nearly blocking out all other sounds, and your legs and arms burn as you run. You are abruptly stopped in your tracks as there is another shorter sound, like someone suddenly being cut off in the middle of a scream.

You desperately want to call out for him, and the syllables of his name crawl up your throat though you struggle to contain them. The blood-decay smell still inundates your senses, and whatever vampire is skulking around this maze of streets with you is likely still present somewhere. You don’t want to call any attention to yourself with a shout, though it may already be too late. 

With a spiny chill driving itself down your back, you realize everything is suddenly silent. No insects, no night birds, no other people on the streets surrounding you.

Pushing the button on your staff ejects the silver blades from both ends, and you hold it for dear life as you stand in the middle of the dim alley, shivering despite your sweat and waiting for any hint that the monster is approaching you.

It happens so quickly that it’s almost outside of your perception.

The air around you grows significantly colder even with the existing chill from the early-winter season, and you shudder once more, your jaw clenching and molars chattering against each other. When you blink again, he is standing in front of you.

Taeyong.

Melting out of the shadows and becoming one with them all at the same time, a strange liminality similar to his existence—being alive and dead in the same time and space.

His mouth and chin are wet and red from blood, presumably that of your friends and teammates, which sends an intense ache through your stomach. The newness and excitement of the vampire sighting has drained out of you, replaced with stone cold dread. You’re not sure what any of you were thinking. Percy tried to warn you, but now he is likely dead for it.

Maybe it’s a foolish move. All your training has gone out the window in your panic and fear. You make a sloppy, sudden swipe at his front with the blade of your staff; and the next thing you know, it’s flying out of your hand and clattering feet away. Behind him, and out of reach.

It takes a second for you to realize he’s knocked it out of your hand without even touching it or you; his own hand is still raised with the movement of telekinetically shifting the object. “You came terribly unprepared. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you fledglings.”

Your sweaty palm slides against the other leg of your pants where a smaller silver dagger is concealed in a tearaway pocket, but that idea is useless. In the time it’d take to get any weapon out, he could kill you.

“The Academy has really been in decline the last few decades. This is the caliber of hunters they’re putting out now?” Taeyong sucks his teeth, and he takes a step closer to you. Your entire body is on high-alert, but you feel too stiff to move a muscle, and you vaguely wonder if this is somehow his doing, too. Only in the stillness of this moment do you realize that you cannot detect any of that blood scent coming directly from him, though the putridness of it still lingers in your nose. It’s coming from somewhere else, then. This confuses you more.

When he realizes you aren’t going to speak, he stops approaching you and takes a moment to really study your face, his big and curious eyes blinking slowly. The redness of his irises and the shiny, pale quality of his skin from the moonlight shining on it make him look just as surreal as he truly is.

“You’re a pretty thing. Maybe I could make you one of mine.”

“Never,” you blurt out, and it’s the first thing you can bring yourself to say to the Vampire King.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Taeyong reaches for your chin. His fingers brush the underside of it, the coolness of his skin freezing you, before you snatch away from his touch, stumbling backwards. A flash of irritation sparks on his face. 

His hand reaches for you again, this time clasping at the back of your neck, and it is impossible to move away quickly enough. “Don’t waste any more of your time fighting. This will all be over soon. Well—this life, anyway.”

His teeth in your neck are sharper than needles, making your nerves twinge with stabbing pain; and then it’s strangely pleasant, like having painkillers injected into your veins. You can’t feel anything anymore except warmth and endorphins and his fangs inside you as the alley around you smears into a bunch of incomprehensible shapes—bricks, streetlights, strewn trash, Taeyong.

--

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar bed. You startle out of unconsciousness sweating and frightened, but with barely enough strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Looking around doesn’t provide you with many more clues; this space is murky with darkness, and your vision is foggy. You think you can make out the rectangular shape of a large curtained window, but it’s unclear.

You’re still wearing your clothes from the trip, although your backpack is now gone. Your throat has never felt drier in your life, and the pounding in your head threatens to split it clean apart.

You feel sick and feverish, like your body is trying to fight against some virus it’s picked up, but you haven’t the slightest idea where you could’ve contracted anything—you didn’t even eat at the festival—until you remember—

A door opens with a bang somewhere in the distance, and it isn’t until the footsteps grow nearer and a blurry figure approaches the bed that you realize the door is the entrance of the room you're in.

“You’ll want to feed soon.” As soon as those words break the quiet, you’re struck by the pungent smell of blood. Unlike the relative lack of response it would elicit any other time, its aroma pokes at a sudden and peculiar craving inside of you, and you find yourself futilely scrabbling on the bed to reach the source. “Lucky you. I have just what you need.”

There is a cold hand tilting your face up, the press of equally cold glass against your bottom lip, then the tang of blood entering your mouth. It is the best thing you have ever tasted, and a slowly dying, still-human part of you is horrified.

You finish the blood quickly. It doesn’t really seem like enough, but it does make you feel a little less like you’re actively decomposing. Despite your hazy vision, there is no misreading the small smile on Taeyong’s face.

“Happy Birthday, little one.”

[shoutaaizawas]

↳  ❝burn❞ dabi x fem!reader → part III

summary: touya todoroki, your childhood friend was dead or so you thought. trying to dig deep you find dabi at a local bar known for being a villain hangout. word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: flashback, bar setting a/n: now we’re getting somewhere, hope you guys enjoy!

masterlist

part II part III part IV

It didn’t take long for you to realize that things weren’t okay at home for Touya. You were a smart kid, observant. You didn’t miss how tired he looked, the bags under his eyes. The bruises that covered his skin, the burns. Whenever you asked him he would just brush it off and say he fell or hurt himself with his quirk again.

There were only so many times you could believe that. Eventually, he opened up about it. He trusted you more than anyone but he carried an amount of shame at the truth of what happened at home. His father trained him, harder than a child should ever have to train. Even when Fuyumi and Natsuo were born and got their quirks he continued to train Touya because he was still the best bet at becoming a hero out of all of them despite his quirks drawbacks.

There were many nights Touya would go to your house, climbing in your window. You would play video games, watch movies, or sometimes fall asleep beside each other. Anything that you could do to distract or give him shelter from what he faced at home.

It was only when Shoto got his quirk that Enji Todoroki gave up on Touya. It was the first year of UA. You remember him tapping at your window, tears in his eyes. He never cried, it hurt to see him cry more than you could ever describe.

It was complicated, in a way he was free from his father’s torment but at the same time, he felt so abandoned. The training and suffering he went through all for nothing. His own father didn’t believe he could be a good hero.

That night you found Touya at your window. Letting him in he explained what had happened before breaking down.

You took him in your arms and held him close as he let out all of the emotions he had stored up for years. The music you had playing softly a background to his quiet sobs. You pressed a kiss against the crown of his red hair, holding back the blooming feelings you had for him.

As he eventually calmed down, he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and raspy from crying.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, you know I’m always here for you.” You said, brushing your hands through his hair.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He whispered.

“Me neither.” You said giving him a soft smile before hugging him closer.

There was nothing harder than watching Touya and what he went through during all the years you knew him and not being able to do anything about it.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to look into something that the hero commission seemed to want to look the other way on but you were always one to get into things you shouldn’t. It wasn’t like you had a high rank you’d be at risk of losing, the worst they could do was take away your hero license and they were dumb if they thought you wouldn’t become a vigilante.

It was a dangerous game. You had two options, tail Hawks, and see what he was up to on a normal day. Hawks was far faster than you which would leave you struggling to keep up not to mention he had keen senses that would probably pick up on you quickly. The other option was to follow Dabi from the League of Villains, finding him wouldn’t be easy and the likelihood of him trying to kill you if he caught on was high.

Neither option was good but if you didn’t do something it would bother you. You had to get to the bottom of this.

Villains could be predictable, they had spots they liked to hang out in or make deals at. You dressed in civilian clothes, put a wig on, and did what you could to look different from your usual appearance. Waiting till night time you went to a bar that was a hot spot for villains. It was hard but you could repress the rain that followed you these days. It would take a lot of energy but it was possible and would help your cover.

Entering the bar you were hit by a cloud of smoke and the sound of music playing, the bass rumbling through the floor. This was the last place anyone wanted to be if they weren’t looking to get in trouble. Walking in you recognized a few villains right away. You carefully scanned the room as you made your way to the bar.

Ordering a whiskey neat you made your way to an empty corner of the bar, making sure to keep you back to the wall and your eyes on the entrance. You made note of the exits of the building.

Time passed and you waited, sipping your drink slowly and watching your surroundings. Some people glanced over at you but didn’t bother you. If you acted like you belonged somewhere people usually didn’t question that confidence.

The door opened and finally, you caught sight of the man you were looking for. Dabi walked in, you watched as other villains looked nervous at the sight of him. From what you had heard he was dangerous and quick to act if he felt the need to. No doubt people had learned not to mess with him here.

For a moment his gaze scanned the room pausing at the sight of you in the corner. He looked you up and down before walking to the bar, sitting down there. You watched him carefully as he ordered a drink and started sipping on it. You weren’t sure what exactly you were looking for, you doubted Hawks would show his face here and you didn’t think talking to him was the best idea.

At the same time if you missed your chance to get information from him now you might not get another chance. You could tail him home but if he caught on it would be bad, worse if you ended up at the league’s hideout.

After mulling it over you decided you should take the chance. If worse came to worse you knew you could escape if things got violent here. Standing up you made your way to the bar, placing your empty glass down before waving the bartender over for another one.

Dabi was next to you but you didn’t look over hoping to get his interest by seeming indifferent. You could feel his gaze on you.

“What brings someone like you to a dark place like this?” His raspy voice cut through the music of the bar. You looked over slowly smirking at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased.

Seeing him this close up it was odd. You took in the dark patches of skin that covered his face, the staples connecting them to his unmarred skin. His eyes, the striking blue eyes felt familiar.

“Dabi, you bastard.” A man stepped up to his other side grabbing his shoulder roughly. The drunk man looked angry.

“Shove off.” He growled at the man before standing up pushing him back.

“Take it outside!” The bartender shouted at them.

“Gladly,” Dabi said with a dangerous glint in his eyes. He grabbed onto the man by the back of his shirt. “Sorry, doll. Another time.”

You stood there shocked by what happened. You had been so close to having a conversation with him before that man had interrupted. You let out a huff finishing off your drink. You waited a moment before following them out. You wanted to see what was going on.

Turning around the corner into the alley you could hear the commotion of Dabi and the man fighting. What you didn’t expect was the gas that had filled the small area. It must have been from the man’s quirk. You stopped breathing, hoping to stop whatever effects it might have but you were too late. You already felt woozy, your vision fading.

Blue flames filled the alley, the heat intense against your skin but not hurting you. You collapsed to the ground, falling onto your hands and knees. As everything faded to black you saw one last thing. The figure of Dabi approached you slowly, intimidating as he drew closer.

“You never could stay out of trouble, huh?” His voice sounded fuzzy, you could barely make out his words before your head hit the ground.

The breeze was soft a cool, moving through the petals of the cherry blossom tree above you. You laid across the soft grass, Touya next to you. You looked overtaking in his features as he watched the tree sway above the two of you. You smiled at how peaceful he looked.

“What are you smiling at, raindrop?” He said looking over with a teasing look.

“Trying to figure it out.” You teased. Touya let out a short laugh.

“Very creative.” He said. In one quick moment, he was over you, leaning down, his nose almost against yours. “If I didn’t know better I would say you were admiring me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know what you're talking about.” You said cheekily.

“Really?” He said leaning in closer, pressing his forehead against yours, almost brushing his lips against yours. “Then I guess you don’t want a kiss.” He said before laying back down at your side.

“Wait,” You said in a huff, pouting as you rolled to your side, leaning over him. You leaned down for a kiss but he turned his head.

“Nope.” He said as you tried again only to be dodged once again.

“Touya.” You whined. “Fine, I was admiring your handsome looks. Are you happy.”

“Yes.” He said with a smirk, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you on top of him. His lips finally met yours, softly. You smiled against him, content.

Sighing, you rest your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and taking in his comforting scent. Your eyes drifted closed, sleepy from how relaxed you were.

“Go to sleep, raindrop. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” He said, his hand brushing up and down your back helping you fall to sleep even more.

You woke with a gasp, your lungs burning. Looking around you expected to be in the alley or somewhere worse but you were in your home. In your bed.

Had there been a hero nearby? Or perhaps one undercover at the bar that saw you hurt? Why hadn’t they left a note or taken you to the hospital?

You laid back down, exhausted still. Too tired to wonder what happened. You could figure that out later.

Your mind drifted back to your dream. It made your heartache it was so real. You could feel his arms around you, his lips against yours. Tears welled in your eyes. You never had the chance to kiss Touya, never had the chance to tell him how you felt and that would haunt you till the end of your days.

taglist(message to be added or taken out):  @flowersgirl02 @wesparklebitch @moon-write @strangely-charmed @ibookishqueen @tomomoni @why-so-red

[roguishredaxion]

My BnHA AU List

Sorry for the length. Fics that are currently available to read have links. To those of you mentioned in this post, I wanted to make sure people knew where the ideas originally came from. (And you’re all awesome anyway!)

Can't See The Forest For The Trees - Genderbent Midoriya Izuku who became a vigilante known as the Forest in Musutafu. Has been operating for five years dealing mostly with information gathering and dispersal and some smaller situations that crop up on the streets. Todoroki Shouto is on patrol in the area and takes an interest in the unknown vigilante after she helps out with a situation where he got in over his head. AO3

A Piece of Patchwork (Improperly Placed) - AU where Izuku and Aizawa swap places in canon. Izuku fights the hero system to become the first quirkless hero, graduating alongside Present Mic. He gets called in to help in a situation where the villain has the ability to steal quirks, five years before the start of canon, providing part of the back-up team for All Might. Part 1 is the battle against All for One, part 2 is an alternate ending to the fight. Part 3 is Izuku learning to use One for All, which was forcefully given to him by All Might at the end of the battle. Part 4 is the other half of the role swap, where Aizawa grows up alongside Bakugou and is trying to get into UA. AO3

The Fallacy of Greatness (AKA Tenth, in my files) - AU where the whole first year class of UA in canon is born 4 years later than in canon. All Might encounters a 10 year old Izuku who asks if he can be a hero. Even after rescuing Bakugou and proving his heroic spirit, All Might elects not to give One for All to a child as young as Izuku. Izuku, desperate for someone to believe in his dreams, realizes that he has to be his first believer and decides to take matters into his own hands and prepare for a future in heroism on his own. AO3

The Capture Scarf Caper - Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus Izuku finds Aizawa's capture scarf discarded in an alley and takes it home. He figures out how to use it and becomes so proficient that it accidentally gets mistaken for a quirk. Deciding to capitalize on the strange bias he's come up against, he uses the capture scarf to get into Class 1-A. Unfortunately, this means his teacher is the original owner of his scarf. Suddenly his deception is a lot more desperate and precarious. Meanwhile, Aizawa is trying to figure out why his instincts are telling him to pay such close attention to this anxious kid. AO3

The Better Part of Valor - Suspected Traitor Izuku AU a la @gentrychild. After Aizawa discovers one of Izuku's hero analysis notebooks, he drags Izuku to an interrogation room trying to get him to confess to being the traitor in UA. Izuku comes to realize that several of his classmates were also made aware of this theory and have been feeding information on his movements to their teacher for a while. Betrayed, he starts to pull away from class, falling back into some of the same habits from middle school to go unnoticed and fall off of people's awareness. At some point, his classmates realize that he's no longer staying in the dorms, they only ever see him in class, and All Might is the only person he will voluntarily interact with.

Civil Disobedience - All Might doesn't track Izuku down after the slime incident, but Bakugou's parting words cut far deeper after the day he's had. Realizing that everyone talks about how great of a hero Bakugou will be, Izuku comes to the conclusion that he wants to be the exact opposite of what Bakugou is. He elects to become a villain who goes after and exposes corrupt heroes. Adopting the username Wasureta for his villain work, he collects information on heroes who aren't performing their job as they should and releases it to the court of public opinion, taking away the support that has kept them from being exposed before this. As he digs deeper into the cesspool of rotten heroes, he manages to collect enough information to rake Endeavor over the coals and ends up with an interesting new follower. Dabi, meanwhile, is shocked by the ruthless but polite teenager he found when he tried to find Wasureta and he's not sure if he's impressed by what the kid has accomplished on his own, or horrified by the scope of what he controls.

Hunting Prometheus - There is another quirkless student attending Aldera Middle School, but she wasn't born that way unlike Izuku. When she was seven, her quirk was stolen from her by a man with a smooth voice and a forgettable face and she's been existing in a state of carefully cultivated rage since that day. Before, she never even considered becoming a hero. Now her only goal is to become a hero so she can find that man and punch him in the face. (OC fic, obviously)

Lost Stars in an Indifferent Universe - Leverage AU, five parts, origin for each member of the team. Izuku is told to be realistic and he tries to be following his disastrous encounter with All Might. But realistic means that he has already exceeded the life expectancy of quirkless individuals, acknowledging the fact that no amount of studying or work will let him join a remotely helpful career, and he is stuck living with his mother while he wastes away as a janitor at a nearby middle school following the completion of his high school education. When he returns to a tall building he hadn't managed to convince himself to jump off of yet, he finds that the abandoned space has been taken over by a black market of sorts and gets folded into a world of grey morals and an underground economy based on merit instead of quirk. When he becomes aware of an illegal quirk experimentation operation and tries to blow the whistle, several attempts are made on his life in order to shut him up. Instead of disappearing, he gets angry and decides to collect a team to strike back and prove the shady shit the lab is up to. (Izuku=Mastermind, Shinsou=Grifter, Hatsume=Hacker, Shoji=Hitter, Eri=Thief)

Love and Other Things Not Bound By the Laws of Time - Mr. Peabody and Sherman AU. Nezu adopts a young Midoriya Izuku whose mother died shortly after he was diagnosed as quirkless. Determined to show his new son that one's quirk or lack thereof means nothing in the grand scheme of things, UA's principal develops the WABAC machine to travel through time and prove just how capable people were before quirks manifested. He indulges Izuku's passion and curiosity, encouraging him to look into as much or as little as he wants on any subject. It becomes clear that, while not supernaturally intelligent, Izuku is a genius whose ability to make connections and strategize is by far his greatest asset, especially as he still holds onto the goal of becoming a hero.

The Quiet Revolution (collab w/ my sister) - The Todoroki siblings need therapy. Instead of getting that therapy, they decide to meet up for dinner every Saturday night, begin a tradition where they burn their father in effigy each week, accidentally start a highly successful Minecraft YouTube channel, and generally cause the downfall of the existing hero system through the power of networking.

You Can Tell What I Am By The Lines In My Skin - BnHA/Naruto AU. Naruto dies in his own universe and is reborn into the My Hero Academia Universe as Midoriya Izuku. He remembers who he was, but his chakra, which followed him into this life, is always out of reach. He trains as best he can to keep up his regular ninja skills but can't break through the barrier separating him from his chakra. He still meets and trains under All Might. When he receives One for All, however, the sensation that fills him is entirely familiar. It breaks through the barrier as though it isn't even there, and settles inside like it's always been there. Honestly, he had been missing the angry furball anyway, so he was glad Kurama managed to follow him to this world. With access to his chakra again, the world is about to discover just how effective one shinobi can be in a world of heroes.

War Games - (Inspired by RogueDruid's Hero Class Civil Warfare and others similarly inspired by it.) A year-wide hero class exercise is announced. Bakugou is announced as the Hero leader while the villain leader's identity is kept secret. Izuku knows it's him before the letter appears in his room. The students are allowed to pick whichever side they want, but most choose the hero side, which has won the exercise every time it has been run. This year is no different. Todoroki realizes that Izuku is the villain leader and signs up with him. Izuku goes and recruits Momo and Monoma to his side. Then, after consulting the rules, he folds in Shinsou and Hatsume as well. Monoma plays decoy villain leader and attempts to collect a few more people, but they've already signed up for the hero side. Izuku, without explicitly saying that he's signed up with the hero team, gets folded into the hero strategy sessions since no one expected him to make a different choice. He proceeds to get "taken out" in the first villain assault, and most people don't realize what's happening until it's far too late.

Life's A Game (And I'm Player One) - AU in which Izuku realizes that he does have a quirk but can't tell anyone about it because a) he can't prove it and b) it could be dangerous if he talks about what he can see. His quirk, which he privately calls Stat Check, freezes time just for him in order to open up what looks like a video game character bio that explains a person's quirk, as well as containing vital statistics. It only works in person or on unaltered photographs with a person's face or a distinctive enough feature to identify them. As he gets older, more tabs are added to the bio, and he starts to notice signs above certain people's heads telling him what level he needs to be to fight them (he stops seeing these after receiving OfA, until he sees AfO in Kamino Ward). In pictures, only the first tab is available unless he took the picture while time was frozen, in which case all the tabs are accessible. Because of this, he has accordion folders filled with photographs of people instead of analysis notebooks.

Of Unpainted Fences and Raw Ingredients - Smart Izuku AU. He has been writing essays about hero society, morality, and several other issues since before UA, but he doesn't realize how much people are paying attention to them until the essays start becoming required reading for certain classes. Meanwhile, the teachers are desperate to get in contact with him, not expecting that the essayist they have been gushing over is sitting near the back of the class, trying not to blush.

In A Mirror Darkly - Aizawa is out on patrol with Shinsou and Midoriya when they are attacked and the boys are apparently obliterated by an enemy quirk. The rest of the class attempts to help Aizawa, but he blames himself for their deaths. It doesn't help that he keeps seeing flashes of them in the mirror out of the corner of his eye and could swear he heard one or both of their voices in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, Shinsou and Midoriya are stuck out of sync with the rest of the universe and can't communicate with anyone except Aizawa, and only through mirrors. Izuku figured out that they have maybe two weeks before they waste away since they can't interact with anything being stuck in this in-between space. The only way they can get out is for Aizawa, who was there when they de-synced, to touch them and bring them back in sync with the rest of the world.

Guerilla Tactics - Vigilante Class 1-A AU. After the slime villain debacle, Izuku runs away from Bakugou and the heroes. He literally runs into Todoroki Shouto and they commiserate about how the heroes have failed them. Realizing a bit late exactly who Shouto's father is and why he's trying to run away, Izuku offers to come up with a plan to help him get away cleanly. (This is sort of the worst timeline, where most of the good teachers aren't employed at UA, Nezu is not the principal, and the HPSC is in charge of almost everything.) The plan they come up with involves Shouto failing the recommended exam, then disappearing the day results arrive home. Izuku, meanwhile, attends the regular exam and sees how the whole points system benefits those with flashier quirks and easily aimed egos. He gets to talking with a lot of hero hopefuls and sort of steals them out from under UA when their applications are rejected. They move into an abandoned sector of outer Tokyo and start working as vigilantes. Dadzawa makes an appearance, as if summoned by the horde of teenagers with no form of parental guidance to speak of.

No Rest for the Wicked (Or The Damned) - Person Of Interest AU. Instead of apologizing to Izuku when he asked if he could still be a hero without a quirk, Inko points out the other ways he can be a hero, by building the things they would need to fight crime. Figuring that one of the main problems with villains is that no one knows when they're going to attack, Izuku creates an intelligent program that can assess a high volume of data and extrapolate when and where a villain attack will take place, and who the villain will be. When his mom is killed and he's badly injured in an attack his AI predicted, Izuku realizes that no one is taking his information seriously because he's quirkless. He decides to take matters into his own hands and reaches out to an unlikely helper. Dabi doesn't know why this kid decided he was the best option to stop a lot of the more violent crime he somehow knows is going to happen, but he promised and then delivered Endeavor's fall from grace, so he's willing to see where this goes.

Binary Stars - Slight Megamind AU. Before their respective planets were destroyed, Izuku and Bakugou were placed in small space pods and sent towards Earth. Bakugou's people were warriors who looked enough like humans that they intermarried (unbeknownst to humans), thus bringing about the first quirks. Izuku's people, however, are survivors. Their planet was populated by predators so their greatest asset was their ability to camouflage themselves. As Bakugou's people often hunted Izuku's people, they gained a sort of sixth sense for them, which is why Izuku's very presence pisses Bakugou off. (All for One is from Bakugou's planet. He was exiled for stealing power. The last power he stole was what he gave his brother, and the brother always resented him for getting them both sent away.) Izuku still receives OfA, and is the first of his species to have a quirk/power like that.

The Wings of Icarus - Spy AU. Todoroki Shouto works for Yuuei, an espionage agency run by his father. He's been training practically since birth, no thanks to his father, and is second in the spy business only to a person known as Icarus. When something goes wrong on a mission, he is rescued by a short man with freckles and deep green eyes shortly before he passes out. He is found at one of the entrances to Yuuei with a note from Icarus to the tune of "I think you lost this", making Shouto the only person to have actually seen Icarus. Meanwhile, Nezu is running a small but successful info brokerage out of a bakery with three kids he picked up off the streets years before: Izuku, Shinsou, and Hatsume. Codenames: Icarus, Psyche, and Daedalus, respectively. Nezu is known as Zeus.

Dark is the Night (Momo is Batman: version 1) ​ - Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus​ . Momo loses her parents in a villain attack when she's eight. She throws herself into her studies in earnest, determined to be a hero. In the meantime, however, she has a hard time ignoring all of the hardship she sees on the streets, all of the crimes that go unanswered.  However, to duck the vigilantism laws and disguise her identity, she wears a suit that covers every part of her body (think Cassandra Cain as Batgirl) because no one would assume that someone with a creation quirk that needed exposed skin to function was under it. She produces everything she needs at home. Aizawa notices that there's someone off about Yaomomo, something fake. It isn't until he runs into her on patrol that he figures something out.

Used to the Darkness (Momo is Batman: version 2) - Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus​ . Bruce Wayne was reincarnated as Yaoyorozu Momo. She remembers everything about her previous life, but she has adapt all of the fighting training she knows to her new female body. The intelligence and detective skills are useful in this new world, especially since a good portion of logic and deduction has fallen by the wayside for the majority of those in law enforcement. The quirk is something else to get used to, but it's highly effective at producing materials of various things needed for vigilantism. She's interested to see how far she can take the limits of the superpower this universe had given her. At the very least, she's more than capable of recreating the gear she had. Even though her parents haven't died in this universe, she still ends up going out at night and trying to help in whatever way she can. Upon meeting and befriending Todoroki Shouto, she realizes the good she can be in this universe. She attacked the corruption in Gotham wherever she could. Why shouldn't she be able to do the same here? The night is still dark and the people who hide in it are the same cowards they've always been. It's about time someone reminded them that the dark hides more than just their actions.

A Rose By Any Other Name (AKA the Haruhi AU) - Based on a prompt found on @rayshippouuchiha‘s blog. Midoriya Izumi is having trouble staying in uniform after starting middle school because her bullies have decided to step up the abuse a little bit and keep burning them. She had three sets of uniforms, and all three are burned by the third day of classes. What's more, the nurse doesn't have any spare girls uniforms and her teacher insists that she needs to be in uniform and not in her gym outfit. Since the nurse does have a boys uniform that would fit her, Izumi elects to follow her teacher's instructions and shows up in a boys uniform as she doesn't care as much about the clothes she's wearing as she does about following what her teacher said. Cue a gender identity crisis. AO3

Nothing But The Truth - Izuku is hit by a truth quirk while out on patrol and Aizawa is made to babysit him until it wears off. Although he tries to avoid more sensitive lines of questioning, Aizawa asks about his analysis notebooks and ends up accidentally learning about One For All, Izuku's life prior to receiving it, and what his Problem Child's true goals regarding heroism are. (Might become a series with this as a oneshot, or a multi-chapter story as originally planned.)

Panacea - Izuku has a hidden quirk his whole life, one that people didn't even consider could be a quirk. He has a super-powered immune system, and it can and will treat damaging quirks as an infection to fight. His burns from Bakugou's quirk heal faster and faster, emitter quirks used on him start to be less effective after the first couple of times until they don't work at all. He has the ultimate cure in his blood and no way to share it. And then he receives One For All, a powerful stockpiling quirk with a secondary aspect that makes it capable of passing from person to person regardless of heritage. Izuku doesn't realize it, but his invisible quirk got a free pass to start changing the world, one touch at a time. (Possible Dad For One) (Just had the stupid thought that Izuku's quirk is basically Cure For All)

Prototype - While getting scolded after the Slime Villain incident, an underground hero known as Prototype shows up and forces the other pros on the scene to back off. They then walk Izuku home (accidentally forcing him to miss All Might's offer). During the walk, Izuku confesses that he is giving up on his dream of being a hero since everyone says it's impossible. Prototype points out that Izuku was the only one on the scene who was thinking about a solution from more than one angle, which is a useful skill for an underground hero to have. They offer to take him on as their apprentice in the underground, promising that if he still wants to be a hero, an apprenticeship would be more flexible and faster than trying to become a hero through one of the heroics schools. They advise Izuku to think about it and discuss it with his mom, since he would probably be spending a lot of time training out of the house and not every parent is willing to let their child basically move in with someone they barely know. Izuku, after talking things over with his mom, decides to go for it, embarking on a totally different journey to being a hero than he ever expected.

Yesterday's Sunshine (A Storm On The Rise) - Based on @hey-hamlet's End of An Era AU in which the mind of a 19 year old Izuku fighting a losing battle against Paranormal Liberation Front and the League of Villains is sent back to his 14 year old body, a mere month after he started training with All Might. He is traumatized and trying to hide the fact that he is shocked to see the people he knows died walking around again, untouched and whole. He's determined to make everything better this time, to keep his loved ones from dying or betraying him in the worst ways. He also needs to try and stay ahead of the people around him, who are trying to figure out why this child who shouldn't have encountered many villains in his life, is so terrifyingly good at putting them down hard. (I'm considering adding an aspect of DFO.)

Searching for Tododeku - Or Five Times Shouto Tricks Midoriya Into A Date and One Time Midoriya Asks Him Instead. Featuring semi oblivious Izuku, Shouto stealth-competing for the title of supreme memelord with Kaminari, and a cameo of Endeavor's crippling addiction to tabloid magazines.

Planar Shift - An All For One-Izuku body swap just weeks prior to a fight that would have left AFO and All Might both greviously injured. Izuku is quick to realize that the person he ended up in doesn't seem to be a nice person (and he tries not to think about what it would mean if the person is in his body around Kacchan) and has a lot more quirks than a person should have. His childhood doctor is there, as is a strange boy with delicate skin, a disintegration quirk, and a love of video games but little else. Then there's the purple mist person who reads as both alive and dead to one of Izuku's new quirks. When he figures out that All Might is trying to track this villain down (and will probably think it's a trick if Izuku tries to explain his situation), he decides that he should get himself, the kid, and the not-dead-but-not-alive person out of there. He doesn't know how long he's going to be in this body, but he wants to be the hero those two need, even if he's technically a villain.

Environmental Damage - Hitman Izuku AU. When Izuku's mother is killed when he's young, he manages to track down the killer but the police won't take him seriously because he's quirkless. Neither will any of the heroes he approached with it. So instead he goes back to the criminal underground where he found most of his information and talks to an assassin who had a soft spot for him. Izuku agreed to become the man's apprentice so he can take out the person who killed his mother himself. After that, he starts selling his services to people who can't get out of bad situations, offering a much reduced rate compared to other contract killers. Then a kid his age with red and white hair approaches him about killing the Number Two hero.

Summertime and Seaglass - Aizawa keeps running into this mute homeless kid on his patrols. He's not sure what to make of him, except that he needs someone to care for him, especially as the nights are getting colder. Treating the kid a bit like an abused and feral cat, he starts taking food with him to offer the kid when they meet up. It's more or less an accident when he learns the kid's name is Midoriya Izuku, a child thought to be dead and burned three years before when he and his mother were caught in a villain attack that was ended violently by Endeavor. Aizawa wants to give Midoriya and all of the other victims of Endeavor's carelessness the justice they deserve, and maybe by the time he's done the kid will let him bring him in from the cold.

The Importance of Being Batman - (Based on an idea from @terrible-my-hero-academia-aus​ .) Izuku spends a lot of time on forums for quirkless people, getting support and advice from other people like him who don't have a quirk. He gets the attention of an old Admin, Toshinori, and they talk about heroics, pre-quirk comic books, and the importance of representation and symbols in modern media and culture. After failing to get into heroics in the entrance exam, Izuku shifts his focus slightly. Batman didn't have any special powers in the comics, but he was one of the best heroes in his universe. Izuku decides that if he can build the skills, knowledge and (most importantly) money to become his own version of Batman, that would be almost like being a hero. It's time that society learns that 'useless' is a matter of choice, not birth, and even someone who doesn't have a quirk can do incredible things.

[corvus--rex]

The first part of this is already on Ao3 as part of Julance 2021, and I wanted to throw it up here with the second (unfinished) part of the chapter. It's sleeping for now, but I really want to come back to it. If you've read the first part on Ao3, I said that Keith's a little dark at first, but that he has his reasons - those reasons come in in his part. It is an Omegaverse, with Alpha Lance and Omega Keith. As usual, please feel free to skip it if it's not your thing :)

~*~*~*~

Part 1: Sharpshooter

Unilu was an old neighborhood. One that didn’t care where you came from or where you were going. Didn’t care about dynamics. Didn’t care about where your money came from. The density of the buildings made the area dark even in the middle of the day. The stories said that Altea had been a beautiful city, light and free. That was impossible to see anymore. Daibazaal Industries had taken over long ago, running the nanny-state government from boardrooms.

This was the world Lance McClain navigated through on his way to a bar called Baku’s Den. He was supposed to be meeting up with Florona, a girl he’d been put in contact with. She had connections to a job he was interested in. Omega trafficking wasn’t an uncommon practice, but it was usually female Omegas that were targeted. Some bullshit about delicate beauty and submission he didn’t believe in. Lance’s mother was an Omega, wherever she was. He hoped she was safe; he hadn’t seen her in 8 years. But this trafficking ring was pretty new, and dealing exclusively in male Omegas. Lance had a feeling he knew why.

The Daibazaal state had mandated sterilization for all Betas and some female Omegas. Male Omegas were safe from the invasive procedure. The official reason was that there was a population issue and the city was over-crowded, and that, although unfortunate, it was necessary for even resource distribution, and the statistics showed that male Omegas were far less likely to have children. It was total bullshit. The birth rate had been dropping steadily for years. Some once-thriving neighborhoods had become ghost towns. The only reason a place like Unilu was still holding on was because they looked the other way on most things, becoming a haven of sorts for people like Lance. The Alpha had always had an innate talent for firearms of all types. It was a talent he’d honed into a finely-sharpened skill. One that he used to chip away at Daibazaal and the atrocities they allowed to go unaddressed, like this trafficking ring.

He’d left his hoverbike a few blocks away, making his way to Baku’s Den on foot. He stiffened when he caught the scent of someone coming up beside him, but relaxed when he realized he knew the Beta. It was another runner who went by Rolo. Lance and Rolo had first met when Rolo and his girlfriend Nyma took off with Lance’s hoverbike. He’d gotten it back from the Beta pair and their cyber-terrier Beezer, and they’d eventually become friends of a sort.

Rolo casually sauntered up beside the Alpha. “So, where ya headed?” he asked.

“Just drinks with a girl,” Lance answered. Meeting a contact,was the translation.

The Beta understood. “She pretty?” One of your usual contacts?

“Don’t know. Blind date a friend set up.” No, but I trust the one who set up the meeting.

“Well, good luck with that. Never can tell with some girls. Gimme a call if you need an excuse.” Watch your back. Call if you need backup.

Lance chuckled at the surface sentiment. “Sure. Thanks, man.” Will do.

“Well, I better take Beezer for a walk. Gettin’ late.” Doing a hacking run tonight, but I’ll be nearby.

“Have fun with that. Watch out for any stray cats.” Good luck. Keep an eye out for security bots.

“Eh, they’re easy to scare off.” I can get around them.

By then, they’d reached the block Baku’s Den was on. Lance nodded toward it, Rolo understanding that this was where his meeting was taking place. They parted ways, Lance headed for the bar, and Rolo disappeared around the corner. The sign hologram on the dark grey concrete building sat over the heavy steel door. The sign read Baku’s Den in a stylized typeface with a three-jawed serpent weaving through the letters. The serpent flew – swam? – through the bar’s name on a continual loop, executing a barrel roll around the name every third loop.

The interior looked very much like most other bars Lance had been to, whether meeting fixers or just relaxing. A dark concrete floor was easy to clean (and hide ingrained blood stains) after the inevitable bar fights. Dim lighting was both a blessing and a curse since it kept things more intimate, but it was also harder to spot a weapon. Booths were the same way. Made things more private, but also gave someone the chance to ambush a target. Lance’s cursory sweep was more tactical than he let show. He noted all exit points, where was best for cover, who looked the most dangerous. He also spotted his contact.

Florona sat at the edge of the booth in the back corner. She had closely cut maroon hair except for a white swath down the middle that was cut longer and swept to one side. Her gloss black cybernetic eyes had no visible sclera or iris, but he knew she was looking at him. He could see her brown leather jacket with dark red accents and skin-tight burgundy pants and heavy boots. It was also a pretty safe guess that she was armed. Just as it was a near certainty that Florona wasn’t her real name.

Lance McClain certainly wasn’t his. But when he was separated from his family at 16, he left Leandro Dávila behind. He made a new identity for himself, one that let him not stand out at all, one that let him hide. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything left of Leandro in him. Leandro had been a hopeful, optimistic child. Lance was hardened by years of fighting, jaded by harsh reality. Leandro would have been afraid of Lance. It was a smart thing to be.

Some people, like Florona, wore their cybernetics for the world to see. Implants and attachments that were blatantly obvious. Rarer were those like Lance. He’d lost his eyes after a run gone wrong. The crew he was with sold him out when they thought the other side would pay better for it. They blinded him, but even without sight, he was still able to take them out and escape. He’d called his fixer, who got him help. His cybernetics looked natural, as close to his original blue as they could get. But they were fully functional cyberware. Top of the line a few years back. Night vision, infrared, zooming, even the ability to limit the amount of light received – all linked in. By blinding him, his old crew made sure he would never be blinded again. Not too long after that, he lost his left hand. That run was successful, but Lance had gotten caught in crossfire and an unlucky shot blew out his wrist, shredding tendons and splintering bone. The new one was indistinguishable from his right, the artificial skin blending seamlessly with the organic.

Lance had no choice but to slide into the booth facing away from the door, forcing him to trust Florona with his personal safety. He nodded to her, careful not to say a word until he was seated. “Florona.” It was a statement, a greeting, a question, a confirmation.

“McClain,” she returned, “Or would you prefer Sharpshooter?”

He put on the illusion of relaxing, something he never truly did. “Lance is fine,” he said casually.

Florona’s lips twitched with an amused huff. “Alright, Lance. I’m going to order us drinks while we wait,” she said, signaling to the aqua-haired waitress.

“Waiting for what?” This wasn’t what Lance was expecting, and now he was getting nervous.

“Your partner.”

“Partner? That’s news to me. What can you tell me about them?”

The waitress came over, waiting for what she was sure would be Florona’s usual order. “Nunvil,” Florona said – no surprises there. “And bring the bottle.”

Lance whistled low. “You go hard.”

Florona raised a perfect eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

“Never said I didn’t. So, what about this partner?”

She leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the booth. “Best fuckin’ swordsman I’ve ever seen. Stealth type. He’s got this one blade – let’s just say I never want to be on the wrong side of it.”

The waitress returned setting unopened bottle and a pair of glasses on the table. When she left, Florona made a show of breaking the seal on the bottle. She poured both glasses, and Lance idly played with the rim of his.

“What’s so special about this blade?” he asked. He was genuinely curious, but made sure she didn’t know that.

“Ultraviolet hard-light. Keeps it maglocked to a sheath on his back. Bio-activated so no one but him can use it. I got to see what happens when someone tried to take it once. Wasn’t pretty. New guy tried to hit on him. Pretty forcefully, but he didn’t know what he was in for.”

Interesting information. This mysterious partner of his was a known factor here. Lance wasn’t sure if Florona had mentioned that part to remind him that he was an outsider in Unilu or if she just considered it part of the story.

“I should tell you what to expect from him before he gets here. You're an Alpha, and he may take offense to that. He’s an Omega, and a lifetime of bad experiences makes him resent Alphas on sight.”

“That’s fair,” he said, and finally picked up his glass. He actually enjoyed the silky burn as it went down. “Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t piss him off. He’s not likely to actually kill you, but the threat will be there.”

“Anything else that’s not vague and threatening?” Lance asked, draining his glass.

“Mm, nope.” Florona refilled both their glasses, and Lance saw the tiniest movement of her looking to the bar. “Except that he’s coming over. Better get ready, he’s an experience.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2: Samurai

Keith stashed his heavily modified hoverbike in an alley barely a block away from Baku’s Den, activating the chameleon hologram that would keep it out of sight. He was familiar with both the Unilu neighborhood in general and Baku’s Den in particular, and knew to be cautious. It wasn’t just the relative lawlessness of the area that kept his guard up. Nowhere was truly safe for a male Omega in Altea. Not anymore, not with the disappearances that he now knew were a major Omega trafficking ring.

Knowing that the upper echelons of Altean society were buying and selling male Omegas like prized pets made his blood boil. It was assumed they were being taken as breeders, to be used to give the city’s elite heirs until their bodies gave out. But Keith had seen the kinds of things that happened to Omegas, male or female. Breeding was only part of it. He was lucky that he hadn’t been taken, but he’d freed more than a few who were in similar situations. Kidnapped or given away to Alphas, and even Betas, and abused into being the “perfect” Omega. It varied depending on the human garbage controlling the Omega. Docile, submissive servants, hypersexualized walking sex toys, psychologically broken breeding stock for their Alphas, and that was the better end. He’d seen Omegas so physically, emotionally, mentally broken that there was no saving them. Death was a welcome rest for them, but not for the abusers. He felt nothing for them as people when he put them down, only a sense of relief that they would never harm another Omega.

Keith was mainly a runner specializing in stealth and close combat. Taking out low-level Omega trafficking was what he did between runs. If working opposite Daibazaal Industries and its only subsidiary, Galra Technologies, was what amounted to Keith’s day job, his vigilante justice for trafficked and abused Omegas was his passion project. It was what made him jump at the chance to at least help bring down the biggest trafficking ring the city had ever seen. He didn’t know Florona well, but he trusted her boss Luxia, and she was the one who first had the intel for the run being offered.

The exterior of Baku’s Den was its usual façade of calm, as much as a high-class dive bar could be. Keith knew as well as anyone that a fight could break out at any time and for any reason. Just walking in made him uneasy, especially when he opened the door to a loud argument in progress between members of a runner team he’d seen there before. Almost subconsciously, his hand went toward the hard-light blade he kept sheathed on his lower back at all times. The near-fight ended with raucous laughter and a call for another round of drinks. He dropped his hand with a relieved sigh and made his way to the bar, intentionally catching Florona’s eye on the way.

“Keith! Haven’t seen you in a while,” Luxia greeted him.

“Yeah, been busy,” he answered, “Just finished another run last night. Anything I should know about this guy before I head over?”

She shrugged. “Experienced runner. Long-range firearms specialist. Got a couple cybernetics, but nothing obvious.” Luxia knew Keith’s preferred drink, and set the glass of SilveRing down in front of him, the dim lighting of the bar illuminating the juniberry-distilled, deep magenta alcohol from within and highlighting the silvery ring settled around the perimeter of the liquid surface. “Just so you know, he’s an Alpha, but I can tell he’s not just in it for the money. Don’t know what his deal is with that, but he seemed legitimately pissed at the idea of Omegas being trafficked.”

“Good to know. He’s still an Alpha.” Keith finished his drink, Luxia refilling it without a word. “Well, better head over there. Run’s more important than some Alpha.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19* | 20* | 21*

[heartsofbeskar]

from the ashes

chapter 1

din djarin x oc

warnings: blood, mild violence, swearing, drinking, drug mention

words: 3.1K

excerpt: The smell of her own ship was a damn relief. Mos Eisley always seemed to leave a thin layer of stink and grime on her skin that took multiple showers to scrub off. Stepping into her shower, she began to attempt to do just that.

She indulged in some hot water, since she’d been able to pick up extra power cells in the town. Taking full advantage, she dialed the temperature high, the water nearly burning through her skin. She stood there, reveling in the ability it gave her to feel something so vividly. Even if it was pain.

(gif credit @moonaisle)

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The edge of the knife bit into her skin, and all she could think as blood welled up was how damn cold it was.

“I asked who the fuck you’re working for,” the man snarled into her ear, putting on what he no doubt imagined to be an intimidating face. She wasn’t impressed. “And why the fuck would you be snooping around Corran Felth’s personal residence?”

Her hands twitched where they were tied together tightly with cord. She cursed herself for letting this guy get the jump on her as she exited the building, assuming that she’d been too quick for anyone to take up wait in the alley.

It had been sloopy on her part, she had to admit that. And she knew why. Despite accepting the client’s down payment, she did not see this quest coming to fruition, so her heart wasn’t really in it. Though some would say she didn’t have a heart to begin with — but the pounding of her own pulse in her ears said differently.

He snarled and opened his mouth again, but she’d already decided that this was enough antics for one job. She delivered a sharp jab with the heel of her bound hands into his abdomen, leaving him gasping from the unexpected blow.

“You little bitch, I—”

As he spit his venomous words at her, she felt the pressure on her throat leave, opening her window. One of his hands tightened where it grasped in her hair, and she reached up to grab the corresponding wrist, propelling him by it into the nearby wall. When his hands left her, she grabbed him by the back of his head, smashing it into the wall a second time. There was a satisfying crack.

“Idiot,” she scoffed, lowering down to grab the knife that had left a small nick on the side of her throat. Flipping it around, she cut her hands free. If he actually knew what he was doing, he would’ve just cut off her hands instead.

She patted him down, turning out his pockets. Instant caf packets, baggies of spice, a small collection of credits… she sighed. Not what she was looking for. This was probably nothing more than a street runner — albeit a stupidly brave one.

Pocketing the knife and credits, she rose and exited the alley, pulling her collar up higher over her neck. Not that anyone on Tatooine would really bat an eye at fresh cuts — but she was nothing if not careful.

With the suns just beginning to set, the streets of Mos Eisley hummed with its seedy nightlife. The only place where someone like her, who bathed in violence and destruction, could ever really fit in.

Music poured from the ajar doors of the town cantina, and she hesitated outside of it. Hell, one more try at a lead couldn’t hurt. She had the extra credits to spare, after all.

There was an open stool at the bar against the opposite wall from the door, and she felt a few knowing pairs of eyes fall to her as she walked towards it, but she ignored them. A reputation was always an asset in her line of work, so she was content to let minds fester. The bartender eyed her weapons belt for only a second before serving her a drink happily.

The liquid burned her throat on the way down, just as she’d hoped it would. It didn’t taste particularly good, but Mos Eisley wasn’t known for its fine dining and cocktails. Moisture gathered on the outside of the drink, and she ran her index finger along the glass slowly. A scar stood out along the knuckle.

“You come here often?” A husky voice spoke up from beside her. She turned slightly, eyes roving up and down, taking in the rough man who had pulled up to the neighbouring stool. His hair was dark and seemed like it hadn’t been brushed in years, and his skin shone with grease and grime. A pretty standard Outer Rim pond hopper.

“Too often,” she muttered, bringing the drink to her lips again. “And you?”

“Ya know, I get ‘round these places every so often,” he leered at her, leaning in closer. She shifted slightly, not moving any closer but adjusting her jacket over the knife belt across her chest. “Name’s Zeth.”

“Liana,” the lie rolled off her tongue smoothly. “Ya know, I was actually supposed to meet with someone here … have you ever heard of Corran Felth?”

At the name, his eyes narrowed, but a smile played at the corner of his chapped lips. “Yea, I ‘erd of ‘im. Not any courier going through Eisley who hasn’. Now what is a pretty thing like you doing meeting a Tatooine drug lord, mm?”

She rolled her eyes, but matched the upturn of his lips with her own. “We had some business regarding some new … merchandise he was interested in market testing. I have some connections he thought might be useful. I don’t suppose you know anything about that particular economy?”

“Ah, ’fraid I really don’t,” he sighed, and she knew he was being honest as his eyes scanned the bar behind her. “Wish I could help ya, but I did hear a rumour, just between you ‘n me…”

Now she did lean in, her hand falling lightly on the edge of his wrist. She didn’t miss the way his eyes briefly flashed there. “Yes?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Strange he agreed to meet you … rumour has it, he been off world for months. Some nasty business ‘bout a girl he knocked up who’s in with the Hutts … they were none too happy about it as you can imagine.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? You’re sure about this?”

“Listen, all I knows is he likes to take nightly scrolls through the hangar I dock in. Haven’t seen heads nor tails of him in a long while.”

Taking a long swig to finish her drink, she smiled at him, fully grasping his wrist in her hand. “Well, I’m grateful to you for saving me all that time waiting. Have a nice night, Zeth.”

He looked a bit disheartened as she turned away, but by the time his brain could even formulate a response, she was halfway towards the door.

Leaving the cantina, she rolled her eyes, kicking a stone down the street. Of course he was off world. Of fucking course.

As the hangar bay loomed in front of her, she keyed in her entry card, registered under the same name she had given Zeth. Her own ship was parking a few lanes back, nestled among some smugglers and traders, but she header for the ship she knew was waiting in the furthest back corner of the bay.

A small droid floated outside the ship. When she approached, it flashed red light at her, and she stood still as it gave a retinal scan. Upon confirming her, it gave a happy little beep, and the ramp creaked slightly as it lowered.

“Liana, my dear, I do hope you’ve brought me good news.”

A large Klatooinian stood in the hold of the ship, arms clasped behind his back. She stopped in front of him, the ramp staying open behind her. Moonlight filtered into the ship around her figure.

“I think you know I don’t, Arn,” she told him coldly. “The word around Mos Eisley is that Felth’s not even here. Hasn’t been for months now. I searched his home, dug through his logs … no mention of the strain you say he stole.”

Arn fidgeted uncomfortably. “Just because he isn’t here, doesn’t mean he can’t be holding it with his men. Did you even check the lieutenants?”

“You look me in the eyes and tell me honestly that you would trust something like this with any of your lieutenants.” She glared at him, and waited for a beat to pass. He fidgeted more. “That’s what I thought. You’d keep it close to your chest. And since there was a man stationed outside of Felth’s home, I’m very inclined to believe the local gossip that he’s gone. It was dusty enough in there.”

“So what happens now? If it wasn’t Felth, do you have anything on who actually stole from me?”

“Frankly, Arn, this job has begun to bore me. Too much Tatooine isn’t good for the soul, you know? So as per the non-recovery clause of my contract, you’ll receive a holopad of the relevant information I did find, no further payments required. I’ll be keeping your non-refundable deposit, of course.” She pulled a slim holopad out of her jacket and extended it to him. He grumbled, but took it nonetheless.

“For someone they call ‘The Finder’... along with those prices …” he continued to grumble as she turned to leave the ship. She shot a look of venom back over her shoulder, hoping it made him shiver at least a bit.

“I am the Finder, Arn. There was nothing to find.”

—

The smell of her own ship was a damn relief. Mos Eisley always seemed to leave a thin layer of stink and grime on her skin that took multiple showers to scrub off. Stepping into her shower, she began to attempt to do just that.

She indulged in some hot water, since she’d been able to pick up extra power cells in the town. Taking full advantage, she dialed the temperature high, the water nearly burning through her skin. She stood there, reveling in the ability it gave her to feel something so vividly. Even if it was pain.

The hot water made the scars stand out against her reddened skin. As she washed, she catalogued them, as she often would. A long, winding, and narrow one wrapping around her right forearm. A short, jagged one sitting nearly in the centre of her chest. The one slashing diagonally across the left side of her abdomen, that disappeared below the waistline of her pants when she was dressed. And in the small mirror at her eye level, the thin but noticeable scar that ran over her blue eye, stopping just shy of her lip. Her other eye, unsettling brown in contrast, sat on her face unmarred.

She secured the towel under her arms as she settled into the pilot’s seat, turning to the comm panel. She hit the audio switch.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Finder!” a deep voice boomed from the panel. “I must say, I was a tad worried you wouldn’t pick up. You’re hard to get a hold of these days.”

She smirked despite herself. Greef Karga’s jovial spirit in the face of even the seediest business always amused her.

“You’ve caught me at a good time, I suppose,” she said. “I just finished up a job, was taking a night in.”

“A very good time indeed, then! You see, I’m calling for the purposes of a job I have in mind for you!”

“You know I don’t do bounties, Karga. If I wanted to be in the Guild, I would be.”

“Of course, of course! It’s a job fully suited to your own contract, off the Guild books. For me.”

That did have her interest. Every once in a while Karga would call or even visit and try to convince her to become one his hunters, telling her it was so similar to what she did, and he had all the infrastructure. But it wasn’t the same.

“Let me guess — I have to come to Nevarro for full details?” As she spoke, her fingers traced the lower half of the scar on her face subconsciously.

“You know me too well, especially compared to how much I know you! Hell, I don’t think I even know your real name. Something about Halla just doesn’t fit your face.”

“But does it matter?”

He laughed at that. “You’ve a point there, Miss Finder — no, it does not.”

“I’ll see you when I land then.”

—

Din Djarin was a proud man, and he didn’t like to admit when he’d made mistakes. But he was starting to think he’d done just that.

Sitting on the upper portion of another damned rockface, pulse rifle beside him, he rolled the small metal ball between his fingers, as he’d done countless times. The surface of it shined. All that was left of the Razor Crest. All that was left to remind him of Grogu.

It played in an endless loop in his head, Grogu’s eyes as he was carried away from him, every nerve in his body screaming that this was wrong, wrong, wrong. They had taken his foundling, his son. And he had just stood there and watched.

He had made a mistake.

The Jedi were Grogu’s people, the ones who had been raising him before the days of the Empire, but he barely knew anything of them, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he did know. In the time since Grogu’s departure, he’d made it a mission to track down more information, but the Jedi were like ghosts in the universe. If he hadn’t met them, he wasn’t sure he would’ve even believed they were more than myth.

That was hard to do without a fucking ship, though. Which was why he was here, taking low level bounties near Nevarro, in a rental ship. Karga had been generous with him, throwing him high volumes of nearby bounties so he could earn the credits to replace what he’d lost. Still, he was barely halfway there. The pace was frustratingly slow.

Motion along the horizon pulled his attention. Stowing away the ball, he picked up his rifle, bringing the scope to eye level. A human man was rushing across the rocks, glancing behind him every few paces. It was his quarry, no doubt. Right where Din had expected him.

Sighing, he slung the rifle across his back, making his way down the rock face. By the time he’d reached the bottom, the quarry was almost upon him, but an outcropping had shielded him from view thus far. Drawing his blaster, he waited a few more beats until the man was well within range, before stepping out, levelling his weapon at the scared man’s head.

“Stop where you are,” he said shortly. The man looked up at him, wide eyed and horrified. “Put your hands where I can see them.”

“L-look man, you can have w-whatever you want, I got some credits in here—” the man scrambled to open his bag, attempting to pull out the mentioned credits, but Din didn’t let him. He fired a warning shot in the ground, just shy of the man’s left foot.

“I said, show me your hands. I don’t want your money, I’m here to collect a bounty on you.” The man sputtered even more.

“T-they sent a fucking Mandalorian after me?! I didn’t e-even think they had the c-credits for—” He was cut off again as Din fired another shot at the ground, by his right foot now.

“I’m not in a patient mood. Hands.”

The man shook as he put his hands over his head, relenting. Din pulled the cuffs from his belt, yanking the man's hands behind him as he snapped them in place. He began pushing the man in the direction of the rental ship.

“If it helps, you weren’t worth much. I’m just in a tight spot.”

—

The quarry was silent on the entire walk, though Din could see a faint outline on his pants that indicated he’d soiled himself. He almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.

The rental — the Desertwalker? No, maybe it was the Starhopper? — only had space for three carbonite chambers, so he’d have to stop on Nevarro next before chipping away further at the mountain of pucks he was sure Karga had lined up to give him. He was grateful, but also had a feeling Karga was just as happy to unload these on somebody.

After sealing the latest quarry, and his ruined pants, into a chamber, Din climbed into the tight cockpit. People had complained to him about lack of space on the Crest, but this was even worse. His knees hit the panel in front of the pilot’s seat.

He sighed, removing his helmet with a hiss, running his hand through his sweat tainted hair. As he set the course for Nevarro, he returned to contemplating the Jedi, and all the information he did have on them.

His first instinct had been to call them wizards, and honestly he still felt that was an apt description. He’d seen Grogu perform acts he could only describe as magic, moving things with his mind and healing the otherwise damned, and he was only a child. A powerful one, yes, but it begged the question of what a fully trained adult Jedi could do.

Then there were the laser swords — lightsabers. Though still no match for beskar, they were impressive, and seemed to be less of a weapon and more of an extension to their bodies. His eyes fell to the darksaber, hilted on his belt. He didn’t necessarily like carrying it around, but it felt immensely foolish to leave such a thing unguarded on a ship. Still, he much preferred his rifle and his blaster.

Beyond their powers and lightsabers, information on the Jedi was scarce. That was the core of their mythos, but any practical details seemed to have been washed from time. How did their training work? How did one graduate? Did they swear oaths? If they did, what did they entail? Din’s mind was constantly buzzing with questions that it seemed no one in the galaxy had the answers to. He felt helpless. And he fucked hated feeling helpless.

He leaned his head back against the seat, watching the characteristic vivid streaks of hyperspace fly past the window. So many stars, so many planets, and his son was on one of them, doing Maker only knows what. Without him.

He had made a mistake.

—

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[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 13

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 3.5k

warnings: foul language, implied sexual assault, mentions of trauma and mental illness

description: Yang Jeongin, the only living witness of the Miroh Heights Murders, is finally awake, casting a new shadow of possibilities onto the entire investigation. Han Jisung knows deep down there’s only one place left to go,  and takes his chances with a familiar blond detective -- but they find that where chances are given, lives may be taken away.

watch the trailer here!

13| give and take.

They say when you have a close brush with death, you see your life flash before your eyes.

Jeongin supposed there was some truth to that. One moment he had been squinting at the golden-haired boy in the darkness; the next he had found himself collapsed against the forest floor. The sky had spun above him like a broken kaleidoscope, until the unbearably hot throbbing in his head had finally forced his eyes shut. He had felt the strength seeping from his limbs, like blood being drained from livestock, and had let the numbness wash over him like an icy tidal wave.

That was when Jeongin’s life had flashed behind his closed eyelids — choppy flashes of memories and people’s voices, warped and dizzying. 

“Life in prison?” Jeongin’s own voice sounded tinny in his ears, and his father gave him a sad smile on the other side of the plexiglass. “B-but all you did was—”

“A man lost his life because of me,” his father spoke slowly, eyes steady on Jeongin’s distraught face. Slow, steady, careful. Kind. That was how Jeongin had always known his father — a gentle man who wouldn’t hurt a fly — yet now he was sitting across from him in an inmate’s uniform, handcuffs locked tight around his wrists. 

“But he—he hurt Mum first,” Jeongin whispered, barely able to push the words out of his throat. “He—you said he—”

“He did.” His father’s face had darkened, his normally soft jaw clenched. “I...lost it, and what happened to him was what that bastard deserved — but nothing changes the fact that I...killed him.” He let out a deep, weary sigh, and Jeongin was suddenly struck by how much older his father looked. “He got his punishment for his sins one way, and now I’m paying for mine. It’s as simple as that, my boy.”

The buzzer sounded and the door behind him clicked open, a stone-faced officer stepping into the room as his father stood. “Take good care of your mother, would you?”

“Dad, if—” Jeongin’s shaking voice made his father turn back around. The question was odd, but it had been burning at the back of his mind since the beginning of the visit. “If you—had the chance to go back. Would you still have...done it?”

Silence fell between father and son like a curtain. His father inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrows before meeting his son’s eyes again. “I don’t doubt it,” he finally replied, voice soft. “What could I do? It was for someone I loved.”

From then on, Jeongin’s mother had spent the better years of her life working whatever job she could find, and the two of them lived off minimum wage and money sent by estranged relatives — until the poor woman had finally fallen ill. No one would hire a sickly old woman — especially not one that had been involved in a sexual assault case, all those years ago.

That was why Jeongin worked with four different delivery companies at a time; that was what he could never bring himself to tell Hyunjin or you. Work four jobs, graduate, and make proper money to pay his mother’s hospital bills, to dig himself out of the poverty he’d known his entire life. Yang Jeongin’s one-way, masterplan. Until…

The coma.

He had become almost comfortably numb, like a body submerged in the middle of a pond — yet occasionally, something would pull him above the surface, even if just for a brief moment. A voice, a pressure, a light. It was almost always Hyunjin, the soft-hearted barista talking to him about his day as if Jeongin had simply sat down to chat in Glow Cafe, not rendered immobile and unresponsive by a concussion. Sometimes, though, the older boy would be crying, silent sobs shaking his lean frame until he was so exhausted he’d fall asleep by Jeongin’s side. And Jeongin wanted nothing more than to reach out to reassure him, to pull his friend into a hug, but he couldn’t will his body to move no matter how hard he tried.

Until now.

An incessant high-pitched beeping was growing louder and louder, the tips of his fingers prickling. Jeongin’s heartbeat surged into his temples, pounding against his eardrums like fists demanding entry. The darkness behind his eyelids was shifting, pinpricks of light poking their way in — and like a breath of air had been knocked straight into his lungs, Jeongin felt his entire body lurch forward and his eyes shot open.

For several seconds he could only take deep, gasping breaths, obsessed with just the feeling of it all, vaguely registering the inhaler pressed against his mouth. His eyes were still adjusting, flashes of white light and black stars painting his blurry vision. There were shouts from all around him, a deep rumbling as everything seemed to shake.

It was as if the entire sky was falling above him, he thought vaguely.

He blinked, hard, and his vision finally focused, the incongruous voices and sounds growing clearer. The incessant beeping had been the heart monitor by his cot, keeping in time with his gasping breathing. And the yelling was coming from none other than Hwang Hyunjin, whose dark hazel eyes were wide with disbelief and already brimming with tears of shock.

“J-Jeongin? He’s — he’s awake,” the taller boy nearly tripped getting to his feet, yanking aside the curtains and disappearing from Jeongin’s sight. “He’s awake!”

Jeongin winced, a throbbing pressure beginning to press at his skull. His fingers twitched twice and he flexed them gingerly. Suddenly remembering, his hands weakly scrabbled for his pockets, desperately feeling for a familiar metal box but coming back empty. 

His Walkman was gone.

The deep rumbling passed by him again and he realised it was the sound of carts full of medical equipment speeding across the halls — like there had been yet another emergency. Jeongin could only make out some of what the hospital staff were saying as they rushed past.

“Stab wound to the chest...brought her in...no sight of him.”

Jagged fragments of his memory were coming back to him, the empty feeling in his chest beginning to fill with a sinking sense of dread. The strange boy. A dismembered corpse.

What on earth happened while I was out?

━━━━━━━━ 

Run.

Jisung’s feet slammed into the pavement, puddles splashing cold rainwater onto his bloodstained jeans.

“He’s a runner, that’s what he is.”

His chest was burning, ribs feeling as if they were closing in on his lungs. He could still feel your warm body pressed against his, widened eyes fluttering shut as he could only watch in horror. With strength Jisung didn’t know he had left, he had carried you in his arms and bolted into the alley just as the police had turned into the diner’s back lot. The hospital was only a block away. He had burst into the lobby, nearly collapsing as he shouted for someone, anyone to help — and nearby, stunned doctors had loaded you onto an empty gurney before whisking you into the emergency room. Once they returned, Jisung was long gone.

“You ran away from her, too, yeah?”

The gang’s taunting voices echoed in his head, the sky rumbling above him — just like how his father’s voice had always rumbled, shaking the thin walls of his childhood home. And now, Jisung was ten years old all over again, clutching his camcorder in his bloodstained hands.

There had been a fine layer of dust coating the dented metal when Jisung had seized it from his dorm closet. Just touching the metal made his hands slippery with cold sweat, but he forced himself to grip it harder, counting the memory cards before he took off. Running, one last time.

“Try running now, Han.”

He wasn’t running away.

If he wanted to reverse the horrible things he’d done, there was only one place left to go.

“Han Jisung, always running away.”

“Not this time,” Jisung breathed through gritted teeth, almost welcoming the way the falling rain burned at his eyes and nostrils. “Not anymore.”

━━━━━━━━

Bang Chan didn’t realize how long he had been pacing the room until his feet began to ache in protest.

The detective hadn’t left the police precinct since Woojin had called him over, the pair pulling out files and chasing leads from dawn till dusk. Kim Seungmin had popped in for several hours before he had been called back to the law office. The moon had come and gone, until telltale sirens sounded not long after noon, and Woojin was called onto the scene of yet another emergency.

Another hour or so had passed since then, and Chan was replaying the same conversation with the police chief over and over in his head.

“I didn’t want to believe it, Chan, but from the beginning I had this—this feeling—”

“A hunch,” Chan finished, and when the police chief looked hesitant, Chan continued, “is almost always based on something more concrete, whether you know it or not. Something familiar, or strange. We’ve hit all the dead ends; a hunch is one of the better things we can hope for right now.”

Woojin exhaled, then spoke slowly. “The victims’ backgrounds, how they’ve all had pasts connected to abuse, or adultery. Not to mention the modus operandi that stood out the most — you remember the fire, and numerous counts of brute force.”

“I thought something was familiar, too,” Seungmin had interjected, his brow furrowing. “I studied this...case back in law school — a shotgun marriage, their young son growing up in an abusive household, until one day —”

“The house went up in flames,” Woojin finished, nodding. “It’s the same case, the most infamous amongst domestic abuse cases in Miroh Heights. The names were withheld for privacy reasons. Though the case was closed over a decade ago...the accuracy of the final verdict, and the true events that transpired that night, are still unknown.”

“Victims of cold cases often reappear as suspicious persons,” Chan muttered. “It’s a reach, but if you look at the similarities...”

“We’ve been blindsided this entire time,” Seungmin said slowly, his fingers raking through his hair. “Not a substance abuser, quite possibly not a cold-blooded killer.” He looked up at Woojin, whose brow was furrowed in deep thought. “So if your hunch is correct, then—”

“This is the aftereffect of a cold domestic violence case from over a decade ago,” the young police chief said firmly, eyes flickering up to Chan. “And we can’t afford to let it slip away again.”

Something had been pricking at the back of the detective’s head since Woojin had begun talking — no, far before he had even arrived at the police station. Chan had always been known for having a quick mind; it was one of the things that separated him from other, more mediocre detectives in his field — but this time, something was blocking him from reaching the final conclusion. He didn’t lack evidence; there were no flaws in his logic. It was the horrible feeling of familiarity that made him choke, that forced him to hesitate. Because he knew this case, he had seen it before.

“And it’s not a reach, Detective,” Woojin continued, voice gentle but eyes firm. “Because I believe you know the story yourself.”

Seungmin turned towards Chan, eyes questioning. The detective shook his empty coffee cup in his hands, eyes skirting over the countless case files and papers they had been sifting through for hours.

“The perpetrator is—”

A blond boy burst into the dimly lit room, breathing so hard Chan thought he was about to have a stroke. It didn’t take longer than a second for the detective to recognise him.

“Han Jisung,” Chan finished the flashback aloud, the name hanging in the tense air. His eyes scanned the shaking boy from head to toe, a cold feeling running down his spine. He wasn’t even trying to hide the blood soaking his clothes and skin, Chan thought numbly. This was his friend, someone he’d always looked at like a little brother—but he had seen, solved too many of these cases not to recognise the stricken look on Jisung’s pale face.

This was the shell of a man who had just lost everything.

“What brings you here?” Chan asked, watching him carefully. The same tousled golden hair, he noted, pushing down a pang in his chest; the same boyish round cheeks, although there was a smattering of bruises and cuts across them now. 

“You told me I—I could talk to you or Woojin. Anytime.” Jisung’s voice faltered, wiping at his face as if to clear away some of the muck, but the dried blood on his palms only smeared more across his jaw. He looked like a lost dog, a stray that had turned up on the nearest warm doorstep and was watching him with almost apologetic, apprehensive eyes.

Chan set down his notebook, nodding slowly. “That I did,” he finally replied, glancing back up at the younger boy before pulling out two chairs. “Woojin got called to a scene, though. You okay if I listen for now?”

Jisung felt a flood of indescribable emotions wash over him. The same twist in his gut he had felt back at the 3rd Eye, when the Chan had pulled him close and asked if he was okay. 

I’ll listen. 

That was more than anyone had ever offered him since the incident thirteen years ago. The therapists, the police, the social workers — all they had ever wanted was for him to listen to them, to heed their advice and bury his past behind him.

Other than you, of course. The memory of your fading eyes burning into his own shook him back to the present. 

“I think you know, Chan,” Jisung said softly, marking the way the detective was warily scanning the blood covering him from head to toe; the dishevelled look Jisung must have had on his face.

“I have a hunch,” was the detective’s reply. He sounded as if he were repeating someone else’s words, but his voice was steady as it had ever been. “But you’re going to need to help me on this one, kiddo.”

Jisung met the older boy’s eyes — Chan’s always tired but unfailingly kind eyes, always willing to give the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that was what made him such a meticulous detective, respected by criminals and citizens alike — never jumping to conclusions, always seeing a problem out till the end. The detective’s gaze dropped to the silver camcorder in Jisung’s hands. 

“You used to carry that around everywhere you went, I remember. Never showed anyone what you’d film, though.”

“Do you have...anything that can play memory cards?” Jisung swallowed a painful lump in his throat. “I need to—show you. Now.”

Wordlessly, Chan moved his laptop over on the table, and made the younger boy take a seat next to him.

Jisung had always thought his past was something to be kept buried — below the ashes of his childhood home, or six feet under his mother’s grave, or bottled deep within his chest. That no one would ever truly know — would want to know — what had happened that day, let alone what had been happening for the years leading up to that day. And yet, for the second time in two days, he was sat next to someone who, to his surprise, didn’t make him want to run. Someone he was willing to take the risk of revealing the darkest parts of himself with. 

For the next hour, Chan watched the footage in silence, from the very first Christmas to the day Jisung’s father’s mistress had pressed burning cigarettes into his bare skin. From the fateful day their entire home was brought to the ground with alcohol and fire at the hands of a ten year old boy, and to the choppy records from the years that followed. Jisung had taped his encounters with the incompetent officers and dismissive social workers at the police station, and the mandatory therapy sessions they had subjected him to. He had taped the kidnapping, and his years at the children’s home with Minho. 

He had not taped any of the killings.

Chan sat through it all, reliving Jisung’s nightmares the way the younger boy had every night for the past thirteen years, an ugly childhood told through the fisheye lens of an old camcorder. By the time the last tape had finished, the detective had not moved, but Jisung knew him well enough to catch the tension in his jaw, the shaken look in his normally bright eyes. 

“You were the cold case,” Chan finally said, a long exhale leaving his now-dry lips. “From thirteen years ago. The one they couldn’t solve, and swept under the rug.”

Jisung didn’t respond, too busy forcing every inch of his body to remain still — to not stand and sprint out of the room, out of the police station he had been avoiding his entire life.

“Why are you telling me this?” The detective asked, turning his body to face the younger boy.

“Because I—I killed—all those people,” Jisung wove his hand towards the files Chan had splayed onto the desk, the headshots of victims lying at the very top. The words were heavier than weights in his mouth, and and the truth of it all tasted more bitter than poison. “And then I—I couldn’t stop. I sound insane, I know I do. I know I p-probably am. They were—flashes at first. Triggers, seizures that went too far. And soon it became like--like an impulse, until I started blacking out completely—” Jisung’s breathing caught up to him and he choked, but he managed to force the last words out. “And today, I...hurt...y/n.” He saw the alarm flash across Chan’s eyes. “The last person who made me hope...made me want to hope that life was worth living, after all.”

He sounded insane.

He sounded like a serial killer trying to make excuses for something inexcusable.

He sounded like a monster.

“You sound like you’ve been through a lot.” Chan’s voice made Jisung look up from his shoes. The soft look in his eyes was back, and though a bit of the blood had drained from his face, the warmth in his voice had never left. “Thank you. For telling me.”

That was the final blow.

“S-stop. Don’t—say that,” Jisung could feel his voice breaking, the tears burning at his throat. “Chan, you have to turn me in, make them give me the death penalty, I-I—”

“Han Jisung.” The detective’s voice was stern, his normally gentle eyes narrowed. “You turned yourself in. The case from thirteen years ago needs to be reopened, and all the factors reinvestigated to be fairly taken into account. You do not deserve the death penalty.”

Jisung was shaking his head numbly, lips unable to form protests as the detective continued, a blazing look in his eyes Jisung had never seen before. “You’re not gonna be a martyr now, you hear? Han Jisung, you’ve been hurt by everyone else your whole damn life. I’m not about to let you hurt yourself.”

There it was again. That feeling of unfamiliar warmth aching deep in his chest, like an old bruise being pressed into. Before Jisung could speak, a slow, sarcastic clapping echoing through the room made both of them raise their heads and turn in alarm.

Prosecutor Kang pushed the door aside, eyebrows raised in amusement and mock sympathy. 

“What are—you can’t—” Chan leapt up from his seat, but Kang only looked more amused as he looked over his shoulder at the open doorway, where a huddle of prosecutors and police officers alike were gathered with expressions of horror. Seungmin was among them, his face white.

“You all heard him, didn’t you? Detain the murderer.” Kang smiled triumphantly as the officers surrounded Jisung, seizing his arms so roughly he felt like they were being pulled from their sockets. 

Chan looked livid, eyes darting wildly between the officers and Prosecutor Kang. “Let him go. Keep him in the precinct until Woojin comes back, Kang,” he protested, but the older prosecutor only sneered.

“Detective Bang, aren’t you overstepping your boundaries? Wait for Kim Woojin? Don’t forget—” Kang took a step closer to Chan, eyes narrowing. “Personal relations with the perpetrator cannot participate in the investigation.”

Chan felt his gut twist, scanning the whitened expressions on the surrounding staff’s faces. How much had they seen, overheard? Kang watched the detective’s eyes flicker momentarily, and laughed.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’d say it’s time the prosecution did its part.” He shot a meaningful glance at Seungmin, who had been glaring between Jisung, Chan, and Kang with his fists clenched. Kang clicked his tongue, sighing. “Kim Seungmin, Kim Seungmin — I can’t believe I have to do your dirty work.”

Chan’s mind was reeling, all options coming back blank. This was the District 9 Precinct, and as a homicidal detective, he had no power over Woojin’s men. In fact, after what Kang had said, Chan wasn’t even sure if Woojin had power over Woojin’s men anymore. You fucked up, Bang. You fucked up bad.

Chan risked a glance at Jisung’s face and immediately regretted it. What he saw had no traces of anger, no more hate, no signs of struggle. His eyes were wide and dark, as if the boy had shut down completely. Kang scoffed at the detective’s sudden silence, turning on his heel and motioning towards the officers. 

Chan could only watch helplessly as Jisung was dragged out of the room like a limp doll, his once-rounded cheeks still shining with blood and fresh tears.

[visionsofus]

Hi! Just wanted to say that i'm living for you scarlet vision fanfic right now, they give me so much happiness and relief and they are so well-written that i'm re-reading them daily. I just wanted to ask if it's possible to have maybe If You Ever Come Back by The Script. I think that this will fit very well with our favourite synthezoid and witch.

Thank you again and please continue writing about them! Cheers and stay safe

hello! thank you so much for reading and reaching out with this song - it was perfect! I really hope you continue reading and enjoying this series ❤️ I hope you have a lovely morning/evening and are staying safe 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |  

track #9: If You Ever Come Back by The Script 

synopsis: Wanda and Vision recall an argument that forced them to go their separate ways in the early days of their relationship post-CW. Upon finding out Wanda is near the Compound Vision can't help himself and seeks her out to apologise. (Happy resolution)

Wanda had only meant to draw one circle around New Jersey but in her distraction had kept the ballpoint moving in continuous circles so that it was now an unrecognisable big blue scribble.

“Wanda, present please,” Natasha said waving her hand in front of Wanda’s distant eyes.

“Sorry,” she murmured, instead starting to flip the pen nimbly about her fingers.

“As I was saying,” Steve said from where he was braced above the map of the US they had spread out. “We can’t afford any more international travel for a bit, not after Sam was spotted in Venice last week.”

Sam Wilson raised his hands in defence. “Hey, I was actually being very careful, it’s not my fault my fan club spans nations.”

“Regardless, no more international travel,” Steve said looking at them sternly in turn, “Wanda that means you too, no European rendezvous with Vision for the next two months.”

The ballpoint clattered onto the table before them, and Wanda watched it role miserably away. Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly and she could only imagine the looks that she was giving Steve. The pair seemed to be able to communicate most things through very specific glares. Right now, Wanda guessed Nat was giving him a look that said something along the lines of ‘shut up why are you bringing her ex into the conversation?’.

“Uhm,” Steve said slowly, “right yes, no international stuff so all in the US right now. That means we’re going to be moving around a little more frequently to keep out of any states with large security presences.”

“So for now,” Natasha continued on, “that means New Jersey, big things happening in California with old Chitauri tech so we’re staying as far away as possible.”

“We could help,” Wanda spoke up. “That stuff is right up our alley.”

“We can’t help if we’re imprisoned and I doubt they’ll let us out as easily a second time,” Sam pointed out and Steve nodded in agreement.

“I know you want to help,” Nat said putting an assuring hand on Wanda’s arm, “but the most we can do right now is stay far away. We’d be putting the others at risk by being there.”

The Others, code for those ex-teammates they didn’t like to mention despite the fact that they were all still on contact. Nat with Tony, Steve with T’Challa and well, up until a month ago, Wanda with Vision.

“Safe houses have been arranged for all of us, separately, so we don’t draw attention.”

Wanda sighed audibly, she hated the separate placements, hated the loneliness.

“It’ll only be for a few weeks,” Nat assured them as Steve handed out envelopes with their assigned houses, addresses, keys, the lot.

Standing up to get her things ready and make to leave the current safe house, Wanda was stopped by Natasha when she tried to leave the room.

“Wanda,” Nat said, her eyes concerned.

“I already know what you are going to say, and yes I am fine.”

“I don’t believe you though,” Nat said crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Well, it’s not really my job to convince you,” Wanda said making to sidestep her.

“I’ve seen how you’ve been for the last month, you’re going to burn out at this pace. It couldn’t hurt to slow down and actually think about what happened between you two.”

Wanda shook her head wordlessly.

“I know it’s difficult but there’s no way you can move on if you don’t address it.”

“What if I don’t want to move on?” Wanda asked, frustrated at herself for how easily her accent burst forth.

Nat looked at her sadly, but not with pity, Wanda knew that there was genuine worry behind that gaze. Still, it didn’t make her feel any less crappy. “Look, thinking about it, thinking about him still hurts so I’d just rather not talk about it.”

“You still don’t want me to pass your whereabouts onto him?”

Wanda shook her head and finally succeeded in getting past Nat and into the corridor, where she sped walked to her room and set about gathering her things before she could be coaxed into another ‘let’s all talk about our feelings’ session.

Admittedly there was a part of her that wished Natasha would pass on her location to Vision, even if it was only just to see whether he would actually show up. But Wanda had made Nat promise not to reveal where she was staying in the past month, at least not until Wanda was ready for that. Vision was an addiction she needed to kick, and constantly reminding herself of him or thinking about the chance of a reunion certainly wasn’t going to help.  

“Vision I need you on and concentrating ok? Not away with the fairies,” Tony Stark said from where he stood at the front of the board meeting table.

“Apologies, I am present and involved,” Vision said shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, a mannerism he had picked up recently.

“As I was saying, two days from now we’re heading over West to deal with the Chitauri tech that is now a burning pile of shit thanks to—”

Vision didn’t mean to zone out again, but it was so easy to take a backseat in such conversations when he had the assurance that his brain would keep track of anything important Tony said. Lately he had been wishing that his brain was human, or at the very least that it wouldn’t move so fast so that he might be able to get a bit of peace and quiet.

His thoughts were always on her, Vision just couldn’t help it. At home he was always scouring the internet, dreading the moment he might see her name pop up on news feeds as it had with Sam’s the previous week. When he was away for work there was always a small part of his brain filtering through local security cameras, half hopeful that he would catch a glimpse of her somewhere nearby. She was a constant distraction, and it was becoming one of the many things making him seriously doubt the decision he had made those long weeks earlier. Which was strange because that decision had been a logical, rational answer to their problem, it had been a preventative measure for heartbreak. So why was his heart still hurting?

It had been six months since the events in Germany had divided the team he had come to know as friends. The absence of those who had brought such life to the compound had been noticed immediately. But it was Wanda whose absence he struggled with most, both while she was imprisoned and after Captain Rogers had broken her out.

Vision had gotten by on snippets of information fed to him through Natasha, to Tony and then finally to him. He had a suspicion that Stark had known exactly what he was doing in given that information to him. Sometimes it was mentioning which city their old teammates had been in the previous week, other times it was switching off the old school radio in his office just in time for Vision to hear Natasha’s voice crackling from it. Eventually, Vision had gathered enough pieces of the puzzle that he was able to track which radio frequencies they had been using to communicate with each other. He’d listened long enough to discover where Wanda was going to be next and showed up unannounced, despite the danger, despite the bridges burnt between them and the different paths they were on. But Wanda had welcomed him into her arms without hesitation and it had become clear that their connection was still there, as strong as ever. One thing had led to another and before he knew it, he was making time to travel and see her every few weeks. She usually chose Europe, and he was happy to see the world, if it was with her.

Their last trip hadn’t gone so well. They’d nearly gotten caught because Vision had slipped up on his way out of their rental property one morning, forgetting to glamour himself and letting someone get a photo of him. It had been circulating the internet and local media before Vision could stop the spread. Thankfully, Tony had a press release ready to go for this exact situation and made it clear that Vision was acting strictly within the limits of the Accords. It could have gone a lot worse, but it had also made several things clear to him. Their argument after the incident had been bad, to say the least.

“Isn’t it better we stop now before it hurts us both?” Vision cried after half an hour spent arguing over who ought to leave the apartment first. The damage was done on his side so if Vision was seen again it wouldn’t matter, but if Wanda was seen in the same city, he could kiss his currently peaceful relationship with the UN goodbye. On the other hand, if anyone decided to look too closely at his whereabouts of the last few days, Wanda would be discovered, and he didn’t know what he would do. The idea of her getting caught and imprisoned again was sickening.

The argument had got them nowhere. Each was too concerned about the other. He wanted her to leave, regardless of the risk this posed to himself, meanwhile Wanda wanted him to leave before he got caught with her and a target was placed on his back as well.

In the end the decision had to be made.

“It already hurts,” she’d yelled back at him, her eyes telling Vision all he needed to know.

“I cannot keep putting you at risk like this.”

“I am not asking you to!” She’d turned her head skyward in frustration. “This is worth it for me. You don’t get to make this decision for both of us!”

“I am making this decision,” Vision said his voice thick with emotion, walking backwards to the door, “and I am deciding to leave, before neither of us can.”

He’d hovered at the door, coat in hand but she’d already turned away to look out the window, watching rain drizzle dismally outside.

“Then go.”

He’d checked hundreds of radio frequencies in the weeks since, but had never caught them again, figuring that the four must have changed communication tactics since. It didn’t stop him from using the burner number that Tony had given him to reach Natasha. He was sure his messages were getting through, but there was never a reply. He supposed he was not really owed anything considering he was the one who had walked out. It didn’t matter that he’d regretted his decision ever since. Wanda didn’t know that he’d missed two trains all because he couldn’t bring himself to take the next, more final step away from her and everything they had been together.

Back in reality Tony had come to the end of his debrief and had ended the call they’d been on with various other officials related to managing the presence of super-humans in the country.

“When are we leaving on Thursday?” Vision asked, a hopeless attempt at pretending he’d been listening properly.

“Iam leaving on Thursday afternoon; you are staying here.”

Vision was stumped. “Why?”

“Because you are in no state to be heading out on a potentially sensitive mission right now, you could barely pull yourself together for a meeting, Vision.”

Tony sighed with such disappointment that Vision regretted being so absent the last few weeks. He’d been sure to be there as much as he could after the team had disbanded, allowing Tony to delegate to him when needed. But this last month he’d let things slide more than he’d realised, Tony looked tired.

“I’d like to disagree with your decision,” Vision began, standing as Tony made to leave the room, “but I cannot help but think you’re right. If I could just have the weekend to reassess my priorities, I would be back to regular working capacity by Monday.”

“And I want to say I believe you,” Tony said leading the way back through the compound. “But you don’t have a good track record with this particular type of distraction.”

Vision hovered by the front door with his head hung in shame. He heard the beeping of Tony unlocking his car and the soft hiss of air as the door opened automatically.

“She’s in New Jersey this week.”

Vision paused on his closing of the front door.

“I thought you should know,” Tony said rubbing at his chin as he paused by the car, “Address is 22 Steel street, don’t get caught.”

Wanda hated how much America reminded her of Vision now. That was why she was thinking about him so much – it was definitely New Jersey’s fault. It was the proximity to the upstate Compound that had her thinking of him so often. It had to be.

They were done, Vision had made that so very clear the last time she had seen him. But it hadn’t stopped her staying another few days at the house they had rented together in some desperate attempt to come to terms with yet another person leaving her life. At least he was still out there, living a life just not with her.  

She pressed her palms into the kitchen bench and took a deep breath. She was halfway through washing up the dishes from the day, but she’d already slipped and broken one glass by accident and was on the verge of giving up. It was frustrating. Wanda could control other people’s minds with ease. She hadn’t had reason to in a while but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel that dormant aspect of her power waiting to be used. So how come she couldn’t manage her own mind? Why was she grieving the loss of someone still alive?

Wanda knew that Steve and Nat had struggled to understand what she had with Vision, and it didn’t help that she herself struggled to put it into words. They hadn’t labelled themselves in the months since they started stealing moments together, it had all been to see if there was something more there. Something worth pursuing. And well, Wanda had thought they were on the same page but evidently, she’d been wrong. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe that those feelings weren’t real. Hope was a pain in the ass.  

And she supposed her alertness these past few days could be owed to him as well. Of course, there was the general haze of fear to consider, the fear that one of these days a SWAT team would arrive at her door to take her back to prison. But on the other side of that coin, she knew there was a fraction of her that was listening out for him. It was painful, knowing he was so close. It didn’t stop her listening out for him, for his soft footsteps, his steady breathing, for the comforting presence of him and the way their minds called out to each other. Even before they’d started meeting like this, he had always been the first one she looked for in a fight, the first person her eyes fell on when she walked in a room, the one person she always wanted to have in her corner.

She paused the absentminded drying of a plate and realised that the imagined footsteps outside weren’t in her head. There was most definitely someone walking up and down the creaky floorboards of the run-down townhouse she’d been assigned to for the two weeks. She’d picked the floorboards out as her first warning if any unwanted guests stopped by the property, probably followed by the breaking of the two locks in the front door.

The closer she listened the more she could hear weight shifting and creaking wood.

Wanda crept through the still unfamiliar house, out of the kitchen and down the dim hallway to the door. As she approached the pacing paused and she distinctly heard a fist rapping on the wooden door three times.

She rose on her toes to peer through the peep hole. A familiar figure was standing on the porch with a head of neat, sandy hair and a carefully pressed blue shirt. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide the exclamation of surprise threatening to come forth. She dropped her hand quickly and stepped back, subconsciously reaching out and letting her magic unlock the door, sending it swinging open.

Wanda didn’t really know what to say as Vision turned around at the sound of the door creaking open. She simply stood there looking at him, fearful that she was imagining things and that he wasn’t really here. She tilted her head in question.

“Mr Stark told me you were here,” Vision said quietly, glancing over his shoulder as though worried someone might be watching them, but the street at his back was deserted. “I’m sorry for just showing up out of the blue.”

Wanda folded her arms, wrapping her cardigan further around herself against the night chill from outside. A deeper cold was spreading through her at the unnatural tension between them, even as she fought the urge to step forward and embrace him. “And why are you here?” She asked instead.

“I made a mistake, and I’d like to fix it.”

“How?”

“I’d like to start by talking, if you wouldn’t mind me coming in?”

Wanda bit her lip hesitantly but knew she couldn’t keep him waiting out on the doorstep. She stepped to the side and nodded for him to come in.

Wanda led him to the kitchen and settled herself opposite the table, so she could lean with the comforting pressure of the kitchen bench at her back.

She watched his eyes flicker about as he entered the space, taking in the washing in the sink, the bread open on the counter and the remains of her supper littered here and there. She suddenly wished she’d finished cleaning quicker. Wanda saw a lot in his gaze, knowing from months of meeting up as a fugitive that he was concerned about how well she was eating on the run. His gaze turned to her next, taking in her clothes, her face, the distinct bags under her eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but soften her stance, unfolding her arms but maintaining the distance she needed.

Vision had dropped his human glamour as soon as he entered the house and she watched as he now stood before her, hardly believing it was real.  

“I will not attempt to make excuses, I owe you more than that,” Vision said after a beat seemingly to collect himself. She was unnerved by his unwavering eye contact but met him head on.

“I was wrong. I thought that putting space between us was the right thing to do but I regretted that as soon as I left you standing there. I have regretted it every day since. I know that I was afraid, afraid of what we might become if I didn’t stop things where they were.” He paused for breath. “It wasn’t until I sat on the train that I realised the idea of living a life without you hurt more than I could bear. Perhaps that makes me selfish, wanting to keep meeting up and putting you at risk. But it is the truth. And if I could change things, if I could go back, I would behave differently.”

Wanda felt her breath loose out over her lips, a quiet sigh of relief.

“I would have told you all this the day after I left if I knew how I might reach you. I’m sorry.”

Wanda swallowed, taking a breath to think about what he had said. There was little to think about, she had forgiven Vision the moment she realised it was him standing on her porch. Learning now that he had tried to reach out for her in the past few weeks, something she hadn’t dared hope, and that she had stubbornly not let him in hurt more than she’d expected it to. They’d both made mistakes.

“As much as I hated being left like that, I understand why you did,” Wanda said earnestly.

“I was a fool,” Vision said shaking his head shamefully.

“That makes two of us.” Wanda smiled softly at him.

“I never could have stayed away,” he admitted, gesturing restlessly with his hands.

“I should have let you in sooner.”

Vision wasn’t often hesitant, but he paused before his next words. “Can you forgive me?” He stepped forward as he spoke.

This movement was all the invitation Wanda needed and she pulled away from the bench as he drew closer. They met each other in the middle, his arms coming around her waist, her hands sliding over his shoulders in a hug. They swayed for a moment, relishing the closeness.

“Forgiven,” she murmured to him, though she was sure the hug said it clearer. “No going back,” she added, considering making a joke about cold feet.

“I can’t help but think this was inevitable,” he said quietly from where his chin was pressed to her shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair. “That no matter the bridges we burnt, or how our paths changed, you were always going to be my future.” She hugged him tighter.

“But we need rules from now on,” Wanda said drawing back a little so she could see his face clearly, “like not getting photographed by tourists.”

“I will never live that down, will I?” Vision groaned but smiled nonetheless.

“Never,” she whispered, scrunching her nose at him affectionately, then growing more serious, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” he promised pressing his forehead to hers in understanding.

[xomarauders]

hello everyone,

it has been far too long since i have posted anything on here and for that i apologize, but i have been working on some of my own writing as well as just dealing with personal stuff so please forgive me. 

i also might be changing this blog up a bit and start posting more than just marauders fanfiction (such as some of my own writing perhaps). i’m still not sure about this idea because i don’t really want to change my user name or anything and i do want to contiue writing fics so we’ll see! 

anyway, without further ado, here is my latest fic for yall :) hope you enjoy! (p.s. there is a second part coming!!!)

tw: internalized homophobia, implied child abuse, depictions of a panic attack

--

The cold December air was harsh against Marlene’s skin as she stood outside the small record shop she had been frequenting since she was fourteen. It was tucked away in the side of a building in London, offering solace to those who did not seem to fit in with the more fast-paced, business-like folk you so often saw among the sidewalks. The cigarette in her hand was offering little warmth but seemed to be calming her nerves, so she stayed outside to finish smoking it. It was winter break from Hogwarts and Marlene was relieved to be away from school for the time being as well as away from her friends. She couldn’t face them at the moment. Not after what she did.

Marlene rolled her eyes at herself for thinking of things she’d rather forget and tossed the butt of her cigarette to the ground before crushing it with the toe of her combat boot. With one last glance toward the busy street, she retreated into the record shop which greeted her immediately with the chime of a bell and rock music playing throughout the speakers of the store.

A man at the register with short, dirty blonde hair and rings through his eyebrows glanced up at her entrance, a smile appearing on his face.

“Marlene! Haven’t seen you in a while.” He commented, swinging his legs over the counter and making his way toward her. Marlene gave a non-committal shrug but returned the high-five he offered her with semi frozen fingers.

“How has business been, Curtis?” She asked, glancing around the nearly empty shop. There was no one else in there aside from the two of them and Marlene felt her heart break just a little bit. This was one of her favorite places to be, a place she and her friends would escape to during the summer to be with one another. She wondered if their absence was the reason for her melancholic mood.

“It hasn’t been bad. Just caught me on a slow day.” Curtis replied, seeming to notice Marlene’s shift in behavior. “Lily was in here the other day, actually. Got herself a few new albums.”

Marlene looked up at the mention of Lily and felt her cheeks burn slightly. She wondered if Lily had mentioned anything about the incident to Curtis. Judging by the passive look on his face, she assumed not and tried to school her own expression into a neutral one.

“Yeah? What albums?”

After Curtis introduced her to the new music Lily had gotten, Marlene picked up a few albums of her own to purchase before leaving the shop to get back home. She would have stayed to visit with Curtis longer, but she didn’t want to linger in a space that reminded her so much of her friends at the moment and she especially didn’t want to run into them anytime soon.

It was a bit of a walk to the closest floo station and the London streets were bustling with people walking home from work or coming out for the night. Marlene kept her head down, staring at the pavement in front of her and wrapping her jacket tightly around herself, blocking out the bitter cold as best she could. Suddenly, a body collided against her and she fell backwards, dropping her records in the process.

“What the fu—?” Marlene was cut off by the commotion of being pulled off the sidewalk and dragged into a nearby alley way.

She looked up, ready to scream insults at her attacker, but stopped at the sight of Sirius Black’s face. His hair was tied up in a bun, though most of it seemed to have fallen out, and there was a wide look of panic in his eyes that matched the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He was trembling finely and looked ready to pass out as he glanced behind him in a paranoid manner. It seemed as though he was running from something. Or someone.

“Sirius?” Marlene asked, keeping her voice low. She turned to look in the direction where Sirius was peering and spotted two men seemingly searching the crowd. Her eyebrows raised. There was something off about the two men…they did not fit in with the rest of the crowd, the clothes they wore were different, not really matching and the confused, disgusted looks on their faces made them stick out like sore thumbs. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks—they were wizards trying to blend in with a muggle crowd. Purebloods, to be exact.

She whirled around to look at Sirius once more. “Sirius, who are those men?” She hissed, desperate to know what kind of danger they could possibly be in. Rumors about dark wizards had begun circulating around Hogwarts for months now. Followers of Voldemort that had begun to call themselves “Death Eaters” were threatening the lives of muggleborns, though Marlene had never actually seen any such wizard. Until now, she supposed.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” Sirius said, completely ignoring her question. He looked down towards the other end of the alley to see a chain link fence and cursed. They were trapped it seemed and Marlene felt herself begin to panic.

“Sirius,” She said, her voice urgent, though she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

He turned to her once more, gripping her shoulders tightly and staring at her intently. “I have an idea, but you have to promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this to anybody, do you understand?”

Marlene nodded and then watched with complete shock and awe as Sirius disappeared, a large, black dog appearing in his place. Animagus, she realized with a jolt. The dog turned away, walking back down the alley before turning and barking at Marlene, as if motioning for her to follow. She blinked a few times, still shocked at the sudden change of events, before following him back into the streets. He stopped where she had dropped her records and Marlene bent down to pick them up, a slight frown playing on her lips at the sight of the bent corners of the packaging. She was just about to scold Sirius when a rough voice behind her cleared their throat. She looked up, just as Sirius growled, to see the two men from earlier standing there.

The men did not seem to pay attention to the dog, focusing their gaze solely on Marlene instead. She tried to keep her face neutral, raising a single eyebrow in their direction. “Can I help you?”

“Have you seen a boy run through here?” The shorter of the two men asked, his lip curling in disgust. The other man eyed Marlene warily, taking in her muggle attire and turning his nose up at the mere sight. Marlene tried not to roll her eyes.

“No.” She replied, sounding calmer than she felt.

The two men shared a look, as if trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth, before nodding their understanding and moving past her without another word. Marlene felt as Sirius curled around her legs, watching as they disappeared around the corner before letting out a victorious bark. She looked down at him, shaking her head.

“I suppose you need somewhere to hide for a while?”

Another yelp and wag of his tale gave Marlene all the answers she needed.

****

“Well, this is home.” Marlene said with a sigh, dropping her records onto her bed with a soft thud. Sirius—still in his canine form—sniffed around before cocking his head in her direction and allowing his tongue to roll out of his mouth. Marlene wrinkled her nose at the slobber. “I think you are safe to go back to your usual…form. Unless you’re stuck that is.”

Again, Marlene watched in amazement as Sirius came back to himself, a shiver running through his body as he grinned at her. “Nice room you’ve got, McKinnon. Am I the first boy you’ve brought home?”

“Care to explain what just happened?” She asked, not caring for the way he seemed to avoid explaining himself.

Sirius shrugged, moving toward the desk in the corner of the room and running his fingers down the various artwork Marlene had spread out there. A look of wonder shined in his eyes as he delicately examined the paintings and drawings as if they were some sort of precious treasure. He stopped at a particular piece of a woman’s face done with charcoal pencil and Marlene felt herself blush at the way he traced the strokes that molded her lips.

“These are wonderful. Who did them?”

“I did.”

Sirius turned, his eyebrows raised with surprise and admiration. “Really? I didn’t know you were an artist.”

She stood up, marching over to where he stood, and removed the drawing from his grasp, shoving it beneath the rest of the art, effectively obscuring it from his wandering eyes, before turning to face him once more.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Black.”

She did not miss the way he seemed to flinch away from her before shaking it off and plastering another smirk across his face. “Touché.” He spoke quietly.  

Marlene felt a jolt of guilt in her gut, feeling bad for snapping at him. He was merely admiring her work. He did not understand the context of her drawing and likely wouldn’t make the connection. Afterall, he did not live in her mind where all the confusing thoughts and doubts resided. He could not possibly know her dirty little secret.

“Just…tell me what happened back there. Do I need to be afraid that someone might follow you here?” She asked, changing the topic.

“Those were the Lestrange brothers. Rabastan and Rodolphus. Purebloods. Family friends.”

“Why were they looking for you?”

“Because I may have said something rather…deplorable at my dear cousin’s engagement party.” Sirius said it with a grin, but Marlene noticed the flicker of fear in his eyes.

Marlene vaguely knew about the Black family and the way they presented themselves. Most of her ideas about them came from the mere reactions Sirius had whenever someone brought the prestigious bloodline. He was always loud about it, shouting about how stuck up they were in the Gryffindor common room and how grateful he was that he had not followed in their footsteps and ended up in Slytherin. She also knew that they were blood purists, believing that muggles were beneath them.

From what she had gathered, she was not a fan of them.

“Is there any way they can find you here?” Marlene asked, unwilling to allow her family to become endangered for hiding a self-proclaimed fugitive. Sirius just laughed, shaking his head so that his hair flung about. Marlene would have found it amusing how much it reminded her of a dog if it were under difference circumstances.

“I doubt they would. Going into muggle London was bad enough for them, they’re not going to continue their search in a muggle neighborhood.”

Marlene did not get the chance to ask what Sirius planned to do next due to the sound of the front door opening and her family announcing their presence.

“Marls!” Her father shouted up the steps. “We’re home!”

“Come down and tell us how your trip to London was. Your brother has been pestering me all afternoon about not letting him go with you.” Her mother spoke with a laugh and Marlene heard her brother scoff indignantly.

Marlene turned to Sirius, pointing a finger at him and giving him the best glare that she could. “Be on your best behavior. Go along with everything I say, are we clear?” Sirius just nodded, unwilling to cross her and with a final nod Marlene turned to exit the room with Sirius following closely behind. As they entered the living area, Marlene watched as her brother’s eyes went wide at the sight of Sirius.  

“Mum! Marlene’s brought a friend home!” He announced. The McKinnon’s turned, a look of surprise on each of their faces at the sight of the young man standing in their home. Marlene’s mother turned to her and offered a hesitant smile.

“Marlene, who’s your friend?”

“Mum, dad, this is Sirius. He goes to school with me.”

Her father instantly lit up, clasping her hands together as he plopped down on the sofa. “Another wizard! How nice to meet you, young man. I’m Grant McKinnon, but you can just call me Grant.” He offered Sirius a hand and Marlene tried her best not to smirk as Sirius suddenly stood up a bit straighter and shook her fathers’ hand as if he were meeting the Queen.

“A pleasure to meet you, sir. Lovely home you have here.”

“What a gentleman.” Her mother laughed lightly. “I’m Lottie.”

This time, Marlene had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing as she watched Sirius gently kiss her mother’s hand. Merlin, he really was a posh bastard.

“I’m Freddie.” Her brother greeted, not wanting to be left out, and Sirius’s eyes lit up.

“Like Freddie Mercury?”

“Exactly!” Freddie exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Just as Marlene was about to interrupt to give an explanation as to why Sirius was there in the first place, her family initiated a game of twenty questions directed toward the poor boy.

“So, you go to Hogwarts then?” Lottie asked, an easy smile playing on her lips. She moved to sit by her husband, smoothing out her yellow sun dress as she did so. Sirius nodded, a proud smile appearing on his face.

“Yes. Sorted into Gryffindor, just like Marlene.”

Grant leaned forward; an eyebrow raised. “That’s the one with the lion, right?”

Marlene rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Dad, you know it is.”

Her father merely laughed, raising his hands in defense as he leaned back once more. “I just want to make sure! I never went to Hogwarts now did I?”

“Oh, did you go to Beaubaxtons?” Sirius asked and Marlene cringed.

“Oxford, actually.” Her father answered easily, and Sirius glanced at Marlene with clear confusion on his face. Grant didn’t seem to mind though, catching on to what Sirius wasn’t fully understanding. “I don’t have magic, son.”

Sirius’s eyes went wide for the hundredth time that day it seemed, and he grinned wickedly. “You’re a muggle.” He stated as if he had just made a new discovery. Marlene got the impression that Sirius had never really spoken to a muggle before now.

“You’re pureblood then, Sirius?” Marlene’s mother asked, quickly connecting the dots of Sirius’s curiosity.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah I am.” Sirius shifted a bit uncomfortably and Lottie frowned at the sudden change in behavior.

“I was the only witch in my family.” Lottie continued, changing the subject. “Was sorted into Ravenclaw at Hogwarts.”

“That’s what I’m going to be.” Freddie piped up, puffing his chest out in perfect eight-year old fashion. Marlene rolled her eyes.

“You still have three more years and there’s no guarantee you’ll follow in mum’s footsteps.”

Freddie narrowed his eyebrows and glared at Marlene. “But I want to be a Ravenclaw.”

“You can be whatever you want to be, mate.” Sirius said solemnly and Marlene found herself surprised at the sincerity in Sirius’s voice. She had never known Sirius to behave in such ways at school, often getting into trouble and shouting about loudly and animatedly. What he said had seemed to be an acceptable answer for Freddie, though, who beamed right back at Sirius.

“Sirius needs a place to stay.” Marlene blurted suddenly, and everyone’s attention turned toward her once more. Her mother gave her a dubious look, waiting patiently for an explanation while her father seemed to not even question the notion.

“For how long?” Grant asked.

“Oh. Uh, you don’t have to do that, sir. I’ll be okay on my own.”

Lottie leaned forward, reaching out for Sirius who instantly flinched in return, causing her to draw her hands back quickly, a stunned look on her face at his reaction. She cleared her throat and fixed him with a serious look. “It’s not problem if you need somewhere to sleep, Sirius. I would just like a reason and an idea of how long you would be staying.”

Sirius glanced at Marlene hesitantly. Clearly, he had not planned on staying here but he also had not planned on going home. Had he assumed that she would kick him to the streets? Perhaps that was what he had intended to do all along. Marlene frowned at the idea of Sirius wandering aimlessly about London, probably in his Animagus form, just to hide away from his family. She wondered how terrible they must be for him to resort to such a thing.

Marlene turned back to her parents, a resolute look on her face. “However long he needs.”

****

Grant quickly set up a cot for Sirius in Freddie’s bedroom—who was far too excited to have a roommate for the time being—and Sirius offered his thanks every five minutes with Grant dismissing it with a wave of his hand stating “it’s just what we do, son.”

Marlene was preparing for bed in her own room when a tentative knock came from the door. “Come in.”

Her mother walked in, shutting the door behind her with a soft click before making herself comfortable on Marlene’s bed. She looked at Marlene with a curious but open expression and Marlene found herself wondering if her mother could see right through her.  

“Is Sirius…someone you fancy?” She asked, and Marlene realized that perhaps her mother couldn’t see her at all.

“No.” She answered honestly, and her mother nodded, accepting the answer without question. Lottie still sat there though, mulling something around in her brain it seemed before letting it out.

“Is he in trouble?”

Marlene considered her mother’s question. The truth was that Marlene really wasn’t sure if Sirius was in trouble or not. It could just be him being his usual dramatic self and getting a kick out of ruining some extravagant family function, but somehow it felt different. The look of pure fear in his eyes when they were in that alley way was burned into her mind.

“I don’t know.” She said finally, her voice sounding more childish than she cared for. Her mother sighed, standing up and opening her arms which Marlene gratefully fell into. She closed her eyes, grateful that her parents were who they were. That they were so accepting and helpful towards everyone. It made her proud to be their daughter. She wondered idly if they would be accepting of everything or if there was some unforeseen limit to which their compassion reached.

Marlene thought about the events that occurred just a few days ago. The firewhiskey her and her friends had indulged in, intent on having one last night of fun before leaving each other for the winter holiday. She thought about the tingly feeling in her stomach as she leaned forward, placing her lips against Lily’s. She thought about the shocked look on Lily’s face and the small sound of surprise that came from Alice’s mouth. She thought about how she ran away before she could even give her friends a chance to ridicule her for her actions.  

It had been eating at her ever since, and now, as her mother held her in her arms, she wondered how she would react to the idea of her daughter liking girls.

“Mum?” Marlene asked, her heart rate picking up speed and hands starting to shake.

“Yes, dear?” Lottie pulled back, a look of concern on her face.

Marlene felt her throat close up, blocking off the words she wanted to confess. I can’t do this. Not now.

“Never mind.” She breathed, looking down at her feet instead of meeting her mother’s gaze. Lottie lingered there a moment, debating whether or not to push the subject. In the end, she just hugged Marlene tighter and smoothed out her hair.

“Okay. But you can always come talk to me whenever you need, okay?” Lottie kissed her daughter’s forehead and went to leave the room, turning in the doorway just before exiting. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, mum.”

As her mother left, Marlene crawled into bed, huddling deeply beneath the blankets and turning to face the wall, finally allowing her tears to fall.

****

Marlene awoke to a frantic knocking on her door. She shot up in bed, immediately reaching for her wand and pointing it towards the doorway. What if it was the Lestranges? What if they had followed Marlene and Sirius straight to her home? What if it were the Blacks themselves, here to take their runaway heir home and punish those who gave him sanctuary?

“Marls! Open the door, it’s Freddie!”

A feeling of relief as well as slight irritation flooded through her. Freddie was tolerable most of the time, but waking her up in the middle of the night was definitely not a way to get on Marlene’s good side.

“What do you want, Mercury?” She asked as she swung the door open. Freddie was standing there, his hands twisted together and his face painted with worry and fear that immediately caused Marlene’s sour attitude toward her brother to vanish. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Sirius. He won’t stop shaking and, and I thought he was having a nightmare and so I went over to shake him awake and he…he freaked out! He screamed and pushed me away and now he’s huddled in the corner and he won’t stop crying and—”

Marlene pushed past her brother and moved down the hallway towards his bedroom. When she got there, the cot was flipped over and the blankets were in a tangled mess on the floor. Sirius was pressed against the wall, his knees tucked up against his chest and his hands pulling anxiously at his hair. He was muttering something Marlene couldn’t quite make out but whatever it was, he sounded utterly terrified. Marlene turned to Freddie who had followed closely behind her.

“Go get mom.”

Freddie nodded and raced away, seemingly grateful about being given a task. Marlene turned her attention back to Sirius. He hadn’t even noticed the two of them had come into the room, too lost in whatever memory he was reliving. Marlene had heard about this sort of behavior before, when her dad spoke of her grandfather and the effects the war had on him. The panicked breathing and dissociation that blinded a person to their realities were sure signs of post-traumatic stress, she was sure. She was also sure she that she was way out of her depth to properly break Sirius out of it, but she’d be dammed if she didn’t try.

“Sirius,” She spoke slowly, inching towards him before kneeling in front of him. He shook harder, his breath coming out in pants. Merlin, he was going to make himself pass out.

“Hey,” She grabbed his hand and he recoiled with a scream.

“No! No, please! Please don’t, it hurts.” He whimpered. Marlene felt sick and uncomfortable. This was not the Sirius Black she knew. This was a scared and hurt little boy that Marlene could not help.

“What is it?” Marlene turned. Her mother was standing in the doorway, her father and brother right behind her. She watched as Lottie’s eyes found Sirius and she motioned for Marlene to move away. Marlene obliged, standing, and watching her mother crouch down in her place.

“Sirius, sweetie? It’s Lottie. Marlene’s mom, remember?” He didn’t respond but Lottie didn’t seem deterred.

“Breathe with me, Sirius. I’m going to count and we are going to breathe.”

Marlene watched in awe as her mother calmly coaxed Sirius out of the horrific state he was trapped in. They breathed together, with Sirius attempting to match Lottie the more lucid he became. Eventually, Lottie took his hands in hers, rubbing small circles in his palms with the pads of her thumbs. She spoke softly to him, asking him questions about his surroundings and Sirius muttered back short responses. Slowly, he came back to himself. Marlene stood in the doorway, Freddie beside her still looking quite distressed and her father with an unreadable expression playing on his features.

“Marlene could you come sit here beside Sirius? I’m going to go whip up a potion for him to take. Freddie, Grant, why don’t you come help me? Give Sirius some space.”

Freddie nodded wordlessly and turned to head down the stairs followed by his father. As Marlene passed her mother, Lottie put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t make him talk about it,” She whispered, “just listen if he does.”

Marlene nodded and Lottie gave her a sad smile before leaving the two teens alone. Sirius stared down at his lap, his eyes puffy with tears and his hair a tangly mess. He seemed embarrassed and shifted slightly when Marlene took a seat next to him. She didn’t blame him. She’d be pretty embarrassed too if her whole bravado façade fell apart in front of an audience. It was quiet between them, and Marlene struggled as she thought of something to say. She wanted to ask Sirius what had happened, what kind of nightmare he’d had to cause such a reaction, but she refrained. Still, she thought she could gather a well enough idea.

“I’m thinking of cutting some fringe.” She says instead, reaching up to toy with a strand of her hair. Sirius blinks, glancing toward her and then back at his toes. “I think it’d be a nice change, you know. Eleanor Tippets has fringe and it’s quite nice looking, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never thought about Eleanor Tippets.” Sirius responds. Progress, she thinks.

“Me neither. Not really. Just noticed her hair is all.” Marlene purses her lips. “James has some wild hair, doesn’t he? Does it naturally look like that or does he do it on purpose?”

A ghost of a smile traces Sirius’ lips and Marlene feels her muscles lose a bit of the tension she was unaware she had been holding.

“It’s naturally messy, though he does run his fingers through it often.”

“When he flirts with all the girls?”

“Well, just one girl, really. He still can’t get over Evans.”

Marlene tenses a bit but forces the conversation to continue. “Lily is nice.”

“So is James. She still hasn’t given him a chance.”

Sirius was right, Marlene supposed. James Potter wasn’t exactly the poster boy for good behavior, but he was nice enough. He always helped first years with their homework and encouraged the Gryffindor Quidditch team to win the games and have fun doing it. Lily had talked about James before, to Marlene and Alice, usually to complain about how annoying he was or about what elaborate date he asked her on that week. At the time, Marlene thrilled over the fact that Lily was not into James and perhaps she imagined it was for the same reasons Marlene wasn’t into boys. Now, though, as she looked back on it, she could remember the faint blush gracing her friend’s cheeks each time James smiled at her and the way her lips would twitch upwards just before she told him to get lost.

“My parents hate me.” Sirius said suddenly. Marlene felt her heart stop. Even if she expected it, it was different to hear the words falling so painfully out of Sirius’ mouth. She looked towards him, at the hunch of his shoulders and the pain in his eyes. It was painful to see Sirius this way. He should be jumping on the bed or ranting to Marlene about David Bowie. He shouldn’t be sitting in the corner with trembling hands and a fear of his family. It wasn’t right.

“They shouldn’t hate you.” Marlene knew it was a lame response, but she didn’t know what to say. She had never prepared for a conversation like this, let alone with Sirius Black.

Sirius scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know. I sometimes hate me.”

“Why?”

“We’re not close enough for this conversation, McKinnon.”

“Well, you’re the one who started it.”

Before Sirius could reply, Lottie had stepped back into the room, a cup held in her hand that presumably held the potion she had concocted. Sirius accepted it gratefully, attempting to put his mask of perfect manners back on, though his hands still shook as he drank. Lottie exchanged a look with Marlene, a frown on her face and pity in her eyes. Marlene looked away. She knew Sirius would hate to have any pity directed towards him so it felt wrong to accept such a look.

“You can stay in my room for the rest the night,” Marlene said, “I don’t want you to scare my brother awake with your screams again. He might just wet the bed.”

Lottie opened her mouth to scold Marlene, but Sirius just let out that barking laugh that Marlene had come to enjoy now that she had learned about Sirius’ animagus form. Her parents set the cot up in Marlene’s room quickly and said goodnight once more before shutting the bedroom door. Sirius stood awkwardly next to the cot, his hands clasped together in front of him. Marlene crawled underneath her own blankets, scooting as close to the wall as she could before patting the space next to her. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Are you inviting me into your bed, McKinnon?”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Just for sleep, you dog.”

Sirius hesitated, but slid in beside her after a moment of consideration. He was careful not to touch her, whether that was to make her more comfortable or him, Marlene wasn’t sure. She turned on her side so that she was facing him. He stared resolutely at the ceiling, his hands on his chest and eyes wide open.

“You can relax you know. I don’t bite.”

“Biting might be fun.”  

“Sirius—”

“I’m kidding!”

Marlene just shook her head. What a weird day, she thought as she closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander. Spending Christmas break with Sirius Black wasn’t something she had ever planned to do and now here he was, lying in her bed. Marlene wondered what Lily and Alice would say if she told them. She frowned as she thought of her friends. Would they still be her friends when she got back to Hogwarts? Or would they shy away from her, possibly even hate her. She couldn’t bear the sick feeling that washed over her at the idea of that.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sirius asked. Marlene opened her eyes to see him gazing at her with an uncharacteristic look of empathy on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m thinking about how much sleep you’re costing me.”

Sirius flushed slightly, but persisted, nonetheless. “Oh, come on. Your face was all scrunched up, there’s no way you were thinking of sleep. Enlighten me, McKinnon.”

“No.”

“Is it a boy?”

“No.”

“Good. Then I have no competition.”

“Trust me when I say this, Sirius. You are not my type.”

Sirius hesitated and then, “I’m sorry for messing up your holiday. I can leave tomorrow. Find my way to James’ house. He’s more equipped to deal with this mess.”

Marlene wanted to reassure Sirius that he was no bother, that she was happy to help, but she couldn’t. Because she probably wasn’t as equipped to deal with all of Sirius’ stuff, not compared to James who knew Sirius better than anyone. Marlene suddenly felt a sense of guilt overcome her. She and Sirius had always been friends at school, chatting in the common room on occasion and sitting next to each other in history of magic, but they were never close. She supposed it was because Sirius didn’t let people get too close, no one except for James, Remus, and Peter. Not that she was any better.

“We can write him in the morning if that would make you more comfortable.” She mumbled. Sirius nodded.

“That would probably be best.”

“Sirius,” Marlene hesitated. “Sirius, I don’t want to pry or anything but…what happened? Why did you run away?”

A dark look settled over Sirius’ face and Marlene almost recoiled. Whatever happened had been bad, probably worse than Marlene could imagine. She almost regretted asking the question and was about to tell him he didn’t have to answer when he spoke in a breath.

“They tried to kill me.”

Marlene’s blood ran cold. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted Sirius to crack a teasing smile and claim that he was just being his usual dramatic self and that he was exaggerating the story and that his parents just had some old-fashioned ideas that got him in trouble when he didn’t agree with them. That she could handle. But this…god, she was going to be sick.

“Why?” Her voice sounded childish, laced with curiosity, and horrified awe.

“I…disagreed with them, as usual. But this time it was because of more personal beliefs.”

“Personal beliefs?”

“I told them I was gay.”

There was a stutter in Marlene’s heart, a sudden thrill that she wasn’t alone, such an excitement that she almost screamed “me too!” back at him. But she didn’t. Because right now was about Sirius, not her.  Instead, she reached out and took Sirius’ hand. He flinched at the motion but Marlene did not let go. She could not let go, not now, not when she might be the only person who Sirius might be able to relate to, that he might be the only person who could understand her. She felt the need to cling to this, to remember this moment as Sirius told her this secret with raw vulnerability and tears in his eyes because not only was the world cruel to people like them but his own parents couldn’t see past their own prejudices to just love their son. Instead, they set out to hurt and even kill. Marlene could make this moment matter. She could make this moment a happy moment for him.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Sirius finally met her gaze, surprise evident on his face. She grinned back at him, her own eyes watering.

“I am so fucking proud of you, Sirius. For being strong enough and brave enough to stand up to your parents and be who you are. I really admire that and I am so happy that you shared it with me. Thank you.”

Sirius’ body seemed to lose all the tension he had been holding since bumping into Marlene earlier that day. God, had it only been a day? Marlene felt as though Sirius had been there for weeks, ready to burst at the seams at any moment. And this was that moment. He started crying in earnest, his body shaking and eyes becoming blinded with tears. Marlene inched forward, wrapping her arms around him, and holding him close. Her own face was wet with tears of joy and pain for her friend.

Eventually they fell asleep, wrapped tightly around each other. It was how Lottie found them in the morning.

[writers-thoughts09]

True Mind, True Heart

Act 1 Chapter 2 (Part 1)

Title: True Mind, True Heart: Act 1 Chapter 2 (Part 1) About 5.7k words Pairing: Zuko x OC (or reader idk, mind you this is like a mega slow burn fanfic so i hope you’re okay with thaaaaat). I don’t own Avatar or the character’s except my OC. Rating: PG, maybe some 13 later on Warning: Mean Zuko, uuuuuh i think that’s it. A/N: I’m so sorry for the majorly late update! I’m doing my best I have a lot planned for this story and I plan to finish this, I hope you guys will follow Lila’s journey with me! :) <3.  I apologize if the fight scenes are choppy and unclear, I’ve never written or broke down a fight scene in writing before. I might go back and fix this later. Tomorrow I’ll post part 2. Anyway without further adieu enjoy the read :)

|Prologue| 1 | 2 part 1 | 2 part 2

*

Act 1: Salvation

The sunset was quite a breathtaking sight to see if someone were to take the time to stop and stare. With the sun warm and low on the horizon, lovely rays of orange light sprawled softly across the sky, creating pink orange and yellow hues. A gradient of shades, begging to be admired. The white clouds that slowly rolled by basked in the mix of colors as they too took some of the sun’s golden tinge. Of course, no one was around to witness this natural piece of art since everyone was busy going about their business, especially on Prince Zuko’s ship.

For hours Lila sat silently in her dingy quarters, no hitch detected in her breathing. Quiet and still like a swamp with dark murky water. Untouched and motionless. Ever since Prince Zuko’s morning lessons, no one’s asked for Lila’s assistance with anything, so, for the remainder of the day, she’s been in her room.

If anyone, say Iroh, were to see her meditating, they would’ve thought she looked exactly like prince Zuko during his meditation sessions. Mimicking what she remembered the night she brought him his dinner Lila sat with her back straight, eyes closed, accompanied by nothing except deep breathing. Even though she imitated the prince’s form and tried to follow Iroh’s teachings from this morning’s lesson, it was like there was a block between her and her element. Like her fingertips would come so close to grazing that certain feeling but were still out of reach from fully grasping it. No matter how hard she’d concentrate to connect with that energy lying dormant inside her, nothing worked.

But finally, after sitting on the uncomfortable floor for who knows how long, Lila began to feel an inkling of that same euphoric peace build within her body again. It was similar to what she felt earlier above deck but slightly different. It was softer, less…magnetic as it ebbed the presence of her emotions away. Specifically, impatience and frustration when lieutenant Jee came knocking and interrupted her a while ago.

With meticulous breaths, Lila drew a smooth inhale in through her nose, filling her lungs, traveling down, expanding her belly, and gently expelled the air from her mouth, the water in her cup rippling in sync. Her heart maintained tempo with her breathing, which was strong and consistent as each beat pulsed through her being.

Though her body was at ease, patience evaded Lila’s mind, blinding her progress as she huffed in irritation. Eyes still closed she shifted her bottom for the umpteenth time. Soft like a feather but sharp like a beak, she drew another breath in, doing her best to maintain what little connection she felt with her element while keeping her frustrations at bay. Just when she was about to exhale, that breath turned into a yelp when a loud boom exploded from beyond the ship.

Like the snap of a rubber band, Lila’s concentration was broken yet again as her eyes flew open. With a start, the sudden noise made Lila jump and pull a small amount of water, which she didn’t notice as she stood up in alarm. Confusion and fear clouded her as she listened for what could’ve possibly made a noise that loud. It sounded like a flare, but Lila wasn’t so sure. “Is it an ambush?...No it couldn’t be; we haven’t had any problems or run-ins with anyone for a long while.”

Lila’s thoughts were going in circles as she rushed to her drawer to grab a fresh piece of cloth she cut up weeks before, tied it over her marred eye before reluctantly opening the door. Silently, a tawny-colored iris peeped down the metal hallways, no benders or guards in sight. However, even if they weren’t down below they might’ve already been above deck when whatever it was went off.

Noiselessly and carefully, with nimble steps like an alley cat, Lila crept through the corridors and up the familiar set of stairs. Mangled fingernails trailed along the metal wall to aid her lack of sight. Once Lila climbed up to the main deck and felt fresh air ruffle the fallen curls from her bun, Lila’s suspicions were confirmed. A bright naval flare signal was falling far out in the snowy distance. She watched, her good eye following its downward path, musing to herself, “Where did it come from though?”

Noticing the absence of prince Zuko, Uncle Iroh, and their men who were usually out and about above deck around this time, Lila glanced around the empty ship then turned to the command tower. Squinting her good eye Lila’s gaze raked up the length of it and stopped at the observation deck’s balcony. As clear as the golden sky she caught sight of the Prince. Half of his scarred face obscured as he peered through the telescope attached to the railing in front of him. Although she couldn’t see gauge what he was feeling, she was certain he figured out what or who signaled that flare and was already directing his next course of action.

When suddenly that same foreboding sensation from before when they first saw the beam of light, roiled around her chest and stomach, leaving Lila uneasy. Why? Well, she didn’t know what to expect. Was it the avatar? A false alarm? She didn’t know and not knowing left a nasty taste in her mouth.

After Prince Zuko finished barking orders at his men, solar colored eyes caught a glimpse of the curly-haired servant below seconds before he continued looking through the telescope. The girl stood by herself with half her face covered, the setting sun illuminating her tanned skin, and looked up at him with -what he could detect- nervousness. Prince Zuko didn’t know as to why nor did he care. The entirety of his focus on capturing the Avatar.

A brown eye fluttered as Lila snapped from her thoughts. Hurriedly she turned and hastened down below to the kitchen. She knew now was not the time to get distracted from her work. Earlier the chef told her he was ill and asked Lila to fill in for him tonight. She agreed though something told her he was lying. Through the maze of corridors and staircases, a passing conversation of a few men could be heard as they rushed by.

One man bumped her shoulder as he hissed, “hurry, we have to dress the Prince, the Avatar’s hiding place has been found. We’re going to the southern water tribe.”

Lila’s eye widened as her breath hitched at the mention of her mother’s sister tribe. If the Avatar is truly alive and has been hiding there for the past hundred years…worry gripped her heart over the safety of the tribes' native people. Although prince Zuko hasn’t engaged in many battles with other ships or neighboring nations, the Fire Lord’s son was a wildly stubborn and determined boy who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Lila didn’t doubt he’d probably leave a trail of chaos in his wake with no regard for the consequences or how it’d affect the lives of others.

Once she entered the empty kitchen Lila rolled her sleeves up and got to preparing dinner, the red dye of her uniform reminding her of the clothes she wore as a child in the palace. As she cooked, she blinked back thoughts she knew all too well. Red uniform

Screams of fear echoing in the palace gardens

A girl in royal garbs

“You’re useless.” ... “Holy-ow!”

A sudden stinging pain roughly pulled Lila from the haze of old memories. In her stupor, Lila didn’t notice how close the knife was while cutting the spring unions and managed to slice her pointer finger. Quickly, the girl staggered away from the kitchen counter, removing the steaming pots and pans with her uninjured hand, and flitted about the kitchen looking for anything to stop the bleeding. She checked all the drawers, cabinets, and pantries as bright red blood continued to ooze over her finger and onto her hand. The throbbing and stinging continued to intensify making Lila bite her lip in pain as she tucked her finger beneath her thumb. Unable to find any clean rags or towels-

“My eye cloth…”

A tug on her heart stopped her search momentarily.

To her, that cloth was like a barricade of some sort to Lila. Sheltering the small girl from being reminded of it…the day she lost-

In summary, her eye patch was the only thing that blocked out the reality of what happened that day. Regardless of how vulnerable she felt without the cloth now was not the time or the place to start feeling insecure or hesitant, she knew that. There was work to be done; rice and meat filleting.

With the cleaning basins for the dishes nearby Lila went toward it to clean her finger and avoid food contamination. It should’ve been cleaned and refilled now that it was close to dinner time. Ready to dunk her hand in the water and wash her bloodied wound she stopped abruptly. The whole bucket was still dirty from lunchtime. Bits and pieces of rice, chicken, and other scraps floated about in the water. With a rough sigh and a curl of a plump lip, Lila closed her eye for a moment.

“I can’t catch a break,” she groaned lowly. Never again was she going to fill in for the chef.

Still, she was a servant…what could she do? Nothing. Before she could change her mind, Lila briskly grabbed the knot of the cloth from behind her head and pulled it free, a few strands of curls ripping from her bun. The milky white of her blinded eye on full display, free of any covering but chained to inhibition. Gloomy hands of her past groped and reached for Lila, but she slapped their searching palms away as she began wrapping her wound. Gentle but sure fingers tied the end of her cloth into a firm knot and she inspected her handiwork with a wistful smile. The memory of her mother’s soft hands dressing the wounds of a child rolled like a movie, replacing the ones Lila usually remembered.

“Lila, you fell again?”

The playful timbre of her mother's low voice filled their backyard. Lila’s childish eyes bubbling with tears raised from the cut on her knee as her mother calmly squatted in front of her fallen form.

“I didn’t mean to mommy. The tree was in my way,” cried her indignant daughter. Laughter rang from her mother, a white bandage appearing in her dark hands, 

“Of course, but you also have to be careful where you’re stepping too, my love.” Knowing her mother was right but still unhappy with that answer, Lila huffed out a sniffle. Tenderly her mom cupped the back of her daughter’s freshly scraped knee and began lecturing, “Here, let’s teach you how to fix wounds, big girls are good at that-”

“Big girls like you, mommy?” A squeaky voice interrupted.

Nuna glanced up at her daughter’s question. Brown innocent eyes that held such curiosity reflected in Nuna’s blue ones she just had to laugh.

“Yes Lila, big girls like me and you.”

Lowering her newly wrapped finger, Lila’s lips fell back into a straight line. She had no time to get lost in her thoughts. Deciding to try and cover her eye with her hair, her uninjured hand pulled her hair free from the fire nation styled top knot. Onyx curls tumbling down the length of her back in one fell swoop, kissing the top of her hips. The overwhelming urge to moan in relief had goosebumps tickle Lila’s spine as the tension of her tight bun dissipated almost instantaneously. She brought her hands up under her hair and aggressively massaged her scalp, both eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Ahh, yes…” A soft groan rumbled from the back of her throat.

“Ahem.”

“Oh, my goodness!” She gasped.

Whipping toward the kitchen door, hands tangled in her roots, the men from earlier in the hallway were standing there watching her as if they’d found an earth kingdom stowaway. Though the more she watched them with increasingly flushed cheeks, the more she realized they were staring at the eye. Tanned hands flew from her scalp to shake her curls and obscure their sight, but it was futile, they already saw the clouded pigmentation. Involuntarily closing her eye, the servant girl clasped her hands over her stomach and curled into a bow.

“Um, hello,” Lila stuttered but caught herself, remembering her place. Kind professionalism coating her soft question, “how may I be of service to you?”

The man who she heard speak in the corridor collected himself faster than the rest and cleared his throat before announcing,

“We are close to our arrival of the southern water tribe and Prince Zuko has requested your presence to dress him for the capture of the Avatar.”

Alarm colored Lila’s features when she recalled the last time she was alone with the prince. Streams of tears and memories he unintentionally triggered that night played before her. Swallowing down the building discomfort in her throat, Lila straightened up and schooled her worry lines into a controlled smile. She had to remind herself, “The Prince didn’t know.”

Apparently, for the men, Lila’s forced smile mixed with the ghastly mismatched color of her eyes was too much to handle, unable to hide their distaste. Faster than she could stop it, a pang of offense and hurt yanked at her heart, but she managed to stifle and shove the feelings away as she gave another trained bow. Though a question did come to mind.

“I beg your pardon, but may I ask why he requested me specifically? He has never requested this of me before,” words mousy.

Her question only seemed to cause the man to grow irritated, his eyebrow ticking in impatience as major attitude gripped his words, “The prince claimed to be displeased with our services in preparing him. Now, would you please stop talking and do what prince Zuko has asked of you? He’s waiting.”

“What about the food-”

“Servant girl, what did I just say?” The man angrily snapped.

With a flinch, Lila mumbled, “My apologies,” before bowing one last time.

Throwing an “Unbelievable” over his shoulder, he and his two companions turned to leave the kitchen.

His snarky tone made Lila frown and furrow her brows. Oh, this girl had no idea of the colorful range of words Prince Zuko used to describe him and his men! Comparing them to fire ferrets! Ha, the nerve of that prince! On top of a bruised ego, the man now had to deal with a servant who couldn’t even see right and didn’t know when to be quiet and simply serve! Lila watched them exit the kitchen, soft frown still intact as she cocked her head to the side.

With them gone, Lila moved the last bits of uncooked food away from the fire as she rushed to the prince’s quarters. With one hand on the wall, Lila hotfoot it through the twists and turns of the dim-lit hallways and up the main stairs. The frigid wind stung her cheeks, her servant's uniform doing nothing in keeping her warm as she speed-walked toward the command tower. However, it did help now that her hair was unrestrained, long curls shielding her arms from the nights southern cold. All but running into the tower, warmth immediately licked at her body. The fire emanating heat and light from the wall torches eased the stiffness of her shivering joints. Her relief was short-lived when she remembered that Prince Zuko’s room was still a few floors up. With a pout and a whimper, Lila began jogging the rest of the way toward her master’s room.

Once she reached his metal door, a winded Lila lifted her bandaged hand and softly knocked, a throb of pain shooting down her finger as she waited. Like usual, the gravelly voice of the prince commanded her to come in.

Using both hands, the petite girl turned the large cogwheel and pried the door open. Identical to last time, she peered into his room, took one cautious step in and hesitantly called out,

“You’ve requested my assistance, Prince Zuko?”

Mindful of the eye, Lila discreetly pushed some hair and hid it from view. The reaction of the men before told Lila it’d be better to keep her disability hidden if it was that distracting.

“Yes, come quickly. I want to be ready by the time we reach the southern water tribe.”

Judging from the clam raspy tone of voice, Lila concluded that The Prince wasn’t angry and carefully entered, closing the door behind her.

Near his meditation table, Prince Zuko stood like any fire nation soldier would with the usual scowl on his lips. As Lila inched in front of him she could already see that the straps holding his fire nation armor together were tied in all the wrong places. Being alone and in such close proximity to the brooding prince, Lila felt her nerves begin to quake. No way did she want a repeat of last time, anxiety sprouting from her chest. The tension was palpable in the room. The lack of conversation didn’t help either as she thought of what Prince Zuko and his men might do to the people living in that tribe. Though she’s never been to the northern or southern water tribe, they were still her mother’s people, thus making them part of her kin.

“Will they do what the fire nation did to my village, too? We didn’t even have the Avatar either and they still ravaged my village.”

In an attempt to silence her thoughts, Lila gingerly grabbed the chords holding the chest piece of his armor together and set to work. Her eyes trained solely on his battle wear. Cautious of her injury Lila made sure to keep her finger from touching him. Any bump or jostle hurt. Though her fingers, minus her pointer, were moving, her mind remained on the tribe's native people.

Zuko looked straight ahead as the shaky but lithe digits of the servant – Lila, was it? - untied and retied the straps in the correct places. The reason why he called for her specifically was that he figured she’d know how to do this from her years of servitude at the palace. Before his banishment, before that fateful day. As thoughts of his family started to prod the strongholds of his mind, Prince Zuko didn’t see Lila peek up at him from the side of his shoulder until he heard her low voice fill the thick quiet of his room.

“What’re you going to do to them?”

Like an arrow, sharp and precise, prince Zuko’s stare shot to her own, making Lila’s eyes widened in surprise. She expected him to be looking straight ahead if he were to answer her.

Breaking eye contact with him, Lila looked down and closed her blinded eye desperately hoping he didn’t see it as she went to fix the strings behind him. Erratic. That’s how Lila’s heartbeat felt. But yes, Zuko fully saw the milky hue of her eye. He too had a similar reaction like the three men, but not one of distaste or disgust. Just surprise, but he soon discarded what the feeling once he processed what she asked.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern, servant.”

Cold with an edge of warning. That’s all Lila could sense wrapped around his heated words. Especially when he said her name. Now onto the left shoulder greave, Lila peeked at him again. He was looking straight ahead, his face taut with contemplation? Lila couldn’t tell. With a beat of hesitation, she licked her lips. She could already tell he was beginning to lose patience. If she were to say another word, she didn’t doubt he’d snap. Her brain was telling her not to say anything, she was walking on thin ice that was melting fast, but her mouth felt differently.

“May I speak Prince Zuko?”

“No, you may not. Finish fixing this and go. I don’t need to hear what you have to say,” Prince Zuko snapped in restraint.

All while arguing with herself, Lila moved to squat in front of him and began tying the laces of his shin guards. She did not want to witness another fire nation attack on any village again, especially when innocent people are involved. Though she felt if she were to talk out of turn, prince Zuko would surely lose his patience and probably punish her. Besides, what could someone like her do, realistically? No one has ever listened to her. She has no voice, but still. They are my people, too. I have to try.

Opening and closing her mouth Lila fought to push the words out.

“The water tribe did nothing-”

Unnaturally warm hands cut through her sentence and seized her wrists as she was forcefully pulled up from the floor and against Prince Zuko’s armor-clad form. Strands of curls unintentionally tangling in his grasp. Chest to chest, with Zuko holding her wrists and hair between them, he glared down at Lila. Fear radiated off her body in waves. She felt way too exposed without her eye patch and a dull ache throbbed from her finger when her hands bumped against his armor. White and brown eyes flickered between golden ones before looking around the room to avoid his stare, but to no avail. Calloused fingers laced with hair firmly, but not painfully, gripped her jaw turning her face to his, thumb pressing into her cheek.

Patience completely evaporated, Prince Zuko ground out, “I told you not to speak, didn’t I?”

With shuddering breaths and petrified eyes, Lila could only nod faintly. Paralyzed by his overwhelming build the words on her tongue melted, sliding down her throat. Releasing her jaw, Prince Zuko let go of her wrists, strands of hair snagging on his fingers as he dropped his hand. Lila winced from the sudden plucks of her curls. Shaking the hair off he rubbed the bridge of his nose, shut his weary eyes and sighed,

“Finish the last shin guard and leave.”

No reply came from the young girl as she dropped and tied the shin greave. A slight tremor in her hands. Once she was done she stood up with her head hanging low.

“I’ve finished Prince Zuko, do you require anything else before I go?”

“No.”

Long hair cascaded over her shoulders as Lila bowed. Rising back up she somehow managed to calmly exit the prince’s quarters, his eyes narrowing on her retreating form the whole time. With the loud thud of his metal door closing, both Lila and Prince Zuko let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

Lila had half a mind to go to uncle Iroh’s room and talk with him about what his nephew was planning to do. Talk with him about how the Prince was nothing like what Iroh describes him as but decided against it since he was most likely napping. It was hard for her to believe there was kindness in the Prince’s heart when all she’s ever seen from him was anger and rage. You could see his brutality and hate in the way he bended, too. Once she exited the command tower the sun was still hanging onto the horizon, waiting for someone to look at what it created, but a thick mist now covered the expanse of the water the ship navigated. When out of the blue, loud crackling emanated below the ship. Lila ran to the front and hunched over the edge of the railing to see what was going on.

Squinting through the mist, she saw the ship’s hull was no longer sailing on water but breaking and cracking through solid ice. Snapping her head up Lila saw the ground splitting toward the water tribe’s village! One large jagged fault traveling right through the middle of it. Prince Zuko’s ship rammed through the iced floor like it were a piece of paper. Lila couldn’t help but panic internally, they were coming extremely close to the water tribe!

“If this ship doesn’t stop we’re going to run right through!” she gasped in horror.

From what she could see in the vapory haze, the southern water tribe was quaint. A wall made of snow circled the tribe, acting as a barricade. Small igloos littered within. From behind, the sound of the Prince and his men’s shoes clanked across the deck toward the front of the ship, preparing to disembark. Anxiety, fear, and apprehension swirled within her. This scene hitting way too close to home for her liking. She never signed up for this, well she didn’t sign up for this at all, but still. The three years she’s been on this ship she never really thought about what capturing the avatar looked like or being there to see it. All Lila knew was she didn’t like where this was headed at all. The prospect of the past repeating itself right before her eyes scared her.

When she turned to watch them pass Lila’s eyes caught prince Zuko’s for a brief moment. Again, he found nervousness swimming in her stare, and again, he didn’t care.

Finally, the ship came to a halt with an ominous screech. Powerless, Lila watched with bated breath. Her eyes flitting between the native people down below and Prince Zuko’s men. She swore her heart was going to pop out of her chest from how hard it was pounding it almost hurt. Suddenly the hull of the ship dropped, turning into a makeshift ramp, a loud thud resonating in the air. The ship's metal easily overpowered the tribe's barrier, the snow crumbling as it gave into its weight.

Faintly Lila could hear a feminine voice yelling for someone to get out of the way. The shrill scream making Lila’s heart drop and then kick up in speed, assuming the worst. It felt like her feet were bolted to the floor as she helplessly watched the Prince and his firebenders disembark the ship. Visibly shaking, Lila leaned over the front of the ship again to see, legs feeling like they were going to give out any moment.

From her spot, she could see Prince Zuko and his guards disembarking and a young water tribe boy with war paint coating his tanned skin, belt out a war-like cry as he charged up the ramp at Prince Zuko. The boy’s weapon of choice, a water tribe club, raised high over his head. He was easily overtaken. Lila winced when the Prince’s leg side swept the boy's club out of his hand, then kicked him in the face, sending the boy flying off the side of the ramp and into the snow. Lila could hear Iroh’s voice in the back of her head talking about how he knew his nephew wasn’t as corrupted as his other family members, but what she was seeing now proved otherwise. He was unlike what Iroh always tried to tell her. The Prince was brutal.

Zuko continued walking down the ship as if nothing happened. His steps were powerful and determined. The people of the tribe huddled up in one big group, trepidation and terror embedded in all of their blue eyes. With the men of the village off to war, Zuko was unsurprised to see the ones that remained were the women and children, except for the war-painted boy if you’d count him as a man. However, the longer no one spoke the more time was wasted in capturing the Avatar. The silence was so tense Lila felt it up on the ship. Zuko stopped in front of the crowd, his eyes sizing up each woman and child until his glare stopped on this one girl holding onto the arm of an elderly lady.

“Where are you hiding him?”

When no one spoke, both Lila and the young girl gasped when the banished Prince roughly pulled the elderly lady from the girl’s grasp.

“He’d be about this age? Master of all four elements?” Zuko demanded, shaking the woman by her for emphasis.

Again, no one answered him, they were all stunned in silence and fright. After a beat of quiet, Prince Zuko carelessly shoves the old woman back into the young girl’s arms. Both water tribe women gasping. Lila watches worriedly, praying up above that this village will be spared from the fire nation’s fury. Even from the ship, Lila saw the Prince tense up in frustration and knew what he was going to do next and whispered “no,” as he launched a wave of fire inches above the villager's heads. The women and children screamed and cowered before him.

“I know you’re hiding him!”

Below her, Lila saw the water tribe boy free himself from the snowy confines he was kicked into, the majority of his face free of paint as he picked up his club and ran at Zuko once more with another loud battle cry. At the last second, Zuko turned toward the annoyingly loud boy and dodges the boy’s attack, flipping him over his head when he swiped at the Prince. When he hit the ground Zuko punched another blistering fireball at him. Luckily, the tanned boy gathers himself rolling away from the blast, swiftly retrieving a boomerang that was strapped to his back and throws it at the Fire Lord’s son. It surprised both Lila and Zuko with how fast and strong he threw it, the air whistling as it narrowly missed the Prince’s face. Even where Lila was standing the boomerang would’ve whacked her in the face if she didn’t duck in time. All the while her eye followed the boomerang’s path. The boy was stronger than he looked.

“Even without bending,” Lila hopefully thought, “he’s handling himself well against the Prince. Maybe…this village won’t be ransacked.”

A growl erupts from the Crown Prince’s throat before he can shoot more fire at the irritating boy who just won’t quit, a little water tribe child cries out,

“Show no fear!” Throwing a fishing spear made of bone at his opponent. Again, he charged at Zuko, the spear positioned like he was going to run him through, but the Prince was prepared. “He lacks training,” Zuko gathered, easily breaking the spear in half with his wrist guards. He then snatched the bone rod from the boy’s hands, poking him repeatedly in the head with the butt of it until he fell on his bottom, and broke it in half again before throwing it to the ground.

On the ship, Lila’s eye followed the boomerang as it curled back around and headed back to the owner who threw it. With her eyes still on the weapon, she gradually turned and watched it spin at dizzying speed before it slammed into the back of Prince Zuko’s helmet with a loud thwack. Her eyebrows quirked in surprise as she wondered if the water tribe boy planned for that to happen, but her face fell when she saw the Prince standing menacingly over the boy’s fallen form. Fire jet out from his tightly clenched fists, the orange embers creating a dagger-like weapon.  

For a moment, Lila feared for what Prince Zuko would do to him, but surprise quickly overtook her as another younger boy, maybe about twelve or so, with a bald head and peculiar clothing zoomed through the middle of the fight out of nowhere riding on the back of a penguin. In the child’s hands was a staff as the penguin flew right under Zuko’s feet, sweeping his legs out from under him. The young servant girl gasped when the Prince fell over, the village children cheering for the child all the while. The said child sped past the kids sending up a wave of snow splattering them all in the face, their cheers ceasing for a moment at the unexpected smattering, but continued yelling anyway. At this point, as much as Lila was concerned over the fate of the water tribe, she didn’t know if it was morally okay for her to laugh at the ridiculousness of what just happened.

Still, relief filled her heart knowing that Prince Zuko’s plan of capturing the Avatar wasn’t going according to plan. No village, town, citadel, or nation should be destroyed in finding the Avatar. Her heart and mind were conflicted. Although she did want the Prince’s banishment to end, she didn’t think this was the right way of doing it. She remembered the stories her father told her about Fire Lord Sozin killing all the airbenders to find and end the Avatar cycle.

Briefly, Lila faintly heard the kid happily greet the boy and girl, their names being ‘Katara’ and ‘Sokka’, with Sokka dryly thanking the child, who she heard him call ‘Aang’, for coming. Lila’s eyes flicker between Prince Zuko and Aang, both of them assuming a defensive fighting stance as Zuko’s men circle Aang, closing in on him. Suddenly the kid swings his staff, and with each swing, he sends snow at the guards blowing them away. With the Prince being the last one standing Aang sends another blast of snow at him, but he was unmoved, uncle Iroh’s firebending lessons paying off.

“Looking for me?”

Processing everything the child managed to do in under ten seconds, Lila’s brows furrowed. He managed to disarm and beat all of Prince Zuko’s men like it was nothing just by throwing snow at them. At first, she thought he was a waterbender but he didn’t move like one. His fighting style was different from what her mother tried to teach her and different from what she’s seen earthbenders and firebenders do. It was unlike anything she’s ever seen. On top of that, the arrow on his head and the unusual choice of clothing he wore was vastly unfamiliar from the clothes in her hometown and the fire nation. Her eyes widened in realization. No, this child couldn’t be- Prince Zuko voiced her incredulity, the snow Aang bent at him melting off his shoulders and fists, “You’re the airbender? You’re the Avatar?”

~

A/N: OKAYYYYY!!! Just so you know I want you guys to keep Zuko’s “Contemplation?” face in mind. There’s a few things I want you guys to catch in part 2. Sorry if it was slow paced. I hope you enjoyed it and please excuse any grammatical errors. Have a blessed day! Chapter three may come later cuz I have a zuko request I want to write!

Taglist (If i missed anyone PLEASE let me know :))

@bangtanboyswriting123 @bookedforevermore @agentsofblinks @lilmou5ie @eury-dice3 @shephard17895 @duh-dobrik @yourlivewire @luleck @oraclebirds

[middleinthenight21]

‘’Ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? 1''

 @ravenfan1242 You are beautiful and I have no words

Thank you ❤❤

***

They didn't talk for a week, and that was enough so that the tension could be cut with the edge of a knife. She could feel it, his emotions were always easy to detect, his aura shone in different colors, marking the yellow tones representing happiness and joy, emotions that were difficult to achieve for someone who is half demon, whose control over her feelings and emotions contained her powers or these would consume her human side, and unwittingly would be liberating her father to destroy the world that for years participated in her salvation.

She was sitting next to him with the phone in his hand taking selfies for his social media and interacting with his followers, Raven had a book in her hands as she slurped a tea pretending that her mind absorbed every single letter, But she couldn't stop thinking about the moment everything broke down.

Were they too different for it to work? Should she have been surprised when everything went wrong?

She felt his indifference, as he also pretended not to have seen it and she could not blame him. Nor could she blame herself.

Sometimes she wondered what would become of her if she were a normal girl, if her fate wasn't a constant struggle, her worst nightmare ran through her veins and had imprisoned a demonic being destroyer of worlds in a glass resting on her forehead that responded to the name of her father, who was also the murderer of her mother and all the people who were part of her upbringing, What would happen to her if she was still that girl?

She had no right to forget all those people, who died on a childish whim.

She did not forget her heritage, going back to the worst-case scenario, but even with all that she could not help but see more. She glanced sideways at Garfield, who was resting on the sofa with a small smile on his face, tapping into his phone, felt a pinprick of emotion running through his body, his sadness resting between the layers, and she continued to dig as soon as she could contain it.

It wasn't hard to feel his emotions, Garfield was never someone who held back and lived every day as the last. Two drops from different ponds.

When they started dating months ago, everyone in the tower applauded. He was so happy that he wanted to post it on each of his social networks, but Raven had grimaced, because she wanted to keep her privacy to herself; no one should know. She wasn't ready for a public-domain relationship, she wasn't happy that everyone knew about her intimacy, so she wouldn't let him.

Garfield turned out to be a loving boyfriend, he wasn't afraid to touch her in front of the titans, when they watched movies he'd circle her shoulder resting his head against hers, After the missions he'd come over and put one hand down on her waist and smile happily for defeating all those bad guys by placing a kiss on her forehead, every time he had a chance to touch her he did, like she was something he could claim. Raven wasn't used to being touched, her last tokens of affection she remembered had been from her mother, before her life was completely transformed and ended in hell where contact with her father and half-brothers was as painful as the flames of fire, it had made her reluctant to show affection to her friends. She never initiated contact, nor desired to receive it, but Garfield was cut from a different cloth.

She was awakened by that feeling, that emotion of desire that she detected whenever the young man's thoughts moved away from reality, as if he were desperate for something or someone he would never have, and it was not her.

Raven figured it out. She was just hoping that one day she could forgive him, but she had understood, she didn't own his heart and she had grown tired of thinking that it would be Terra's life if she had given herself one more chance and stayed with them, Garfield would sigh every time he appeared in the halls, his emotions were strong enough for her powers to be detected from her room. It was different than what she noticed when they were together.

She remembered how his jokes and good humor could ease her reserved personality, cast his head back laughing like a little boy, as if he had never witnessed gruesome crimes and the deaths were only obstacles that jumped with a smile on his face, but there was a sadness in his eyes that he refused to reveal before her. Maybe his was a masterpiece until the two of them destroyed it.

He gave her flowers and let them die, she'd wanted him to open up, be serious for a few moments and tell her what was hurting him, but he didn't.

She wanted him to sit next to her and have a moment of peace, a space where he would walk away from social media and try to understand each other. Raven felt like she was the one who noticed the internal bleeding, she didn't mention it, and he kept giving out samples that didn't fill her heart anymore, she just felt cold every time he kissed her.

She knew he was doing his best.

Raven hadn't seen him until that breakfast. That morning she rose early, the sun hardly caressed the city, the fog covered the port and from a distance she saw the activity on the dock, small figures loaded the forests, collected the nets and filled containers with products of the sea; That tiny boat that took tourists along the coast of the city was hoisting their fictional pirate flags.

The steam from her tea burned her fingers, but she didn't care. It was a typical winter morning covered by a gray sky like a thick, spoiled soup, and the teenager sat in the chair facing the window in her pajamas, which consisted of a thin fabric blouse, shorts and thick woolen stockings.

She drank her herbal infusion, poaching on her tongue.

Turned off her father's voice, but her mind was restless and distant. She thought Garfield was probably still sleeping, seeing her consume tea would make him grimace and express how disgusting it is to drink hot flavored water; he would eat his yogurt with cereal and make so much noise until others would be bothered.

'Isn't it too early? ' Damian showed up in a sweaty sport outfit. Titus was walking behind Batman's son with his tongue hanging out of his muzzle, gasping, but he was still wagging his tail when he saw her in the kitchen "Come" He took the leash off his pet.

Damian had grown since he first arrived three years ago. His bones grew so big that Raven felt her pain at the first sprout of growth, his hair was short and dark black like the color of tar, his eyes green and his chin took a square shape; Anyone who saw him without his Robin costume would relate him to Bruce Wayne, it was his vivid image, except for the color of his eyes and the toasted tone, inherited from his Arab ancestry.

"Good morning to you too." After all this time she had to remind Damian of his manners. She drummed her fingers to the rhythm of a loose melody on the table. The marble brought the cold on her skin, it was like touching a snowflake "You want to take a cup of tea?"

He nodded, passing a towel around his neck to keep the perspiration away. His sweatshirt was broad in a black hue matching the pants, probably from a European designer whose surname she could barely pronounce.

They sat in front of each other in silence. They weren't very talkative people, Damian had been one of the few people who kept their emotions and feelings hidden behind an impenetrable wall, trained since childhood to be the perfect soldier and not make mistakes, never give the enemy the chance to use any emotion as a weakness, yet he was the person who understood most possibly because they had no social skills and had pasts from which they could not escape. Birds of the same feather.

Both had made an involuntary connection by saving each other.

There were uncomfortable silences, he was not easy to deal with and preferred to maintain distances before interacting, he had heard the whispers saying how creepy she was and did not fit in the middle of the group, In spite of being a heroine, there was an aura of mysticism and rarity that she couldn't shake off.

Damian turned out to be the least social Robin, keeping his appearances in the alleys of Gotham, patrolling and fighting criminals since he was a child, a stranger. He listened to the news in the online newspapers, testimonies from apparent nearby sources, and home video footage of witnesses as the team ended up with a criminal showing Robin's distance from the Teen Titans.

A few weeks ago, a video had gone viral that showed him after a battle where Damian was wounded, and Starfire came up to help him stand up but rejected her by waving his arm. The others weren't surprised, it was just Damian being him, however, people made it a topic of discussion whether or not Robin was a jerk to his peers, None of them would have found out if it wasn't for Garfield who expressed his dissatisfaction at seeing Robin in trends and not his name, but seeing what was going on, he told the team.

Damian snapped his tongue over the subject and went to his room. The whole drama moved people into twittering on Twitter about Robin's bad behavior towards the team, Justice League even with Batman himself showing blurry pictures of his fight a few years ago with Batman and before you know it Robin was canceled on social media without having any.

Garfield calmed things down by sending a friendly Tweet, but it was too late, and Robin's name was already tainted.

Now Robin was dealing with the constant images and videos taken on missions criticizing what he did. It would be easier if Damian was an anonymous person, but he's the son of one of the most powerful billionaires in the whole world and people were obsessed with knowing who he was dating and how the years made him into someone desirable in the eyes of teenage girls there were constantly photos of his body being on social networks under yellow titles such as: Bruce Wayne's son is already a man, look at his picture, Incredible!

Damian took a hard sip of his tea.

"How was the warm-up? "

He shrugged "I guess good."

He finished taking the last sip of his hot drink and got up to wash his cup.

"Do you have the first edition of David Copperfield?"

Raven raised an eyebrow, now curious. She turned around leaving her cup still soaped and her wet hands dripping on the floor "Have you read David Copperfield? "

He frowned analyzing the cover and back cover. The book was covered by a thick soft green fabric to the touch, had stains and pages fattened with a yellowish tone, plus a permanent old aroma, Raven had gotten it in a used book store and cost her two months' savings, but it was worth it.

Damian nodded and her heart leapt from emotion, but quickly neutralized "Yes. A few years ago."

"What did you think?"

"It was fine."

Frowned "I love your emotion."

Raven turned around and finished washing her cup by taking advantage to store the few dishes from the dinner the night before. Okay, maybe David Copperfield can be just ''It was fine'', but it's a book that needs to be analyzed more deeply and had more meaning.

"It's not bad" She froze "In fact, it's a good book, although a little childish for my taste and we all know that David wasn't going to stay with Dora."

She smiled "I have to agree with you. I think David always knew that the right one was Agnes, but he doesn't belittle Dora or that he didn't love her."

Arms around her waist stole the words she was about to say. She looked down, encountering green limbs, which left her quickly to kiss her hair muttering between yawns a greeting.

Looking at him, he was still in his pajamas and judging by his messy hair he had just woken up.

"Hey, Damian, you're all over the internet."

He folded his arms wincing at the sight of Logan, if there was one thing Damian hated was lazy and noisy people, Garfield getting up late and stirring the refrigerator in search of his favorite yogurt was the combination.

"Am I still canceled?"

Her boyfriend smiled with his mouth full of dried cereal "Robin, of course he did. Damian Wayne, heir of Wayne Enterprise, went out for a run with his pet, it was so adorable and hot that you're all over the gossip pages."

He picked up the phone showing a collection of photos of Damian jogging through a city park accompanied by Titus, in some photographs he was shirtless shaking his clothes from his pet's hair, in others he gave the dog a bottle of water to drink, Which drove the internet crazy.

"Worse."

And walked away.

Garfield shrugged, brushing the subject aside. Raven hugged the book on her chest and waited for him to finish breakfast, the silence was a monster that consumed her inside and wanted to break this, but she didn't know how.

She looked at his face, wondered if he noticed it too.

It made her feel like she was crazy, like she saw things that were never there. Raven wanted to know why they were keeping this thing afloat when it clearly leaked from the start, because he didn't see it, because Garfield kept clinging to it, she wanted to ask, but he was never that open.

He smiled at a post and slid his finger down, surely sharing with his followers.

Raven let the relationship go first, before it ended up destroying them both. He didn't love her.

It was a painful but powerful truth and she had refused to understand it until then.

No matter how much her heart was broken, she could not replace anyone or love a person who gave his heart to another. She'd made mistakes in her past, her road to hell had been full of good intentions, yet she wouldn't do that to him, she wouldn't do that to herself, In her time on earth he learned a thing or two about relationships and hers was doomed to failure from the beginning.

The others had known it. When the demonstrations of affection ended, they understood that the story had an end.

Not all couples are like Dick and Kory, who in spite of time and distance kept sticking together, going back to each other at some point; Raven had seen the connection to the minutes of seeing them facing each other, felt the nerves, lust and love floating between the heroes, like a thread that was electrified with every touch. She knew it.

When she was a child she had not believed in love, that of myths and legends that were so tragic and passionate that culminated with the death of lovers, nothing but explanations of natural phenomena, however, she did not expect herself to understand it in a bad way.

***

Walking down the street carrying the grocery bag for that weekend, they were heavy packed with a collection of products of different shapes and sizes that struggled to escape from the cloth bags.

It would have been a good idea to be accompanied, so I could share the work with someone else. She volunteered to make the purchases trying to get away from the tower, even for a while and did not accept the offers of her companions.

She wanted to be alone for a few minutes, but she didn't expect how difficult it would be to walk the streets with two bags loaded to the brim. The fabric was strapped through the circulation of her fingers, and her limbs were pulling as if she was carrying the bluntest weight in the world. She snorted, reminding herself that she should exercise more in the future.

An apple fell from the bag rolling into an alley and cursed.

'"Girl idiot, you deserve everything that happens to you"

"Shut up."

A figure cleared up next to her and was familiar. Damian was dressed in civilian clothes (which is strange) he wore a sweatshirt three times his size, some loose pants and on his face a white mask that made others think he wanted to get away from a potentially dangerous illness, but he never got sick. She never saw him once.

This covered outfit was given to be nothing more than a disguise so that no images of him would emerge and then she thought about what people would say if Damian Wayne were close to a stranger in an activity as casual as carrying grocery bags. She could feel the annoyance, caution and irritation of her friend, which was normal in him, but this time it was directed outward, towards anyone with a cell phone in their hands.

She genuinely felt sorry for him, for Robin was an identity where he had always felt comfortable and allowed him to go unnoticed. Damian always preferred action to conversation, privacy to public demonstrations and didn't ask for recognition; she looked at him sideways wondering what it felt like to be embedded in a family of vigilantes, the weight on his shoulders, to bear an inheritance so great that he could not escape. Raven could relate to that.

She remembered something.

"Weren't you on patrol?"

His eyes turned to the apartment building, a white-colored concrete block; it looked like a residence for wealthy people. She was able to feel his reluctance to talk about the issue of patrols.

"It's no longer so simple" He folded his arms "Every time I fight criminals, I only see the cameras pointing at me. People make work difficult."

Robin's name was currently repudiated, she found it somewhat strange since the reception of the previous Robin was good, and every child wanted to be Batman's helper. Boy Wonder.

She adjusted one of the bags over his shoulder with a grimace.

"You're popular on Twitter."

"Being canceled is not the same as being popular," he snarled. His voice behind the mask sounded thick "Before I can avoid it a new act is already being added to a thread. People have a lot of free time."

She gave herself a few minutes to think "Garfield calls it cancellation culture."

He made a face when she mentioned that name.

"I heard you broke up."

Raven put her head down. It had been three weeks since that conversation at breakfast, the wound was not fresh, but it was still there; she wondered if she had made a good decision. The doubt haunted her every time she heard him laughing with Jaime while they were playing video games and watching him approach other people giving out hugs, but it wasn't so painful anymore. She made peace with not having him in her life.

She was surprised that Damian brought up the subject of her previous relationship, not that he was very interested in the Titans' love life, and when they announced the relationship he put on an expression of boredom. Raven didn't expect any reaction, he never got along very well with beast boy barely withstanding his screams.

They were friends, so he'd have something to say, wouldn't he?

Damian always had an opinion.

"We did," she replied.

They passed by some shops where big posters were displayed announcing discounts, apparently wanting to get rid of last season's products. Jump City was located at the beginning of the summer, the rays of sun burned the skin of its inhabitants and dyed the city of an apparent atmosphere of festival proclaiming in each of the local media the upcoming events and fairs.

A group of teenagers was making their way to a clothing store. One of them pointed at Damian's face with her cell phone, and he hid his face in the sweatshirt, walking faster, holding her arm, and got into a car parked a few blocks away.

He looked back "We lost them."

She had not realized the extent of the people's persecution of Damian. She glanced at him sideways as he took off his mask showing his sculpted jaw, his face was free of imperfections and he looked like something from an old film where he played the gallant protagonist.

In Azarath there was a word to describe how precious and charming beyond words, that beauty that hurt and made you wonder if something like this could exist, she had not found a translation or a word that could describe that feeling, so she left him as he was Arratax sounded in her head when she looked at his profile. Raven knew that Damian was conceived and trained to be perfect, designed, but that didn't stop her from feeling a pinprick of anger, for a demon's daughter, someone with unholy blood, beauty escaping from her hands.

"I hate this."

Raven arranged the bags in the back seat of the car. You could feel the aroma of new leather, the interior is luxurious and well cared for, it was probably a car made to withstand high speeds, last generation, probably exclusive.

"Do you think someone filmed you?"

He put his hands on the steering wheel "I don't think so, but they did take pictures of me."

She grimaced.

"I'm sorry" Raven apologized for all the shit that was going on, even though she had nothing to do with it.

Damian stared at her for a few seconds with a frown, as if he were figuring out the meaning behind her words, measuring whether there was a double intention. He started the car quietly and headed for the Titans' tower.

She looked out, the buildings and houses passed through her vision in a blink of an eye and leaned her head against the glass. She closed her eyes, quietly repeating a prayer taught to her by the monks, a plea for tranquility and new beginnings.

After months of a stormy relationship, a painful breakup and change after that, she needed some peace. For the first time in a month she really felt calm, yet it still seemed to her that this summer had been cruel, full of ups and downs.

She started it by being in a stable relationship, or at least that's how she classified it, if they'd told her she'd break up with Gar, she wouldn't have believed them because everything was fine. What an irony.

"Whatever," he said. His fingers tapped softly on the steering wheel like he was sending out a message in Morse code "It's not like it matters."

Raven bowed her head.

In her hands rests a book, she had not been able to finish it during these three weeks, unable to focus her attention on words. She kept the stories of Edgar Allan Poe clinging to her chest, as if to guard the letters.

"Have you read The Raven?"

"I think we all have. It's the writer's most popular story."

Damian folded through the intercept; his greenish gaze fixed on the road. There was something comforting about talking about books while he was driving, an atmosphere hovering over the two, a soft, protective mantle.

"I read it for the first time in the library."

She had to imagine that the Wayne mansion had its own library, after all Bruce Wayne was known to be a billionaire who visited charitable events talking about current issues with powerful people. He may be a playboy, but that didn't make him a fool.

His library probably had first editions and collections that would cost houses.

"What's your favorite?"

He glanced at her sideways, it was a fleeting glance. His brow was still wrinkled in a frown, and his mouth twisted in a grimace, like a pouty child when he was rebuked. Damian didn't like to talk, rarely had he shared with the Titans beyond the missions, so they saw him with a book in his hands, name a certain character or quotes were surprised, But Raven knew it, saw the momentary interest every time he watched her read or made sure she wasn't disturbed.

He was full of surprises.

"Oliver Twist."

His gaze relaxed and for a few seconds his mind escaped, as if flying in a different direction. She didn't need to be empathetic to understand that it was a private memory.

The rest of the journey was peaceful, but Damian gradually became more bitter, spoke less and frowned more, as if a being were returning to his body.

Damian Wayne's exhibition and Robin's cancellation had only made him distant (more than usual), he realized how his friends could find themselves in the tabloids and media for more than missions if they were discovered by his side. Damian Wayne captured attention for his heritage, Damian Al Ghul was destined to lead the world's most powerful league, Robin is the companion of one of the most popular and beloved heroes, who is also part of Justice League, But the Damian who drank tea cups and added brown sugar reading poetry, won prizes at the fair for children and was amazed at the taste of sweets, enjoyed the silences and whispering conversations; that Damian didn't appreciate it.

Raven sighed as the car pulled up in front of the Tower of the Titans.

Back to reality, it was said. She had pretended to be a lonely evening, she wanted to engage her thoughts in something other than that fateful morning, in her failure of love that her father mockingly reminds her of declaring that demons fell in love, that it was her fault and doomed to destroy everything, just like she was meant to destroy the earth.

She had been angry, tired and hurt, and the walls of her room already threatened to drive her crazy. Normally she would be in her room meditating, drinking tea or reading a book, but not anymore.

She needed to get out.

She seriously considered making up an excuse to be away for a while. She looked upon the city, the rays of the sun reflected on the windows of the buildings like lit candles, and the mountains were dyed a pastel pink shade.

The first stars appeared in the sky. It was getting dark.

"Thank you for the ride."

She felt the need to speak, though she knew she would get no answer from Batman's son, so she got out of the car with the grocery bags. "You're welcome."

Raven stopped wondering if she heard, but the car was already pulling away.

***

In her head everything went well, he called her and replied with a smile, but it was all a montage.

A montage she wanted to erase from her head.

Garfield would knock on her door, offer a smile in peace and feel the world fall at her feet. His heart would pound into his chest, his fingers would itch to get her close, to taste her skin, and how it would feel to say she was his. The worst lie ever.

She sat on the floor of her room facing the window, the city was a dark painting filled with thousands of lights turning on and off. The sight comforted her, sheltered her heart and she remembered why she was doing this.

Raven turned off the light and remained silent, just looking out.

She had been described as a lonely person with whom she was difficult to deal, her past was a chain she could never cut, could learn to wear the chain and share when she weighed the chain. A few years ago, she had said she had a bad judgment, believed that she had not changed at all.

She wondered if she would ever learn from her mistakes.

Love was not for her; she was much better off alone; no one had to deal with a demon's daughter. As much as she hated her father and would ignore each of his words, she recognized that he was right in a sense, people like her were not meant to be loved, for others to give them their hearts.

I could live with that.

***

After that mission Robin's name echoed on social media, apparently someone had taken a picture of the moment the superhero hit Beast Boy in the stomach after he yelled in his ear. Damian's reaction was bad, he didn't like surprises, so every time someone managed to scare him, he would respond with blows.

That's not what they said on Twitter.

Garfield was a beloved titan, as much as his peers rolled their eyes when they saw him doing live on their social media and posting everything that happened to him was not a world opinion, his more than five million followers lived for each of his interactions, So, they didn't react well to the image.

Garfield tried to calm the situation, But the photograph of Robin's fist crushing his stomach and the justification he gave was enough for his followers to believe he was some kind of martyr and make petitions gathering signatures so that the Boy Wonder would no longer be part of the Titans.

"OMG… Robin assaulting another of his companions, what a surprise'"

"Beast Boy is a love. He doesn't deserve this''

''We should all cancel Robin. I don't understand how Batman can have him as a partner, and even the Titans, he just shouldn't be there''

''Beast Boy is a very calm person, he's never bothered anyone, but Robin treats him very badly #JusticeforBeastBoy''

The hashtag became a worldwide trend with the video going around the world. The Justice League intervened saying that Robin is just a boy and that his action did not reflect on the Titans, and Batman found himself contacting Starfire.

Damian rolled his eyes away from the situation. In the last few days he was quiet, spent his days training or patrolling being invisible, a shadow appearing to save them and disappear in smoke.

In the few moments he was in the tower he was absent when he heard any comments about social media, Starfire had suspended the posting of photos on the tower or other titans, as well as the mention of a certain team member.

Garfield protested, but Kory's frown was enough for him to nod.

Being around Damian had only caused her emotions to overwhelm her.

The teenager was a tide of anger and frustration, she felt it in his veins, like a monster waiting for a provocation to come out. His emotions were there, deep down he was affected by the situation, had something else to show besides latent anger.

She was not mistaken when she said that inside he is a noble and generous soul, she still believed he was that person, but sometimes she would like to do more than just scratch the surface.

Interrupted her meditation by paying attention to his blade by tearing apart a hologram. He was not wearing his uniform, only a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt revealing his arms, his frown falling drops of sweat and holding the sword stronger than necessary. The last time he was like this was after a discussion with his father about a mission.

"You've been gone five hours, Damian."

He didn't pay any attention. "It's okay. Ignore me."

Raven was not in the mood to put up with Damian's mood, could normally bear his rough edges and understood that none was easy to deal with, however, this time she preferred to walk away.

She headed for the exit.

"Are you still reading Edgar Allan Poe?" He frowned.

She was struck by surprise, took a few moments to understand his words and process a response.

Was he stopping her?

"Yes" She turned. He looked into her eyes but bowed his head and the sword swung in his hands without purpose. "I almost finished the stories."

Damian sighed.

He ran a hand through his hair. His face is covered with sweat, small drops descended on his forehead and he put the sword in the holster; he walked towards the controls and for a minute she thought he would reschedule the program from the beginning, but he took a book out of a backpack.

Raven wanted to look away, she sensed it was a book she planned to read, but the title made her look back at the play. She recognized it wherever she saw it, she'd been looking for it for days on the internet sighing disappointed at the price.

The first edition of The Raven had been sold out, yet the price was enough to make her pocket hurt. The book is dark, of a worn color, on the cover a raven on a pillar with the title barely standing out from a yellowish shade, and its pages thickened over time.

"How?"

He shrugged "Family Library."

Oh.

"Keep it" He paused "If you want it… "

Only Damian could make accepting a gift sound like an order. She made a mental note not to underestimate his detective skills, however, by her lips slipped a smile against any thought of exhaustion about the behavior of the younger Wayne.

He handed her the book, while he was away with the sweat on his forehead with a towel. She stared at the work passing one hand across the cover feeling the softness of the paper, as well as the relief of the title and the dust accumulated between its pages, as if it were awaited by Raven for a long time in the most hidden place in the world.

"Thank you very much, Damian."

He did not respond, but she could feel his shoulders relaxing and the tension seemed to leave his body. The emotion came to her like a wave on a quiet day, a softness that invaded her spirit and almost let out a sigh.

There was something intimidating about the scene, Raven holding a book leafing through its pages like devouring its contents, Damian drinking water and wiping sweat from the body.

They had a good relationship, they went through a few moments of roughness when they met and that is that the circumstances could not have been worse, but they were forged since then. She begged him to stay away, now she just wanted to keep him close.

Her heart was forming new strings around him, handled by the worst puppeteer she'd ever met in her entire life. She put that feeling away before it came up, it was just excitement for the gift and nothing else.

You want to take advantage of the boy. Her father's voice roared in her head, a tone of mockery and the smile disappeared from her face, Are you that easy, you filthy witch? Demons devour love, feed on feeling, and make it worse. We are made for this, ungrateful. When are you gonna learn?

Raven frowned at that.

She stared at the book, it was so beautiful that in a few seconds it became a sign of uncertainty, a reminder of the fate of all this. She wanted to return it, just like the little injection of feelings that shook her heart and nip it in the bud like a rotten thing before it branches off elsewhere and she couldn't do anything, just cry in the dark at the end.

She watched Damian, the boy was at the height of his reputation, each of those people who took the time to write comments against him hated him, repudiated his image and wished him out, as Damian Wayne was no better, the world was leaning at his feet and was haunted by magazine photographers starving for an update on the life of the Prince of Gotham's son, So much so that it affected the teenager's personal life by avoiding going out, and when he did, he tried not to be recognized on the streets. She felt that people should see him beyond titles and flaws.

Do you want to ruin this one too?

"What is it?"

He put the towel aside and came over. When there was something that aroused his curiosity, he demanded an answer and was content with nothing but the truth, she felt exposed and overwhelmed, perhaps it was because of her father's voice that no matter how much it cost her he was right, she never learned from her mistakes.

Put an end to it before the prologue is written and ends badly.

Raven retreated in one step, then two, but Damian continued to approach.

"What is it?" he repeated.

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, unable to utter a single word, but what would she say? what if this was just a nice gesture and she was confusing everything, she didn't want to ruin a friendship by a prick of confusion.

She Looked into his eyes. In a second her whole mind lit up completely and she realized that that feeling was not unknown, his green eyes brought her hope and strength in the moments when the world was falling apart even when they were just getting to know each other, they had seen so many bad things, they could have opted for a life of pain and destruction, but here they were waiting for the best, that kind of familiarity embraced her and made her entrails turn.

The feeling was not new.

They were inches away. She raised her head squeezing her lips out of sheer nervousness, wanted to divert attention to whatever it was, but Damian's eyes were demanding, being empathetic she felt his anxiety about knowing what was going on, It was almost as if he was calling her and emitting a magnetic force that made it impossible to lie to him.

She embraced the book on his chest "I…'

"You're all over social media, Wayne"' Jaime stopped dead. He appeared holding a cell phone and showing the teenager casually conversing with a waitress in a restaurant; the latino exchanged a glance between the two and scratched his hair, insecure "I'm sorry."

Damian frowned and rolled his eyes as he processed the words. He collected his belongings with angry grunts, probably tired of all the media scandal surrounding his life.

He made a grimace of discomfort.

"Brother, everyone is linking you to the waitress and all the girls are suffering," said Jaime. He had pretended that the words were a mockery, but no longer knew if his friends would take it as a joke, in any case, not that he had a sense of humor; he would swear that he was not welcome "Rae, you should read the comments."

She looked away from him.

Raven shrugged "I'm not interested."

"I don't want to know anything!" Damian put his backpack on his back and walked to the door in strides "I can't order coffee anymore" he snarled.

Garfield showed up with his tablet accompanied by Conner "Look what they did to Robin…"

Damian pushed him, and he slammed the door so hard he sent a draft of air. Beast Boy backed away issuing complaints, the device almost slipped between his hands like butter.

Conner laughed, gripping his stomach, mocking his friend.

"What's wrong with him?"

Raven sighed.

Sometimes she was surprised at how dense the three are, Jaime could be calmer, but as for the feelings and what his companions experienced, he was totally unaware of it, while Garfield only saw the truth if he came face to face and danced to it.

About Conner, well, she doubted he saw anything but his own vanity.

"He's frustrated," she said.

Garfield and Jaime exchanged glances, finally shrugged, while Conner continued to mock his friends for a reason that eluded her knowledge. She was used to people reacting like that when she spoke, as they related it to her powers and her mysterious aura, they assumed that she saw something that others did not, in some cases it was real, in others the problem was them.

Raven stared at the book.

The gift in her hands, the beating of her heart, the fire in her cheeks, which would burn to ashes.

She wasn't meant to love.

[beablome]

Finally Alive pt 1

Victor Zsasz x OC

WARNINGS: Murder, violence, swearing. REALLY violent. Mentions of abuse.

Summary: A girl catches Victors eye. Deciding to follow the girl, seeing where his curiosity leads him, it doesn't disappoint.

It was hard not to notice the young girl. Her hair is such a vibrant shade of orange that his eyes immediately drew to her, specifically to the beautiful, wavy copper locks that rippled down her back like a waterfall. That's how he picked her out of the small crowd in the diner, by her beautiful orange hair. And the longer he looked at the girl, the more interested he became.

Victor watched her clear a table of dirty dishes from behind the rim of his mug, full of coffee so hot it burned his tongue as he sipped from it. But he didn’t care, he actually enjoyed the burning pain as the liquid slid down his throat.

There was something different about this girl, he knew just by looking at her. Well, actually he knew by observing the tired look on her features and the purple bruises sticking out from her sleeves and the collar of her shirt. She had an aura of sadness surrounding her. The kind that plagues people, eats at them until there’s nothing left. The kind that people spend their entire life fighting.

He snapped out of his trance abruptly, he had been getting lost in his train of thought when he noticed that he was openly staring at the girl. He didn't care, and she didn't seem to either as she approached his table, smiling tiredly at him. 

“Can I take this from you, sir?”

The redhead was polite, too polite. Anyone else would think that she’s just naturally a kind soul, exhausted from work and school. But he could see the truth, the hidden irritation and conceit that was so well concealed with a pretty smile and a few sweet words. She would make a wonderful assassin, he couldn't help but think. Her manipulative nature and apparent disconnection from her emotions, she was built for his life. He smiled back at the girl, his grin all pearly white teeth.

“Sure, uh, what’s your name, red?”

He noticed her friendly smile falter at the nickname, only for a moment. She was so good at hiding it that it would’ve been hard to notice if you weren’t as observant as he is. It comes with the job, he thought as his smile fell into a smirk, his eyes landing on her name tag.

“Charlotte!”

He exclaimed, leaning back into the booth. Her tense shoulders relaxed a bit at the sound of her name, she was probably glad he wouldn't be calling her "red" again. She obviously hated that nickname.

“Yeah you can take the plate, red. Could ya get me a strawberry milkshake too?”

Irritation filled her eyes as she blinked dumbly at him, forcing her kind smile so hard it looked like it hurt. She simply nodded, grabbing the plate.

“I’ll have that right out for you, baldy.”

She muttered under her breath, the both of them freezing in shock as they realized what she had said. The girl was terrified, she had never spoken out like that before.

Victor burst out laughing, barking out such a true and genuine laugh that Charlotte couldn't help but smile. She laughed a bit, too, after a moment.

“I like you, kid. Make that two milkshakes."

She raised an eyebrow at the man, and he shooed her away with the flick of his wrist.

"Go on, stop staring at me like that, it makes you look like an idiot."

She blinked dumbly, struggling to come up with a response. So, she just settled for sighing and listening to him. She turned on her heel, going behind the counter and dumping off the dirty plates after relaying the order of one strawberry milkshake. The redhead couldn’t help but think about how odd that man is as she slipped into the back, saying her goodbyes to her coworkers. She needed to get home, her father wouldn’t be happy if she was late. Too bad that weirdo would have to finish off his milkshake alone.

She slipped on her coat and snuck through the back door of the diner, entering a dingy alleyway. It was poorly lit because of the sinking sun, and a horrible, unknown stench stained the air. She held her collar against her nose and mouth, desperate to escape the smell. And it did help, for a short while. But eventually the stench creeped through the fabric, and suffocated her again. She was careful not to step in mysterious piles of garbage as she made her way down the darkening alley and eventually she gave up trying to evade the smell with a dramatic huff.

“Hey, Charlie!”

She froze dead in her tracks upon hearing that voice. After taking a moment to breathe, and almost choking on the smelly air, she turned to the man. Flashing him a false smile, which was actually masking the nerves gnawing away at her chest, she responded to him.

“H-Hey. What are you doing here?”

She asked in the most casual voice possible, burying her hands into her pockets as far as they could go. Nervously she grabbed and popped the cap on and off of the chapstick in her pocket, hoping that fidgeting with it would help calm her down.

“I’m here for my girlfriend.”

She exhaled, and it didn't help relieve some of the nerves in her chest like she had hoped. She refused to let her smile falter as she talked to him.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she noticed a figure in the distance, at the far end of the alley. It was the weird man from the diner. Tall, bald and dressed in all black. He just stood there, casually leaning against the wall as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“She’s out of town with her family. I dunno when she’ll be back, but I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

The girl shrugged, turning her attention back to the problem at hand. She could figure out what the bald guy's deal is later. The man before her visibly tensed. His fists clenching, his grin straining. She lied through her teeth and he knew it. She was in the diner right now, he was obviously hoping to catch her as she left work, but the two girls had switched positions for the day because she knew her violent ex was looking for her. 

“Bullshit. Go and get her, bitch.”

Her throat suddenly felt dry, she tried to say something, but before she could he pulled his fist back behind his head.

“LISTEN TO ME!”

It was all so fast she couldn’t even process what was happening. The disgusting sound of his fist cracking against the bone of her cheek rang through the dim alley. Suddenly her vision went black for a moment, and hot pain blossomed on the left side of her face. She doubled over, clutching her wound as she processed what had happened.

Why was the bald man just watching? Wasn’t he going to help? She glanced up at him from behind stands of orange hair as she tried to steady herself, seeing his figure leaning against the brick, undisturbed. Just casually watching a man attack a girl.

She was so used to it though, because of her Father, she was barely surprised. Why did they think that they could do this to her? Use her as a punching bag whenever they pleased. Because they’re mad, because they’re bored, because they feel like it - beat on little Charlotte Turner. The beatings, the pain had become so regular that she barely cried anymore. She would close her eyes and pretend to be somewhere else, just wait for it to be over. 

But something snapped in that moment.

She was so sick and tired of being quiet as they beat her, so sick and tired of being pushed around, so sick and tired of enduring. She’s had enough. 

She managed to jump out of the way as he swung his leg out, hoping to kick her while she was doubled over in shock. Now he was the one surprised that she managed to dodge his kick, using the confusion to her advantage she quickly scanned the alley for something to defend herself with.

Settling on a nearby metal garbage can lid, sadly the best option, she quickly swooped it up, slamming the rim onto his head with all the strength she had in her. Her hands were trembling, it was hard to keep them steady.

Everything was happening in flashes, in quick moments. It was surreal.

He yelled out in pain, but reacted quickly, surging forward and trying to rip the lid from her hands. She used this to her advantage, using all of her weight, and as much force as she could muster, she slammed the lid into his chest, knocking him onto the pavement. 

She scrambled quickly while he was dazed so that she was straddling his chest, almost violently gasping for air as she gripped the lid as tightly as she could, raising it over her head with trembling hands.

“Fuck- stop- please!”

He pleaded, but she didn’t care. She remembered all the times she begged for mercy, and she never got it. She thought of all the times her coworker must have begged him to stop beating her, and she ended up in the emergency room. He didn't show her mercy.

So, she gave him no mercy as she brought the lid down on to his neck, and he let out a garbled noise as the lid connected with his throat. Charlotte brought it down again and again until he stopped letting out those disgusting noises, until he stopped moving completely.

A long time later she dropped the lid to the side with a loud clang of metal on stone, gasping for breath. She had to be positive he was dead, having overexerted herself to make sure she finished what he had started. Her desperate heaves for air mixed with the sudden sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the alley as they made their way towards her.

Right. The bald man.

She should be scared, right? Someone just witnessed her violently bludgeon a man to death. But for some reason she wasn't. She was oddly calm. The events that just happened were taking awhile to catch up with her numb mind, she felt like she was sitting back and watching as someone else took control of her body... She had just murdered a man. She repeated that to herself, over and over again, trying to drill it into her brain and hoping that it would sink in quicker.

Her mind was still slowly processing that she had indeed just killed her coworkers abusive ex boyfriend in an alley with a garbage can lid, that she is sitting on his still body with her hands, shirt, and face dotted with spots of crimson. Her body is trembling violently from breaking her physical limit. Thanks adrenaline.

She is pulled back into reality as the bald man's footsteps grew louder and louder, until suddenly they stopped. Right to her left, she could see his polished black shoes out of the corner of her eye. Those shoes probably cost more then what she is worth. It looked very out of place in this scummy alleyway.

Her desperate heaves for breath had slowed a bit, her hands falling limp onto the dead mans chest. As limp as they could be, with how badly they were shaking.

“It’s rude to stand a guy up like that. I had to drink my milkshake alone.”

He simply said, and she snorted unattractively at how out of place the comment was. He had just watched her murder a man, and that’s what he says? She was right about this guy. He’s fucking weird.

“It’s rude to sit back and watch as a guy beats on a defenseless lady.”

She barely managed to rasp out, her voice shaky. Now it's his turn to laugh. She looked up at him from where she was perched on the mans chest, and he raised his nonexistent eyebrows at her.

“You just bludgeoned the guy to death with a fucking garbage can lid, I’d hardly call you defenseless.”

She laughed, a genuine laugh as she looked back down at her hands. They were red, sticky with blood. She suddenly found herself fascinated as she studied her hands.

“Yeah...”

She said quietly, raising her trembling hands to the light so she could admire them more closely, what she had just done finally beginning to fully sink in, even though it was slow. The man above her sighed, sticking a gloved hand in her face.

“Come with me.”

It took a moment to realize what he had just said, she was so transfixed by the blood on her hands, but once she did her eyes slowly slid from where they were fixed up to meet his blank gaze. She raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Why?"

He smiled at the girl, and she mirrored his grin. She had never seen a smile like his before and she felt drawn to it.

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in her throat at the odd situation. A man smiling down at her as she sat, bloodied on someone she had just murdered. It was hilarious, she couldn't help but think as her mirthful laugh rang through the alley. It shocked him, how genuinely happy her laugh sounded. It sent a shiver down his spine. And the fact that this broken girl had shocked him like this made him nervous.

"Why are you laughing?"

He questioned, and her laugh died down slowly. She struggled to breathe evenly, her body still recovering from how hard she over worked it.

"Because its funny. You're smiling at me, joking and being all calm even though I just murdered a guy. How do you not find that funny?"

She grinned, letting out a bubbly chuckle. He returned her smile curiously.

"Are you gonna answer my question, now?"

She said with an edge to her voice. He noticed that her entire demeanor has changed since his first interaction with her in the diner. She was more at ease, less... Worried. Insecure.

He cleared his throat, watching the grin quickly fade from her soft features as she studied him closely.

"I'd like to help you clean up this mess."

•

•

[1899-newsboy-strike]

Escape - Racetrack Higgins Imagine

Requested: Hey, love your writing! I was wondering if i could get a race x reader with the prompts 3, 5, 33 and 37?

3 - I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.

5 - Why are you helping me?

33 - This isn’t your fault okay? I promise.

37 - Don’t you know who I am? - Yup. I just don’t care.

Warnings: fighting, the refuge

Summary: The Delanceys get word of your father kicking you to the streets, when they see you on the street, they decide to torment you about what had happened. 

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

You had nowhere to go, you’d been wandering the streets the whole day trying to find a place to stay. You never expected you’d be living on the streets, but your dad got false word about you and a boy you didn’t even know at your school and everything went downhill from there. You’d gone from upper class to no class in a blink of an eye. It hadn’t taken long before your dad talked about how much of a disappointment you were and how you’d been kicked out. Once the Delanceys got word they were itching to find you. It seemed they would stop at nothing to tease someone so unfortunate. 

You’d never forget the day you were taken to the refuge. You were sat in the opening of an alley, you could hear footsteps making their way toward you. When you looked up you were met with the face of the Delanceys. “Hey Y/N heard you got thrown out by your old man.” Oscar smirked down at you before yanking you up by your arm. “So? Why do you care?” You asked, looking him in the eye. “Don’t you know who I am?” He glared down at you. “Yup. I just don’t care. You don’t scare me Delancey.” You spit in his face, pulling away from him. 

His hand ran over his face wiping the spit off before his hand connected with your face. Punches were being thrown left and right, most of them hitting you. There was a whistle in the distance before you were pulled against Oscar, a harsh grip around your neck. Footsteps made their way toward you, and a familiar face came into view. You’d heard about Snyder and the refuge, you had even seen him a few times, now that things were different the look of him struck you with fear. “She attacked us.” Oscar lied once Snyder came up to the three of you. You struggled in his grip, only to get thrown on the ground in front of Snyder. 

Hearing stories about the refuge and being in it were two different things. When you heard stories of the refuge from your friends it hadn’t sounded half as bad as it actually was. Everyday you would go to sleep hungry, sharing a bed with two other people, sometimes not even getting a bed at all. The worst days were when Snyder roughed some of you up, not knowing who he would pick. It was always like a sick game for him, he took joy in seeing all of you miserable. You’d finally figured out a way to escape, it was only a matter of finding out the right time. 

Your feet hit the floor moments after you jumped from the window. You ignored the pain that came from your ankle and ran. You didn’t look back, but you could hear commotion going on behind you. You knew you couldn’t go back home, but you also knew that you couldn’t be anywhere near the refuge. Your lungs began to burn, but you pushed on, the only thought in your mind was to get away. You hadn’t been paying much attention to your surroundings, and before you could stop yourself you collided with a guy who had unfortunately been in your path causing you both to fall on the floor with you on top of him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t look where I was going.” You explained getting off of him. “Where you off to in such a hurry?” He asked, getting up and wiping himself off. “I- the refuge.” You breathed out looking in the direction you had just come from. As if the mention of the refuge summoned him, you suddenly heard Snyder from behind you. Your hand was grabbed by the boy you had ran into, and he began to pull you in the other direction. You had already been tired from running before, so you were being dragged by the guy in front of you. You both quickly made your way into a nearby alley, and ducked behind trash bins.

“We’s gotta stay here for a while, he’s gonna keep lookin’.” He explained, both of you looking at the opening of the alley. “Why are you helping me? I don’t even know your name.” You whispered over to him seeing Snyder walking by the alley and he pulled both of you down. “I know what the refuge is like and how you’s feelin’. The name’s Race.” He introduced holding his hand out for you to shake. “Y/N.” You smiled softly at him. Slowly you both made your way out of the alley, looking around for Snyder. Not a moment later Race let out a quiet ‘crap’ before you were being pulled through the alley and onto the other side. 

You both continued running hand in hand, fear was coursing through both your veins. It was dark by the time you’d stopped running, both of you hiding near the Brooklyn bridge. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault you’ve been running all day.” You explained, both of you sitting next to each other. “This ain’t your fault, I promise. Snyder’s always after everyone. How long have you been in the refuge?” Race asked surprised that you’d seemed shocked by what he was saying. “Um…” You trailed looking in the distance not remembering how long it had been. “That long huh?” He nodded in understanding, both of you staying in the shadows. 

“You got a place to stay?” Race asked after a while of silence. “No, my father… he kicked me out before I went to the refuge.” You explained looking away from him. “Tell you what, tomorrow I’s gonna take you to the lodgin’ house, you’s can become a newsie like me and the rest of the boys.” He explained, not phased by hearing your story. “I don’t know why you’re helping me Race. I’ve been left by my dad, all my friends, and even people from the refuge. You try to help, and sometimes it just… goes wrong.” You shook your head as the memories flooded your mind.

“I’s helpin’ ‘cause that’t the right thing to do.” He explained, causing you to shrug. “Not many people would do the right thing.” You mumbled pulling your thin, old torn up coat closer to your body. “I’s not gonna leave you. You’s never goin’ to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.” He promised, earning a small smile from you. “Thanks Race.” You said, both of you deciding to curl up on the floor to get some sleep. You wouldn’t have expected for the day to go as planned, you’d assumed the fall from the window would have gotten you caught or killed, but now you were getting help from a boy you’d just met.

[crmediagal]

A BRAND NEW SSHG STORY!

*** For those interested, I’ve begun posting a NEW multi-chapter SSHG fic at my website at www.crmediagal.com. If you haven’t already requested access to my stories and artwork there, be sure to do so by filling out the form here. ***

Story: St Severus by CRMediaGal

Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger | Genres: Family/Romance/Angst/Humour

Synopsis: After moving in next door to her cantankerous former childhood professor, an overworked, newly single Hermione Granger is forced to leave her only child, Hugo, under the troublesome wizard’s care.  The complicated interactions that ensue bring with them a hodgepodge of angst, humour, drama, and much needed re-connection for all.  Based loosely on St. Vincent.  AU, Post-war.

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

“Ahem?  I wish to close my vault.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Snape,” expressed the puny goblin scrawling something onto a piece of parchment and not glancing up from his work.  “You’ve been a member of our bank for forty-seven years.  May I ask what we might do to make you reconsider?”

“Listen, pal,” Severus stewed; the goblin blinked and turned his shrewd gaze onto his testy client, “you’re just trying to make a living like the rest of us schmucks.  I really don’t want to tell you to go fuck yourself, so can we just get this over with?”

He knew he was being an inconsiderate prick, not to mention unnecessarily rude at that, but after a terse meeting with one of Gringotts’ financial advisers earlier that morning, which hadn’t gone at all to his liking, Severus was not only pressed for time but pressed for patience.  He was also nursing a terrible hangover from the night before. 

Gringotts Wizarding Bank’s tellers were known for their general unfriendliness, but Severus Snape was a bugger who could overshadow another’s unpleasantness by leaps and bounds, whether his opponent be man or creature.  A goblin was no threat to his nasty disposition so he awaited the creature’s cooperation, crossing his arms defensively over his puffed up chest for added measure. 

“Identification,” the teller offered in short, his tone of voice switching from monotone to clipped like a light switch.  He slowly placed his feathered quill into its shiny, golden holder and eyed Severus down, his assessment measured and steely. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Severus groused under his breath before exclaiming louder than he had meant to, “you know damn well who I am!”

Several customers, as well as other goblin tellers, directed their attention towards the unsettling commotion brewing down the line.  A few bubbly gasps of “It’s Severus Snape!  The Severus Snape!” floated amongst the ogling crowd of onlookers. 

Unenthused, the goblin beseeched calmly, “Mr Snape, it is standard procedure to present your—”

“Yes, yes, fine!” he snapped, cheeks burning red.  He burrowed his hand deep inside the coat pocket of his robes to retrieve the key to his vault, as well as his wand which he had had since the tender age of ten.

The goblin took his time thoroughly examining each item.  Severus understood that the infuriating dunce was testing his self-restraint, purposely daring him to cause a scene in the middle of the bank.  Severus glared the goblin down as best as he could, unintimidated and trying to remain self-assured—at least, visibly. 

“Ah, yes,” the teller, at last, validated, handing Severus back his wand but not his key; he snapped his misshapen fingers together and it disappeared, a fresh roll of parchment unfurling in its stead, “one hundred and twelve galleons and fourteen sickles.”

Severus nodded.  “I’ll take—”

“No, Mr Snape,” the goblin cut him off, “I’m afraid that’s what you’ve overdrawn.”

Severus stared, dumbfounded, his long expression betraying his collected exterior.  “I beg your pardon?”

“That means that you’ve—”

“I know what ‘overdrawn’ means, you damned dunderhead!” he growled, bearing his teeth and flopping his hands on his hips.

The goblin inhaled a short breath. “Then we will need you to pay us one hundred and twelve galleons and fourteen sick—”

“I demand to know how this has happened!”  He pointed a firm finger at the ground.  He had never overdrawn on his account in all his ruddy life.  The error must fall on the side of the bank.  

“A collection fee from a…Kensington Care Home,” the goblin began reading off of the parchment; Severus’s anger deflated like air through a straw, “and a payment to one, Lucius Malfoy…”

Feeling small, and despising the condemning look over the teller was giving him, Severus asked, this time in a much feebler voice, “So, I can’t close my vault, then?”

“You can…once you’re back to zero, Mr Snape.  See?”  The goblin pointed to a gold weight scale on his desk and provided him with a sarcastic smile Severus supposed he deserved. “You’re here,” he explained simply, gesturing towards the lower scale and adding more coins to it one by one so that the scale tipped into balance, “and you must come back to here.”

It took all of Severus’s composure not to aim his wand at the goblin’s parrot-faced snout and blast it clear off of his rubbery, no-good face.  “Noted,” he gritted, withdrawing step by step in a gradual backward procession, staring the teller down as he slithered away. 

The crowd gathering nearby dispersed in a nervous shuffle to the wizard’s right and left, providing him plenty of wide berth to move.  Severus spun around, his robes billowing dramatically at his ankles, and stalked out of the grand entryway of Gringotts and onto the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. There was only one place he might go to take the edge off and, thus, Severus Apparated to that location at all speed.

Chapter 1 is available to read in its entirety at www.crmediagal.com

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Prequel: Tears in Heaven

This is a prequel chapter to the series “Wayward Hearts”, a SPN series rewrite with OFC Riley Munroe. If you haven’t read Season 1′s Chapter 9 of the series, there are spoilers ahead. This chapter follows immediately after the prequel piece ‘Family Above All’ and is written in Riley’s POV.

MASTERLIST

Content Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 3251

Riley’s POV:

I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. It was quiet--too quiet. All I could hear was the sound of the pouring rain on the roof. 

Dad had been gone for too long and wasn’t answering his phone. Why would he investigate a lead on the case without me? It didn’t make any sense. Not to mention how weird he was acting before he took off.

As I sat on the motel bed, I called his cell one more time only for it to go straight to voicemail. 

“This is Jackson. If you reached this number, you know what to do.” The line beeped and I huffed before leaving a message.

“Dad…where are you? It’s late and you’re not answering. What the hell is going on? Call me.”

When I ended the call, I looked down at the phone in my hand, almost pleading for it to ring. Something was wrong--I knew it in my gut. 

It was then that I saw headlights through the front windows and I rushed to look outside through the curtains. My hope immediately died when I realized it wasn’t Dad’s truck.

A man in the shadows got out of his own truck and closed the door behind him before heading for our room. I grabbed my gun and hid it behind my back, ready for a fight. 

There was a knock at the door and I hesitated before opening it, still leaving the chain hooked. That’s when I saw John Winchester at my door. He was soaking wet from the storm outside and his head hung with his hair dripping.

“John?”

“Hey, Riley,” he said gruffly.

I hadn’t seen him in years. I know he and Dad kept in touch, but we hadn’t worked together since a demon case we ran into a while back. 

“What are you doing here?” 

It was like he couldn’t find the words as he stood there in silence. When he lifted his head, his eyes red from what looked like tears mixed with the rain on his face. John’s mouth was slightly open and he cleared his throat. 

“John, you’re freaking me out.”

“Riley, it’s--it’s your dad.” I could practically hear the lump in his throat while my heart leaped into mine. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

The knot in my stomach made me feel like I would be sick as I hung on his every word. “He’s okay isn’t he?”

John just shook his head. “No--no he’s not.”

I could hear my pulse in my ears as I grabbed John by his jacket without a single thought. Angrily, I gritted my teeth. “Where is he?! What the fuck happened?!”

He turned his head towards his truck without a word and I could have sworn my legs would collapse underneath me. It took every ounce of courage I had to walk through the rain to that beat up truck. 

I opened the door and gasped when nothing was there. It was like a brief moment of relief before I realized I had to check the trunk. John’s truck was raised and I wasn’t tall enough to see in so I went to the back and opened it before hopping onto the bed.

There in front of me, laid a black tarp, wrapped around something. I could feel every part of me shake as I bent down and pulled the top of it away. 

My body went limp and it felt as though the life had been sucked from my chest. I went numb--almost dead inside like I couldn’t process what I was seeing. 

It was Dad. 

His eyes were closed and his face empty, hollow with him nowhere inside. My hand reached to touch him and shook violently as it connected with his cold skin. 

I jumped at the feeling and immediately began to cry. That cry quickly turned into a sob, which inevitably turned into a wail. I threw myself onto his chest screaming for him and hugging the man I loved more than anything in the world. My Dad, my partner, my friend--my whole world...was gone.

John just stood by the truck in silence as wept over my father’s body. I had never known that kind of pain in my life. 

Slowly, I felt my desire to live leave me. There was nothing left to live for.

------

In the middle of the night, John, Deb, and I stood in front of my father’s burning pyre in the Kansas forest. John remained stoic as always while tears ran down my aunt’s cheeks. 

The last few days, I had done nothing but cry, so by then I had nothing left. It was like I had abandoned my body to avoid the pain that was consuming me.

I watched as my dad’s body was slowly engulfed by the flames with anger in my heart. 

There were too many unanswered questions. All John said he knew was that Dad had called him telling him where to find him. When he got there, Dad was already gone, lying in the middle of an old barn. There were no marks, no wounds--no sign of what had taken him. 

I knew in my gut that my father already knew he would die and that something evil had taken him from me. Whoever had killed him, whatever had killed him, would pay with more than their lives. 

There would be a reckoning, and I would be the one holding the blade.

------

A month after the funeral, I had left Deb’s. I couldn’t stay there anymore. When I almost never got out of bed and spent my hours awake drinking, she and I got into a fight. I needed some air--some space to deal. 

So, I took the Mustang and headed out of town. I left Dad’s truck at Deb’s, there was no way I could drive it.

On the road, I didn’t have a destination, I just drove until I physically couldn’t anymore.

It was late when I pulled into town, not even knowing what state I was in. All I knew was I had gone east. 

As I rolled in, I slowed down to read a large sign through the darkness. ‘Welcome to Portsmouth, Virginia’.

Virginia? I couldn’t have been more than an hour from the coast. How long had I been driving?

My stomach grumbled and I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. There was a dingy motel only a short drive into town and I decided it was time to get some rest. My eyes were fogging over and I could barely hold my head up. 

Before I got out of the car, I looked to my right to see the array of beer bottles and an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels. I guess there was a reason I didn’t remember most of the drive. 

Dad would have killed me for that.

I walked up to the front desk in my jeans and hoodie, completely disheveled. The place smelt like dust and old wood, like a living time capsule of the old days. 

Throwing down my fake credit card under the name ‘Joplin’, I got a room and asked where I could find a liquor store. The attendant at the desk told me it was only a few blocks down and gave me directions. 

I may have thanked him or just turned to leave, I’m not sure.

------

The bell on the door of the liquor store jingled as I left with a brown paper bag. I tore into the bag of beef jerky and twisted open my new bottle of whiskey as I walked down the empty streets. It didn’t take long for me to start stumbling in a drunken stupor as I made my way back. The alleyway near the motel gave me a quick shortcut to my room. 

I could feel the rain soaking through my hoodie, my hair becoming drenched. The pools of water from the rain splashed as I trudged through them.

As I headed down the way, I could hear a whine coming through the rain. It sounded like a high pitched whimper and though I was already toasted, I fumbled to go check it out. 

I guess the hunter in me has always been too curious for my own good.

I peered behind a dumpster after following the sound only to see a dirty dog lying on a flat cardboard box. He looked broken and forgotten just like me.

“Hey, buddy…” I slurred. “You hungry?” I pulled out a piece of jerky and knelt down with some difficulty and put down my bottle. 

The nervous dog slowly sniffed as he crawled over to me and hesitated before taking the meat from my hand. 

I decided to give him two more pieces before I stood up again. “Be grateful. That was like half my fuckin’ bag.” Taking my drink back in my hand, I took a long swig and turned to leave. “Later, Fido.”

------

I lost track of the days. The room was a disaster with takeout food trash, cans, and beer bottles all over. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was drinking. I had found company in the arms of strangers from the local bar a few times only to kick them out immediately after. At that point, I wasn’t looking for anything other than something to numb the pain.

As I searched around the room, I realized that I had run out of anything to drink and I was slowly becoming sober. I couldn’t handle my mind being clear and needed a bottle in my hand. The built-up rage, pain, and frustration came out as I tossed the room looking for something left. 

When I came up short handed, I turned only to see myself in the mirror. My eyes were red with dark bags underneath. I had thrown my hair up into a messy bun without washing it for God knows how long. My only wardrobe appeared to be my sweats and socks. 

The woman staring back at me wasn’t someone I recognized. And then the clarity of my mind began its never-ending cycle of thoughts.

“You should have gone with him. It’s your fault he’s dead. You didn’t even do anything. He died alone and now so will you.”

I remember a yell coming from the pit of my stomach, almost like a battle cry before my fist connected with the mirror glass. It shattered and shards fell to the ground. I stood there with rage in my eyes for the person I saw in those remaining broken pieces. 

It wasn’t until I went to open the door to leave that I noticed my bleeding knuckles with a small piece of glass still in them. I quickly pulled out the shard and went on as though nothing had happened.

When I got outside, I realized that I didn’t even know that it was night time. The rain had come back and you could hear it crash onto the pavement. 

I pulled my hoodie over my head, put my hands in my front pocket, and drug myself back toward my new favorite liquor store.

Out from the darkness, I could see a shadow nearby and I kept my eye on it as I moved through the alley. I must have stopped caring what was there because my eyes eventually cast down to the wet ground. 

It wasn’t more than a minute or so before I felt something charge me. A large man had grabbed me and slammed me against the brick wall. I cried out from the hit in my already weakened state. He was in a large jacket and stood over six feet tall, only to look down at me like fresh meat.

The stranger chuckled under his breath when he realized I didn’t have the strength to fight him off. “It’s better if you don’t fight me, honey. This will go a lot faster if you don’t.”

I don’t know what happened at that moment but I didn’t give a fuck what would happen to me. The truth was, I had considered killing myself over the past few days and no longer cared. If he was gonna kill me, then so be it. At least then, the pain would stop. Maybe then, I could be with Dad again.

The man’s hands grabbed at me and then immediately went to pull at my sweatpants. A tear ran down my cheek as I realized what my life had become and how pathetic my existence was. I once fought monsters and now I couldn’t even fight off a man.

Only feet away, I heard a deep growl and the man turned to the sound. 

Out from the rain came a dog that charged at my attacker with his teeth bared. The dog latched onto the man’s arm and sunk his teeth into his flesh before the stranger yelled out and tried to get him off. 

I watched in shock as the dirty mutt pulled him away from me. He let go only to bark with such aggression that the man ran away down the alley, gripping at his bleeding arm.

I looked down at the dog who walked over to me gently and sat at my feet. He peered up at me with sweet brown eyes and whimpered. It was the hungry and lost dog I had met when I first came into town. 

At a closer look, I realized he was a dirt-covered golden retriever. I bent down and he immediately licked my hand. For the first time since I lost Dad, a small smile crept up my face. 

“Guess that was some good jerky,” I joked as I pet the strange animal. “Thanks, bud.” When I turned to go, I heard that familiar whimper and spun around to see the dog following me. “What?” 

His eyes met mine once again and he rushed over to me.

As the rain continued to pour on us both, I sighed. I began to walk away and turned around to look at him again. “Well...are you coming?” 

The dog barked in response before wagging his tail and walking at my side.

------

Back in my room, I had given the wet dog a warm bath and cleaned him up before I took a warm shower myself. 

As I rubbed my hair dry, I saw the golden pup at the entrance of the bathroom just laying in wait. “So, what? We friends now?” 

He happily barked and it made me chuckle under my breath. 

“I swear to god it’s like you understand me.”

I crawled into bed and snuggled up into my blankets only then to have it dawn on me that I had forgotten my bottle of Daniels. “Goddammit.” I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping that night without it. 

It was then that I felt the mattress shift as I was joined by my new canine companion. He crawled up next to me and nestled into my side. 

I wrapped my arms around him in almost a hug and closed my eyes. “Goodnight, bud.”

------

The dog and I had spent nearly a week together. Surprisingly, I was sober for most of it. And with him at my side every night, I actually slept and avoided the nightmares. It was like he was keeping me sane.

One morning, I decided it was time to put myself back together. 

Slowly, I got dressed and put back on my favorite leather jacket. I hadn’t worn it since Dad died. He had bought it for me and it was too painful to wear it. But I pulled my hair out from underneath it and finally shrugged it back onto my shoulders. 

Looking into the broken mirror, I realized I was starting to recognize my reflection again.

I sat on the bed and laced up my boots only to see the dog staring at me from across the room. 

“I gotta get back on the road, bud. Time for me to get the hell outta here.” He whined, once again acting like he knew what I was saying. “Well, I mean...I could take you with me.” 

The pup got up and his tail wagged wildly before shoving his face lovingly into my hands. 

I laughed a little and pet his head. “Alright, partner. Time to go.”

Throwing my duffle bag on my shoulder, I opened the door to leave and glanced back at the room. It was trashed and filled with memories of pain. 

Before I closed the door, I took a deep breath and said to myself, “no more.”

I opened the door of the Mustang and the dog immediately jumped in before I could even gesture him to. He was ready to go. 

I got in and sat with him as he panted and looked at me. Rubbing his head, I met his gaze and smiled. “Well, I think it’s time we give you a name. Can’t just call you ‘bud’, now can I?” 

The dog cocked his head at me almost questioning my thought. 

“Toby? Jericho?” Sneezing, the pup shook his head with a huff. “Okay,” I chuckled. “Freddie?” When I got no response, I thought of a name that I honestly have no idea where it came from. “...Finnick?” At that, the dog pawed at me and barked. “Okay, Finnick it is.” 

I turned on the engine and my car roared to life. “Let’s get the fuck outta here, Finn.” 

His focus shifted to the road ahead of us like he was ready for the journey. 

For the first time since I lost Dad, I didn’t feel alone.

------

In Pennsylvania and in yet another unwelcoming motel, I sat on my bed with my arms and ankles crossed. I ended up just staring into oblivion, lost in thought with Finn on the bed with me. He barked at me and I jumped as he brought me back to reality

“Jesus, Finn. Trying to scare the shit outta me?” My new partner just whined as he peered up at me. I sighed heavily and pet his head. “What am I doing? Maybe I should just go back to Lawrence. I’m not even hunting, so what’s the point?” 

The remote was in reach so I grabbed it and flicked on the tv. Mindlessly, I scanned the channels until I landed on a news station in the middle of a report.

“Six residents of Salem, Massachusetts have met untimely deaths in the last few weeks. According to witnesses, the victims all died under strange and terrible circumstances. A man was found in his bed covered in water and drowned. Another victim was forcibly hung in their own home. All other incidences have been kept under wraps by the Salem sheriff’s department. Residents of the town have begun to wonder if their dark history has finally caught up with them. More on this story tonight at eleven.”

I sat up and my mouth slightly fell open. No way in hell there wasn’t an actual case in Salem. Every instinct I had as a hunter was going off knowing I had to get on it, but the motivation wasn’t there. 

I had never been on a hunt without my dad. What if I couldn’t do it on my own? 

But then I thought of what he would do--he would’ve already had us out the door by then and on the road. He would want me to do this, to do the damn job.

“Fuck…” I muttered before getting off the bed like an annoyed teenager. 

Grabbing my gear, I whistled for Finn and we headed out. 

As we walked down the long hall, I slowed my anxious breathing and held my head high. “Let’s do this, boy.”

------

Riley’s first hunt with Finn is coming soon! Stay tuned!

Wayward Hearts Tag List: @coffee-obsessed-writer @waywardmoeyy @00slayer @adoptdontshoppets @crystallstaircase @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @fandommaniacx @death-unbecomes-you @themoonandotherslikeit @son-ova-bitch @huntersociopathavenger @flamencodiva @aaspiringhero @gemini0410 @love-nakamura @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia @mirandaaustin93 @paintballkid711 @da5haexowin  @a-manduhhhhh  @samanddeanaremybbyboys @winchestergirl82 @spnbaby-67 @sandycub @bunnybaby121115 @erins-culinary-service @lauravic @moonxdance @knights0fkylo @panicatthewestwing

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Black Swan Rejects

Here’s my reject pile as promised, you’ll see why they’re rejects. What could’ve been and never will be. Some of these are just horrible ideas, others terribly written, and some both. Black Swan Ch11 is especially both. I hate it. Idek why I kept it bc it’s so bad. Most are from Black Swan

Trespass Chapter 26 Reject

“Okay, let’s take it easy.” Hyungwon said, cup of water ready in his hand.

“Hyung-” You broke out into a coughing fit. He quickly helped you take a few sips of water, his hand rubbing your back.

“It’s okay,” he said, “let’s take our time.” He was growing awfully tired, but he refused to sleep. He wouldn’t sleep unless you did because he didn’t want to leave you alone. He wanted to keep your company, and he couldn’t really do that if he slept.

“Hyungwon.” You managed to rasp out. He grinned at you, grabbing your face and kissing your forehead.

“You’re getting there.” He said encouragingly.

“Yeah.” You coughed, and he immediately gave you the glass of water.

Honestly, all Hyungwon wanted to do was take you home, and sleep. Sleep honestly sounded amazing. He felt like he could sleep for years. Though that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to lose any more time with you. That’d be worse than death.

“The more you talk, the easier it’ll get. But let’s take it easy, yeah?” He said, pushing hair out of your face.

“Okay.” Your voice was scratchy, but Hyungwon was confident that it’d only be a few hours until you could talk normally. “I love you.” You added.

“I love you too Baby.” He replied, kissing the tip of your nose.

He was ecstatic to hear you talk, even if your voice was dead. The nurses had provided you with some medicine to help your throat, though Hyungwon wasn’t too sure how well it was working.

“You’re getting tired,” You pointed out, choosing to whisper. “You should sleep.” He shook his head, “No, I’m okay.” He really was okay. At least he felt like he could be okay. “Did you wanna watch one of your dramas?” He asked.

You eyed him, and he was starting to feel a little guilty, when you whispered, “Sure. We can watch a couple episodes.” He watched you scroll through the list of dramas to watch, getting into a comfortable position. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you put your head on his shoulder. “This one will be good.” You told him, playing the first episode. He passed out not even halfway through the show.

He woke to you caressing his face. “I told you you were tired.” You told him. He groaned in response. “You know you slept for a good thirteen hours?” He sat up straight. Thirteen hours? That was far too long! “Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Because, you need the sleep.” You replied, gently touching his arm. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and you’re using up a lot of energy to help heal me.”

He didn’t say anything, instead choosing to stand up and stretch. “You should eat too.” You said, “Food will help you get energy.”

“Mmm, I’ll eat later.” He said. He didn’t feel like eating. He actually wouldn’t mind going back to sleep, but he’s already slept for thirteen hours.

“Hyungwon.” You warned.

“Fine, I’ll eat a granola bar.” He relented. He went to the bag of foods Kihyun packed for them and took out a granola bar. He ate it quickly, realizing he was hungry, but he didn’t want to admit that.

Honestly, he had no idea why it was so hard for him to admit things, or why he was struggling so much. There was so much he needed to do and take care of; everyday brought new stresses. He didn’t want to worry you. He just wanted to take care of you and make sure you were okay. You’ve already been in the hospital for four days.

“You know, I never asked and I’ve been meaning to, but why were you so scared of Jinho.” He asked suddenly. He took note of the way you stiffened at the mention of your brother’s name. He glanced at the heart monitor, watching as your heart sped up.

“I-” You started, but stopped. He sat down next to, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Hyungwon,” You whispered, your throat burning as you started to speak. He focused all his attention on you, waiting for your next move. Instead of talking, you pointed to the glass of water on the nightstand.

Black Swan Chapter 1 Reject

“I know. But it’s your first solo gig.” He grumbled, placing his lips against your neck as he zipped up your dress.

“It’s not a solo mission. Wonho will be there.” You corrected.

“It’s a solo mission because I’m not going to be there.” His arms wrapped around your waist. You leaned back into him, tilting your head to the side.

“I have a hard time believing you won’t be nearby.” You said, placing your hands on his arms.

“I won’t be. Shownu will be, but I won’t. I’ll be a good boy and stay back.”

You chuckled, turning around in his arms, “Darling, it’ll be fine.” You reassured, “after all, I’ve been trained by the best of the best.”

“You’re feeding my ego.”

“You act like that’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you’re going out dinner.”

“Why?”

“Because I won’t be there to witness what you do.”

Black Swan Chapter 3 Reject

It was no surprise to you that when you woke up, Hyungwon was still sleeping beside you. It was late morning, but you decided you wouldn't wake him. He deserved some sleep for everything he’s done for you. Especially last night. You weren’t sure how he did it, but he didn’t sleep until you were asleep. You turned in his arms, coming face to face with his bare chest. He had his fair share of scars on his body, which was something he brought up overnight. Did his scars make him any less beautiful? No. They didn’t. So why would they make you any less beautiful? One thing that came to mind last night was: how could you truly love him if you were still struggling with yourself? He was right, you were confident most of the time, but there were those small moments when you wanted to erase yourself. When you didn’t feel good enough for the world. Somehow, he was always there when you needed reminding that you were worth it. You reached a hand up, placing your hand over his heart. You could feel his heart beat against his chest, a strong, steady rhythm. You ran your hand down his chest to the waistband of his sweats. You really did not deserve him. You felt like you were lacking compared to him. He put so much effort into your relationship. He chased after you when you pushed him away. He comforted you long before you were ever officially together. He always gave you a shoulder to cry on. He relentlessly went after you when you were kidnapped. He was always there for you. But what did you do for him? “So much…” He mumbled out of nowhere. You sucked in a breath, startled by his sudden comment. “What?” You asked in a whisper. Perhaps he was just talking in his sleep? “You’ve done so much for me.” His eyes fluttered open, greeting you with a tired gaze. “Can you read my mind?” You asked. While the idea of being totally, completely connected wasn’t bad, you weren’t sure you would be able to handle him constantly knowing what you were thinking. “No,” He replied, taking your hand off his waist and moving it to his chest. “But you’re projecting your emotions on full blast, and I know you well enough to be able to accurately guess what you’re thinking about to make you feel that way.”

He ushered his allies out of the door, sending a bullet through anyone’s chest if they dared come near. There were too many people left for him to leave too, so he stayed back to fight. Three people came at him, so he shot at them. They fell to the floor like flies.

“H.One we need to go!” One of his team members shouted at him. He glanced back at the kid, then back at the room full of enemies. It looked like the room had mul

Black Swan Chapter 11 Hella Reject (TRIGGER WARNING // mention of a suicide)

Hyungwon’s phone started ringing at the moment, interrupting what you were about to say. He frowned and took out his phone from his pocket.

“Hello?” he answered, putting the device to his ear.

“Shit. Are you sure?” he asked, glancing around the area as he went on alert. You watched him carefully, wondering what he was being told.

“Alright, got it. Thanks.” he swiftly stuck his phone back into his pocket. He grabbed your arm and yanked you with him as he practically ran down the street, heading towards the club.

“H.One,” you tried to get him to stop, but he relentlessly pulled you along, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”

He either didn’t hear you or he ignored you. He didn’t stop pulling you until you were standing just outside of the club, in front of Shownu and the line of people waiting to get in.

“Don’t let anyone else in. We have a security breach.” Hyungwon informed Shownu. He glanced back at the line of people waiting to get in before he shoved you inside the building. He brought you behind the counter with Wonho, who stared at the two of you curiously as you went to the far corner.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” you rounded on him, putting your hands on your hips.

He reached up and took his hat off, running his hands through his hair. “I.M spotted someone in the alley we were next to on the CCTV.”

“Who was it?” Wonho asked quietly, butting into the conversation.

“Someone close to your brother.” Hyungwon answered, staring right at you.

“So then why did we run here?” you demanded.

“Because we don’t have the proper equipment to fight this guy on our own. He was eavesdropping on us, which means he would’ve used that to his advantage given the opportunity to.”

“I take it we’re on lockdown then?” Wonho questioned.

“Essentially yes. We can’t have anyone come in until we can make sure it’s clear. All we can really do right now is hope he didn’t realize who Black Swan and I were.” Hyungwon turned to Wonho.

“What were you two talking about?” Wonho asked cautiously.

“About what happened between us yesterday.” you informed.

“Ah I see. I take it then that what he heard means YG will know a new weakness for us.” he replied.

“It’s highly likely, yes.” Hyungwon sighed, clearly frustrated.

“So what’s going to happen now?” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know,” Hyungwon answered, “Ki, Sunshine, and Honey are all gathering their teams right now. I might go back out to help them. You’ll stay here with Bunny and Bear and watch over the place.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and do nothing?” you protested.

“Y/n,” Hyungwon warned, “please don’t fight me on this. Not right now.”

“Why not? This is supposed to be my time to train. This is the perfect opportunity to get field experience. I can-”

“Dammit Y/n!” Hyungwon shouted then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. My Love, this man, they call him the The Cutter. He’s dangerous, and I can’t- I can’t risk him taking you from me. Especially now since he knows more than he should.”

“Who’s to say you’d lose me?” you asked softly, taking his hands in yours.

“My dear, you still have so much to learn. I’m scared I won’t be able to protect you.” He admitted, looking down.

“Then don’t go out, because if you go out, I’ll only follow you.” you tried to laugh.

“I don’t doubt you would.” he mumbled, pulling you towards him and wrapping his arms around you.

“What happens if we catch him?” you asked, resting your head on his chest.

“Then Bear will will start interrogating him, and he will never see the light of day again.” he answered.

“And if he’s not caught?”

“Then we’re probably fucked. But we can work it out so long as we all work together.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I’m trying to be.”

“Let’s go to the back. It’s more private.”

“Okay.”

You started to pull Hyungwon towards the back rooms when your name was called. You didn’t hesitate, instead walking faster. You were almost to the doors when someone stepped in your way.

“Ah, Y/n, you frequent this place, don’t you?” Daniel said, looking you up and down.

“Why are you here?” you questioned, feeling Hyungwon slide his arm around your waist.

“Am I not allowed to be?” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Well we did have the bodyguard escort you out last time.” you pointed out.

“Well it’s not like you own the place.” he countered.

“You’re forgetting part of our conversation from last time,” Hyungwon said, “we do own this place.”

Daniel seemed a bit taken back by Hyungwon, “Ah, I see you’re still a prat.”

“And I see you’re still after my wife.” Hyungwon remarked.

“I’m just doing what her dad requested of me. See, he doesn’t want his daughter to be with someone so horrible, and I don’t want to be alone. What’s so hard to understand about that?” Daniel said innocently.

“What’s so hard to understand that I’m married and share the highest possible bond with my husband?” You replied.

“Bonds mean nothing. You can bond with someone who’s not your soulmate and make them your soulmate. Did you know that? That’s what your parents did.”

Daniel’s words hit you like a brick to the chest. Was he really implying that your parents weren’t originally soulmates? Was everything you knew about their relationship a lie? Was it even possible to bond with someone who wasn’t your soulmate? Quite frankly, you didn’t want to think about it. You had your soulmate. You couldn’t bond with anyone else. Never. Not even if you lost Hyungwon. You couldn’t do it.

Hyungwon could tell his comment unnerved you, so he took the reins to end the conversation. “Thank you Daniel for helping build our revenue, but know that the next I see you here, I will not hesitate to kick you out and blacklist you. Goodbye.”

Hyungwon pushed passed him and opened the door, letting you through first. He threw a glare behind his shoulder before following. The two of you walked in silence as you went towards one of the many rooms.

“You can’t really find a new soulmate, can you?” you asked cautiously as you entered a random room.

“I don’t know.” Hyungwon answered, shutting the door behind him.

“Do you think what he said about my parents is true?” You spun on your heel to face Hyungwon.

“It’s hard to say, but frankly I think he was just trying to get on your mind. We can have Changkyun do detailed background checks on them if you want.”

“Maybe. I don’t know if I’d want to talk to my dad first or have the background check done first.”

“Whatever you decide my love, we will-” his phone rang in his pocket, interrupting what he was saying. You couldn’t help but notice that this was like, the tenth time someone has been interrupted tonight.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Hyungwon angrily said into the phone.

You watched curiously as he paced around the room. “What’s being done now?” he asked, trying to calm himself, “Alright, I got it. Hurry and take care of it.”

He shut his phone off and turned to look at you. He stared straight into your eyes as he said, “The Cutter just killed himself.”

Black Swan Chapter 12 Reject

You woke in a panic, sitting up and rapidly looking around you. Slowly, you became aware of your surroundings, realizing you weren’t in any immediate danger. You breathed a sigh in relief,