#wounds that took fucking forever to heal. and now the work begins again to forget about you.

[quietblissxx]

Lmao rest in peace to anyone following me because I'm going to be a fucking miserable cry baby for the foreseeable future.

[najatheangel]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲

pairing: yoon-oh jaehyun x reader

genre: slightly spicy + angst

author’s note: I’ve meant to say this earlier, but we’ve reached another milestone on Dive in. Happy 111 notes that’s the most notes I’ve ever got!! I’m forever thankful, here’s another one for ya lovelies. 🥺💖💖

“If you walk out that door one more time, we’re through. Enough is enough!”

Your boyfriend Miles chases walks behind you pissing you off even more. You were just so fed up with the screaming, abuse and drunken arguments every night looking for a chance to escape. You start grabbing your purse trying to head your way out the door hollering back at Miles saying...

“Well then I guess we’re through then. Not like you give a shit about me anyways. Go on and crawl back to that Luna girl.”

Miles tries to block the door one last time grabbing you by the arm with his dark intense eyes. He then proceeds to grab you by the hair and say...

“Where do you think your going? Are you going to cry back to Jaehyun? You know he doesn’t love you like I do.”

You pushed him away from you boiling in anger and slammed the door behind you stomping your way to your car. Before you drive off you throw your middle finger up to Miles mouthing “Peace out” and head your way to find Jaehyun.

Your relationship with Jaehyun was very complicated to say the least. He was always there for you helping you forget about your toxic relationship with Miles. At first you were meeting at the club daily for friendly outings with each other’s friend groups, but then tonight changed everything...

You’ve pulled up at the club where you usually like to meet up with Jaehyun the bartender ready to rant about your problems with him once again. Tonight seemed a little more packed then usual so you pushed your way through the drunk crowd.

“Jaehyun! You already know one Bahama Mama in the house.” You slam your butt down on the chair leaving the biggest sigh of relief.

 His eyes flash when he sees you and he pulls the cutest smirk you’ve seen on his face for awhile. “Coming right up. What happened this time?”

While he’s making your drink you start to break down and whimper while telling him about your months of dealing with your abusive relationship with Miles.

“Guess what happened tonight Jae? He had the nerve to bring another girl over a few hours ago when I came back home from work. I heard them moaning so loud so you know what I did... I slammed the door open, told the girl to get out, packed my shit and I told him we’re done. He even tried to say that I was cheating on him with you like can you believe that guy Uggh the nerve.”

Jaehyun shakes his head getting more frustrated for you on how the situation became worse. He hated Miles ever since you started dating him. He knew he was aggressive, manipulator and abusive to all the women he has dated.

“You know if you want, I’ll beat him up for you.” He slides the drink down to you cracking his knuckles.

“Jaehyun no need I’ve already chewed him up before I left. I even burned his clothes, slit his tires and tore up his shoes which was why he was trying to chase after me.” You chuckle wiping the tears of your face.

Jaehyun loved how brave and outrageous you can be on your own dealing with scumbags like Miles which is why he found you even more attractive. What he didn’t like about you was how you keep dating people that you know is not good for you. He wanted to be the man to change your toxic cycle and move you to the right direction.

Tonight was the night to prove himself of how worthy he can be to become your next and only lover. He sparked this idea in his head and knew how he was going to cheer you up.

“Hey y/n...let’s not talk about that anymore. How about we spent the whole night dancing and forget that any of that shit ever happened? I can show you a good time...”

“Jae where is all this coming from? Of course I will!”

The liquor has already kicked in, but Jaehyun still didn’t hesitate to grasp your hand and take you on the dance floor.

Jaehyun kind of took you by surprise with him dancing along to Kick it. The whole crowd was screaming in cheers, but of course you screamed the loudest. Jaehyun even pulled of the iconic dance break.

Slowly you started to see Jaehyun in a different light. Of course you’ve always thought he was attractive and was very talented. You kept telling him he was much better than making drinks at a nightclub, but he would always brush it off and continue his partying days at the nightclub.

The lights turn pink all of a sudden in the nightclub and the atmosphere turns very hot and heavy real fast. What made it much dirtier was a summer walker song plays very faint in the background.

Jaehyun notices you becoming very bold and starts dancing up on him. You unleash your inner stripper and start grinding on him. He’s already having a hard time concentrating by your two piece skirt out fit. He starts getting closer against your figure and sway with your body to the music.

Jaehyun glances at your body movements from head to toe looking impressed. 

“I didn’t know you can get down like that. You feel so fucking good.”

He turns your body around so you can face him.

You start flirting back at him making him sweat a little. 

“If I knew you wanted this along time ago all you had to do was ask.”

“Of course how could anyone not want you I mean look at you baby.”

He kisses the side of your neck.

You stood there frozen for a second not sure how to react to Jaehyun’s bold response. Normally when you drink your more confident, but he really got you locked around his finger.

He all of a sudden grabs your waist swaying with you along with music and starts teasing you by moving his face super close, but not kissing you. He teases you more by saying 

“It would be pretty bad if I kissed you huh? After all you just got out of a nasty break up.” 

“I don’t care anymore, your the one I’ve always truly wanted. I wish I can just follow my heart sometimes.”

“It’s still not too late we have the night to ourselves. Let me help you change all of that tonight. If you decide not to be with me, you can just toss me to the side and forget all this happened, okay?”

You give him the nod to assure him this is what you wanted and you finally started kissing him. Boy was he an amazing kisser he knew exactly when to bite and slide his tongue in at the perfect time. While you were laughing nervously, you tugged onto his jacket giving him the signal. 

“I think we should go somewhere more private, people seem to be staring a little bit.” 

He made you even more hot and bothered by kissing the side of your neck. They don’t call him the lover boy for no reason. You drag him out the dance floor to finish your business privately.

In the midst of the make out session you start hearing him scream your name and confess his love for you. The DJ announces the club closes in about 15 minutes and you both start panicking.

“Ahh maybe we should do this on the way back home, there’s no way we’ll be able to-”

He cuts you of with another peck on the lips and say...

“Shh you must’ve forgot that I work here. Until everyone leaves we have this place all to ourselves and we can make all the noises we want. Remember just follow your heart.”

He tends to have his way with almost any women and to think that now he’s having you falling for him. Whether this was pure lust or the beginning of a new love sparking you didn’t want to screw this up with Jaehyun.

He’s been there for you not only with your ex boyfriend problems, but even with your family issues. He might’ve just been the one to heal all your wounds and cater to your needs. You smile to yourself highlighting your memories with  Jaehyun and finally give in not afraid of declaring your feelings to him.

“Fine your lucky I like you so much. I’ll follow my heart from now on.”

So you slam the door behind you locking it and proceed to sit on his lap to finish what you both started.

Hope you enjoyed this story and let me know what you think. The tag list is also open for those who want to join.

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 27 || Next ➡

“How is he?”

Aizawa’s voice, normally gruff and sleep-heavy, sounds sharp and worried. His eyebrows are pinched tight on his forehead, and his hands are folded across his chest with an iron grip, as if barely keeping himself together.

Ken looks at Aizawa and sighs. “He talks and he talks and he talks, but he’s not really saying anything.”

Aizawa purses his lips.

“I don’t think speaking to me will be the breaking point.” Ken laces his fingers together and stares at them as he continues, “But he will, indeed, break. As you did, as I did, as we all did. And when that happens, perhaps, being in the dorms will offer some semblance of comfort.”

Ken looks up and waits till Aizawa catches his eye. “I will be here when he needs me. Until then, I shall continue our sessions, even if he just keeps talking without saying anything.”

Aizawa nods curtly, mumbles out a goodbye and walks back to his accommodation.

---

A hero never forgets their first.

The work is dangerous. Most days are easy and mundane, and then there are days where the hits keep coming. People get hurt, heroes get hurt, and villains get away. You even lose people, in the crossfire or because you were too late, and those wounds never fully heal, the scars faded and jagged, moving with your every move, a constant reminder.

And then there are the days when you feel the Earth beneath you crumble as you watch a child die. When you lose someone young, innocent, with baby fat on their cheeks and wide toothless smiles. Kids with scrapped knees, stars in their eyes, and the softest hair. Kids like Eri.

A hero never forgets their first child.

Aizawa watches Kaminari speaking animatedly with his classmates, eyes bright and body language lax, and feels his fists clench.

He sucks in a deep breath, pushes away any thoughts of blue hair and big, loud smiles and continues his lesson.

---

It’s Bakugou that stays behind in class one day, two and a half weeks after the incident.

“Something’s fucking wrong with Sparky.”

“Language,” Aizawa says automatically, before lowering his books and looking at the blonde. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, something is just. Since that day, he- Fuck, I don’t know.”

Aizawa lets this one go. “He’s been coming to class. He’s attended every therapy session with Cementoss. Lunch Rush tells me he’s eating well, and he seems-“

“His eyes-” Bakugou interrupts, nose scrunched in deep thought. “- his eyes are too bright. That’s not his usual, happy-go-lucky-idiot shine. They’re too bright.”

He stands up and pulls his bag over his shoulder. “His eyes feel artificial. He moves his body too much, every movement exaggerated, like he’s constantly compensating. Like he’s fucking pushing something down as hard as he can. And then, there are these moments-“ Bakugou stops just shy of the door. He looks over his shoulder but his eyes don’t seek Aizawa, instead glaring at the tiles near his feet.

“There are these moments when his eyes are vacant, like he’s not even in the same room as us.”

With that, Bakugou walks away and Aizawa finds himself thinking back to the past, the well-acquainted pain in his chest rising from slumber, squeezing till his heart feels like it’s about to break, shatter apart the way it did that day.

Because Aizawa and Hizashi grew up.

That day though, they lost Loud Cloud, who was nothing more than a kid. A young child, gone before he could ever learn just how terrible the world really is.  

---

Kaminari attends class. He eats lunch with his friends, jokes around with them, trains every day, and sleeps in on the weekends. He never finishes his homework on time, calls his parents at least twice a week, and continues to go stupid when he overuses his quirk.

He also goes quiet more often, enough for Kirishima to pick up on it too. Bakugou watches Kaminari carefully, watches his eyes go vacant in the middle of movie night, watches him flinch when metal protests under the force of Midoriya’s quirk during training and watches his smiles get wider and more rigid, eyes so bright the fluorescent bulb in the common room dims in comparison.

There is nothing to do but wait.

---

It took Aizawa three months to break after Shirakumo.

Long after the cremation and the memorial and after the chatter picks back up in the hallways. He goes home one day, puts his bag on his desk and takes a seat, intent on finishing his homework. His pen is nowhere to be found so he yanks his desk drawer open-

Only to find a blue and white pen with the name Oboro etched into the body.

Aizawa thinks he hears a crack as his heart splinters and the tears begin, flowing freely. He bites into his forearm to keep from wailing, and he can’t see or breathe or feel anything past the wave of pain that drowns him.

With shaking hands and a complete lack of coherent thought, it takes him 14 minutes to type out a message to Hizashi. It takes the blonde another 8 minutes to get to his room, scoop him up and cry with him, and that wound never quite closes, always exposed, ever-present.

---

It finally happens on an average Wednesday, a month after the incident.

Aizawa’s just finished up with homeroom announcements, and as he straightens up the stack of papers on his desk, he hears Jirou.

“Kaminari, check out this mem- whoa, you ok, man?”

He looks at the blonde and startles when he sees the tears streaming down his face as he stares vacantly at his own hands.

Aizawa moves fast, because that’s what pros do- they calculate, they assess, they make split second decisions that spell life or death and everything in between.

He instinctually activates his quirk just as he whips his capture weapon out, pulling everyone around Kaminari away from him. Because he smells the static in the air, feels the prickles on his skin and he knows the boy is this close to losing complete and absolute control of his quirk.

Kaminari doesn’t acknowledge the chaos around him as people yell out in surprise and try to understand the situation. Aizawa keeps his eyes on Kaminari, and watches as Bakugou turns to Yaoyarozu and yells, “Make me some fucking insulated gloves now.”

Surprisingly though, it’s Shinsou that snatches the first pair and jumps across the desks to get to Kaminari, ducking down to his eye level, staying out of Aizawa’s line-of-sight.

“Hey, do you know where you are?”

Kaminari jerks at that, his eyes snapping over to Shinsou. They’re still vacant and hollow, lifeless. Shinsou keeps one glove on but leaves his other hand free.

“Kaminari, do you know where you are right now?”

Slowly, like he’s underwater, Kaminari swallows and shakes his head.

“Ok, that’s ok, take your time. I just want you to know you’re safe. Do you need anything right now?”

Kaminari looks around slowly, as if trying to understand what’s going on. He looks back at Shinsou and swallows thickly.

“There’s so much blood,” Kaminari says, and his voice sounds haunted. He bites his lip as a fresh pool of tears gather in his eyes.

“Get Cementoss,” Aizawa says to Shoji, his eyes still trained on Kaminari. They’re starting to feel a little dry and irritated, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Bakugou is also by Kaminari now, hovering behind him protectively, keeping the others away.

“I don’t understand,” Kaminari suddenly says, voice clear and colored with genuine confusion. “How does a kid just die?”

He laughs, a slightly hysterical sound, before his eyes, wide and far too bright, whip over to Aizawa.

“Sensei, there’s no way that kid died, yanno? She was so tiny, barely up to my hip. And so cute, with a lisp. There’s no way she’s dead. Obviously.” He knocks his own head, a hard hit that makes Kirishima flinch, and Bakugou gently holds his arms, to keep him from hurting himself. Kaminari barely notices.

“Kids don’t die,” Kaminari says, his eyes boring into Aizawa’s. “Right, Sensei? They don’t. How can they? They’re too tiny. Someone that small can’t die.”

Aizawa’s eyes sting, and he can say it’s his quirk but he feels it in his heart, a bone-deep ache that’s just second nature to him.

“Kaminari, nobody can live forever.” He clears his throat, slowly walking around the table as he approaches the boy, holding his gaze. “Nothing is forever, not even the- not even the children.”

Kaminari’s eyes go vacant again. “That can’t be true, you know? Cause that means she’s gone.” He looks at Shinsou. “Her hands fit in my palm Toshi. Her entire hand. I don’t. There was so much blood, I can’t- how?” He reduces to nothing but a blubbering mess, and finally, he slumps sideways, right into Bakugou’s abdomen before he wails, the sound of a deeply wounded animal permeating into the very walls of the room.

Shinsou keeps a grounding grip on his knee while Bakugou pushes a hand into his hair, holding him close to his stomach. His own face is scrunched up, eyes red and daring anyone to say anything, to him or Kaminari.

Bakugou goes with him when Cementoss comes. They take Kaminari to the therapy room and Bakugou stays the entire time.

Aizawa turns to face his class again, once the chairs are moved back in place and the shock of it all simmers down, leaving behind an empty cavity in the very middle of the room.

“You never forget your first,” Aizawa tells them, speaking from his soul. “You will never forget your first, and I want you all to promise me that when it happens, you find me. You find somebody. You seek help. And you keep pushing forward. So that someday- “

He clears his throat and pushes through, “So that someday, there won’t be a first anymore.”

He watches his students nod before they turn to each other, looking up ways to help someone in Kaminari’s condition, using their time together as a reference for what will help the most. And Aizawa feels hope and pride gently coat his heart, a band-aid atop a deep, bleeding gash, but it’s something.

He thinks about bright blue hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and the warmth of a gentle soul.

You never forget your first.

[cupcakey00]

It’s Just Instinct, Pt. 2

hello, everyone! here’s part 2 of “It’s Just Instinct,” a super short Nessian fic! there will indeed be a part 3. Highkey don’t like this part nearlyyyyy as much as I did part 1, but still, I hope you enjoy :)

part 1

words: 3,321

warning: there is some foul language.

______________________________________________________________

Cassian couldn’t let go of Nesta no matter how hard he’d tried, couldn’t keep his hands off her. Not while she was injured. It was but a shallow cut, one a child’s mother would kiss and bandage before sending them off to continue playing, and yet he couldn’t stop the quiver in his hands as his fingertips traced the raised skin around the minor wound, his touch a sorrowful prayer against her skin, one that Cassian couldn’t begin to understand why Nesta would let him do after he’d failed her once again.

They sat in silence, Nesta atop the counter in their bathroom, Cassian standing between her legs. Nesta knew he needed time to think, to process his emotions before they could discuss. She was the same way. How she longed to speak with him, wished he’d let her in, but still she waited. She waited and she watched as he applied a healing salve and bandage to it as though her life was on the line, emotions turbulent across his face, with lips pursed one moment but not the next, eyebrows furrowed for one instant then smooth, eyes hard and then…well, Nesta couldn’t tell.

That was worrisome.

He finished dressing her wound, his hands resting in her lap, and still they were silent. Cassian could have burned holes through the bandage he was staring at from how angry he was, as though the bandages themselves caused her hurt, wronging her.

Breathing shakily, he let his hands trail gently to her hips up her sides, handling her with the sincerity one might cradle a porcelain doll, halting once he reached her waist. Nesta was expecting him to pick her up, so she leaned forward into his body, but Cassian tensed for a split second before returning what he thought was going to be an embrace.

Nesta could have wept from the gentleness in his movements, as though he was too afraid to breathe. She could feel his heart racing through his leathers, and still he hadn’t dared draw her too close.

In the past, Nesta would have been insulted by his actions. “I’m not a child,” she’d have snapped. “I’m not made of glass, Cassian,” she’d have said.

But over time, she gleaned that some days, he simply needed to hold her, needed her to stay close. She didn’t know why, but she knew that one day, he’d be ready to tell her, and when he was, he would. Eventually, Cassian would be able to tell her there were moments he wasn’t sure if this was real, or if he was living a dream where Nesta was a figment of his imagination. Sometimes he had to remind himself the war was over, not because it hurt him so personally, but because he couldn’t be sure Nesta was really alive, that she had truly made it out, or if his mind had conjured up her memory to keep him sane. There were periods where he couldn’t be sure if he was alive, or if he was in the hell he knew he was destined to go, that in some 300, or 400, or 5,000 years down the line, whatever cruel god traversed the underworld would reveal it all to be a lie, that he and Nesta had never really had that time at all. That the king of Hybern had killed them that day; that the ruler of Hell wanted not only to rip Cassian’s only true joy from him, but give him a sliver of the pain he’d caused thousands through bloodshed and loss over his 500-year lifetime.

Sometimes, Cassian didn’t know if that was the common sense speaking, or the guilt.

Maybe it was both.

Cassian knew he couldn’t go on like that forever, but still he could not say anything. He didn’t know how. Some days he was a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, and, when he’d hold her close, more tightly than usual, his eyes would burn with the need to blink, something he’d refrain from doing for fear he’d give in and she’d be gone, having never been there at all.

Nesta couldn’t take the pain and fear she felt through the bond. He held her there, head tucked into her neck, inhaling her scent, breathing soft whisps of air onto her skin. With his right hand splayed across her back, left hand in her hair keeping her head resting next to his, and her body pressed against him, her beating heart was a tattoo on Cassian’s chest. She was Cassian’s lifeline.

Nesta didn’t know what was wrong, but she felt deep within her soul that Cassian was barely holding on. He was suffocating although there was air, drowning despite not being submerged, dying without any wounds, and no longer could she wait. For this, for Cassian, she’d have to push, no matter how hard it’d hurt either of them.

She reached around, drawing his body even closer to her, and as she tightened her arms a bit more than usual, she felt him release a shaky breath, body relaxing but arms unrelenting.

She didn’t know that with this one action, she convinced Cassian this moment was real.

Nesta turned her head, peppering kisses to his temple until she felt his heart rate slow from its panicked staccato and his erratic breathing calm to the whisper of a baby’s breath. It could have been two minutes or 20 years, and still she would have held him. They had all the time in the world.

Eventually, Nesta drew her hands across his back up to his face, lifting his head. When he looked into her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him sweetly, slowly, savoring the feeling of home.

“Cassian,” she started. “It’s more than just the mating bond, isn’t it?”

She was jumping right into it, Cassian realized with a jolt. No preamble, no introduction, nothing. His eyes widened and his breath held, the moment between them gone. He couldn’t maintain eye contact, so he stepped back and looked to the doorway.

Wordlessly, Nesta hopped from the counter and interlaced their fingers, leading the way to the den. She opted for their couch instead of the armchair, sitting next to him and released a shiver at the cold feel of the fabric on her skin. Cassian stood immediately and approached the fireplace to their left, a small part of him happy for the delay igniting the fire brought. Even though they had worked through Nesta’s trigger, he was still cautious about monitoring her body language. Trauma wasn’t always consistent, nor did it have to make sense. He knew that well enough.

Fire roaring next to them, Nesta’s body tensed such a minuscule amount that Cassian really shouldn’t have noticed, yet he did. He wanted to put it out, but he knew that’d only upset her. Instead he looked to her, facing the fire with her spine straight and chin lifted, eyes hardened as though she was in a battle of wits with her most formidable enemy.

“Scoot over,” Cassian forced out; he was tense. She did, making more room for him. He sat down and removed his boots, swinging one leg between the couch and Nesta so he could lean back, tugging her body to his chest, his arms around her, hands resting atop hers on her stomach. They lay together, fire going behind them, making the only sound in the room.

Nesta turned so her chest was touching his abdomen, laying the side of her head over his beating heart. She closed her eyes once Cassian’s hands began playing with a lock of the hair she let down once they reached home, reducing her to mush. She almost forgot why they were there.

“Cass,” she started, same as before. “We need to talk about this.”

Cassian’s hands stilled for a few seconds before resuming, going up to her scalp and massaging.

“I know.”

“It’s not just your instincts, is it?” She already knew the answer.

Cassian gulped. “Not always. Not– today. Sometimes it’s– it’s more. It’s worse. A lot of things.”

Nesta waited for him to continue. She was already pushing him as is. He wasn’t used to opening up. Cassian was the friend you went to when you needed advice, and not the other way around.

“You have to understand that my instincts, Nesta, they’re– they’re probably a bit worse than the average mated male’s. There’s the mating bond, but I’m also a warrior. Fighting is in my blood. I am the best living warrior in all of Prythian.” There was no pride in voice, he was simply stating a fact.

“I think that makes it worse. I’m not used to having rein myself in; the only time I’ve ever been even close to snapping is right before a battle, when my instincts are homing in for a fight. Add in the mating bond? Fuck, Nesta, some days I think it’d be better to lock us both in here than have to go outside.” Cassian couldn’t help wincing, but honestly, Nesta was surprised. She’d never thought about it, but it made sense. Fighting was his language, perhaps the one he knew best. To have to fight against it when for over 500 years it was a part of him? He was, perhaps quite literally, fighting a losing battle.

“And I’m working on it, I swear. I’m trying. You deserve better, you deserve someone who can not only treat you right, but protect you while respecting your autonomy, but fuck, Nesta, sometimes it’s just so fucking hard. I can’t fucking stand seeing you get hurt, and I can’t stand seeing the males or females look at you with that interest they’ve developed once they figured out you’d have killed them by now if you wanted to.” He was scowling, and sometime during his admission, his strong hands left her hair and formed fists. His knuckles were turning white.

Nesta couldn’t believe she was mated to a male like Cassian. With Tomas, the only other semi-serious relationship she’d had, he tried taking from her what she wouldn’t give, injuring her in the process until she’d managed to escape. She’d burned the torn dress to forget. Cassian, on the other hand, was killing himself inside to keep from overstepping, even when he felt she was in danger. Truly polar opposites. She was glad.

“Cassian, you’ve been doing well,” she said as she took hold of his hands, undoing the fists. “I know it’s been nearly impossible, but you’ve been doing it. Eventually, it’ll get easier. You’ll get accustomed to it.”

She didn’t understand, not really. “It’s not just– it’s not just that, Sweetheart. It’s the whole past. It’s the fact that I tried keeping you safe multiple times, and multiple times I failed. I failed to keep you from the Cauldron, I failed to keep you safe from the King of Hybern, Hell I almost lost you to Bryaxis. I have constantly failed you, Nesta. And I’m scared that one day, my failures will come to their final fruition and that’ll be it, you’ll be gone. Dead. Because I can’t keep you safe.”

She opened her mouth to speak but paused, feeling his trepidation through the bond. There was more. He hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. Instead, she rubbed across his knuckles, back and forth, feeling the ridges of each one, the dips that separated them.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if this is real.”

Nesta’s heart dropped.

“I can’t– I can’t tell if we made it out of the war. I can’t tell if you did, or if you’re a figment of my imagination that everyone goes along with or else the Commander of the Illyrian armies will go insane. They may hate me, but none can deny my skill. They need me.

“Sometimes I wait for the rug to be pulled beneath me, to find out I’m actually dead and that neither of us lived through the war with Hybern. That some cruel being in the Underworld wanted to give me a taste of what could have been before ripping it from me, leaving me mourning memories I never had – memories with you.”

Tears pricked Nesta’s eyes, and at the scent of their salt, Cassian lifted Nesta’s head so her chin was resting on his chest, staring deeply into his eyes. Nesta hadn’t seen so much sorrow in them since that moment on the battlefield before he’d kissed her, ready to die in each other’s arms.

“Sometimes I wait to wake up from what I can only describe as a dream.”

His voice wavered.

“My biggest fear, Nesta, is not that I can’t keep you safe. My biggest fear is that you never made it out alive for me to keep you safe to begin with.”

Finally her tears fell, throat constricted so tight it hurt. She couldn’t speak. Of all the things he could have said, this felt like the worst. It was one thing to fear for her safety, to war with his instincts to protect at whatever cost.

It was another to not know if these instincts were in vain.

“And I– I know it makes no sense. If you were a figment of my imagination, there’s no way everyone would go along with it, to act like you were alive, nor do I think Rhysand or Azriel would let me live my life like that. And it– it feels too real to be a dream. But sometimes I just can’t tell. I can’t tell if it’s a dream, or if it’s Hell. I don’t think the heavens would welcome me.”

Nesta didn’t know if she should be sad or angry. There was a lot to unpack.

“So when you get hurt, and I’m ready to maim and kill, that’s instinct. That’s instinct, that’s love, that’s being a warrior. But back in there, in the bathroom, it was more. It was my failure to protect you. It’s that I always seem to fail, and I wonder if my failure on the battlefield left you dead for a second, more permanent time. The Cauldron killed you once, and sometimes I’m not sure if the King of Hybern then did too. Do you hear what they say about me, Nesta? They think me similar to Enalius. What utter fools. They don’t even realize they insult him by comparing us.”

“Cassian,” Nesta spoke with resolve. Now she really was angry, although her eyes were rimmed with red. “You haven’t failed me, you big oaf.” Cassian frowned at that.

“You did everything you could. You risked your life, your wings to lead the King of Hybern away from me, and you did. It’s not your fault we almost died. You saved me. I would’ve been dead at the hands of Hybern if you hadn’t stepped in.”

He was unconvinced.

“Cassian,” she now whispered imploringly, “you are enough. I love you, and you are worthy.” Her voice rose, symphonious preaching to Cassian or the heavens, he couldn’t tell.

“You deserve peace and love and happiness; you deserve a life where you don’t blame yourself for things that were out of your control. You tried your hardest, and Love I know it hurts but you need to let go.” She grasped his hands tightly as his eyes shone with tears.

“Forgive yourself. Stop regretting the past. There’s nothing you can do to change it. All you can do is enjoy the present and dream about the future.”

She rested her forehead against his, eyes closed as she spoke impassionedly, hands caressing his cheeks. She couldn’t see Cassian’s wide eyes, flooded with childlike wonder at the goddess who knelt before him.

“If you won’t forgive yourself for your sake,” she whispered, “then forgive yourself for mine, because I love you and I want you to be happy. You make me happy, Cassian. After all the Cauldron put me through, it was worth it, because it gave me you. It gave us time that we’d never have without it. We have eternity together, Cassian. I can’t convince you that it’s real, but I ask that even if you think it’s not, you enjoy it.” Though her voice was nearly inaudible, he heard every word, could see the tears threatening to spill from her closed eyes. Their lips grazed as she spoke. She was so close.

“If you can’t yet accept this isn’t a dream, then in the meantime, let it be the best one you’ve ever had. Let yourself enjoy these moments together, because if you don’t, one day you’ll realize all of this is real, and you’ll regret having held yourself back.”

Her eyes opened and immediately narrowed.

“Now what the fuck was that about going to Hell?”

Cassian threw his head back and burst out laughing.

He couldn’t help it; it was so unexpected. One second she was praising him, blessing him with the reassurance he seemed to need more often than not but wouldn’t deign to ask for, and the next she was chastising him.

“Sweetheart,” he began, “you don’t kill the amount I have and get welcomed by the gods with open arms,” he admitted. She rolled her eyes and huffed. Clearly she lacked the patience for his stupidity.

“Cassian, you have a fucking warrior-god. Do you think Enalius is in Hell right now?”

…Cassian supposed not.

“And there are literally death gods. Are they in Hell right now?”

“Sweetheart, no matter what you say in bed, you can’t keep comparing me to gods right now. That’s borderline blasphemous.” The cheeky bastard. Never mind that none of them could be completely sure he wasn’t descended from Enalius after all.

Now she just glared.

Cassian cleared his throat, “Point taken.”

She scowled for a moment longer before her eyes softened.

“I know that we’ve been over this before. That you are enough, you are worthy, but Cassian, you need to tell me when you’re feeling less than. You need to talk to me.” A hand reached up to stroke his cheek again as she straddled him.

“You’ve helped me so much, Cass. I don’t think I’d be here right now if it wasn’t for you.” At this, he flinched. He couldn’t imagine a life without Nesta, couldn’t imagine the pain she’d been through after the war. By the time they mated, she was healthier, happy. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he could’ve lived if he felt the pain his Nesta had gone through.

But, like a phoenix, she arose from her ashes, silver flames licking her skin, her fingertips, her hair. Over the past few months she spent with him in Illyria, she became one with herself. Cassian didn’t think he knew anyone stronger.

The gods had nothing on Nesta. That, Cassian did know.

“Cass, I’m not going to lie to you, nor do I want you to lie to yourself. You’ve caused people pain, that you know, but neither of us are innocent. Both of us have hurt people, have hurt ourselves. Both of us have been held prisoners of our minds for far too long.”

She had an impossibly gentle aura around her, so at ease.

“All we can do is accept it and promise not to let the bad days win.”

Cassian didn’t think it was possible to love someone so fucking much.

Never daring to break eye contact, he grasped one of her hands in his, interlacing their fingers, while using his other to grab her free one, leaving a soft kiss atop each knuckle.

Then he opened her palm and sucked on the tip of her index finger.

“Cassian!” she admonished, blush flushing to the swell of her breasts.

He could only laugh.

Drawing her in for a kiss, one hand on her waist, the other fisted in her hair, he knew he wasn’t fine yet. Neither of them were, but eventually, they’d get there.

Together.

______________________________________________________________

AAAAAAH I hope you enjoyed!!! I made myself cry while writing this LMAOOOO. I’m excited for part 3!! we’ll finally see what really happens when Cassian can’t hold back...

tag list: @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @queenofbloodshed @thewayshedreamed @bookstantrash @allilal @illyrianshadowhunter @rainbowcheetah512 @skychild29

[justallamaimaginingthings]

Running In Circles {Klaus Hargreeves x Reader}

Request: "I'd like to request an angsty smut of Klaus x reader. 71, 1 from the angst/fluff prompt list. Also the way I got excited when I saw your requests are open, the T H I R S T do be real lol Anyway, I REALLY love your writings and thanks for doing this ❤️✨" by @pythonstarlet 

Prompts: 1:"I love you, please don’t go", 71:"You've been drinking tonight, haven't you?"

Words: 3.500ish  II  TUA Masterlist

A/n: Okay, Klaus is the switch of the century, Y’all fight me on this. Thanks for requesting and I really hope this lives up to your expectaions!!Don’t hesitate to leave a comment and/or request anything else that’s on your mind ❤️

  “We're always running in circles

Forever chasing a dream

As if everything that we long for

Is not as far as it seems”

-Asking Alexandria

The night had been as peaceful as it could get and Y/n could not be happier to finally have a chance to rest after an exhausting day at work. Having been too preoccupied by your favorite TV series playing, you hadn’t even realized it was near 3 am until a persistent knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You got up, slowly making your way towards the door as a nagging feeling of worry settled on you.

If you wanted to be honest, you'd admit that you were half expecting to face a badly injured Diego, asking you to patch him up after one of his vigilante jobs gone wrong. However, the sight you came face to face with the moment the door opened was completely different. Klaus was leaning on the wall, barely able to hold himself up as he held onto the doorframe in a failed attempt to keep his balance. It took him a moment, but when he finally looked up, you could see his eyes were bloodshot red and there was a bleeding cut on his cheek.

"Can I crash here for the night?" He slurred, leaning forward as the smell of alcohol hit you. There were countless thoughts running through your mind, countless questions that needed to be asked. However it was evident that Klaus was in no state to answer any of them.

Without a word, you helped him to the couch as he put a hand on your shoulder in order to stabilize himself. Only then did you realize his whole body was trembling. Placing a hand on his forehead, you felt him burning up as if he had a fever and a worried sigh left your lips. He sank on the couch and you sat down next to him, trying to get him to look at you. Pushing aside the immerse panic caused by the thought he might have OD'ed again, you tried to check his pulse when his hand came to your wrist, halting your movement.

"I'm fine" He said, trying to brush off the concerned look you gave him.

"Clearly you're not. You've been drinking tonight, haven't you?" You asked in what you hoped to be a steady tone. To say that seeing him in that state pained you would be an understatement. It might have been far from the first time something similar had happened but that only seemed to make it worse.

"Just a little. Or a lot" He answered and burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. The laugh was short lived, fading away the moment his eyes met yours. No matter how hard you tried, there was no way you could hide your emotions, fear and disappointment evident in your expression.

"I thought you were actually going to try this time, you promised you were going to try this time. What happened?" You asked. It had only been two days since you had picked him up from the rehabilitation center, two days since he had looked at you and promised that time was going to be different.

"What always happens" He replied simply. The past weeks spent in rehab had been filled by nothing but crushing self doubt and horrifying visions and there was only so much he could handle. Knowing how those conversations usually went, he wanted nothing more than to leave things as they were and fall sleep, but he couldn't. If anything he owned you some explanation. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I needed to get them out of my head"

"And why didn't you call? You were supposed to call when it got bad and I was supposed to help" You reminded him softly, allowing the familiar blue glimmer of your powers to shine in your palms. A year after you had moved in the Academy, your powers had significantly grown and you had found out that you were actually able to relieve others of any physical pain, or more accurately absorb it, even if it came with the cost.

"We both know what that thing does to you, and I'm done hurting you" He replied, turning to look at you with intensity you had never seen in his eyes before.

"And what the fuck do you think standing by and watching you slowly killing yourself does to me?" You snapped at him, voice more harsh than you intended as you stood up from the couch. Feeling frustration threatening to consume you, you paced around trying to calm down as much as possible. Lashing out at him was only going to make things harder than they already were.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. Besides, sobriety is so overrated, it's not even worth it" I'm not worth it. He tried to sound careless, but it came out strained and he cringed at the cracking of his voice. Turning around, you crouched in front of him so that your eyes were on the same level. You let out a deep breath before taking his hands in yours and squeezing gently in an effort to make him focus on what you were going to say.

"For the first time in your life I need you to actually listen to me. I know you, Klaus Hargreeves. I know that despite the selfish act you play, deep down you're kind and caring. I know you're a stubborn prick that can achieve anything you put your mind on. And I know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. So don’t doubt for a second that I'd do anything to help you. All I need is for you to let me do this, okay?" By the time you were done talking, tears had gathered on the corners of his eyes, and all he could do was nod, not trusting his voice. There were so many things he wanted to say, but even the thought of them terrified him. You shot him a sad smile before the bruise on his face caught your attention one more.

Watching you getting up, he buried his head in the pillows, regretting the moment he decided to ask for your help. If it was one thing he despised more than the ghosts in his head that was seeing you disappointed and even worse hurt, especially when he knew he was the one that had caused it. Still, after being let down time after time, you hadn't turn your back at him. You were still there after all the pain he had caused you and he hated himself for that. He knew he should either get his shit together and become the person you believed him to be or let you go and spare you the misery his life was, but he was too weak.

The truth Klaus had come to realize was that he couldn’t live without you. The only moments of happiness he could remember had been spent with you. From the beginning you had been his anchor, helping him through the hell his powers had put him through. You were the only person who could push the voices away, and he could never forget the nights he had fallen asleep next to you. As if that wasn't enough he was in love with you, had been for as long as he could remember knowing you, and the thought that he wasn't good enough for you was killing him.

When you came back, you sat back down on the couch and started gently pressing the towel on his cut, getting the blood away. Without noticing, you placed a hand on his other cheek to keep him steady, sending an electrifying chill to course through him. Your touch always had the same effect on him, sending him on a high unlike any other he had witnessed.

"This may sting a little" You warned, pouring some disinfectant on the towel.

"Right now you could punch me and I wouldn't feel a damn thing" He replied. And I'd deserve it.

While you worked on the cut your eyes wondered to his, remembering how they used to spark with mischief and joy when the two of you playfully messed around. You could spend hours drowning in his emerald eyes, feeling almost hypnotized by the variety of emotions hidden in them. No matter how much he had changed, hiding his true self behind pills and booze, his eyes remained the same reminding you of the Klaus you used to know, the Klaus you had fallen in love with years ago and never had the guts to say it.

When you were done cleaning the wound, you let your fingers dance up to his face while blue sparks erupted from them. Your thumb traced his cheekbone and he leaned into your touch as he felt the familiar tingle of your powers above his cheek, until there was nothing left from the once bleeding cut. For a moment the veins on your arm turned black, a clear sign that the wound had successfully healed. You were about to pull your hand away when he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. He left a couple soft kisses against your palm, surprising the both of you.

"Klaus…" His name falls from your lips in a small whisper that's both a warning and a plea. You're warning him to stop this before it's too late and at the same time begging him to keep going because you know that whatever is going on between the two of you is real and you've never felt that way before in your life. The two of you have danced around the lines of friendship so many times, whether it was drunken one night stands or falling asleep curled into each other, that you simply can’t go back to being friends but at the same time can't find the strength to surrender to your feelings.

He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the shock from your words that still linger on his mind, but something inside him is begging him to kiss you and he gives in. He leans in, capturing your lips as his hand makes its way to the back of your neck, guiding you closer to him. The blissful feeling of finally being able to touch him sends a shiver down your spine. Using his grip on your wrist, he pulls you closer and following his lead you straddle his waist ending up sitting on his lap. Your hands roam around his chest, marveling at the way his lean muscles tense under your touch and you couldn’t be more thankful for the v-neck of the shirt he's wearing.

The need for oxygen becomes too much and you break apart, panting, foreheads pressed together and eyes still fluttered close. A meaningful silence befalls the two of you his hands refuse to loosen their grip on your waist, even when you slightly leans back to look at him. This is all you've ever wanted but still there's something wrong about it. His warm breath is hitting your face and you can smell the alcohol there. That's when it hits you. The realization feels like the bittersweet sense of déjà vu that crushes you when you visit a placed you used to call home. You've been through this too many times before and you know how this ends. You will spend the night in the heat of passion and for a while you'll believe there's a chance that this means more to him than just sex, only for you to wake up alone again.

"What are we doing?" You ask, cursing your traitorous body for the breathlessness of your tone. He tilts his head slightly, shooting you a confused look. "Klaus, we're just running in circles. It's the same story, repeating itself and it only ends up hurting both of us" It's the hardest thing you'll ever have to do, but you force yourself to follow through, as you slowly untangle yourself from him.

"No, not this time" He rushes to explain causing a humorless chuckle from you.

"How is tonight any different?" You ask, but the question is met with nothing but silence. The way he's looking at you is practically begging you to stay. He knows it's a hopeless attempt, he's screwed this up so many times he doubts there's any way it can be fixed, but he has to try, he owns it to the both of you. There is only one way to make it right and it scares him to death, but his choices are running out. He takes a deep breath, trying to remain collected as he prepares for what is to follow. You have gotten up and halfway to your bedroom when you hear him talk.

"Because tonight I'm telling the truth. Look, Y/n I-" He struggles to find the right words and the way you're watching him, taking in his every movement makes it even harder. His mind is still a little fuzzy from the alcohol, and even though the high is wearing off, the fact that just moments ago he was kissing you makes it almost impossible to think straight. "The nights I've spend with you have been great, but so is every moment by your side. I don't know how you put up with me even after I fucked up again and again, but that's just another proof of how beautiful a person you are. I'm a mess, but you make me want to be better. For this and for so much more, I love you. I've loved you for longer than I can remember and I-I need you here. Please don't go…"

You can barely precede the words that come out of his mouth, having wished for them so many times you can't believe it is actually happening. There's a hint of desperation lacing his voice and it's enough to make you realize he's telling the truth.

"And why did you run?" It's nothing more than a whisper, but he hears it. He pushes himself off the couch and walks up to you.

"Because I'm a fucking coward. The way you make me feel, it scared me more than I can explain. I was afraid I would end up hurting you or losing you. I know I don’t deserve you, but I'm ready to try, if you'll have me"

You cup the side of his face with your hand, softly caressing his cheek and he almost stops breathing when you leave a tender kiss on the corner of his lips. He's looking at you so lovingly it causes your heart to skip a bit. "I love you. I've always loved you and always will"

And then he's kissing you and it feels like heaven. It's different from any other kiss you've had, slower and more sensual, but just as hungry. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest and the gasp you make is all the invitation he needs to deepen the kiss. While your tongues fight for dominance you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging slightly which elicits a throaty groan from his lips. The grip on your waist becomes even tighter, sure to leave a bruise, but the only thing that matters to you is the way his lips move against yours in a fervent way that makes your whole body tingle.

The two of you stumble backwards to the bedroom, not once breaking contact, as clothes start flying off. You've already managed to unbutton the rest of his shirt and he shrugs it off, throwing it on the floor. Kicking the bedroom door open, he backs you up until your knees hit the bed. Only then does the kiss break and he makes a quick work of disposing your tank top and pants, leaving you on nothing but a flimsy set of black underwear. Your hand fumbles with the buckle of his belt until it finally gives out with a small click.

Next thing you know, you're being pushed back into the bed and his lips return to your neck, kissing and sucking his way down your chest and you can't hold back a moan of pleasure when he gently bites on your sweet spot. Your hips involuntary lift from the mattress to grind against his, granting the both of you some much desired friction and delighting in the sharp gasp that escapes him. Taking the chance, you use his distraction to flip him on his back as you straddle his waist.

You lean in for another kiss full of urgency and burning passion, and you allow yourself to get lost in his touch. Klaus lets his hand get tangled in your hair, guiding the movement of your lips and he can feel his erection straining against the unforgiving leather of his pants. Finally the two of you break apart and he chases your lips as you slowly inch away so that you can have a better look at him. The way he's splayed out on the bed, hair already a mess and lips swollen, makes him look positively ravishing and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine when you notice his lust fueled gaze flick to your lips.

By that time, your heart is beating like crazy and your skin feels like it was on fire. You want him then and there, but the desperation in his eyes prompts you to put on a show you'll both enjoy. Grabbing his wrist, you place both of his hand above his head, holding them there as you give him a mischievous smirk.

"Daring, aren't we?" He muses breathlessly but the next words are caught on his throat as you start leaving open mouthed kisses down the column of his neck. Reaching his collarbone, you focus your attention there, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin, sure to leave a mark, but judging from the sinful sounds that fall from his lips this is the last thing on his mind. You continue your journey down his chest, making sure not to leave an inch of skin unattended to, feeling the way his muscles tense under your touch.

Your feather light touch reaches slide over his stomach, only to ghost over the tent in his pants causing him to let out a pleading whimper. Finally giving in, you get rid of his leather pants and underwear as he eagerly lifts his hips to help. You waste no time, before your tongue swirls around his tip, tasting the salty precum that's gathered there. His eyes shut close and he throws his head back in pleasure as you wrap your lips around his throbbing dick.

The moan that he lets out sends waves of desire through your body and he grips the headboard so tight his knuckles turn white. You bobble your head up and down his shaft, careful to keep your movements tantalizingly slow, sending a shudder to run through his entire body. He thrusts deeper into your mouth, getting increasingly desperate and you use a hand to hold his hips down before leaning back to look at him.

"We have all night, why the rush?" You whisper smirking, even though you can't deny the fact that you're also growing impatient.

"Don't tease me, love" He says huskily right before flipping you over so that he's straddling you. He crashes his lips on yours and by the intensity of the kiss you know the teasing is done.

The night that follows is filled by nothing but sinful pleasure and burning passion and by the time the two of you fall back into the mattress, you're completely spent. You snuggle up against his chest, allowing the rhythmic beating of his heart to lull you to sleep. Klaus stays awake for a while longer, arms wrapped around you tightly as he softly traces patterns on your back. He leaves a small kiss on your forehead and in a half asleep response your move closer to him, making his heart flood with warmth. He still finds it unbelievable that you reciprocate his feelings and neither of you know how this is going to end up, but for the first time in his life the thought of something steady doesn't scare him. That's the last thing that goes through his mind before he finally dozes off, holding you close and determined never to let you go again.

BONUS: THE GIF THAT STARTED IT ALL AND WILL PROBABLY GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK (you won’t see me complaining tho, if that’s how I go, that’s how I go)

[dilliebar]

Scraps: A Dillie Fic

Hey guys! I’m happy to announce that I’ve finally posted the first chapter of Scraps (aka “The Farm Fic”). This one will be multi-chapter, and I’m looking at 5-10k words per ch so hopefully that’ll be worth the wait. Anyway, here you are, hope you enjoy!

Months after Joel's death, and a couple months after the confrontation in Seattle, Ellie and Dina find themselves moving out of Jackson and to the farm: a place where they hope to start their new life and family. But even though their lives were spared, not all is well. Ellie still struggles with her inner-demons and the pressures of the ghosts that haunt her, and with how her mind wanders, she's not sure how long the peace will last.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317292/chapters/61382233

Sunday, May 9th, 2038

The dark, dingey atmosphere and cold air biting at Ellie's nose told her exactly where she was. She'd lived it only once, but had seen it a million times before in her darkest memories and worst nightmares. But this was no dream; she was convinced by every small detail of the rustic mansion- every frosted pattern on iced glass, every crack in the layer of paint, and every anguished cry from the bottom of the staircase- that this was real. He was down there, in the basement. Joel was down there, and she had to save him.

She ran down the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her. Each step seemingly took years to pass, the fear and sheer panic coursing through her veins and making her skin hurt. After what felt like a painful forever she reached the basement door, throat dry and lungs gasping for air. She wrapped her fingers around the cold door handle and turned it with her very last ounce of energy, only to be denied by the lock. She tried again and again and again, each time making the panic set deeper and deeper into her bones.

"Ellie!"

Joel's strained voice called from the other side. Dammit, she was trying. She was trying like her life depended on it, but the door wouldn't budge. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as another tormented cry of her name filled the silence between her sobs.

Suddenly the door gave way after what felt like the thousandth turn, her heart dropping at the sight in front of her. The room was empty except for Joel's still, bloodied and beaten body lying motionless on the hardwood floor. The smell of iron filled her lungs that were previously desperate for air, only to find herself begging for them to empty again. She watched as his lips parted slowly to mutter their final words.

"Ellie!"

All she felt now was a pair of hands gripping her shoulders. All she saw was red. All that her rapid heartbeat pumped through her veins was adrenaline and agony and rage. The voice that called her name didn't register. She pushed away in desperation. She had to get to Joel. Maybe she could still save him.

"Get the fuck off me!"

But her captor wouldn't budge. With sheer distress she pulled their hands off of her shoulders and went to push them away, only to be quickly met with two soft, familiar hands cupping the sides of her face.

"Ellie," the voice said, softer and calmer. It was familiar, too, yet she couldn't quite place the sweet sound. She grabbed their wrists tightly in an attempt to pull them off of her as the red began to fade from her vision, but stopped as she processed the girl sitting in front of her.

She was met with two big, concerned, dark-brown eyes; the pair that she always associated with not hate nor violence, but both gentleness and a tender touch; the warm-toned skin that felt soft underneath her fingertips; the near-black hair that smelled of life and lavender. Dina. Her presence alone made Ellie’s heart rate slow.

Confused at the sudden change of scenery, she took a look around the room. The walls were a faded eggshell white, with one window directly facing the bed, allowing the moonlight to cast a pale glow on the scene. Cardboard boxes- most sealed and unopened- were labeled and organized in stacks on the wood floor; linen; Ellie; Dina; decor and some unmarked. She looked back into the shorter girl’s eyes.

“We’re home, El,” she whispered softly, “do you remember?”

Gentle thumbs brushed the skin of Ellie’s face as her heart and breathing slowed. She didn’t quite recognize the room. Not as her room in Jackson, anyway. She looked to the window, and to her surprise, didn’t find the suburban-like view of the town outside. Instead she saw a field of long golden grass, the tops of great pines, an old, rusted fence…

“The farm,” Dina confirmed, “we moved a couple weeks ago.”

Ellie’s memory came flooding back at her girlfriend’s words.

The couple had been mulling over living in town since they left seattle. They knew they’d want to stay near family, or more so Jesse’s parents considering the baby, but how could they live in Jackson after all that had happened? How could they walk past Joel or Jesse’s old houses without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt? How could they rebuild their life there at all? They needed peace. They needed a home. They needed a new beginning.

Of course, Jesse’s parents were completely against the idea of moving away from Jackson. They had a right to be concerned, but after all, the farm was only about ten minutes or so outside of town, close enough that if there was ever an emergency they could get help as needed. Ellie had her own concerns, too, like how they would deliver the baby with only a blanket and her 7th grade health class military prep, but Dina assured her it would be fine, and Ellie believed her. As long as she was with Dina she knew everything would be alright. 

And life back in Jackson county so far had, in fact, been alright. But what wouldn’t stop picking away at Ellier were these constant nightmares. Each one made her feel as if she were living it again. As if the blood splatters across frosted glass weren’t illustrated by the depths of her mind. As if she wouldn’t wake up again, that she would die in that basement and never see Dina or Tommy or Maria again. This was the fourth one she’d had since they arrived in Jackson. Ellie thought the move would help, that the absence of reminders of Joel would help ease her anxiety, but alas, she had woken Dina up in the middle of the night for the fourth time.

Ellie let go of Dina's small wrists and leaned into the tender touch of her girlfriend; she was the only thing in the world that seemed soft anymore. The only thing that seemed solid. Her body sighed as Dina lifted her thumb to wipe away a tear that Ellie didn't even realize had welled.

"Did you have another one?"

Ellie hated when Dina had to see her this way. She hated being vulnerable. She hated how she kept interrupting Dina's well-deserved and needed rest. The mental toll her own mind was taking on her was overwhelming, but she wouldn't allow it to affect Dina if it was the last thing she did. After all the unnecessary hell she went through just to be there for Ellie, she was convinced that she shouldn't have to deal with this, too.

She nodded, "I'm okay."

Dina looked unconvinced.

"Ellie, your hands are shaking."

She shook her head and clenched her fists into the sheets.

"I said I'm fine."

Ellie kept her gaze down but she could feel her girlfriend’s eyes on her, examining. She prayed that Dina would just let it go, that she would go back to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

The smaller girl's hand found its way under Ellie's chin, tilting her head up to look into those beautiful emerald eyes.

"I'm here for you, El."

Dina closed her eyes and leaned in to place a tender kiss on auburn hair before moving back to the right side of the bed and tucking herself back under the covers.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, watching the girl settle back into the clean white sheets. She studied how they fit around the curves of her body, and how each strand of dark hair contrasted against the pillows. Sometimes, or more like all the time, Ellie wondered how someone like herself could end up with such a beautiful soul. She'd killed how many men? Taken how many lives? She had almost stopped at nothing to bring down one measly person, and despite the fact that the bitch still made her blood boil, the innocent part of Ellie couldn't find herself wanting anything more than this girl lying next to her. Not even vengeance. 

But the hardened part of herself wouldn't leave her alone. It didn't just want blood, it wanted to be the one to spill it.

Ellie took a deep breath and turned over on her side, reaching an arm around the smaller girl's waist and pulling her in to fit their bodies together. She brought her pointer finger up to her girlfriend's arm, gently tracing patterns on soft skin until she slowly felt the bad thoughts melt away one by one. She did her best not to bother the sleeping girl, and continued on to draw her finger on her neck, and then down to her shoulder, until she saw it.

The scar.

It was about two inches long, and ran along the back of Dina’s right shoulder. It had healed for the most part, but the line was still red and angry.

“Almost done.”

Ellie noticed Dina wince as the needle pierced her skin again. She was trying her best to stitch up the arrow wound as steady as possible, but with one broken arm, it was proving to be a difficult task whenever the smaller girl would flinch and she wasn’t able to hold her still. 

“How’s Tommy doing?”

Ellie looked behind her to where Tommy was resting on his backpack and one of the old leather sofas.

“Should be alright, the bullet didn’t go too deep.”

As much as it brought back bad memories, with everyone’s current condition there was no way they’d be able to leave the theater and make it back to Jackson alive. It was already going to be difficult enough with Dina being pregnant and all, but on top of that, she had also lost a lot of blood and probably had at least a minor concussion. Tommy’s right eye was shot to fuck, and he’d barely been able to walk ever since the confrontation. If that weren’t bad enough, Ellie had this broken arm to show for it, too. She wondered how they would even get back at all with the little medical supplies they had.

 Ellie leaned forward and bit off the excess string.

“All done.”

Dina sighed and relaxed her shoulders.

“Thanks babe.”

The pair had tried to pack light, so extra clothes weren’t really a priority when they left Jackson, but they were able to scrounge up some ones without blood on them from around the place. Most of the clothes- or costumes- were fancy dresses or black-tie attire, but the last guy who set up camp there left quite a bit of things behind, too. Ellie grabbed a black tee for herself and a blue hoodie for Dina, which she helped to slip over her arms amidst pained groans.

The memory of the night before still haunted her. It used to be Joel’s face that lurked in her mind, but now it was Dina’s. The arrow through her shoulder. The sound as her head banged against the floor. The knife held to her throat by a muscular arm. It only made her more hungry for blood, but she also knew that she had a responsibility to Dina, Tommy, and Jesse that she had to fulfill. 

“Ellie?”

She sighed and packed the rest of the medical supplies away as the tender voice broke through her tortured thoughts.

“Hm?”

Ellie’s muscles relaxed as Dina stood and wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s waist from behind, leaning in and resting her head in the crook of her neck. She was grateful; god, she was so grateful. But something still didn’t sit right for Ellie. They had come all this way, gone through so much hurt and for what? For the father of Dina’s unborn child to die? For Tommy to be permanently injured? Sure, they had killed some of the people associated with Joel’s death, but not the one to give the final blow. It was like starving, finally finding a meal but settling for a side. Unsatisfying and disappointing.

“I can’t go back there.”

The shaky words tugged at Ellie’s chest. They had so many great memories in Jackson. It was where they first met. Where Ellie first played a video game. Where she first watched a movie. Where she got her first tattoo. Where they first laughed and hung out together, and where they’d first kissed. They’d had a semi-normal life; one like Joel had described. One where people roamed the streets, no one was struggling to survive, and there was a sense of both community and safety. Jackson was their home, but it had also been Jesse’s, and Joel’s, and they both knew that they wouldn’t be able to escape the guilt as they saw their ghosts mingling at the bar or dancing and laughing under string lights at the winter dance. It was too much; at least for now.

Ellie turned around and pulled Dina into a loving embrace. 

“I know.”

Crisp air whispered through the towering firs, grass rustling underneath Ellie’s feet as she whisked herself into the woods. She left while Dina was still sleeping, hoping they wouldn’t have to talk about last night like she knew her girlfriend desperately wanted to. She felt bad, knowing that all Dina wanted to do was help, but they were both grieving in different ways, and right now Ellie didn’t know if she could bring herself to even think about the subject more than her mind forced her to. So she left a note, so hopefully Dina wouldn’t worry, and assured her that she’d be back for dinner, hopefully with something other than canned tomato soup to eat.

Ellie held the notch of the arrow up to the string, making sure to keep it ready in case any critters decided to show themselves. Fall was beginning to fade into winter; the air was starting to turn chilly and frost made an appearance on the grass in the early morning before melting away under the semi-warm, overcast sun. Even as the cold air bit at her nose, Ellie found herself at peace deep in the tall trees. Maybe it was the quietness of it all; how calm everything seemed to be, with nothing but the chirping of the warblers and the sway of branches filling the autumn air; maybe the openness, how any and all structure was overtaken by the brush and roots of the forest; but most of all it was the familiarity. Though her and Joel had spent so many days and nights meandering their way in and out of cities and small towns, most of their travel was spent in the wilderness, which was something she'd always admired and appreciated ever since she left the QZ. 

She solemnly dug through the memories of setting up camp after a long day of hiking, where she would gather the wood for a campfire while Joel scouted the area and set up traps. She remembered vividly each tiny detail and sidetrack he fit into his stories of his life back in Boston, and sometimes, but rarely, of his travels and life before the outbreak. She remembered back then how she had so many questions. It pained her to think that over the past few years she had distanced herself too much to ask more. Now his answers and stories were all she wanted, but instead she was left with nothing but a flat grave and her own imagination.

A rustling from the brush beside her caught her ear and pulled her from her thoughts.

Ellie crouched down in the grass to make herself less visible and nocked the arrow, keeping a keen eye in the direction of the noise. She watched for any and all movement, a tactic that had grown to be second nature to her over the years. She waited patiently until she saw it: a small rabbit peeking out from above the grass. She raised the bow and pulled back on the string, holding her breath to take aim. For a split second before she released the arrow the little creature turned its head in her direction, its black eyes meeting hers. She felt a tinge of mercy in her chest before hands began to shake and she released the arrow, missing the animal and sending it running by mere inches. She cursed under her breath before standing to retrieve her arrow and continued into the quiet depths of the woods.

“We got everything?”

Dina helped Ellie slip her backpack over her shoulders before turning to give Tommy a small nod in response. It had been a couple weeks since the confrontation with Abby. Everyone was still in a world of hurt, but the tension between the scars and the WLF was growing day by day, and supplies were becoming more and more scarce. It was only a matter of time before they were blocked off from leaving Seattle completely, and without any means of travel other than their own two feet, making it back to Jackson in one piece would be much, much harder; they had to move, now.

“Should be it, unless we want to bring sparky from the roof along with us.”

Despite the tension in the air Ellie released a small puff of laughter, earning both of them a glare from Tommy’s one good eye. Ellie knew he didn’t want to leave Seattle. She didn’t want to, either. But he couldn’t fight, she couldn’t fight, and Dina’s condition was getting worse day by day. They had already lost one of them, it would be irrational to keep running after this girl and lose another, right?

The trio made their way out of the front door, making sure to keep an eye on the nearby buildings and cover. There was no telling what, or who, was lurking in the shadows anymore. Any fight at this point was a death sentence.

“Main gate’s this way,” Tommy noted, opening the map, “though we best sneak out the east jus’ like last week.”

“Still no guards?” Ellie asked.

“Not as far as I heard over that radio.”

Ellie shrugged and nodded. The main gate would be impossible to get through with all the trouble they had to go through just to get into the QZ. She began to follow Tommy before she felt a tug on her good arm.

“El’s?”

She turned around to meet a pair of sad brown eyes, brimming with tears sparkling like polished glass. As much as they wanted to leave, they also wanted to stay. Not just for the vengeance of Joel, but for Jesse now, too. Ellie wanted it. Dina wanted it. Tommy wanted it. But it wasn’t about them now. It was about their child; someone who would carry on the legacy of that brave friend and father; it was about their family. They were a family now, no matter what, and anything outside of that would have to wait.

“What’s up?”

She watched as Dina blinked tears away from her eyes.

“Can we stop for him?”

Ellie felt her heart ache at the unevenness of her voice.

“Of course.”

They had wanted to bring Jesse’s body back to Jackson, back to his parents, back to where their child would grow up. But frankly without a horse there was no way they’d be able to, not to mention the trip would take maybe a month or two. Having to see his body like that wouldn’t be good for any of them, or for him out of respect. The least they could do was give him a proper funeral somewhere nice, somewhere he could rest, where when they buried him, he would still be the man that everyone remembered so dearly.

They buried him along the same route Ellie and Dina had taken to Seattle, off the side of the main road by the overgrown bus stop where the sunlight broke through the trees and would be easy to find if and when they came back to see him again. They marked the fresh mound by lining it with rocks, and neatly folded up his bloodied jacket, slipping it into one of the clothing bags from the theater and setting it underneath one of the bigger stones at the head of his grave. It wasn’t fancy, but Dina, having a decently vast knowledge of her religion, was able to send Jesse off the best way she knew how.

They stopped at his grave again as they passed through the area to head back to Jackson, at Dina’s request.

Ellie watched as Dina leaned down and took some of the freshly-turned dirt in her hand, squeezing it gently before letting it fall through her fingers. Her breath remained shaken as she took the rock off of the garment bag, unzipping it and bringing Jesse’s coat to her chest to feel his presence one last time. Ellie listened closely as her girlfriend began to whisper a small prayer under her breath in a language she couldn’t understand.

At first when Dina had described her religion in the synagogue, Ellie found herself intrigued. She didn’t just want to know how something as simple as a string of words to someone unknowable could help, but she desperately wanted it to. She had even tried it a couple of times; she tried it on their first night in Seattle, when she found out Dina was pregnant and she said poisonous things and she prayed for everything to be okay; she tried it after she killed Nora, when she was begging for forgiveness to anyone who would hear her; she tried it after she killed Mel, a pregnant woman, which was something she could never forget or forgive herself for but maybe a higher, more perfect being could. At first it did make her feel better to know, or at least make herself think, that there was something greater than all of this bullshit out there. But then, after seeing Dina’s bloodied face and body with a knife held up to her neck, she came to the conclusion that any “perfect being” would never allow that bullshit to happen.

But she wouldn’t tell Dina that. Not when it was the only thing she clinged to for hope.

When Ellie got home it was around mid-afternoon, and she could see smoke coming from the chimney. Despite how dark her mind was, she couldn't help but feel her heart warm at the thought of having a place to come home to, a person to come home to. It was something she'd always wanted but also thought she'd never have the chance to get, especially after they left Boston. The more she thought about it as she approached the front door the more guilty she felt.

What if I was that person to him?

A chill ran down her spine and all that warmth that previously filled her heart began to fuel her guilt. For the last year that Joel had been in her life, she had barely acknowledged that he even existed. She had been his home. For the longest time, he had been hers, as much as her angry self hated to admit it back then. All of the stupid dad jokes, his fatherly, protective demeanor, their unbreakable bond; all of that was taken away within minutes, and not a year later, here she was, attempting to start over and forget that it ever happened or that he ever existed.

I don't deserve her.

When Ellie walked in she immediately noticed her girlfriend on the couch, beautiful as ever with her little baby bump and frazzled head of hair.

"Hey," she greeted with a sweet smile.

Ellie set her backpack down by the door and leaned down to place a fragile kiss atop Dina's head.

"Sorry, I was gone a bit longer than I planned."

"You're alright, I was just taking a break from dishes," Dina paused, attempting to read her girlfriend with concerned eyes as the mood shifted, "everything alright?"

Ellie knew what she was referring to. It was the reason she'd gone out in the first place. She didn't want to talk about it then and she didn't want to talk about it now.

She shrugged it off as she untied the couple squirrels she caught from her bag.

"Everything's fine, just needed something for dinner."

Even with her half-hearted response Ellie could still feel the smaller girl's eyes on her. They were pressing, piercing, and probing every emotion she had left in her. But like she said, everything was fine. She just needed more time.

"You sure?"

Ellie shook her head to herself, her walls going up as she tried to avoid the conversation yet again.

"I'm fine."

Dina shifted on the couch.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, and that's fine, but-"

"Dina."

Her tone was calm but firm; enough to tell her girlfriend to take a step back but tender enough to let her know it wasn't personal. Frankly Ellie hated telling Dina to back off, because she knew she was lucky to have any sort of support at all, but this was the one thing she felt too guilty and pained about to ever bring up to anyone when she needed care the most.

Ellie stood up, squirrels in hand. She made her way to the kitchen before turning back to the girl on the couch.

"I'm gonna go work outside,"

Dina looked up, meeting her girlfriend's eyes just briefly before nodding in response.

Work life on the farm was pretty dull, but relaxing for the couple. Ellie had settled on doing the majority of the manual labor or most work outside, really, like making sure the sheep were well-fed and that the crops were growing as they should. Dina would always do her best to help, although with how the pregnancy had been affecting her body, most days she'd end up doing some of the household chores and preparing anything that Ellie happened to bring home when she went out hunting. The rest of the day they'd spend together, whether they were cuddled up under the stars or dancing in the living room, just as they'd always wanted to be, now and forever.

Working the garden didn’t take too long since they only really grew enough to sustain themselves, and even then the plants were just little saplings considering they’d only been there for a little over a week; for now they mainly relied on non-perishables and the little fresh vegetables they’d brought from Jackson, and the food that Ellie brought home of course. It didn’t take long for her to round up the couple of lambs Maria was willing to spare, either, and by the time she was done the sun was just setting.

And so Ellie finished up, brushed off her jeans and wiped the mud off her shoes before making her way back inside the kitchen where her beautiful, exceedingly patient girlfriend had dishes in the sink and the squirrels she’d caught on the cutting board. She felt a tinge of pain in her heart as she thought of how she’d snapped earlier. Ellie didn’t want to push her away. She knew Dina didn’t want her to push her away. They needed each other more than anything, but Ellie could barely think of Joel without breaking down, let alone talk about him.

And yet, despite everything, Dina stayed by her side.

Ellie felt her body warm as those brown irises met her own, bright and sparkling as ever. There was something different about them; something different than before that day in Seattle. It was the absence of the carefree, fun, glowing light behind her eyes. The one that put everyone at ease, yet so on-edge at the same time. Instead of being sharp and direct and sarcastic, it was soft, and concerned, and forgiving. 

She walked up behind the smaller girl and wrapped those strong arms around her waist, pulling her in and planting a kiss on that soft neck of hers.

“I love you,” Ellie said, just above a whisper.

Dina closed her eyes and leaned back into her girlfriend’s touch, allowing herself to revel in the rare softness of the hardened girl. Before Abby, Ellie had always been shy but always so warm. And in all fairness, she still was, but the grief and trauma over the past couple months had overcome her like a thick ice. No matter how much Dina tried to dig at her, she wasn’t revealing any of the water below, and it was both frustrating and disheartening to see her not just ice out the people of Jackson, but herself as well. They had always been close, ever since the day Ellie arrived in Jackson. But now Dina felt like they were a million miles apart, and she had no idea what to do about it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said calmly, “but don’t leave without telling me like that.”

She felt the taller girl release a sigh against her shoulder, contemplating for a moment before speaking.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Dina turned around in Ellie’s arms and moved her hands up to cup her girlfriend’s face with a tender touch. She studied those deep-green emerald eyes, searching for any sign of the emotional openness Dina had been looking for since they’d left Seattle. Something was there. It was an understanding; a glimmer of hope in that mossy ring; something that told her that the innocence and goodness Ellie once had was still in there somewhere, hiding underneath, but still very much there.

She leaned up on her tip-toes to plant a brief kiss on her girlfriend’s soft lips before pulling back.

“Tommy and Maria mentioned they wanted to come over for dinner,” Dina switched the topic, “kind of like a house-warming thing.”

Ellie groaned.

“Doesn’t the fireplace warm it enough?”

The shorter girl playfully rolled her eyes and pushed her girlfriend away from her. “Go wash up, you look like Todd out there.”

Ellie scoffed as she turned to head out of the kitchen.

“Alright, but you didn’t just kiss Todd so I’d like to think I’ve got something on him.”

“You wish.”

It took them nearly twice as long to get back to Jackson as it took them to get to Seattle. Ellie was fairly mobile and her arm was healing nicely, but breaks had to be much more frequent for the sake of Tommy and Dina. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d stayed up with the pregnant girl, comforting her in any way she could and helping her to keep water and food down. Tommy’s gunshot wound appeared to be healing just fine, but his leg still wasn’t managing to function as well as it used to. As much as she hated to think it, it was very well possible that the damage was permanent, but all that mattered was getting back to Jackson in one piece.

It was the fourth week, second afternoon of their trip when they finally saw the lights of Jackson appear over the grassy Wyoming hills.

Almost in-sync, the trio stopped side-by-side, looking down on the settlement which used to be their safe-haven; their serenity; their home. For Ellie, it was a curse in disguise. A seemingly perfect community where all of the troubles of the outside world would melt away suddenly became a barren wasteland that led her family- her father- to his demise. For Dina, it was the place that had raised her since the age of twelve. She had seen the horrors of the outside world, but now she had seen the pure darkness behind it. Now all she saw were four walls filled with distractions; things to keep everyone’s minds off the fact that there were people out there suffering while they wasted away in front of their televisions and danced along to music of the old days. All Tommy saw were his broken hopes and dreams. Jackson was supposed to be a second-chance; a place for people to redeem themselves and finally live a rare, peaceful life. Now he realized that the only place for redemption was outside the wall, where vengeance could be taken and revenge could be had.

Ellie felt a soft hand grip her calloused one, and she turned her head to see a teary-eyed Dina.

“I’m not ready.”

The taller girl felt her heart ache at the three words. She squeezed the small hand reassuringly.

“Me neither.”

The three of them made their way down the hill, past the old gas station, through the brush and through the golden grass. They took note of the fresh horse tracks, signaling the first friendly presence they’d seen in months. Ellie continued to squeeze Dina’s hand as they made their way past the last line of trees, and took a deep breath as the main gate came into view.

“Open the gates! They’re back!”

As they approached the wall Ellie kept her eyes down, not out of sadness but out of shame. How could she look Jesse’s parents in the eyes and tell them he was gone? All because she decided to leave; all because they hadn’t been more careful; all because Ellie couldn’t help but make one last swing at the woman who killed her father.

She had no clue, but she would have to do it sooner or later, for Dina’s sake.

The gates opened, and Dina was the first to be bombarded by warm embraces from Jesse’s mother and father. Tears rolled down red cheeks and sobs were heard among them, but all Ellie heard was a muffled ringing in her ears. She could feel their sad, grieving eyes on the side of her face, begging for an answer that told them their son wasn’t gone. Something that could give them hope. But she couldn’t. All she could muster was a pained “I’m sorry” as his mother’s cries grew louder.

The next to appear by the gate was Maria, but unlike Jesse’s parents, stayed there, waiting for Tommy to approach her. Ellie looked to him, seeing the pain ridden on his face as he went to take his first limping step forward, but she stopped him.

“Tommy,”

Ellie shook her head as he looked up to her. She thought for a moment, pondering what she would even say to him. They had left for one purpose and one purpose only: to seek vengeance, and not only had they not accomplished that, but they had even more of a reason to seek revenge now more than ever. 

Slowly she brought her eyes up to meet him.

“I’ll make her pay.”

“So how’s it been out here?” Maria asked, “Farm life been treating you two nice?”

Dina smiled as she set the portions down on the table in front of them, taking her seat down next to Ellie.

She poked at her food as Dina and Maria went back and forth about the ins-and-outs of their life so far on the farm. In all honesty there wasn’t really much to talk about. Since Jackson sent out patrols every so often there wasn’t really any issue with infected around the area, and even if there was a straggler or two they weren’t two difficult to get rid of silently.

And then they went on about Jackson, how everyone was doing, how Jesse’s parents were. And of course the conversation shifted to the inevitable topic of Dina’s pregnancy. Since they had gotten back to Jackson she had been doing much better, especially now that they had access to medicine and heat and decent amounts of food. But the further along she got the more Ellie realized that there was one thing she wouldn’t be able to do.

Ellie couldn’t help but notice how quiet Tommy was as he sat across from her, barely even sneezing at the plate of food in front of him as the tension in the air grew more and more thick. She knew he was antsy to get back out there; to go find Abby yet again, and she was, too. But she had a family now. She had a responsibility to Dina and to Jesse. She couldn’t just up-and-leave. But no matter what, she would never place the blame for that on Dina. And she’d make sure Tommy didn’t put that pressure on her, either. Certainly not in their home.

“We’ve been talking about names,” Ellie finally interjected, “any suggestions?”

Maria pondered for a moment.

“Well I’ve got a few, but just in case, I think I might save those for myself.”

Ellie waited and gave Tommy one last chance to not be a dick before deciding to include him in the conversation whether he wanted to or not.

“Tommy? Any suggestions?”

She watched as he visibly scoffed before crossing his arms over his chest and looking up to meet Ellie’s eyes. There was a tangible frustration in his eyes; like he knew that this quest for revenge was coming to an end. She held his stare, silently daring him to make a snide comment towards Dina.

“So you’re keepin’ it, huh?”

The blood boiled in Ellie’s veins as she pushed her plate aside and leaned forward on her elbows.

“Yes. Is that a problem for you?”

Dina leaned forward to place a calming hand on Ellie’s shoulder, lightly attempting to pull her back and de-escalate the situation. But as far as Ellie was concerned, no one was going to come into their house and talk to the mother of her child like that. 

Tommy stood from his chair, loudly scooting it back and practically throwing his fork down on the table.

“You want some names? I got plenty for ya.”

Ellie stood up to meet his eyes along with Maria, who already had two hands on him and was gently pushing him towards the door. He turned to her and brushed her hands away, then heading out the front door.

“I’m already goin’.”

At first the three of them stood in shock, appalled by the suggestion that he’d just made. This was their child. It was Jesse’s child at that. Even if Jesse were alive, it was completely Dina’s choice as to what she wanted to do, and she wanted to keep it. And if that’s what she wanted to do, Ellie would be there for her every step of the way, and would support the hell out of that kid as if they were her own, because they were a family now.

Before she knew it, Ellie felt her feet carrying her outside while Dina called out for her to stop, but she couldn’t feel or hear anything over the rage and blood coursing through her veins. 

“You fucking asshole.”

Tommy turned from the knot in his horse’s lead to respond.

“Right, I’m the asshole,” he shook his head, “I’m the asshole for keepin’ my goddamn word? Is that it?”

Ellie shoved her hands against his chest, full-force.

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“I’m not the one out here tryna forget the man who raised me ever walked this goddamn earth.”

The mention of Joel shook her, and she took a step back.

“But what’d I expect?” he scoffed and deepened his tone, “He raised one selfish child.”

And then she saw his face; the last time she’d ever seen him.

Without thinking Ellie cocked her fist, fully intending to deliver a well-deserved punch to the good side of his head before she felt two soft hands pulling back on her shoulders. She kept her eyes locked on the asshole in front of her even as her girlfriend came into view and held both sides of her face, trying her best to distract her.

“Ellie? Ellie.”

She watched as Maria stepped in front of Tommy, telling him quietly to back off. When he was out of view she brought her eyes back to Dina, who was looking at her with a deep sense of concern and worry. Her heart rate began to slow, but she was nowhere near calm. 

Ellie scoffed and pushed back from her girlfriend’s grip, stomping her way back inside and up the stairs until she got to their room, slamming the door behind her and sitting herself down on the white bedsheets. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, face in her hands as tears began to brim at the corners of her eyes.

As much as Tommy pissed her off, there was an aching in Ellie’s chest that told her he was right; that she hadn’t kept her word; that everything she did was for nothing, and to stop now would be an insult to Joel and his memory; that she didn’t deserve this seemingly perfect life with Dina and their soon-to-be child. No matter how many times Dina told her it wasn’t her fault, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

She still saw their faces. She saw Joel’s face, battered and bloodied, as the lids of his eyes parted one last time for their eyes to meet before that bitch brought the club down. She saw Tommy’s face, unconscious and helpless as the scene played out in front of their eyes. She saw Jesse’s, one of the best friends she’d ever had, lifelessly splayed across the theater floor with a bullet wound through his cheek. And she saw Dina's face, the love of her life, seconds from death, who if she lost she would lose her mind and her life along with it.  

Ellie looked up through glossy eyes as she heard a soft creak from the bedroom door. 

“El’s?”

Ellie wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to slow her breathing as they continued to spill. She didn’t want Dina to see her like this; so helplessly lost. But the smaller girl sat next to her anyway, rubbing a comforting hand on her back.

“He didn’t mean it,” she whispered, “it’s just a lot right now.”

Ellie shook her head and hid her face in her hands.

“He’s right.”

Dina’s heart ached as her girlfriend’s voice cracked. It pained her to see her like this, but she would always be there for her in any way that she could. Slowly Dina brought her hands to the sides of Ellie’s tear-struck face and gently turned it to look at her.

“Hey,” she said, looking deep and genuine into those emerald eyes, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

That’s when the dam broke, and every bad thought and emotion that Ellie had been withholding came flooding through the gates in the form of anguished sobs. She let Dina pull her into her chest, allowing herself the only emotional release she’d had in months.

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

She told herself she didn’t deserve this, that she didn’t deserve her girlfriend’s warmth, but she was crying so hard she didn’t think she would be able to stop even if she really wanted to. Everything that built up to this, every slit throat, every harsh word, every cruel thought didn’t release her anger or grief. It was this. The few times, this being the first, that she allowed herself to be vulnerable to the one that she loved. At the end of the day, maybe she didn’t deserve it, but Dina chose to stand by her anyway, and after everything that happened, Ellie decided that she would never aim to take advantage of that ever again.

They stayed like that for a while, Dina rocking Ellie back and forth as she let her emotions flow, as the tears soaked into the smaller girl’s shirt and her girlfriend’s body grew less and less tense until the tears stopped. Ellie gave in as Dina pulled the warm covers over them, and they held each other as they drifted off to sleep.

But before Ellie let the exhaustion overtake her, she let her mind wander. Usually it took her to the darkest of places, but now she could see something a bit brighter; a future in which things weren’t so grim after all. 

[lisinfleur]

T&T - Chapter 16: Scars (Final)

Author’s Notes | One more finished work! Man, I’m so proud of this one! I really hope you guys enjoyed it! Especially you, sweet @honestsycrets, who inspired my dear Iliana! Love you! Words | 3712 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, blood.

The Great Hall was full.

The last time Ivar could remember seeing his house full of people like that, with all his brothers reunited, it was when they were planning the Great Heathen Army's incursion.

One year before everything went down into the dark.

Less than one year before they lost Sigurd for his own lack of control.

"You're thinking too much for a happy day, brother," it was Hvitserk to call his attention this time.

But Ivar sighed, looking at the two of them near him. He had settled four chairs to be placed at the main table: one for Hvitserk at the right, one for Iliana, empty by his side, one for himself and another in the middle, for Ubbe who would be announced the future king of Kattegat in that same event.

His older brother was already in between the Earls, speaking and making connections, probably spreading the news slowly to make them more receptive to what they wanted to announce. Iliana didn't have come yet - she was probably finishing the instructions to Vali's wet nurse of that night so she could come and sit by his side.

"I was remembering, Hvitserk," Ivar said, sipping from his cup. "One year before our father's vengeance, our hall was full of earls like this, do you remember?"

Hvitserk sighed.

It was the day he came back from the Mediterranean Sea with deceased Björn right on time for him to stop Ubbe and Ivar's attempt to take revenge for their mother's murder over the new queen, the now also deceased Lagertha.

The beginning of the end for them.

"Memories, Ivar. The best we can do is to forget them," Hvitserk said, sipping from his cup as well.

The earls coming in and out of the hall, speaking. Some of them drinking and laughing at Ubbe's circle.

"I rather keep them," Ivar said, attracting Hvitserk's glare. "They remember me of what we had that was the best and doesn't let me forget the lessons I've learned from my mistakes."

Hvitserk smiled. It was a good reason to remember.

"I miss Sigurd's oud in these moments," He said, taking the wave of Ivar's vibes. "He was good in making parties funnier."

Ivar then looked at the small band, clapping his hands and waving them for the music to change into something more animated before he could look at Hvitserk with agreement in his face.

"Sigurd didn't have to be called up for good music indeed."

Hvitserk giggled.

Sigurd would like to mock Ivar forever for that praise. But it was true: his younger brother never had to be called up for good music to be played in their parties. Maybe Ubbe's son who was carrying his uncle's name would end up learning the oud as well or inheriting the talent Sigurd didn't have children to pass forward.

The high spot of that night was coming and Iliana finally entered the hall in a beautiful dress that attracted Ivar's eyes - and half of the eyes in the Hall as well. But she ignored all the pair of eyes, walking straight towards her king, caressing his face and gently kissing his lips before sitting beside him, causing a salve of frustrated sighs all over the hall and Ubbe's small laugh when some of the Earls came to ask if that was really his brother's wife or some missed daughter Ragnar had left behind in England - for their luck, of course.

"I would take care with my words, my friends. The woman you just saw is not my sister but my sister in law, married to your king and mother of his firstborn. I suggest you respect her or else my brother may choose to show you all his aim is still the same... But it's just my advice," Ubbe answered.

Smiling with the memory it wasn't the first time he was kinda defending Ivar in a situation like that, lifting his cup to his brother in a salutation Ivar answered from the throne, smiling at him.

Like the old times... The good old times he was glad to see coming back into their lives.

Good for ones, not that good for others: Iliana’s eyes noticed when the two brothers started crossing the crowd, passing through Ubbe to approach the king.

Their sudden approaching causing Ivar's men to touch their swords and Hvitserk to release his cup over the table landing his hand over the sword as well. Ivar straightened himself at the chair as Iliana held his hand tight, almost clenching his fingers. His blues catching her expression of recognition: she knew those men.

"May I ask why so hurried, my friends?" Ubbe interposed himself in front of the men and Algor raised his hand pointing straight towards Iliana.

"I knew it was you!" he growled as Asir turned himself to speak with the three kings, all of them annoyed with their attitude.

"The woman beside King Ivar... She's a murderer, my lord!" he accused.

His words opening a clearer in the middle of the crowd, creating a space where the earls retrieved themselves and Ivar's men stepped forward, prepared to battle if necessary.

There weren't too many of the brother's men with them - they weren't expecting such an event would happen. However, Asir and Algor decided to test their kings and try their luck to have their vengeance conceded and maybe some credit with the new kings for pointing what was an obvious threat for King Ivar's life in their minds.

Ubbe turned himself to look at Ivar with a worried frown, but his little brother's lips contorted in an ironic smile.

"You may be Algor... And Asir. Am I wrong?" he asked, lifting Iliana’s tense hand in between his fingers, caressing her fingers with his thumb in a sign for her to calm down, causing Algor's body to shiver, tense.

"She spoke about us, I suppose," Asir said, looking at Ivar.

Algor had his eyes fixed in Iliana’s rigid figure over that chair.

How could his brother's murderer be sitting beside a king like a queen? How could that bitch he fucked so many times now be something bigger than himself? Algor just couldn't accept her skin so clean, covered in such silky tissues and beautiful glowing jewels! She was supposed to be dead and he wouldn't leave that hall without her blood in his hands, he thought.

"Oh, she did," Ivar giggled.

Causing Ubbe to frown more seriously and Hvitserk, more curious.

"Ivar, what are they talking about?" Ubbe questioned.

But Ivar just rose his fingers, asking mutely for Ubbe to wait.

He hadn't planned that moment, but he could explain everything to his brothers later when the time was proper. Now, his eyes landed on the pair of brothers in front of them, serene, but threatening.

"I suggest you step back, my friend," he advised Algor, noticing the man was about to climb on the first step of the stairs that would lead to his table, anxious for reaching the woman Ivar could see was prey in his eyes. "We're speaking about my queen and I really believe the two of you have no right to make such accusations."

"My lord," Asir tried to step forward but Ubbe moved, preventing him from advancing more. "This woman, she murdered our brother and sister in law in cold blood! She was once our slave we gifted to our brother in goodwill and she killed them both to flee! How come do you want us to accept as queen a woman that's nothing but our stolen property? Even more, one that has our kindred's blood on her hands?" he tried to speak beautiful words.

Convincing ones.

"Ivar?" Ubbe asked, really confused by his brother's smile towards those grave accusations.

Hvitserk had three extra wrinkles on his forehead: Iliana? That sweet woman that served him mead and lulled his nephew with such delicate hands... A murderer? In cold blood? The woman couldn't kill a fly!

"It's true," Iliana said, catching Ubbe's attention and printing one more wrinkle on Hvitserk's forehead. "I did kill them to flee, but because the would've killed me that night! I protected my own life after begging for your help and mercy!"

"It was their right!" Algor's voice was heard, full of anger. "You're nothing but a slave, woman! Your life belongs to your masters! If they decide to take it then you shall gladly accept your fate and thank if they want it to be painless!"

Ivar giggled and his laugh silenced everyone in the hall once again.

"You speak... As if she was yours yet," his voice sounded heavy and threatening. "You entered my hall, stood in front of me to accuse my queen, and to call me a thief..."

"I didn't..." Asir tried, but Ivar lifted his hand with a dagger between his fingers, shushing his voice.

"You said she was your 'stolen property' which makes me a thief in your words, my friend. However, when I found her, she was wandering around without a master. I took her with me and this woman saved my life, not once, but twice. The hands you accuse of murdering your brother and sister in law healed my wounds and saved my skin from death itself. This woman sacrificed her own dignity for what I needed and when I wasn't able to fight for myself, she was the one who endured the most terrible cruelties to keep me alive. So, I have my reasons to believe the gods gave her the strength to kill your kin so she would survive in my favor. As a man many times blessed by the gods, I believe fate has placed her where she is. So, my offer is simple: I'll pay you the price of a slave and the two of you will leave my Hall satisfied with the will of our gods. Or you can step forward against my queen and find your brother tonight in Valhalla, my friends. If he ever had the right to stand in the halls of the gods..." Ivar completed with a mocking smile that was really making Hvitserk confuse and causing all the triggers of Ubbe's mistrust to be pulled at the same time.

Was his little brother still that arrogant motherfucker of before? Was he still deluded of being one of the gods or favored by them?

Asir stepped back, trying to think.

He couldn't accept that woman would just live like a queen beside Ivar and nothing would be done for his brother's loss. He couldn't just stand there and accept the two silver coins they had paid for her and go back home with his head clear after pleading loyalty to her as queen beside his king!

"I don't think you're understanding the gravity of what we just said, my king," he tried one more time. "This woman is dangerous! She..."

"She's your queen, my dear friend. And she never offered me any danger. To be honest, the greatest danger I'm seeing in this hall at this moment is your brother's trembling hand over his sword's handle." Ivar insisted on the mocking tone.

And it was enough for Algor's wounded pride. He was holding that back for too long and he knew the hunters he paid to hunt her were killed by Ivar himself. Algor wouldn't handle any more of that boy's offenses - son of Ragnar or not, he was nothing but a man. And men fall...

"You won't prevent me from taking what's rightfully mine!" Algor declared, unsheathing his sword and advancing towards Iliana. "I'll ensure to cut your throat as you did to my sister in law, you bit..."

The word died in Algor's throat crossed by Ivar's dagger before he could take a second step, knocking him down on the stairs for Asir's despair.

"Algor! Brother!" he yelled, kneeling beside his brother's dead body as Algor's throat was bleeding a pool on Ivar's ground.

Hvitserk and Ubbe were astonished. Iliana sat pale beside Ivar's chair. But Ivar was cold to that man's suffering. He knew what they had done to Iliana. He knew all those marks in her skin, each one of them... He had lulled her nightmares, sent away her fears. He knew the men he was taking down deserved what he was doing, if not more.

Cold, he pulled one more dagger from his belt, swirling it and looking at Asir.

"My offer just dropped a little more, my friend. You can leave my hall now or you can die where you stand. And make me the favor to carry your trash with you."

"Ivar!" Ubbe growled, certain that he had taken the wrong side once again and come back to his brother's side was a mistake.

Maybe Ivar was still the same cruel monster he could remember and make peace to him was a huge misconception.

Asir got up with a feral growl, infuriated.

"You bastard!" he yelled. "You'll pay for what you did! Hear my words and mark them, Boneless! You and your bitch of a queen will pay with your lives for what you did today!" he threatened, walking back, intending to leave the hall as Ivar had given him the chance to do.

But as Asir walked through the hall towards the doors, Ivar sighed.

"I've heard you pretty well, my friend. And I've also learned the ones of your kind aren't up to give up on your promises of revenge, am I wrong?"

Asir turned himself to look at Ivar imposingly unsheathing his sword to point the king.

"You can be sure this sword will cross your chest and this whore you call a queen will be burned for her crimes along with your body, King Ivar!" he threatened again, mocking the word king with a tone full of contempt.

Unaffected, Ivar just nodded as if he was accepting Asir's words.

"This wouldn't be a pleasant fate for me and my wife... Then I suppose you'll understand I shall not give you the chance to try and make it real, my friend."

Asir's eyes got wide when he saw Ivar's hand moving, throwing a second dagger that crossed his head in the middle of his eyes, causing him to fall where he was, first on his knees, then with his head hitting the floor, sinking the dagger even more through his forehead. The tip of the blade popping out of the back of his head, bloodied.

"What in the nine realms just happened here?" Ubbe growled, full of fury.

And after waving his hand for the men to clean the hall, Ivar got up, keeping Iliana’s hand in between his fingers - despite how cold her fingers were and how she hid behind him from Ubbe's angry glare and Hvitserk's judgmental expression.

"My friends shall forgive me for this unfortunate episode. The Hall shall be cleaned and the feast will continue without any more interruptions, I suppose. Now please, forgive our absence, but your kings need a private talk. We'll be back in a while. Please, don't let this unhappy event prevent you from enjoying the feast." Ivar spoke to the Earls, pulling Iliana with him and looking at his brothers, expecting them to follow him to the map's room, where they could talk in private.

As soon as they arrived at the room, Iliana hid into Ivar's embrace, shaking.

"Shh... Don't worry, my queen. It's over now." Ivar started.

Not having time to hear her answer as Ubbe stormed into the room and Hvitserk closed the door behind them.

"You better have a pretty good explanation for what you just did! They were Earls, Ivar! Is this what you call a change, Hvitserk?" he questioned.

But Hvitserk was also full of curiosity and Ivar sighed, meek once again.

"I'm sorry about this awful show, my brothers. It wasn't how I was expecting this night to be, neither it was how I wanted to solve this situation. But you shall remember I told you, Ubbe, my wife had unfinished situations in Norway that I wanted to solve before we could leave," he started.

Causing Ubbe to cross his arms, annoyed.

"Uh? So what?" he asked.

And Ivar continued under Hvitserk's attentive eyes.

"Those men were prince Asir and prince Algor, brothers of prince Askold... My wife's former master," Ivar explained. "They weren't lying: Iliana was once a slave and she indeed killed her masters to flee after they've tortured her for months and intended to kill her with the Christians' bullshit about their Christ wounds. They've marked her several times in several different ways just to make her suffer for their pleasure, Ubbe. And in the end, her master's mistress wanted him to crown her with a crown of thorns and kill her so the bitch could bath in her blood! Iliana told me she begged for their help but the two bastards you just saw me killing denounced her for asking their mercy and instead of helping the poor thing, they offered their brother a new slave after he had killed her!"

Ivar's voice was sounding a little more emotive. And he turned himself towards Iliana, caressing her face.

"Show them, love," he asked.

Iliana nodded. She knew what he was talking about and she also knew that way, he could prove his words. She then proceeded to open her dress, turning her back to Ivar's brothers who watched in horror as she exposed her back skin, marked by Askold's hands and his wife's lust.

Ivar's eyes landed on Ubbe's blues, searching comprehension in his brother's old behavior.

"You once told me we shouldn't treat Margrethe like cattle. You said she wasn't cattle, but a human being," he repeated, remembering Ubbe from a lesson so long lost in time along with the slave's memory in his heart.

As Iliana closed her dress, Ubbe watched his little brother embrace becoming her refuge. And his heart understood how much love there was in between them both.

Ivar's arms closed around Iliana, nestling her to his chest where she sighed, safe. But his eyes were still on Ubbe's.

"I think I wasn't cruel enough to repair what they did to her, brother. But the gods gave me the chance to take them out of my wife's heels and free her from their chains. You were right, Ubbe. She's not cattle. She's my wife. And I'll protect her, no matter what."

Ubbe sighed.

His fury vanishing along with the judgment in Hvitserk's face.

"You've learned more from me than I could imagine," his voice sounded before Ubbe could slide his hand through his face, straightening his beard and sighing once again. "I misjudged the situation... But you cannot keep us uninformed like this anymore!" he advised.

And Ivar agreed, sighing as well.

"I should have told you before. But I wasn't expecting the two rats to come this soon. I'm not the same man, Ubbe. I do not expect you to trust me completely after all we lived together, but do not take me from my worst. The man you knew died too long ago. Oleg, Freydis, and their treason killed that stupid boy. And Iliana’s hands sculpted me into a man I want you to be proud of having beside you someday."

Ubbe looked at him.

Maybe someday...

"Someday," he settled, patting Ivar's shoulder.

A moment of silence was made between them all before Ubbe could break it.

"We should go back to the Hall. The Earls must be confused."

"You go... Go with him, Hvitserk. I'll be following the two of you soon." Ivar said, receiving an agreement nod from both of his brothers before they left the room and he could focus on dear Iliana.

But before he could say anything, she threw her hands around his neck, embracing him tightly.

Ivar embraced her waist, bringing her against his chest in a cozy embrace.

"I love you," she mumbled and he nestled his face into her neck, sighing, feeling the sweet perfume of her skin.

"I love you too, my heart. I love you too."

It was over. She was finally free.

And now he could move forward without anything from his past to lock him in place anymore.

Both of them were finally free to live their lives as what they were: each other's halves.

  After that feast, with the crowns divided and territories established, Ivar and Iliana remained at Kattegat long enough for Torvi to arrive with Ubbe's children. Then, they departed to Ringerike for a visit, where they dropped Hvitserk in Frigga's warm arms along with his beautiful children and the notice of a fourth child to come after sweet Hillevi.

Their trip back home was calm. Sweet Vali almost all the time against his father's chest. A sweet memory Ivar was now reliving with his brand-new child resting against his chest on the balcony of their castle.

Vali was playing with his immediately younger brother Njörd - baptized like this for being produced at the sea, during that calm trip they enjoyed so much. Iliana was braiding their young princess' hair in a beautiful braid by Ivar's side.

"Done," she said. "Now go play with your brothers, Aslaug. And do not get your dress too dirty! Your uncles may arrive for dinner and I want you to be clean!" Iliana advised, watching as she ran towards the boys, smiling.

Her curly hair, black like her mothers. Blue eyes like her father's. Iliana smiled, nestling near Ivar's shoulder, caressing the baby boy's face against his chest.

"He sleeps so peacefully," She mumbled.

And he smiled.

"It's a thing with our children, isn't it? All of them love my chest to sleep." Ivar giggled.

"Aslaug is still jealous of him. She says Askel stole your chest from her." Iliana said, smiling at him.

"I'll take care of this jealous soon... Askel may be my peace, but she's my princess. She'll always be..."

"The light of your heart, I know," Iliana said, showing herself jealous for a joke.

"It seems jealousy is something of my girls, isn't it?" Ivar smiled, and she giggled, nuzzling her nose on his.

"So as the happiness, my king. So as the happiness..."

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[goth-surana]

Different Violence: Chapter 3

Main pairing: Anders/Male Hawke

Main Tags: hurt/comfort, whump, aftermath of torture

Chapter 3/3 

Summary: They stayed like that for a long time, and Hawke tried not to cry again. He had almost lost this. If those Templars hadn’t been afraid of retribution from the Champion, he would have lost this. Every day, because of who Anders was, he could lose this. 

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Hawke woke up the next morning with his head resting on Anders’ chest. He panicked for a moment, realizing that he was leaning on his injuries. But when Hawke pulled away, he was met with the sight of unmarred skin.

Anders was looking down at him, awake but still looking weary.

“You’ve healed,” Hawke said as he sat up.

“My magic came back in the middle of the night. Couldn’t sleep much, so I just took off the bandages. Justice is back too, and he sure had a lot to say. Lots of yelling.”

“Not at you, I hope,” said Hawke. Hawke was on good terms with Justice now, even considered him a friend on the few occasions they talked, but he knew the spirit could be unfairly demanding sometimes.

“No, not at me,” said Anders. “He was upset by what happened. He didn’t really know what was going on, only that I had been subdued and poisoned.”

Hawke ran a hand over one pectoral, remembering all too clearly what that skin had looked like yesterday. It was kind of amazing how it was just… gone. But it was also still there in the tired look on Anders’ face. Even healing couldn’t completely wash away what had happened.

“I’d like a bath, I think,” Anders said with a forced smile. He got up quickly and headed away, followed by Hawke.

Anders pulled one of Hawke’s house robes around himself as he waited for the tub to fill. Hawke was sometimes still in awe of the advanced plumbing living in hightown afforded him.

After the tub was filled, Anders took a seat on a stool and stuck his hands in the lukewarm water, casting a heating spell.

This was all so normal, Hawke couldn’t help but think. This could have just been another lazy morning.

But it wasn’t. Why was Anders acting like it was? But what else could they do? How could they even begin to address the nightmare of the past two days?

“Join me?” Anders asked after the water was hot. Hawke nodded and undressed, and slipped into the warm water behind Anders.

Anders let out a contented sigh and slid down until only his head and the top of his shoulders weren’t submerged, leaning back against Hawke. Hawke brought his arms around his lover in an embrace, once again feeling the healed skin. Skin he knew had been cut and bleeding mere hours before.

Hawke pulled Anders even closer instinctively, stroked a hand down his arm under the water.

They stayed like that for a long time, and Hawke tried not to cry again. He had almost lost this. If those Templars hadn’t been afraid of retribution from the Champion, he would have lost this. Every day, because of who Anders was, he could lose this.

Hawke could manage to forget that sometimes, when things went right for long enough. Events like the past days shattered that illusion. This was so fragile it hurt.

Before the water got cold Hawke offered to wash Anders’ back and hair, just wanting to touch him more and feel that he was okay. As he ran the washcloth over his skin he kept imagining the blood, the damage. Hawke’s hand glided over a shoulder where a particularly nasty gash had once been.

That was over now.

Anders sat still while Hawke worked shampoo into his hair, massaging his scalp. His shoulders were relaxed at first, until Hawke accidentally caught his hand on a knot and pulled his head a bit too hard.

Hawke felt Anders flinch away and he dropped his hands immediately.

Anders hunched in on himself, took a long breath. Hawke couldn’t see his face, but his body language told enough.

“Love?” Hawke asked, wanting to reach out and touch but knowing that was a bad idea.

“S-sorry,” Anders muttered. “That just… reminded me. They, uh, pulled my hair near the beginning.”

Another new detail. Suddenly the warm bath felt stifling, the heat almost nauseating.

“Continue?” Anders asked, turning to face Hawke with a tired smile. He was trying to brush it off, and Hawke wouldn’t let him.

“Not if that could make you think of that night.”

“Please, Hawke,” Anders asked, pleaded almost. He scooted back and turned in Hawke’s lap, a hand gripping his thigh.

“I need this. I need this to be normal. Just… it felt nice, you washing my hair. I don’t want to have to change what I do because of what happened.”

Hawke considered the man in front of him, could see the stress written across his tired face. Anders was exhausted, clearly in need of the comfort and touch of another.

Hawke would never deny him that, so he nodded in agreement. But even as Hawke continued to lather the shampoo and pause to stroke his lover’s shoulders, he couldn’t help but think Anders would not get his wish. It wouldn’t be normal, and wouldn’t be for a while.

Hawke hoped to the Maker that Anders was right and that he could just let what happened to him slide off like water. Hawke hoped Hawke was wrong.

—————————

Hawke was right. Unfortunately. The next incident happened a few weeks later when Anders had long since returned to his clinic and adventuring with Hawke.

Hawke, Isabela, Anders and Fenris were walking through Hightown on the way to a meeting with a noble contact.

It had been a pleasant walk until the clattering of armor echoed through the streets. Before any of them could react, a whole group of Templars rudely shoved them all to the side as they headed out.

“Bastards!” Isabela called after them, signing something vulgar.

Hawke was about to agree with her, when he saw Anders start walking towards a nearby alley. His footsteps were weak, and before Hawke could get to him he collapsed to his knees.

“Love?” Hawke asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was trembling, he was breathing too fast.

“Anders,” Hawke said, sliding into his field of vision. Anders looked up at him with wide eyes, then crumbled within himself and clutched his hands to his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered weakly. “I’m- im fine. I just… can’t seem to… to breathe right.”

Hawke waited by Anders’ side until his breathing evened out. The other two didn’t say a word, and neither did Anders all the way to the meeting.

Hawke could tell Anders was still upset when they walked home. His face was sullen, embarrassed.

The two men entered the living room and Hawke gestured for Anders to sit on the couch with him. He did, but looked even more nervous.

“You’re going to ask about what happened today,” Anders said plainly, an air of resigned finality to his voice.

“…well, yes. But I know what happened. I just need you to know that I’ll be here if you want to talk about it.”

“That obvious, then?” Anders asked sardonically. He fiddled with his hands in his lap, looking anywhere but at Hawke. “The others didn’t just think Justice was losing it even more?”

“That’s not what you look like when Justice takes over,” Hawke told him gently. “And do you really wish they had thought that?”

“It’s better than them seeing me being… being afraid of Templars!” Anders said this with an air of incredulity, a deep frustration evident.

Hawke honestly didn’t know how Anders hadn’t been afraid of Templars before. And he also knew this wasn’t normal, rational fear anyway.

“I know you’re not afraid of them,” Hawke said, placing a hand on Anders’ hands clasped together in his lap.

“But… but I was,” Anders whispered harshly. He was trying not to cry. Hawke wished he felt free to feel emotions around him, even unpleasant ones.

“I was…in that moment I was afraid. It was the sound of their armor, the feeling of it against me. I don’t even know what came over me. It was like…” Anders took a deep breath. “I was like back in the Deep Roads.”

Hawke remembered that all too well, the pure panic Anders had gone through when Bartrand slammed the doors on them and left them for dead.

Hawke knew the man didn’t handle the dark well, nor enclosed spaces. Hawke hated that he had lived in Darktown for so long, and had relished being able to move him into his spacious manor.

“It was like when you’re anxious about the dark,” Hawke told him. “That’s okay, and this is okay.”

“It is not! I need to be fighting the Templars, I can’t run from them! I can’t just stop functioning when one appears.”

Anders looked bloody miserable, his head hung low and his eyes reddening.

There was a deep coiled anger directed at himself that had the man snared.

Hawke pulled Anders against him, into his lap, and just held on. Anders went willingly, rested his head in the crook of Hawke’s neck. Small breaths ghosted against his skin, and Hawke soothed an arm up and down Anders’ back.

“It’ll be okay,” Hawke told him. “You likely won’t have this reaction forever. You know how I used to freeze on the battlefield when an ogre showed up?”

He felt Anders nod.

“I don’t anymore, but it took me some time to not just go right back to when Carver died. It’s not rational, it’s just our minds. Think of it like a wound. No one is any lesser for having a wound.”

Anders sighed. “Wounds, I can heal.”

“You’ll heal this too,” Hawke assured him. “Not as fast as you’re used to, for sure, but it will heal nonetheless. Give yourself time, love.”

It had only been two weeks. If Hawke had his way, Anders would still be staying in the manor all day and doing less dangerous things. Hawke didn’t give a damn that the physical wounds had healed, he knew no one could just brush off what happened and he had been right.

Hawke could see the toll that night had taken on Anders, even if Anders refused to admit it. Even in the next few weeks he was jumpier than normal, stayed even farther away from Templars.

As Hawke had said before, he no longer took Anders to meetings with Meredith. Hawke’s temper became even shorter with the woman, he could barely see her self-righteous face without wondering if she knew about what happened to Anders and if she approved.

Unfortunately, that last question was answered in one such meeting.

Hawke had taken Fenris, Varric, and Isabela with him. This was usually who he brought because Aveline was always busy and Merrill was too at risk. At risk of what, Hawke didn’t quite know, but that night had shaken the confidence he had in the protection his own status awarded his companions.

Meredith gave Hawke a thinly veiled order to investigate some more runaway mages suspected of blood magic, and Hawke accepted.

“And even if they are not blood mages,” Meredith finished with, “they are still apostates and you will bring them back this time.”

Hawke had a bit of a habit of only bringing to justice mages who were hurting people, often with blood magic. Meredith needed Hawke to appear on her side so the nobles didn’t get any funny ideas about how much Hawke despised her.

“What’s it to you, then?” Hawke asked, feeling his worsening temper getting the best of him. “You don’t send me out to actually catch these people, you do it to show you have me under your thumb.”

“And it may cease to work,” Meredith sneered, “with how you flaunt the company you keep. You ought to really keep them in check. You know well that their protection only extends to their lives.”

Hawke saw red. He stood up from his chair and slammed his hands on Meredith’s desk, startling his companions but not the woman herself.

“You knew!” Hawke accused her.

“After the fact, but yes,” Meredith said with a raised eyebrow.

“Keep your pet on a leash or we will have to muzzle him for you again.”

Hawke raised a fist but was dragged away by Fenris and Isabela. Meredith only smiled.

“Your other friends are wiser. Heed my words Hawke, you bring me those apostates or I won’t stop my men from making a repeat performance. They are very creative, as you saw.”

Hawke’s head was filled with pure rage all the way back to his mansion. He should have known she would approve. Meredith knew if the Templars killed Hawke’s lover that he would refuse to cooperate, but also knew that concern for Anders’ safety would also force that cooperation. Anders was a pawn in her game to control the city, and now she had been handed a way to keep Hawke in check without risking blowing the whole agreement away.

Beaten, tortured, but still alive. Hurt, but still there to threaten to hurt worse. Best of both worlds for their sick minds.

————————

Hawke couldn’t stand the sight of Templars. He had hated them before, but now “hate” was too soft a word.

“Worry” was also too soft a word for how he felt about Anders these days. Meredith’s threats still rang in his ears, and Anders still did missions for the underground.

He still helped even as his breath hitched at the sight of Templars. He was fine now, he insisted. The situation for mages was only growing more dire, he could not abandon his cause.

And lately Anders wasn’t even telling him when he went on these missions. One day Hawke had begged him to stop, told him of Meredith’s words. Anders had only responded that Hawke should stay away then, so Meredith didn’t see his involvement.

“I won’t get caught again,” Anders told Hawke. Hawke found that hard to believe, and every night Anders returned late his heart pounded with worry.

It was even more concerning, then, that one day Anders did ask for his help.

He told Hawke of one Templar’s plan to turn every mage tranquil, and proof was needed to convince anyone in power to stop it before it was already over.

“Why are you asking me for help now?” Hawke couldn’t help but ask.

Anders looked guilty, knowing how much Hawke had wanted to help in the past.

“This is too important for me to mess up, I need backup for this. We’ll need to use the tunnels to access the lowest level of the Gallows, which is where they often keep documents.”

Hawke agreed to help, even roped Isabela and Varric into the plan. If Anders was going on this dangerous mission, Hawke would bring more than just himself for protection. He also knew that if Anders got in trouble, he would move the earth to make sure he wasn’t left alone with the Templars again.

———————————

The mission was… not exactly a success. Justice had completely lost control, almost killing a young girl.

When Anders returned to himself, he ran before Hawke could say anything.

Hawke was slightly too late to respond, and lost track of Anders in the tunnels. The other man knew them better than Hawke.

Isabela and Varric offered to stay behind and look for any proof, which Hawke barely had time to be grateful for because all he could think about was finding Anders.

He went to the clinic first, then the mansion. Not there. Hawke’s heart was racing, he was wracking his mind for locations Anders might find refuge.

Eventually he gave up, his head pounding with worry and his knees about to give out. He had no idea where Anders was. He could be anywhere, anyone could have caught him, the Templars could have caught him and-

The door to the cellar creaked slightly. Hawke bolted to the kitchen, and standing there was Anders.

The man looked listless, lifeless almost but Hawke barely noticed because he was too busy throwing his arms around the man.

Hawke buried his face in the crook of Anders neck and clung tighter, eliciting no reaction. Anders wasn’t even hugging back, just standing there.

“Thank the fucking Maker,” Hawke breathed out. After a few more moments he stepped back, keeping his hands loosely on Anders’ arms. Anders was just staring at him, pale.

“I…” he croaked out, “I only came back to get my pillow. I’m - I’m leaving.”

“What?” Hawke asked, truly dumbfounded.

“I c-can’t stay here Hawke,” Anders told him, a slight tremble in his voice. Otherwise he sounded blank, tranquil almost. Hawke shivered, trying not to think on that too much.

“I almost killed that girl. I’m a monster, and I need to leave where I can’t hurt anybody else.”

The words sounded rehearsed, like he had told himself this a million times.

“You’re not a monster, Anders,” Hawke told him. “You came back in the end, the girl is fine and thanks to you she is free!”

“Only because of you,” said Anders, still shaking but lacking any inflection. His eyes were blotchy like he had been crying, but that was over now and all that was left was emptiness.

“Come here,” Hawke said as he led Anders away gently. The man followed listlessly.

Hawke sat them both down on a couch in the living room, then reached up to brush a strand of hair from Anders’ face. He cupped his cheek, and gave the man a warm smile.

Anders just stared, then looked away.

“I still need to leave,” he said quietly. “You can’t make me stay… you wouldn’t.”

Hawke’s heart sank. “You’re right, I would never make you do anything. But please don’t go.”

It was all Hawke could think to say. Anders was silent for a long while, and the only noise in the room was the crackling of the fireplace. The light danced over Anders’ skin, caught his blonde hair. Even in his misery he looked ethereal.

“You’re spiraling,” Hawke told him gently. “You do this sometimes, remember? It won’t be as bad tomorrow.”

“It will,” replied Anders. “I still will have lost control of Justice. I thought I could keep him at bay, but… he couldn’t stand seeing Alrik again. I could barely- I thought I could handle s-seeing Alrik again…”

Anders was trembling harder, trying to fight back his emotions. Trying to fight back the very reaction Hawke had seen too many times since that night.

Hawke’s stomach dropped, and a chill went throughout his entire body.

“You-“ Hawke started, then had to stop. “You said you just had a “run in” with Alrik.”

This couldn’t be. Hawke hadn’t just walked Anders into a fight with-

Anders would have told him that-

Anders shook his head. “I didn’t want you to worry,” he said numbly. “The mission was too important, I had to try. I thought I could handle it.”

Hawke reached forward and pulled Anders into his arms, resting the man’s head on his shoulder and taking a deep breath.

It had been him. That man in the tunnels had tortured Anders. Hawke had come face to face with the man responsible and he hadn’t even known it.

At least he had the image of Justice ripping the man’s head from his body. At least Alrik died a gruesome death for what he did. For what he did to a lot of mages, it turned out.

“Let’s go to bed,” Hawke said. “You and I both need sleep.”

“I have to leave,” Anders said again, as numb as the first time.

“No you don’t. Not tonight. Tomorrow you can decide, but… please just stay for tonight.”

Anders nodded into Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea that he could not convince Anders to stay.

Even if Anders left, he would go with him. With Carver dead, his mother dead, Bethany with the Gray Wardens… Kirkwall wasn’t his home so much as Anders was his home.

Hawke helped Anders undress and gently guided him to bed. He was in bad shape, even if physically fine.

Hawke wished Anders would have told him who Alrik was, it hurt that Anders didn’t. But wasn’t he right? Hawke would have worried.

Hawke had trouble sleeping that night, but Anders slept almost instantly. He was draped over Hawke’s chest, breathing deeply. This was more sound than Hawke had seen Anders sleep in a long time, and it must be because of how the day had drained him.

Would Hawke really be leaving tomorrow, or would he be able to convince Anders to stay? Another reason he wasn’t sleeping was the fear that he would wake and Anders would just be gone.

But despite that fear, the events of the day got to Hawke too and he drifted to sleep.

——————————

Anders wasn’t in the bed when Hawke woke up, and so Hawke started the day in a blind panic. He scrambled to put his clothes on, ran down the stairs.

Anders was standing in the hallway, wearing one of Hawke’s robes. Thank the Maker, he wasn’t dressed to leave.

“Anders,” Hawke said. “You scared me.”

“Oh,” Anders replied as his face fell. “I’m sorry… I wasn’t really thinking. I’m, um, I’m not going to leave.”

A huge weight lifted itself off of Hawke’s heart.

“Good,” Hawke said earnestly. “If you did leave you know I’d follow.”

“I do know, now that I’m thinking straight.”

It was good he knew last night he hadn’t been in his right mind. He had been confronted by his tormentor and lost control.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Alrik. I know now that was a terrible idea.”

“It’s okay,” Hawke said, taking Anders’ hand in his. “I know why you didn’t tell me. I get what you were thinking.”

There was a small silence before Anders spoke.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now, now that I can’t control Justice. I don’t know if I can even go out to help you. I’m a liability now.”

“Last night wasn’t normal. It’s not every day that you’ll see someone who… someone who would provoke that kind of reaction.”

“I hope you’re right,” Anders sighed. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for trying to lock you out. Clearly that wasn’t a good idea.”

Hawke waited for Anders to continue, knowing the man wanted to say more.

“And I’m sorry to… well, myself and you that I keep refusing to admit… to admit…”

Anders took a deep breath. His next words were spoken with a thick voice.

“To admit that I’m not okay. That I haven’t been okay since that night. That I’m still healing.”

Hawke could almost cry tears of joy at those words. Sure Hawke could tell the man this every day, but that didn’t mean as much as him saying it himself.

“Take all the time that you need,” Hawke told him.

“….I wish it didn’t hurt like this. I wish I could just get over it. I wish I could just get over every fucked up thing that’s ever happened to me.” Tears slid down his cheeks as he spoke, but he didn’t seem like he was caving in with the effort of being okay. He looked freer than he had been in months.

“Pushing it down won’t do any good,” he continued. “I think Justice made me realize that. I’m not going to be able to control him until I admit I’m struggling.”

Hawke wrapped his arms around Anders and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll always be here to help you,” Hawke said. “You don’t have to be okay.”

“Thank you, love.”

Anders lowered his head to Hawke’s shoulder to cry, but they were tears of release. Tears that healed.

Hawke held Anders while he cried, rocked them slowly back and forth while Anders let out the pain of the paths months.

After a while Anders looked up at Hawke and smiled. Tears still glistened in his eyes, but he looked hopeful.

Hawke felt lighter, knowing that the real healing could finally begin.

[rosezure]

Songbird 2 - New Beginnings

Songbird - Chapter 2

A/N:  This chapter focuses more on certain BNHA characters, but there's still some Asa thrown in there.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the BNHA/MHA universe, nor its characters. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. My own characters are, however, of my creation.

Content warning: mentions of jumping from planes, talk about character deaths, !spoilers for the manga!, some AU stuff cause what is cannon if not a suggestion, tattoos, talk about physiotherapy and injuries, swearing/language. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can correct/add it!

Summary | Chapter 1

If Keigo knew anything, it was that he hated the Hero Commission more than he hated Endeavor. And that was saying something, considering his longtime idol was a child abuser. He hated that they made him into a monster. They took an innocent child and distorted his reality. 

Keigo decidedly hated a lot of things. 

But he couldn't hate Aizawa. Not after everything that's happened. Not ever, actually. The man was every bit the hero Keigo once thought Endeavor was. Yet, he couldn't help but feel like the teacher had ulterior motives. The two sat across from each other on a small wooden table in a secluded pub. It was just on the outskirts of Musutafu, which made it the perfect place for this kind of encounter.

"I want you to teach at the UA."

There it was. The ulterior motive the hero Hawks was trained to identify. Keigo cursed in his mind. He really didn't want to find a reason to be suspicious of Aizawa of all people.

The man had literally sacrificed an eye and a leg for others, for fuck's sake!

"Shota... I don't think I can. What could I possibly teach? I'm a monster... These kids need an actual role model. Not some bastard murderer with a hero title." Keigo's voice was small and quiet. He was miles from the great Hawks he was supposed to be.

"We've all done things we're not proud of, no matter how big or small. You did what you thought you had to do. In the heat of the moment, it was your only option." The older hero sighed.

Aizawa looked at the young man in front of him. He looked so broken and fragile. But he understood. Killing Twice, someone so vulnerable yet dangerous, weighed more than Keigo let on. The Winged Hero Hawks died then and there in Keigo's mind. And Aizawa knew it was taking a long time to heal from that loss.

"Look," Keigo looked up from the table, "Killing Twice-" He visibly flinched, but Aizawa pressed on, "That wasn't the best thing you could do. The man could've been helped. Maybe he could've become a great hero or teacher even." 

Keigo was about ready to stand up and leave at that. He wasn't going to sit and listen to yet another person throw his wrongdoings in his face. He didn't need it. His mind was cruel enough.

"You're right in feeling like shit. But I'd be more worried if you weren't. You're still a hero, Keigo. You saved lives that day, even if you took a drastic measure. Even if your decision was a horrible one." Aizawa took a deep breath. "You know it was wrong. You know it was cruel. But you had good intentions-"

"Hell is full of good intentions, Aizawa." Keigo gritted, hitting a fist on the table and standing up. 

Aizawa stood up as well. "Then teach those kids to not make that mistake. Teach them about good intentions and good actions combined."

With that, the older male went to the cashier to pay for their drinks. Neither of them had taken one stingy sip, but Shota still thought ordering drinks was the polite thing to do. 

The two left together. Being grounded was new to Keigo. Sure he walked every once in a while, but he'd be flying to his penthouse by now. He'd be soaring through the skies. The thought of the wind blowing through his feathers made Keigo look up to the sky. He longed for the day his wings grew back, then he'd flee and never return.

"I know that look," Aizawa's voice snapped him back to reality.

"The day I have my wings back..." The blonde whispered, "I'm leaving and never coming back, Shota. I'll be free."

"Will you?" 

"Will I what?"

"Will you actually be able to leave?"

Keigo stopped in his tracks, making Aizawa pause as well. Would he really be able to run away? Would he be able to just take flight and never look back? Keigo wondered if he'd have the guts to do that. 

"I don't know," He admitted with a sigh before starting to walk again.

"But I'd sure love to have the chance to find out."

On the other side of the world, Asa was packing her bags. She had very little time to prepare, and she wondered why the Queen and Santos hadn't informed her of this mission weeks ago. From Asa gather through the reports and files she read, the confrontation between heroes and villains in Japan was months ago. So why was she only being sent now?

She'd have to go through the other files Santos gave her. Maybe then Asa would know what was really going on.

"Asa!" Caique's voice rang from behind her door. Asa smiled softly.

"Come in, punk!" She shot back.

"Can you believe it? I'm Commander! I went from Captain to Commander!" He looked like a puppy that's just been given a new toy.

"Oh, shut up!" Asa laughed at his happiness. 

"So, my subordinate," Caique sauntered over to Asa, putting an arm on her shoulder, "My first order is that you let me kick your ass once." He grinned cheekily.

Asa rolled her eyes and pushed his arm off her. "No way in hell, babe. I've got a rep to keep, you know?" She winked over her shoulder as she walked to her closet to gather more items.

"Hey!" Caique pouted. Asa giggled at his face, shaking her head.

"Don't pout," She scolded playfully, "It makes you look five."

"Right, and you hate children," He added teasingly.

"I do not!" Asa shot back laughing, "It's them that hate little ol' me." She shrugged.

"That's not true," Caique huffed and took a seat on her king-sized bed. "By the way, I never really understood why I got the position and not one of the generals."

"Cause I've been preparing you for the position for three years now. I was gonna retire right before the summer festivities."

"Retire?! Girl, you're like 23! The fuck you mean retire?"

"I've been at this for almost 16 years, Caique. And I'm unhappy."

Her words silenced Caique. He knew very little about his Commander. Asa was strong, intelligent, agile, cunning, and charming (if she wanted to be). She was 23 years old, soon turning 24, and she was quite attractive. But that's all he knew about her.

"You never really told me how a 7-year-old became a soldier."

"And I don't think I can ever tell you. I can't remember it myself without having a breakdown!" Asa tried to play it off as a joke, but they both knew this was a sensitive topic.

"So, are you done packing?" Caique quickly changed the subject. It was her last day here, and he didn't want Asa to be tackled by ugly memories.

"Almost. Most of my things are already on the plane." Asa gave him a small smile. "I slept a total of zero hours last night. Santos was adamant that everything needed to be loaded onto the plane before sunrise. And I mean everything!"

"That man is wound up way too tight," Caique shivered. "Is there a way I don't have to deal with him directly?"

"Sorry, but that stick in the mud is your issue now." Asa bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at Caique's disdainful expression. 

"Thanks, that's really encouraging," His sarcasm made her lose her composure and laugh, "What's the mission anyway?" He looked at her attentively.

"You know I can't tell you that..." Asa trailed off, unsure how to keep her promise to the Queen without shutting Caique out. 

"Ah, you're right. If the Queen asked you to keep it a secret, then you must," Caique offered Asa a small smile.

Ever since they met six years ago, Caique and Asa were joined at the hip. Neither went into battle without the other. It was common knowledge among the guards and soldiers that one should never mess with either of them. Now they were being separated, and it already felt like they were miles apart.

A few more minutes pass as the two make jokes and chat. Asa began to think about how she could remember her last moments in Pindorama forever. She needed something to look at or touch every day. Asa never dealt well with homesickness. As Caique helped her fold some clothes, an idea hit her. She grabbed his hands, inspecting the many drawings inked into his skin.

"What's up? Why are you suddenly so interested in my tattoos?" Caique chuckled as he let Asa twist and twist and turn his arms around. 

"Let's get a tattoo together."

"What?! Now?!"

"Yes, right now. Call the artist!"

Keigo couldn't believe this was happening. He took Aizawa's offer and applied to a position in the UA High School. However, he didn't think they'd actually accept him. And he was even more surprised to learn the Commission authorized it. Had everyone gone insane?

The world really did turn upside down...

But here he was: sitting in Nezu's office and listening to him drone on about the rules, the teaching plans, and other things Keigo wasn't paying attention to. Shit, he actually got in. Now what?

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask Aizawa. I've put him in charge of your training. Please be prepared to start in April next year." Nezu smiled at Keigo, standing up to shake the blonde's hand.

After that, Keigo left the headmaster's office in a daze. The last six months were hell: grieving the loss of fellow heroes, dealing with his demons, going back and forth from the hospital and his residence... Keigo couldn't remember a time in which he felt carefree and at ease. And now he's shaking whatever peace he still had.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Probably your greatest challenge yet." Aizawa lazily lifted the corners of his mouth as he limped towards Keigo. 

"Oh, I don't doubt it..." He muttered to himself.

"Follow me. I'll give you a short tour, then we can head out for some coffee." Shota offered as he pointed his chin to the hall he came from.

"A tour would be nice, I guess..." Keigo shrugged his shoulders and followed the older man. 

Aizawa could be surprisingly chatty, it seemed. He showed him as many classes as he could. He took Keigo to see the event arenas and other facilities. Last but not least, he took him to the teachers' room.

"We prepare our classes here," The hero explained, "Over there, we have the cabinets with students' tests and reports. Next to that, we have the teachers' lockers. You can keep some personal items in there." 

Keigo walked over to the lockers, tracing the names of the heroes that taught at the UA. He recognized some of them. These lockers had belonged to some of the fallen heroes. Keigo's back ached with phantom pain. Seeing those names triggered the torturous memories from six months ago.

"They haven't had the heart to remove the names," Aizawa explained.

"They shouldn't." Keigo placed his fingers over Midnight's name tag, "She'd want us to remember her."

"Other teachers survived and will be returning."

"They won't be the same."

"No one's the same."

"Nothing's the same. Everything and everyone is different," Keigo sighed, "And different is bad."

"Different allows growth."

"So it seems." Keigo scoffed at his own words. 

Was he even still capable of that? Growth was such a foreign concept for someone who was fabricated. Oh, the irony. He was built from scratch, molded to the Commission's wishes. He "grew" under their supervision. Would he have grown at all if they hadn't taken him in?

"How about that coffee?"

"I think I'll pass. I want to start working on the material I'm gonna present in class."

"I suggest a more hands-on approach. Depending on which class you're assigned to, theory won't get you anywhere. I speak from experience." Aizawa thought of the many setbacks a specific class had due to the students' tempers.

"Right. Still, I'd like to-"

"Form a strategy? Make a plan? You're not patrolling, and you're definitely not in an undercover mission. This is teaching," Aizawa paused, trying to think of the right words, "You need a base, but you're gonna have to improvise from time to time. And these are teenagers, not villains. The most they can do is piss you off." He smirked teasingly.

"Got it," Keigo answered simply, already flipping through a book on teaching methods he found lying about.

Aizawa rubbed his face, watching the ex-hero with something akin to pity. The boy had never been a real teenager. How was he supposed to deal with so many of them at once? He'd need a lot of support, that's for sure.

The two sat at the table near the pantry. Keigo was reading aloud some parts of the book he found, asking Aizawa for his input. Whenever the older hero gave a tip, Keigo immediately recorded it on his phone's note app. Halfway through the fourth chapter, Principal Nezu walked in.

"Aizawa, I just received great news from Tokyo!" His ears twitched in excitement.

"What news?" Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

"The Prime Minister has successfully contacted Pindorama. They're sending the hero we discussed last week. She'll be arriving next week!" Nezu informed with a smile.

"You mean the one with the practically extinct quirk?"

"Yes, exactly."

"I heard she was trouble."

"Oh, I doubt she'll be a burden to us."

"Sorry to interrupt," Keigo lifted his head from the book, now curious about the person they were talking about, "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh! Hawks!" Keigo stiffened at the use of his hero name, "I forgot to mention it to you earlier, but you won't be the only newbie. A special guest is coming from another country to help with things around here. She has a very rare quirk, which will greatly help us as a country bounce back from the events of March." Nezu beamed, folding his paws in front of his chest.

"What kind of quirk?" Keigo squinted his eyes.

"It's of a healing nature, but no one is sure of how it works," Aizawa explained, "There's not much written about this quirk. The only group of people that knew everything about it are all gone." He slumped in his seat, feeling sleepy already.

"So, there are no records on it? How can we trust this stranger?" Keigo frowned. 

"That's a reasonable question," Nezu lifted himself onto one of the vacant chairs and looked at Keigo, "But there's no need to worry. She's a show of the alliance between the two countries. If anything goes wrong, it'll be a war declaration."

"That just makes her even more dangerous. I don't think we should let someone so-" Aizawa interrupted Keigo by clearing his throat.

"Rest assured, Keigo, that she won't be a problem to any of us," Nezu added. He smiled widely once more before hopping off the chair and bidding the two heroes goodbye.

A few minutes passed as Keigo continued to read the book and ask Aizawa questions. Meanwhile, the raven-haired man was fighting to stay awake and help the young man understand the methods and concepts. But he had drained himself during his physiotherapy session that morning. He needed a nap, or he'd pass out right there.

Sensing the older man's tiredness, Keigo decided to excuse himself. He told Aizawa he'd continue reading at home and that he'd take notes of any doubts that might surface. After packing his things, Keigo bid the teacher goodbye and left.

The next time the two men met, Keigo was at the school to look for more teaching supplies. They greeted each other at the gates with a quiet nod each. Aizawa seemed better, stronger, Keigo noted. Maybe his physiotherapy sessions had been paying off. Eri's contribution probably helped too.

Aizawa had once told him that Eri wanted to heal him and give him his wings back. But Keigo had refused. He didn't want them back, not like this. Hawks died, and if Keigo had any say in it, he'd stay dead. So, if his wings grew back, he wanted to earn them and start anew.

For days, he and Aizawa would sit together near the pantry in the teacher's room. Keigo would read excerpts from teaching books or bring teaching plans and ask for Aizawa's input. Day in and day out, the older man would reassure the blonde that the material was suitable. And day in and day out, Keigo would create different versions on the same plan. He swore they were only backups in case he forgot to prepare for a class or something. But Shota Aizawa knew very well that the young man was scared of messing up.

After what happened in March, Class 1-A was going to need a lot of support. So Aizawa often found himself praying to a whatever higher energy that they'd be okay. That every student and teacher would find solace in being a hero and saving lives. He prayed for everyone to find a way to cope.

These prayers always startled Shota. He wasn't religious at all! He never cared about gods or spirits or ancestors. But he sure as fuck hoped that something was watching over them and that things would be fixed. He knew better than anyone how naive thinking like this was. But he also knew it was better than wallowing in self-pity.

Yet, Aizawa felt like Keigo would be the one getting support from the students.

Aizawa just wished Keigo would accept any form of support.

"Ready when you are, Siren!" The pilot yelled over the radio system of the plane, "We are one minute away from the drop-off point!"

"Roger that, Captain!" Asa shot back, preparing her equipment and adjusting her suit.

Her first mission was to infiltrate the HPSC building and bug the president's office. If she had time, Asa was going to try and bug any other high-ranked offices too. She had to be precise and fast. One slipup and the whole mission could be compromised. 

Once they reached the drop-off point, Asa removed her protective headset and put on her goggles. She waited for the crew to open the plane's doors while she made sure everything was ready. The plane's doors opened, and Asa saluted the soldiers behind her before throwing herself out of the plane.

Asa had missed the exhilaration of jumping into the night. She forgot how thrilling it was and how powerful she felt. The dropping point had been 14000 feet (around 4267 meters) high, so Asa had about a minute of free-falling before she could open her wings. Having done this many times before, Asa successfully landed on top of a building south of the HPSC headquarters. 

She retracted her wings, thankful for her suit being backless, and prepared to jump onto the next building. They dropped her off a little away from the premises to not alert any busybodies. 

Asa wasted no time getting to work. In just under 10 minutes, she had made it onto one of the windows on the 14th floor of the HPSC's building's south side. And in less than 20 minutes, Asa had located the president's office.

Asa managed to open one of the smaller windows and slithered in. She placed a bug on one of the far corners of the giant window behind the desk. She also placed another under the desk table and one behind a few books. Asa put the fourth and last bug under the clock that hung over the entrance door. After that, as quickly as she got in, Asa was out. She checked her watch. Asa had some time left before a helicopter picked her up at the designated rendezvous point. So, she decided to find the vice-president's office, or maybe a lab of some sort. 

Flying around the building, Asa used her enhanced vision goggles to see if she could locate any useful information. On the west side, she found a lab with the words "authorized personnel only" printed on the door. Squinting, Asa flew closer and found a way in. Smirking at her findings, she bugged the lab as thoroughly as she could.

Once she was outside again, Asa dropped onto a nearby building and sprinted to the rendezvous point.

"This is Siren speaking," Asa's voice was barely above a whisper, "Heading to the pick-up point." 

Asa dropped down from a building, disappearing into the night.

Chapter 3

[pynches]

the five stages of grief

a/n this is a very personal story to me. ive dealt with a lot of grief, way more than i should have, in a short period of time so i figured it would help to write about it. this is a friendship-centric fic so no relationships happening. i hope you still like it.

tw: mention of child abuse but it’s only a sentence mention, loss of a parent

word count: 1927

ao3 link

The biggest misconception about grief is that you feel it right away. That the moment you hear someone  you once loved died, you break down, sobbing on the floor from the pain you cannot hold in. We’ve seen the movies, read the books, watched the tv shows and how grief was portrayed in them.

It’s a lie.

This is how it goes.

The police calls Adam at 5:37 pm, something about an accident his mom got into and his father who cannot be reached. Adam stopped listening after the first words, “I’m sorry to tell you but”. The resignation in the police officer’s voice  was enough.

Dead on impact.

No revival possible.

And that was it.

There were no tears when he told the police that he would be there soon. No tears when he had to identify his mother’s body not even an hour later so he could sign the papers.

“It’s hers,” he told them.

And that was it.

Adam still went to school despite the school counsellor telling him that it wasn’t required. He lost a parent after all. He was tired of the concern thrown around though. The pity in the counsellors eyes, the pity in Gansey’s. Ronan was the only one who treated him semi-normally and even he was more careful with Adam than usual. Adam couldn’t blame him, though, he lost a parent too after all. But Adam did blame him, for not treating him like nothing happened even though something did, for making him feel like there was something different even though there was.

Truth was, Adam didn’t feel like something happened, didn’t feel like his mother was well and truly gone. He pictured himself opening the door of the trailer and seeing her bent  over the stove like she often was, or cleaning up after his father which happened even more often. He felt like he could pick up the phone to call her and hear her familiar voice on the other end.

There is bliss in denial, it makes everything hurt less.

The funeral was his job to organise. His friends had tried to help with sad half-smiles and pats on his arm. Adam didn’t feel anything. No sadness, no anger, but no happiness either. The emptiness inside him was all-consuming and nothing was left behind.

He picked the music and used his mom’s hidden savings to pay for the costs so that his father couldn’t drink it away. His throat tightened when they lowered her casket into the ground and filled the hole with dirt, his eyes full of unshed tears.

Adam swallowed.

And that was it.

Denial was out of the question now. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his mother’s body, one that held so much life before, too much for the small trailer in which it had been contained.

Now it was anger’s turn to rear its ugly head.

This particular emotion was one Adam had tried to avoid his entire life. It just reminded him of bruises and wounds that never truly healed. His father instilled fear upon him when he got lost in his own anger and Adam tried to ensure he would not do the same to anyone else.

Until he did.

Until he saw a woman cross the road from his booth inside Nino’s, her hair the same dirty blonde his mother had passed down to him.

Until he rushed outside because it was his mom and she was there and despite every phone call she didn’t make to the police and despite every time she turned her head when he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Adam wanted to rush into her arms and feel them wrap around him like she had done when he was younger and the world was less cruel.

Until the woman picked up her phone, her voice high and sweet unlike his mom’s, rough from years of chain smoking and yelling at him.

Until Adam stopped in his tracks, watching as the woman walked away, unknowing that she snapped something inside him that had been coiled up since the first ring of his phone.

Until he punched a wall.

Until Blue came rushing out of Nino’s. She kept a safe distance from Adam’s balled fists, probably on Gansey’s orders.

Adam walked away with his knuckles scratched and bruised, disappearing into the evening.

The only thing he left behind was his blood smearing the now stained wall, an almost literal red flag that warned people to stay away from him.

He didn’t stay to wipe the hopelessness from his friends’ faces. He walked away before he did worse.

And that was it.

Adam never visited the church he lived above. He wasn’t religious but sometimes, when people feel the defeat clawing at their throats, they search for miracles everywhere. They look for signs that would indicate their loved ones were still alive, even if it was just the wind that had slammed the door closed. They search for meaning in death, finding solace in the thought that it wasn’t for nothing, even though it was and always will be. They pray to gods they didn’t believe in so that they could fool themselves into thinking someone was listening.

Adam had his hands clasped in front of him awkwardly, not used to the position. He wasn’t sure how to begin a prayer and he wished he had googled it but that somehow seemed insincere. So, he closed his eyes, clenched his hands tighter, and begged.

“I will live at home again if it means you will bring her back.”

He sat on the same pew, every night before he went to bed, when the church was dark and empty, praying to God, to someone that her death could be reversed.

It never happened.

And that was it.

We’ve seen the movies, read the books, watched the tv shows and the way guilt was portrayed in them. Guilt as an instant reaction, guilt as a way of making up for years of neglect, guilt as an excuse for the police. Guilt as something you can live with.

It’s not true.

This is how it feels.

It sneaks up on you quietly. One minute you’re making canned soup on your shitty stove and the next you’re on the floor. Not quite crying. You can’t yet. But you feel the burn in your throat that has now become a constant, the shaking of your hands, the rapid pounding of your heart.

“If you had still lived in that trailer,” the voice in your head tells you. “You could have prevented this.”

That’s how it starts and it never really ends.

Adam puts his books in his locker and exchanges them for the ones he needs for the next two periods.

“It’s your fault she’s dead.”

He drops the book on the floor, not looking at Ronan when he hands them back without a word.

He fist-bumps Gansey when he takes his usual seat next to him but he can’t focus on Gansey’s nervous rambling. It feels like the entire classroom is staring at him, mumbling the thing he had told himself over and over last night before sleep took him.

“It should have been you.”

And that was it.

The emptiness feels deeper this time.

There was no way of explaining this feeling, the world didn’t have the words to describe it and they really shouldn’t.

The days feel longer, seemingly going on forever. Adam feels like he is in a haze, sadness clouding his rational mind.

Adam is independent. Always has been. He learned not to seek comfort from other people because it would just result in disappointment. Instead, he taught himself to hold it in, every emotion that he didn’t want, he would just let go.

It doesn’t work like that.

When he was a kid and his father started to drink more, he would seek the comfort of his mom and she would give it to him. She would hold him close and brush through his hair with her hand. Back then, she always faintly smelled of fresh grass. He cannot even remember what she smells like now and he hates himself for it. But he does remember her gentle touch, her lightly freckled arms closing around him, his face in her neck.

Adam is independent. Learned to be that way. But right now, he needed his mom.

One person cannot bear the constant weight of grief on their shoulders. One day they will succumb under the weight and it will either crush them or they will have people who stop it from happening.

Once the intense sadness hits, people don’t go to a bar and drink until they forget their own name. It’s not like the movies, books, or tv shows.

It’s wrong.

It happens like this.

Gansey persuaded him into coming to Monmouth and help the group with their research. And it’s fine, it’s good. Until it’s not.

Because the word “dead” seems highlighted on every page even though Adam knows it’s not. Because death is his only focus, not Gansey’s voice or Ronan’s grumbles or Noah’s quiet snickers or Blue sighing. Because suddenly his knees buckle and he’s dry heaving on the floor, the pressure in his chest growing, his heart pounding in his ears. He can’t hear Ronan calling his name, he can’t feel Gansey holding him up. The tears are flowing down his cheeks and it will not stop no matter how hard Adam is pressing on his eyes. He can’t breathe and everything feels off and he wants to claw his skin of just so it doesn’t fucking hurt anymore. He can feel himself hiccup, can hear himself gasp but he cannot do anything but curl in on himself and try to stop the sobs from overtaking his body.

And then Ronan cradles his head against his neck like his mom used to.

And Gansey slings an arm over his shoulders, holding him tightly.

And Blue rakes her fingers through his hair in soft motions.

And Noah wipes his tears away.

And he cries.

He lets himself fall apart in the arms of his friends. For the first time since it happened, he feels like it’s okay that he’s not okay. That he can let himself go and feel this in the safety of his friends’ embrace. They take in his heaving sobs and return whispers of encouragement. They make him eat something because he had forgotten and make him drink water when his head is pounding. They stay with him when he eventually falls asleep, in the middle of a pile of his friends, not knowing where his body began and theirs ended.

And that was not it.

Because grief doesn’t go away, ever. Not even with the help of kind friends. There will always be a hole inside of you that the person left behind. Sometimes the anger will return, at them for leaving you, at yourself for letting them go, at the world for being so unfair. And sometimes the guilt will return because there will be moments when you won’t be thinking about them and smiling and laughing instead only to come home and fall apart because you feel guilty for feeling good. And sometimes, during the rare moments that become less rare over time, you will just smile at the memories and accept that even though you will never get over the fact that they are truly gone, this is your life now, and you shouldn’t stop living it.

[critical-derolo]

Beau always gets up.

It's something that she's noticed, something that's she takes comfort in, something she she wraps around herself like a blanket of reassurance. She's a healer - yes, but healing isn't her strong suit, well, it's not her preferred suit and maybe liking a suit has something to do with how good you are at wearing the suit, but that's not even the point. Jester doesn't not like healing people, especially her friends, but she much rather hurt them. Bad guys, not her friends. (sometimes her friends but, like, only if it means she wins and not super badly, she's not a dick.) Her point is that Beau only rarely needs her healing, she barely even needs Caduceus' healing because even when Beau goes down - she always gets back up.

Jester isn't totally sure when she started noticing Beau. She's always noticed Beau, but it was sometime around The Ball Eater that she started noticing Beau like she notices Fjord. Maybe it was all of the lonely nights amongst the creaking ship when she couldn't sleep and Beau would drag herself out of bed to talk until the sun came up. Maybe it was all of those awkward but sincere words the monk stumbled through as Jester nursed her wounded heart, knowing Fjord was just below in Avantika's cabin.

It might have been - even could have probably been when for the first time in her life, someone other than her momma told her they loved her. (Beau loves her. Beau loves her. Beau doesn't love anything, Beau barely likes things. But she loves her.) It just kinda struck her, just kinda carved through the pain she felt herself getting lost in.

Lost in so many ways. So far from home with no land in sight, following a fickle purpose that had so quickly been taken from them and pointed at something that was bigger than they understood. Shuffled together with... with strangers that were drifting apart like debris on the very water they sailed through. She was scared and alone and locked away in her bedroom all over again.

"Love you, Jes."

But Beau was there.

(Beau is always there.)

An anchor, something to hold onto in a sea of uncertainty. Whatever happened, wherever they went... Beau loves her.

So lock her away in a bedroom, she knows that Beau is on her way.

Wherever she goes, whatever she does, it doesn't matter. Beau is always there because Beau always gets up again because Beau will always fight.

So when Beau goes down. When Beau falls and lands so heavily. When the dust settles and she's just there. Laying on her side with her bo inches from her unmoving hand. When she doesn't get up, when she doesn't spit blood and snarl at the beast, when she doesn't throw herself right back at it...

Jester feels her heart seize in her chest. Cold, wet dread shoots down her spine like an icicle impaled at the base of her neck. She doesn't blink - can't blink- won't blink, not if it means she might miss movement. She has to know, has to see if Beau will move or... or if she won't move. If she isn't moving.

She isn't moving.

It didn't hit her but it hurts so fucking bad that she can feel the ice building in her veins, feel the chill creeping up her throat, and throws her hands forwards. The shards of ice find their mark, enough force behind them to send it stumbling back a couple feet.

Enough for Yasha to get between it and Beau.

Beau, who still won't get up.

Beau, who Nott stands over as she fires her crossbow at the beast, another wall between their fallen friend and danger.

Jester doesn't realize that she's screaming until Fjord claps her on the shoulder with one hand, a blast of dark eldritch energy exploding from the other. "Go!" he shouts and lifts his hand from her shoulder, sending another blast.

She drops to her knees, skidding through the gravel and into Beau's side. Nott steps to the other and they both flip the monk onto her back and -

"Beau!" Jester cries and presses her hands against the blood. It's everywhere, thick and warm but going cold so, so fast. She can't find the wounds through it all, through Beau's vest. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, don't leave me," she chants under her breath.

"Do you have a diamond?!" Nott shrieks. Grabs Jester's trembling, bloody hands and squeezes hard enough to ground her. Until wide purple eyes meet yellow ones and they both duck under the beast's swing. Yasha snarls and forces it back. "Do you have a diamond, Jester?!"

"No, I..." she shakes her head helplessly. Numbly. Like it's not really her head, like she's a puppet with her strings being pulled, like this isn't actually happening.

This can't actually be happening.

It's not happening.

Nott blinks and looks down at Beau (oh, Beau, no... why did you take that hit?) with growing fear. Her little green hands cup the monk's face, holding it like Beau is something precious and fragile. She gasps and looks up, scrambling to her feet. "Caduceus!"

He raises his shield against the enormous flying insect, gritting his teeth and looking back at them. His pink eyes land on Beau and the strain in his body gives just slightly, just enough that he's forced back another two steps before he digs back in. "I have no-"

His heartwrenching answer, his cursed response is lost against the clash of bug-claws against his shield and Caleb's wall of fire. The wizard turns, arching his hands through the air, and drags the wall around in a fiery shield against the danger. His chest heaves heavily, his eyes wide and frantic and searching, staring, studying. Scrutinizing Beau's form. They flick to Jester. "Heal her! Jester-" he staggers forward and drops to his knees beside her, a hand over Beau's abdomen. "Please, Jester, heal her. I can't... she's... you have to save her. I need her."

"I don't have a diamond!" she snaps angrily. Pissed. She's so fucking pissed. At Caleb for thinking she would hesitate even a second to bring Beau back if she had a fucking diamond. At this monstrous beast for taking her in the first place. At life for being oh so cruel, to have dangled this family, these people in front of her, only to steal them away again.

At Beau.

At Beau for being such an asshole. Such an asshole to be so kind, so gentle, so compassionate that Jester really didn't have a choice. How could she not love Beau? How could anyone not?

Caleb's warm, rough hands cup her face and bring her back to a moment she wants to leave, to forget forever. His lips move, form her name, and she has to squint to hear him. "Jester! Save her! Look!"

It takes too much effort to follow his line of sight, to try and make sense of what she's seeing. It doesn't click until he's grabbing something from the pouch on Beau's belt, spilling chunks of bloody diamonds into his palm. Some are smooth and finely cut, small but expensive, while others are larger and jagged. Picked up along the way somewhere, maybe from the city of beasts or merely in their travels on the road.

It doesn't look like enough.

An incomplete collection that Beau had been working on. What else was she doing that the others didn't know? How was she the loudest and yet the most secretive of the group?

Questions Jester will never be able to ask, quirks she won't ever be able to notice again.

"It's not eno-"

Caleb presses them into her hand, squeezing tight enough that the jagged edges dig into her palms. His eyes are so blue, so earnest that it breaks her heart just a little bit more. "Just try!" he insists and - Nott winces, she ducks her head when his voice breaks off at the end. "Please."

Jester finds herself nodding, grabs onto the spark of hope in her chest and refuses to let go. Beau always gets up. Beau never gives up. And neither will she. It may not be her preferred suit, maybe not even her strong suit, but she can do this. She can bring people back. She can keep this group together against all odds. Against death itself.

The diamonds tremble in her palm until a soft light breaks through the smere of blood - dim, flickering very slightly, but there. She can do this.

She can do this.

"Beau," Nott calls as gently as she can while screeching over the noise of battle. "Get your lazy ass up! Join the We Died But We Lived club with me and Deucy and maybe Fjord." She leans down to press her forehead against the monk's. "Between you and me, I think he's just trying to steal our thunder. Drowning's not half as bad if you don't die, he just doesn't want to admit it."

Some of the smaller diamonds lift into the air, floating over Beau's chest. Jester digs deeper, closes her eyes to focus and channel more of her divine magic. A few larger chunks drift towards the others.

"Beauregard," Caleb said. Sniffs and scrubs his chin with the back of his palm. He looks down at the ground beside her head, at some of the more colourful pebbles in the dirt there. None of them have enough blue. "You and I made a promise, Beauregard, so I shall uphold it and tell you that you're being an asshole right now. Turning in the gloves so easily. It's a... what did you call it, a dick move? Ja." His fingers twitch, the fabric of her sash caught easily. Very smooth. Very nice. "I get it though. Life can be... difficult, especially for you and I, it seems. So I'll tell you what, if you come back, I will... I will let you borrow Frumpkin for a whole week. Or-or a month, even. He makes life easier." Caleb ducks his head. "You make life easier."

The diamonds burst into glittering dust that moves like waves in the ocean over Beau's body. Jester's veins burn, the exertion of her magic sapping quickly, reaching for more and coming up with nothing. There aren't enough diamonds.

"Miss Beau!" Caduceus gasps and drops to a knee, hanging on his staff. He looks... bad. Rough, his pink hair dishevelled and face covered in dirt. The giant bug's wing twitches behind him, body smushed into the ground. "Sorry it took me a second," he says around a smile and places a big hand on her abdomen. The glowing from his hand brightens the diamond dust in the air. "All things that begin must end, all that lives must die. Life is precious not because it's forever." He closes his eyes and focuses harder. The others watch the glowing diamond dust sink against Beau's skin and rest there. "But your grave is not yet ready for you."

The energy that crackles between Jester and the diamonds fights to stay strong, but she can feel it fading. Slipping from her grasp like smoke between her fingers. "Come on, Beau," she grinds out between clenched teeth. "Come on, Beau!"

Blood drips through the glowing dust, a shadow falling over them. Yasha leans down between Caleb and Nott, reaching forward to cup Beau's cheek as her own palm lights up. The gashes in her arm look bad but she doesn't tremble, doesn't blink. "They can't have you," she tells Beau quietly. Grimly. "Not you, too."

A pulse of magic echoes up Jester's arms from her palms. The dust settles into Beau's skin, starts sinking in until they can't see it anymore. Jester catches her second wind and digs back in again, presses her hands against Beau.

"Right, okay," Fjord ducks beneath the behemoth's swing and drags his sword against the underside of its arm. "See, Beau, I'm gonna need you to get up now because you and I are the only ones who don't get distracted in a fight, apparently." Claws catch his leather and he's launched back, tucking into a backwards somersault. Eldritch magic bursts from his palms when he settles on his knees, standing up to send two more. "Gonna need my First Mate to finish this guy off!"

Something jumps in Beau's chest. Jester gasps, her eyes widening, and... waits. And waits. "Beau?" She waits some more, she waits until the hope in Caleb's eyes turns brittle and threatens to shatter. "Oh! I didn't say anything. You don't have a Wildmother or a super cool, like, super awesome, super talented Traveler, or a scary but badass storm lord like we do. But!" She brightens and bounces on her knees. "You have us! And technically we didn't have enough diamonds but also technically fuck that because we need you. So tell Molly you'll see him soon or whatever but not today because there's shit to do!"

With every last bit of magic she has left, Jester pours it into her friend. Into Beau - kind, funny, abrasive, wickedly clever Beau.

"Oh, plus I love you," she whispers and swoops down to press a kiss against Beau's lips. "So please don't leave me."

Considering how immediate it was with Caduceus, Jester really shouldn't be surprised. She really has no reason to shriek when Beau jolts up, when her blue, blue eyes shoot open with wild frenzy in them.

Beau's chest heaves. Colours separate and details form, the world comes rushing back in, all at once. Pain lingers just behind but mostly... mostly she's okay. Right? Beau looks down at her lap, where she has Jester mostly gathered in her arms and the tiefling stares up at her with tears in her eyes.

Beau licks her lips, tastes something sweet, and feels herself smile. "Did I fucking die?!"

[waywardaardvark79]

Check Yes or No Part 13: My Turn to be Brave

Summary: You've been best friends with Dean Winchester since childhood. When you finally realize what's been in front of you this entire time will secrets threaten to destroy what you have before it really even begins.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: None

                                               3 months later

          You had been away from your home, your business, and your friends for three months, and if you were completely honest with yourself the time had done nothing to heal your wounds. You kept in regular contact with Charlie and Benny. Charlie constantly reassuring you that everything with the shop was fine, and Benny keeping you updated on the one thing you really cared about, Dean. Benny told you that he really only saw Dean at work. He said he would come in, do the job, and go home. Benny said Dean didn't talk about anything, but the job. He never mentioned you, and if your name was brought up in conversation he would quickly excuse himself. You weren't surprised, but hoped that when the baby came , which should be any day now, he would put all of his focus on her, and forget about you. 

       Your days were monotonous at best. You got a shit job at a little 24/7 diner working the night shift. You went to work, and then slept the day away, never really venturing from the spare room Ashley and Stephen so graciously let you use. They tried to get you to go out and do things with them when you were free, but you always had an excuse ready. You kept telling yourself to take it one day at a time and that it would eventually get better, but no matter how many days passed it never got better. The hurt was still just as fresh as the day you left Lawrence.

 You couldn't count the amount of times that your finger hovered over his contact information in your phone, wanting so badly to just press it and talk to him, but you knew your words would have no effect on him. You had hurt him too badly. You thought about deleting his contact information, and all of the old text messages between the two of you all together, not that it would do any good. His phone number was embedded into your memory, and the texts were the one little piece of him that you had left. So, the end result was the same every time. You would stare at his number and messages, willing yourself to just get rid of it this time, but would quickly fold and tuck your phone safely away, promising yourself that you would do it the next time. 

That was your life. Three months without your constant, your other half, and you were starting to fall apart. The only person that could put the pieces back together wanting nothing to do with you. You were lost, the beacon of light that usually guided you gone, and you didn't know if you would be able to find your way back this time. 

                    Back in Lawerence

          It had been three months since you had left. Three months that Dean cursed himself for the things that he said in anger, and not convincing you to stay. Three months of the never ending shit show that had become his life, and he was tired. He was lost. The bridge between the two of you in ruin, seemingly irreparable, and he didn't know if he had it in him to even attempt to  fix it.

          He often found himself staring at his phone. Your smiling face looking up at him, wanting so badly to call you and tell you everything that had happened. He wanted to tell you how Sam had came a couple of weeks ago, and showed Lisa the paperwork for the civil lawsuit he planned to file in order to get a court ordered paternity test. He wanted to tell you how she quickly caved since Sam had backed her into a corner, and confessed that the baby wasn't his. He wanted to tell you that he almost told her to stay just so he wouldn't be alone, but Sam managed to talk some sense into him, so he sat by without a word and watched as she packed her things and left. 

He just wanted to talk to you, but no matter how many times Sam told him to reach out he could never finish dialing your number. He always erased everything when he was one number away, knowing deep down the damage had already been done, and no matter how badly he wanted to fix it, he couldn't.

       So, he did what he always did when his mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of you. He snatched up his keys and drove. No where in particular, he just drove, trying his best to out run your memory, but he never seemed to be able to go fast or far enough. You were still there, embedded into the very soul of him, coursing through his veins, and wedging yourself into his heart. You were a part of him, and without you he didn't seem to be able to function completely. Tired of trying to outrun you, he let his heart guide him and steer the wheel, knowing before his mind could register exactly where he was going.

         Dean pulled up in front of the scrap yard, and cut his engine. Muscle memory guiding him exactly where he wanted to go. He came to a stop a few feet away from the old truck and smiled, hundreds of memories washing over him at once.

 He walked over to the driver's side door and pulled it open, a loud creak echoing out through the empty yard. He slid into the seat and immediately noticed the box sitting in the passenger side. He knew you had put it there. No one else would have. He started to reach for it but quickly recoiled, afraid of what was inside. So, he sat there, hands on the wheel staring straight ahead, allowing himself to glance at the box out of the corner of his eye every few minutes. Temptation finally got the better of him, and he pulled the box towards him. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and opened it. 

It was crammed full, a white envelope with his name in your familiar script laying on top. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands before sitting it on the dash, deciding to look at everything else first, not sure if he was ready for your words. He took his time and looked at every single item in the box. The pictures that chronicled your lives together, starting in early childhood and ending with the one his Mom had taken at her anniversary party, the last picture of the two of you together. 

He read through every note and letter, most containing silly, mundane things, but some contained things that made his heart ache for you even more. He looked at every random object that would have no meaning to anyone else, but meant the world to you. A rock he had given you when you were kids because it was kind of shaped like a heart, a little stuffed purple elephant, now ragged with age, that he had won you at a carnival, an old broken keychain that he had given you the day you got your driver's license, a mixed cd that he made you, and the memories of the entire summer you refused to listen to  anything else ,but it whenever you were in your car, just to name a few. 

He came to the bottom of the box and there it was. Now yellowed and wrinkled with age, but he would recognize it anywhere. The very first note you had ever written. The one that started it all. He carefully picked it up, the green and purple messy writing, and the way you misspelled friend staring him in the face, and flooding him with an overwhelming amount of emotion. He smiled to himself, and carefully laid it to the side.

 He placed everything back in the box until he was faced with two things, your first and last words to him. He picked up the envelope and slowly opened it, trying to prepare himself for what was inside. He gently unfolded the paper and started to read.

            Dean,

     I don't know if you will ever read this. I'm pretty sure you won't. I'm sure you aren't interested in anything I have to say, but on the off chance that you do I just need to say a few things. I'm so sorry, for everything. I don't know if you will ever understand just how hard it is for me to leave you behind. As cheesy and chick flicky  (I know, no chick flick moments) as it sounds, you are a part of me and I don't know how I am going to function without you. We are sort of creepily codependent, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I just need you to know that I am trying to do what I think is best, no matter how much it hurts. I know you think that I don't want you, and that I don't love you, but that is the furthest thing from the truth. I want you and love you more than anything, and it kills me to do this. I just hope that one day you can see that I was only trying to do the right thing even if I went about it in a really fucked up way. I hope that one day you can forgive me. I know that you said I lied when I said we were forever, but De, I NEED  you to know that it will always be forever for me. No matter what you decide, no matter if I ever hear from you again, you are it for me. You'll always be my forever. I love you.

                                               Y/N

        Dean re-read the letter a few times, wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen, then it hit him. He knew exactly what he had to do. He quickly called Benny even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly where you were, he wanted to sure. Benny confirmed your whereabouts. The wheels were spinning in his head, everything he needed to do coming together. He grabbed the first note you had written him, carefully folded it, and placed it in his pocket before exiting the old truck and heading to his car. You were brave enough to ask the question that started it all, and he was going to brave enough to ask the question that would hopefully end this and get everything back on track. 

            Ashley and Stephen's house

         Your shift at the diner was finally over, and you drove back to Ashley and Stephen's.  You got out of your car and walked inside as quietly as you could, knowing they liked to sleep in on Saturday. 

You walked into your room and gently closed the door, collapsing face first onto your bed, not even caring to change out of the stupid pale yellow waitressing uniform that you had to wear. You managed to kick off your shoes and pull the cover haphazardly over your body before slipping into unconsciousness. 

A knock on your door pulled you from sleep. You rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock, 10:17 AM. Ashley's voice drifted over to you, "Y/N, get up. Someone's here to see you." she  said. 

You pulled the cover up over your head and grumbled, "Sleepin'. Tell em' to go away." 

"I think you really want to see them." she  said. 

You didn't reply, just silently willed her to go away. You suddenly felt the covers being ripped from your body. "What the fuck, Ashley?" you asked. 

"Get up, and go downstairs." she  ordered. 

You sighed, "Fine." 

You stumbled out of bed, your uniform wrinkled, the strings of the apron still around your waist, coming untied. You didn't bother trying to make yourself look decent, figuring it was just someone from the diner wanting you to pick up an extra shift, although why they couldn't call you didn't understand.

 You shuffled down stairs, Ashley on your heels, and looked around the empty living room. You quickly turned to face her, "If this was some bullshit stunt to get me out of bed to do something I'm gonna kill you. After which, I will be returning to bed. You started to head back up the stairs, but her hand on your shoulder stopped you.

 "On the porch." was all she said as she walked by you and into the kitchen. 

The front door was open, leaving just the screen door between you and this mysterious guest. You inched over to the door to peak out and your heart stopped when you saw him. He had walked down the front steps and was currently pacing back and forth on the little walkway leading up to the porch. You pinched yourself, afraid that this was all a dream, but he was still there. You weren't prepared for this. You needed time to figure out what to say. You started to turn around and head for the stairs when Ashley cleared her throat. She was leaning against the kitchen doorway, pointing to the porch with a stern look on her face. You knew she wasn't going to let you run and hide. It was time to face him. 

          You pushed open the screen door, hoping to go unnoticed for a moment, but the creaking of the door gave away your presence. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard it.

 You slowly walked down the few steps, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from him, still unable to meet his gaze. You felt his eyes on you, but neither one of you made a move to speak. You finally forced yourself to look up, and take him in. The dark blue jeans and gray t-shirt he was wearing hung a little loosely on his frame. He looked worn and tired, a few days stubble gracing his cheeks, the green eyes you loved no longer shining, but dull. You finally noticed the red string that he held in his hand. It was wrapped so tightly around his fingers that they were starting to turn white. You followed the string up above his head, and that's when you saw it. A giant teddy bear balloon, just like the one he let go when you were kids, floating above his head. You felt your mouth open a little in shock, but before you could say anything he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I have a few things I need to say, and I need you to just let me get everything out before you say anything. Is that ok?" he asked. You nodded your head and tried to prepare yourself. 

      He cleared his throat one more time, shook off his nerves, and looked you directly in the eye, "These last three months have been hell. Every minute that you have been gone has been unbearable. You were right, you know. Sammy backed Lisa into a corner and she finally admitted that the kid wasn't mine. You know I almost asked her to stay just so I wouldn't be alone because I knew that I ran you off. Don't worry Sammy took up your job and talked some sense into me. He also tried to get me to call you I don't know how many times, but I was too scared. I was too scared to face you. I was scared that you wouldn't talk to me, but I found your letter and the box and decided I needed to be the brave one this time. I know that you were only trying to do what you thought was right. I still don't completely agree with how you went about it, but I understand. I also know I told you to go, but I need you. I've always needed you." 

You watched as he started to nervously bounce a little, "Like the time when we were eight and Ralph Bennett stole my new baseball glove. You came over to play and I told you what happened. You marched over to his house with your little bat cocked on your shoulder and whacked him right in the shin with it and got my glove back. When Michael made fun of me for being afraid of the dark you socked him in the nose and made him cry, then told him if he didn't leave me alone you would tell everyone a girl made him cry. You took the blame when me and Sammy broke the basement window because you didn't want me to get in trouble and would rather you did. In high school when I finally got up the nerve to ask Cassie Robinson to prom and she turned me down, you went with me instead, and I had the best time. I also know you didn't accidentally spill that punch on her dress." 

The corner of your mouth turned up at the memory. He was right. It definitely wasn't an accident. "Anytime I have ever felt not good enough or not smart enough for not going to college like Sammy you have been there to pick me up, and tell me that I was perfect just the way I was. You have only ever supported and loved me unconditionally, even though the love was tough at times. So, I came here today to tell you that I am so hopelessly in love with you. My life is incomplete without you. You said in your letter that I was a part of you. Well, the same goes for me sweetheart, and I'm finding it hard to function without you. I need you, Y/N. I need you more than I've ever needed anything, and I came here today to tell you that I don't want to just be friends. I don't want a trial period. I want forever, and I just need you to tell me yes or no." 

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, waiting on your reply. You stood there for a moment completely speechless and unable to move. You looked at him one last time before quickly turning on your heel and heading back inside the house. 

        Dean stood, frozen in place, and watched as you ran inside the house. You didn't say a word to him, just turned and ran inside like you couldn't get away from him fast enough. He hung his head, you had obviously given him his answer. 

He started to turn and head back to his car when the slamming of the screen door stopped him. He turned to see you rushing down the front steps, coming to an abrupt stop in front of him. 

You were out of breath as you held out of folded piece of paper in front of you. He slowly raised his hand and grabbed it, keeping his eyes on your face , trying to read you. He looked down at the paper in his hand and soon realized that it was an envelope. It was Ashley and Stephen's cable bill. "Open it." you  whispered. He looked at you for a moment, relishing the sound of your voice. He opened it, what he thought was coffee staining the back of it, but quickly focused in on the word you had written. Yes. He focused on those three letters, over flowing with joy at the simple word. He never knew he could love one word so much. 

        You watched as he folded the envelope and placed it in his back pocket. He finally looked up at you, tears welling up in his eyes, and pulled you to him. His hands quickly framed  your face and he kissed you with wild abandon. He poured everything he had had into the kiss, and you eagerly returned it. 

He finally pulled away, his need for air winning out. He ran his thumb across your cheekbone and started to speak when he noticed you weren't looking at him. You were looking up over his shoulder. He quickly spun around and focused on the diminishing teddy bear floating across the horizon. He had been so wrapped up in you that he didn't even noticed he let go, just like he did when you were kids. "God damn it. It took me forever to find that thing. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I'll get you.." 

You quickly cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. "I don't care about the balloon as long as I got you." you  said. 

"Well, you got me forever sweetheart." You smiled brightly up at him and kissed him again. "I love you so much." he  whispered against your lips.

 You pulled back to  look at him, "I love you too, De."

[pinkletterday]

Come Find Me

Pairing:Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Rating: Teen

Summary: Three in the morning, a heart broken three times, a phone call and a second chance.

Part 2 of the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU

Read on AO3

It wasn’t much of a vacation, thought Barry grumpily, if you couldn’t get any sleep.

His phone glowed 3:14 AM. He’d kept it on the nightstand half an hour ago, trying to make an honest effort at catching the Sandman. Thirty minutes of unwelcome thoughts whirling in his head and of memorizing the shadow patterns the leaves outside made against the moonlit ceiling  - and no sleep yet in sight. He turned on his side and pounded the pillow in frustration.

The phone began buzzing on the table. Either the person at the other end knew he was an insomniac who’d be awake at this time, or it was some jerk who didn't care if he wasn’t.

INCOMING CALL - OLIVER. Oh well. Right on both counts.

He stared at the screen, pulse racing, torn between irritation and need. This was kind of the opposite of being given space from...whatever they were having right now. On the other hand, Oliver had been very good about not calling for the last twelve days.  

On the other, other hand - Barry had a flash of Oliver slumped in an alley, the green leather of his vest soaked in blood, teeth gritted against the pain.

His fingers seemed to slide across the screen of their own volition. “Hello.”

A beat. “Hi.” Warmth suffused him at the sound of Oliver’s voice. Damn it. “How are you?”

A ball of suck, that’s how he was. “Mmm.” He didn’t have the energy to lie to him.

A long exhalation. “That’s descriptive.”

“Is everyone all right?” Barry asked. Oliver didn’t sound like a man with a mortal wound. That didn’t mean he was the best at interpersonal communication when he was in crisis.

“Everyone’s fine,” Oliver assured him and some of the tension in his muscles escaped. “Well, my mother is being arrainged next week, but you knew that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be there in time for that.” Barry’s heart was heavy with sympathy at what Oliver and Thea were going through. They weren’t children like he had been when he’d watched his father being crucified in court, but somehow he didn’t think seeing a parent charged with murder got any easier as an adult. Oliver always set his jaw with a steely determination when he spoke of it, like he was going to bend fate to his will with his bare hands if he had to, but Barry could see the fear at his core.

Oliver had never been able to hide anything from him. Barry sometimes thought it was only because he had never really wanted to.

Right. He was getting sucked back into Queen drama.

“Why did you call?”

That was a stupid way to change the subject. Now Oliver was going to think he didn’t want him calling, when the opposite was true. But then Barry had been the one who had asked for space. Because he was a fool who had no idea what he wanted.

There was a silence. “I missed you,” Oliver said softly.

A lump rose in Barry’s throat. “I miss you too.” So much.

“Then come home.”

Barry was technically home. He was in Central City, safely ensconced in his childhood bedroom at the West house. “I am coming back to Starling on Monday. I’m almost out of sick days anyway.”

“I meant,” Oliver drew a frustrated breath, “come home to me.”

Barry swallowed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. "It's not that simple."

“Are you still mad at me?”

He burrowed his head in the pillows, frustration welling. “I wasn't mad.”

“Yes you were.”

“Okay, yes I was,” gritted Barry in irritation. “You left. I told you I was in love with you, you pulled me out of the rubble, kissed me and then left.”

“I know, and said I was sorry-”

“For three months, Oliver!”

“I thought you said you weren’t mad.”

Barry deflated. “It’s not so much that I’m mad. I’m not even sure it’s so much about what you did.”

“Is this about Iris?” Careful and hesitant. “Is it because you’re still in love with her?”

Damn it. It was not about Iris.

Except maybe it was. A little.

“Why do you think I’m still in love with her?”

“Because I know what you look like when you’re in love,” Oliver sounded sad. Barry’s heart hurt. “You get this look, like you can’t get close enough to her voice, so you just try to cradle the phone against your face like it’s her you’re holding to you.”

Barry became aware of the way he had wedged his phone between the mattress and his head, trying to get as close to Oliver’s voice as possible. "Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s how I’m holding my phone right now.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Oliver breathed with note of hope.

“Yeah,” Barry admitted. I’m in love with you too, idiot. He had already told Oliver he loved him, that inauspicious day they had barely managed to stop the Undertaking, but he had never added that “too”. It exposed his secret shame, that he was in love with two people, one of whom didn’t even want him.

Maybe even three.

“Barr, please explain this to me,” Oliver’s voice sounded frustrated now. “If you’re asking for time to get over her, I don’t think it’s going to happen. Or at least it’s going to take longer than a couple of months. It’s been years since she turned you down, you’ve already had a long term relationship after, and you still haven't stopped loving her.” There is a pause. “Honestly, I don’t think you ever will.”

“Then why are you still here, trying to get me to go out with you?” Barry demanded. “Anyone else would be running for the hills right now.”

“I did!” said Oliver, laughing ruefully. Barry’s mouth also slid into a smile despite himself. “I ran for the hills all the way back to the North China Sea. It didn’t work out so well for me. All I could think about was being back with you.”

“Oliver,” The lump in Barry's throat swelled, his eyes beginning to well up. “I’m not- I’m damaged goods, all right? It’s like, I fall in love and then they leave and I just stay there. I don’t move on, I don’t heal and I get more miserable and broken and-”

“Whoa, whoa,” interrupted Oliver. “Back up there. First of all, if you’re damaged goods, what the fuck am I?" He sighed deeply. "I was damaged before I ever got on the Gambit, Barry. I had no direction in life, I hated myself and covered it up with booze and partying and I was so afraid of failing at life that I actively sabotaged my relationships with people who believed in me. I was a selfish jerk. And now...I’m no prize, Barr. Whatever is going on with you, it can’t be worse than what’s going on with me.

“As for not healing or moving on - bullshit. You went back to college after Iris turned you down. You had a serious relationship. You told me you were happy with him.”

Barry’s heart twisted painfully. “Oliver, don’t -”

“And let’s not forget you slept with me in between.”

“Are you seriously being smug about that right now?” Barry said incredulously.

“I took your virginity." He can just picture Oliver’s frat boy grin that even Lian Yu hadn’t been able to erase completely. It was so rare now. Barry wanted to kiss him on principle. “I’m always going to be smug about that.”

“Um, you were a complete stranger I had a one night stand with trying to get over Iris,” he couldn’t help but point out. “And you were cheating on Laurel with me.”

“Ouch, Allen.” He knew Oliver was smirking, still in that carefree pre-Gambit voice. “Tell it like it is."

“I’m telling it like it was,” said Barry, softening his tone. He bit his lip. In the interests of full disclosure - “Len was a kind of rebound too.” At least it had started out that way.

He rarely spoke of Len to Oliver. Maybe because, unlike Iris, he was a man and Barry had actually been with him. It was...awkward.

“Are you telling me I’m a rebound from Len?” Oliver sounded hurt.

“God, no!” said Barry immediately, although his stomach dropped a little. That wasn’t...entirely true. But Len had been out of his life for two years by the time he had found Oliver again and they had established that Barry wasn’t a moving on kind of person. Pathetic heap that he was. “You were the whole reason I came to Starling in the first place.” That at least was completely true.

There was a silence. Had Barry never told him that before?

“I didn’t know that,” said Oliver finally.

“You thought your one night stand from five years before just happened to be in town the same week you were found?” he teased.

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Well, I wasn't,” It was Barry's turn to be smug. “I was watching TV with Iris in Central City when I saw the news. Caught the train to Starling in time to gatecrash your...very eventful welcome home bash."

"You stalked me?" the glee in Oliver’s voice made him sound so young that Barry would let him tease him forever just to hear it. "I was that good our first time, huh?"

"You were adequate," said Barry aloofly. "Also the green leather guy I saw zip-lining into the building was a point of interest."

This failed to deter the other man. "So hold on. When you sidled up to me at the bar after Lance had stormed off -”

“‘Hello, beautiful stranger, how you doin’, we banged five years ago, glad you aren’t dead, wanna go again?’” Barry had to grin through his mortification. “Yeah, I practiced that.”

“That is distinctly not how I remember it going down,” Oliver told him skeptically. “I noticed this cute guy trying very hard not to check me out-”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s never happened to you before,” Barry snorted.

“- and I bought you a drink, then recognized you immediately -”

“I remembered that, after our first time, you turned over and told me ‘dude, you are the sweetest thing I’ve ever fucked’” said Barry drily. “That was charming. Figured I might be memorable.”

“God, did I really say that?” said Oliver with a shudder in his voice. “What is wrong with you. You came looking for a guy who called you ‘dude’ after taking your virginity.”

Barry had the fleeting realization that the Oliver that had become the vigilante was not a person who would now ever say “dude” again. It was like that entire aspect of his personality had died on the island. Barry enjoyed Oliver’s new, sexy, adult gravitas but couldn’t help but be saddened that it was so dearly bought.

“Like I said. You're very adequate in bed,” he answered seriously.

Oliver snorted. "Is that why you were so easy to seduce?”

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Barry in mock outrage, “I think we just established that I’d been running the show the whole time. I seduced you!”

“You mean I wasted all my best moves?”

“Mov - Oliver, you looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive and asked me if I "wanted to have a repeat of our last encounter.'” Barry vividly remembered looking for the rambunctious boy of five years agone and being shocked to find instead a perfectly coiffed man with eyes that pierced into him. “I assure you, there weren’t any moves involved.”

He had been arrested by the way Oliver had moved like a tiger stalking through the grass, entire body coiled to to spring at a moment’s notice. Barry never understood how he managed to move among normal people without them immediately noticing that the man wasn’t remotely one of them.

"Still counts," said Oliver, with a definite pout in his voice. "And I'm pretty sure it was me seducing you the time after that!"

Crouching tiger, hidden dork.

“Which time?” Barry chuckled. “There was the first time, at the hotel. Then the next morning -”

“-in the jacuzzi” continued Oliver smugly. “Then next weekend at the Marriott. All day."

"I requested a transfer from the CCPD after that time," remarked Barry, nonchalant.

"Huh. Seems I'm much more adequate than even I knew. You told me you were already in the middle of moving."

"I was," Barry reiterated with dignity. "...after I met you. And saw the crazy man jumping around rooftops. And heard about Martin Somers."

"Aw, and here I thought it was because I was special."

"Well, to be fair, after I moved to Starling properly, your... adequacies did distract me from the Hood guy."

Presumably the sex haze had been to blame for that fact that it took almost three weeks for him, professional CSI, to put together the evidence in the bow callouses on Oliver’s fingers, the scars and fresh bruises on his body, the night time disappearances and to accept the conclusion they presented.  

"Damn right," said Oliver solemnly. "The Hood guy wishes he was as adequate as me. Remember when we christened your whole apartment?"

"The kitchen counter holds fond memories," agreed Barry. "And the shower. And the balcony. And old Mrs. Suarez from the apartment across the balcony."

"You were so mortified!" Oliver was laughing. "You swore we were never having sex outside of a bed again!"

"Just because you are about as capable of shame as a cat -"

"I'm just saying that it was barely three days later I had you bent over my desk at the factory," said Oliver in that butter-wouldn't-melt voice that made cops want to arrest him on principle. "Stalking, public indecency...I know I'm good but I don't think even I can take all the credit here, Barr."

Barry hadn’t known two humans could be that horny. The whole first month he had moved to Starling he had felt like his dick had woken up from nearly two years of celibacy and was making up for it by trying to kill him. He wasn't sure what Oliver's excuse was, but they had been so unable to keep their hands off each other that it was a miracle they hadn't been found out by anyone other than Digg.

"Well, we cooled off after traumatizing poor Diggle," said Barry wryly. "Honestly I lost track of where and when we did it those first few weeks."

“I remember all the places I took you that first month” said Oliver softly. “I felt like I was drowning unless I was with you. I think that’s when I fell for you.”

Barry snorted in disbelief. “Oliver, just before Christmas you broke into my apartment as the Hood and threatened to arrow me.”

Oh fuck. He instantly regretted bringing that up. He had forgiven it as soon as he had started working with Oliver and Digg, but Barry knew it still haunted him. “You really should have thought the whole sleeping-with-a-curious-CSI-while vigilante-ing thing through,” he tried to joke flippantly.

It didn’t work. Damn it.

“I would never have done it,” Oliver said urgently, and Barry’s regret mounted.

“I know, Oliver,” he reassured. He did know that. But he also knew that Oliver didn’t. Not truly. Oliver used to have nightmares about having actually had put an arrow through Barry's heart afterwards, while sleeping next to him. Those would be the nights that he had woken to the other man chanting his name and bolting upright in a sweat to pull Barry into a crushing embrace, shaking.

He ached to hold Oliver now, forgetting his current doubts and dilemmas. To just to take the next train to Starling and run into his arms.

“Are you all right?” asked Barry softly, tenderly cradling the phone against him.

“I’m fine,” came the gruff answer, all traces of the light-hearted playboy vanished. “We were talking about why you aren’t coming home.”

Ah, yes. Deflect. Repress. Ignore until it blew up in your face. He suddenly remembered all the reasons they were a bad idea.

“Because if I do,” said Barry wearily, “I’m just going to fall into your arms and let you sweep me off my feet. And we’d probably be happy for a while. But then you’ll to get tired of being in a relationship with someone who's in love with other people and not just you. Or you’ll decide that it’s too dangerous for me to be with you again, and push me away “for my own good’”

Oliver processed this. “Wow,” he said finally. “I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist in this relationship.”

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Barry sighed. He suddenly felt fatigue settle into every bone in his body. “Neither of us have the best track record with relationships. Face it, sooner or later, one of us will say the  L-word and it will all come crashing down around our ears.”

“The L-word?” said Oliver. “You mean “I love you”?”

All the breath whooshed out of Barry’s lungs and his throat went tight with fear. “Oliver-”

“You’ve already told me that,” Oliver ploughed on ruthlessly. “And it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I love you. It’s why I came back to Starling after three months of trying to run. It’s why I’ve been trying everything to persuade you to come back to me ever since. It’s why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks while you went back to Central and Iris West, even though it’s killing me, because you wanted space. It’s why I finally called you now, because it’s been two weeks and I can’t sleep, worrying I’ve lost you for good, aching for your voice - Barry, I love you.”

He was stunned. He could distantly feel tears sliding down his face and his heart was in his throat. A strangled sound escaped him.

“Barr,” Oliver’s tone sounded defeated now, and no no no that’s not what he wanted. “These are all my cards on the table, okay? I don’t care that you’re in love with Iris. I don’t care that Len broke your heart. I don’t care that your Dad’s in prison, or that you’re damaged or whatever else makes you think you can’t be with me. You’re the first thing I’ve really wanted for myself in five years, other than coming home.

"You make me want to be selfish. I know that sounds like it’s a bad thing, but really it’s - I had forgotten what it’s like to want something for myself without feeling guilty for wanting it. I feel like you’re the only thing I’m allowed to be selfish about, because it makes all the other stuff...bearable. I can’t push you away again. It would kill me.” After months of trying to get through his walls, Oliver was just...stripping naked in front of him. For him. And. Barry couldn’t.

He actually couldn’t breathe.

Oliver took a deep breath. “So for the last time, please, please, babe. Come home to me.”

A beat passed.

“Okay.”

There was a disbelieving silence.

“...Okay?”

“Yeah,” Barry laughed tremulously through his tears, electrified with both fear and excitement. “Okay. That’s one hell of a pitch, Queen. Jesus. I forgot what an all-or-nothing guy you are.”

“Look who’s talking,” Oliver sounded stunned, like a man unable to believe his own good fortune. “So, what does “okay” mean exactly?”

“I guess...okay, I’ll come back and I’ll go on a date with you?”

Oliver was laughing now, almost hysterically. “Crap, we’ve never been on a date, have we?”

“Well, we’ve had sex in some really fancy places with room service,” Barry giggled while wiping his eyes. “Maybe those count.”

“God,” exhaled Oliver. Barry could picture him running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know how I thought I could just have sex without strings with you. How did I think I wouldn’t fall for you?”

“It's true," he agreed solemnly. "I'm just that good."

“Yeah," Oliver's smile was back in his voice and Barry pressed the phone to his ear tighter, imagining the blue of his eyes growing loving and soft. “You're pretty adequate too."

......

(Later)

“So, “babe”, huh?”

“Babe. Do you like it?”

“...I don’t hate it.”

“I’ll save it for special occasions.”

“I could live with that. Honeybunch.”

“Shut up.”

//end

[knightedwriter]

No Longer Human

To celebrate reaching 1,500 followers, I decided to do a mini series of the events following Alderon’s turning. This is the first part in what will probably turn out to be a long series, knowing how I write. However, it might help to read what I consider the prologue. This ask I did is also relatively important, though not necessary to read in the long run. I hope you enjoy!

[@kai-hogan​, @alittleyellowdinosaur I believe the both of you shouted that I should do this? Also tagging @lux-scriptum, @incandescent-creativity, @kclenhartnovels, @theprissythumbelina, @polapipo, @gingerly-writing bc I think you all would be interested. If you’d like to be added to the list, please let me know. If you want to be taken off, that’s alright too! I can also change which blog of yours I tag, if anyone wants me to.]

“Focus.”

“I am.”

“Then do better.”

Alderon gritted his teeth, jaw cracking with the pressure. Easing up a little, he closed his eyes and breathed in again.

The world burst to life around him: A tangle of scents, wild, colorful, and much too numerous to even begin straightening out. Alderon’s brow furrowed as he tried to focus in on just one, but it was like untangling a knot made up of thousands of different strands, all while someone kept adding and rearranging the strands each second.

Just as the others faded into the background, a new scent assaulted his senses, taking his attention away from the one he’d selected. The scrape of bone on bone—his teeth rubbing together—demanded his attention as well, the sound much more detailed than he was used to: The wet slip of his saliva as his teeth moved, the creaking of his jaw, the twanging vibration of his muscles, even. He never knew he made so much noise.

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Alderon opened his eyes and, realizing how tight his face had gotten, rubbed at his cheeks. “I do not understand how to do this.”

“Clearly,” Eliura said, eyes flickering to scarlet and then back to their startling blue. “You don’t make a good vampire.”

“Well excuse me,” Alderon snapped. “If I had a choice in the matter I wouldn’t be one.”

“Don’t fucking sass me. I said that to make a point.” She stepped forward, her fur-covered cloak swishing with the movement. “You think,” she tapped the top of his head despite having to stand on tiptoe to get there, “too much. It holds you back.”

“What, so I just stop thinking? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You keep sassing me and I’m gonna rip your arms off and make you sit on them. Just shut up and listen. That’s what apprentices are supposed to do.”

Alderon resisted the urge to say that he didn’t ask to be her apprentice. He had no doubt her threat was real, and he really didn’t want to find out how fast his arms regenerated anytime soon.

“You don’t think yourself into tracking a scent,” Eliura continued, circling him. “You let it happen.”

“Helpful,” Alderon gritted out.

“Get used to it. This isn’t about memorizing a set of steps or about what you knew before. This is completely new. You’ll have to learn as a babe learns: by shitting yourself along the way.”

Lovely. Eliura’s vulgarity never ceased to amaze him. Charmeine had been the same way, always—

Alderon sobered a bit, back itching as he looked away. His throat closed, so he couldn’t reply. Just as well, given that Eliura was already irritated with him.

Eliura sighed. “Take a break. Clear your head.”

Relieved, Alderon walked over to nearest tree and sat at its base. He tried to lean against the trunk, but the slight pressure made his back sting, so he crossed his legs and bent forward instead.

“That cut still bothering you?” Eliura asked. She sat against an oak across from him, arms crossed, head back, and eyes closed. Alderon wondered how she even knew he’d readjusted because of his back.

He grunted, running a hand through his hair. The wound had barely healed, despite a full week of vampirism. Eliura had explained that it probably never would—at least not as it should. It would become a scar, if anything. Alderon was learning that such an “imperfection” was not unheard of in vampires, depending on how they turned. Given that his turning was particularly difficult—he shuddered to remember those feverish three days—he was lucky the scar was healing at all.

“You need more blood.”

“I don’t,” Alderon said swiftly. When Eliura cracked open an eye to glare at him, he hurried on, “I am not hungry. Besides, you said it would take a long time to heal completely.”

Eliura sniffed, obviously unconvinced. “Fine then. Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“I’m going to check it. The least we can do is keep changing out those bandages.”

Alderon hesitated a moment longer before pulling off his shirt. His cheeks burned, and he kept his gaze fixed on the grass as Eluria stepped around him. She peeled back the bandages one by one, her touch gentle. It still stung. Alderon flinched as she pulled off the last of it; the dried blood had glued the cloth to his back, and ripping it away was like ripping off a piece of his skin.

Eliura pulled in a breath and let it out slow. “Still smells like silver.”

“Silver?”

“From the blade. It had to have been silver.”

“Oh,” Alderon murmured, thinking of a sword glinting in torchlight. He pushed the memory back. “Is that why it hurts so much?”

“No,” Eliura said dryly as she applied something sticky to his wound. “It hurts because it’s not healed.”

For once, Alderon didn’t have the fight to snap back. “Will it ever stop?”

“Hurting? Yes. It’ll always be sensitive, though.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s human flesh on a vampire body.”

“What?” Alderon said, twisting to look at her. “How do you know that?”

“It’s not healing the way it’s supposed to. I’ve seen it before. Some wounds are too deep for the transformation to change.” She started to wrap him up again. “Blood would help, you know.”

Alderon’s hands tightened into fists.

“You can’t avoid it forever.”

“I will not be a murderer.”

Eluria yanked on the bandages and Alderon yelped. “Then you will die! How many fucking times do I have to tell you? This is your life now. The sooner you get used to it, the better.”

“I did not ask for this.”

“Well too damn bad!” Eliura growled. She stalked around to stand in front of him, lips pulled back to show her fangs. “When I found you, you told me you didn’t want to die. This is how you live. You can’t go back. Just accept it.”

Alderon drew his knees to his chest and looked away. He hated how his lips trembled.

Eliura ran a hand down her face. “I took you on to teach you how to survive. The world won’t be kind to you. You need to let these…human morals go, or you’ll be ground into the dust.”

“I am human. I was. I am not going to just forget that.” Alderon glanced up at her, searching her face for some sort of understanding. “Why must I kill? Can’t I just—”

“What? Bite them and only take a little? You think people will just lay down and let you do that? You’ll leave a trail leading straight to you.”

“As if bodies do not leave a trail.”

“At least dead people don’t talk. Bodies don’t clue hunters in to what you look like, or which way you went.” Eliura crouched down next to him. There was nothing gentle in her eyes as she considered him, though she did lower her voice. “Humans will take your kindness and shit all over it the first chance they get. You should know this. You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Don’t,” Alderon breathed, clutching harder at his knees.

Eliura paused, head cocked. "You’re young. I’m giving you an easy way to learn this. Better take it before you learn the hard way.” When Alderon didn’t reply, Eliura stood and walked away without another word, her bright red hair flicking almost dismissively at him.

Alderon dug his fingers into his knees, trying to ignore the incessant rumbling in his stomach. He was sure Eliura could hear it, too. Not that he cared. She may have convinced him to drink from the bodies she’d brought him after he’d turned, but that didn’t mean her way of life was the only way.

He wished Charmeine were with him. She’d make him smile and give him direction; she’d work with him. Instead he got saddled with a centuries-old vampire who’d long since forgotten what it meant to be human. What it meant to be new to this.

His heart ached as thoughts of Charmeine turned to the night he’d left his home for good. Luckily, Eliura’s voice cut through the memories.

“Rest time’s over. Let’s get back to it.”

[all-the-fandoms-stuff-blog]

Forgotten Winchester Sister

Part Two

Paring: Winchesterx Sister!Reader JackXReader(Slowly)

Warining: Violence. Torture. Curse words

AO: I have to Clarify a few things. The story takes Place in the Middle of Season 12 The only thing that changed is that Jack is Born. so Crowley is still alive and Mary is still fighting with the British man of Letters. But she will be here soon. 

Lies. I Thought I had escaped them when I fled from Ohio. But once again I was wrong. I Waked up in a Dark Room My Hands were Tied up and attached to the ceiling. Me feet didn’t touch the Ground. I looked up to my hands they were bloody. In the room was a Chair and a metal table. I recognized the Tools on the Table. My Family in Ohio used tools like this to Torture me. The room was so dark I couldn’t see more. I tried to free me but I couldn’t. I tried to Remember what Happened. Steve he showed up in the Middle of the night and held a gun at me.

-

“Now drop the Knife. We dint want to Hurt Anybody” I dropped the Knife and he Smiled “Good Girl, Now Sleep” Then he hit me with the Pistol on the back of my Head.

-

I knew that if Sam and Dean would enter the room they wouldn’t find me there. I looked up when I heard a door open.  Someone turned on the Lights and I needed a little bit to see something. “How is our guest doing?” I looked in to a Man’s face and didn’t answer. He smiled “You know the Rumors that a new Winchester family member appeared spread very quickly.” Behind the man were 3 Other ones with heavy Guns. “You probably think that we are the bad guys, but were just saving you” I looked at the man without emotions in my face “Do you know what these two Winchesters want to do with you? Do you think that if you mean something to Dean he would just let you hunt? No he Wouldn’t they are using you”  His words Hurt but I couldn’t let him see it. The guy in front of me came closer “They are Using you, we want to save you from all this. From Lucifer hell and everything The Winchesters  are confronting. “ I didn’t say anything because I had no idea what I could say. “Where the Winchesters go follows death. Did they told you about their friends? They followed them and they are dead. Why do you think Sam and Dean are the only ones still here? They don’t care about others” I Laughed “And What do you want from me?” He looked surprised “I want to talk” I laughed again “Yes. Talk. Is this why you have these tools there?”  he looked to the table “well this is in case you won’t answer our questions.” I Smiled “Well then you should start using them because I ain’t  listening to your shit anymore” The man shook his head “ And I thought that you were different” he gave one of his man a sign. One of them put a camera in a Corner of the room. “Oh you are wondering why there is a Camera? We will hurt you very bad. And every day we will send a video to the Winchesters. Maybe after that they are willing to answer the questions you aren’t answering.”

I lost track of the Time. I could have been here Days, Months, even Years or I could have been here a few hours. I was pretty proud of myself I never even once screamed or cried while they had their fun cutting me. The Man in the beginning came once in a while and asked me Questions, but I never answered them. Right now I had thousand cuts everywhere . I started to call the man who tortured me  Harald, don’t know his real name ,he  Came back with a Bucket of water “Oh Harald I missed you. This were the longest 5 minutes without torture. “ He didn’t said anything like always. He poured the bucket over me. “Thanks I was really thirsty” He threw the bucket in the other part of the room and smiled. “Whats up herald did you wife finally left you for somebody who locked like a human?” He came closer and in his right hand he had a teaser. “Great” I signed. Then he electroshock me. I almost screamed but kept it all in. After a while the man who talked to me when I first got here came back. I call him asshole. Just because I couldn’t think of something better. “You really impressed me and all the others Y/N. No one got through this and still had his sarcasms. Really bad that you are on their side. You are so loyal and strong well to bad. So you didn’t answered the last question so here is another one for you. We want to know how the relationship between the Winchesters and the script of god was” I Looked at him “Well how is your relationship with Harald?” He looked at me and then to Harald “Kept going she won’t play this game forever”. He went out of the room and Harald stood before the table with the Tools picking one out. A fire burner. He smiled and started burning my left foot. After that he took a normal knife and started cutting me. He stopped when we heard gunshots outside the door. I caught him out of guard and kicked the Knife out of his hands, I taught it and I cut the rope. And fell to the ground. Harald stood up and I did too. I was faster than him and put the knife in his torso. He felt to the ground and I took his shirt because walking around naked with wounds wasn’t a good idea. The shirt only coward the most privates parts. I took the knife and tried to stand up. “Fuck this hurts” I opened the door I saw no one I only heard Gunshots. I walked forward and I heard The asshole screaming orders. I started to see black dots I sure lost a lot of blood. I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath. Somebody walked around the corner and saw me, to late he had my knife in his throat. I took it and started walking again. “They’re everywhere, retreat!”  I turned left and saw somebody in the floor. I Started running and was about to stab the guy when he said “Hey Y/N Calm. It’s Me Jack” I looked at him with tired eyes and smiled “Oh hey what’s up” He looked at me confused “Not much just trying to save you” I nodded “Cool How is it going” he Was about to lift up my shirt I stopped him “What are you doing?” He looked at me confused “You are hurt I wanna see how bad, I mean I saw the videos but-“  I Shook my head “Forget it.” He looked at me “I can carry you” I wanted to decline but if I walk e few steps I’m sure that I will fall. “Ok”. I was on jacks back and he walked through the Tunnels. “Here” he gave me his phone “Call them and say that you are safe” I nodded and called Dean First “Jack I’m busy right now. Whats-” I smiled “Hey Dean Jack told me to call you. I’m safe.” Dean answered immediately “Thank  god Y/N I’m so sorry. Jack we will met outside” I hung up the phone and rested my head on jacks back. “Thank you” I whispered. Jack looked back to me confused “for saving me and for carrying me around” jack laughed “It’s all right. I’m Happy that I found you. But I’m sorry that we took so long to save you”  I smiled “It’s ok ” My eyes started to feel heavy. “Jack keep talking I need it to stay awake” He turned around a corner “Ehm Did you Know that I Love nougat? I ate it once and since then I couldn’t stop eating it. “ I smiled shivering a little. When Jack turned around he started talking again “You can’t imagine how worried we all were.  Y/N You Can’t fall asleep right now ok? I know you have lost a bad amount of blood but you can do it. After all you are a Winchester” I hummed closing my eyes. “But I’m so tired Jack” He opened the door to the outside and a cold wind met us. I shivered even more. I Could hear voices in the Distances and without realizing it we were in The Impala. I laid in the Backseat my head in Jacks lap and my feet laid on castiel’s lap. They were screaming and first I couldn’t  understand the words but then I did “-Mean cas? Why doesn’t it work?” I saw castile looking angry “I don’t know dean! It’s like something is Blocking her so that I can’ heal her” Sam looked up his Phone “Turn around left we have to go to the Hospital” I Moved a little bit and sighed. Everybody was looking at me Jack grabbed my face. “We are bringing you to a Hospital” I Shook my head “I don’t need-“ Dean interrupted me “Listen Y/N I Love you but Right now I don’t care what you think you need or what you don’t need! We are bringing you to a hospital” I sat up against Jack and castile. I looked down and saw that the Shirt I had on was full of blood. Castile looked at me “Why can’t I heal you?” I took his Hand in mine and smiled at him “No one can cas” I whispered. He looked at me confusing. “What do you mean” I looked to jack He looked confused as well. I could feel how I was about to die. I took a big breath and said “Dean they are going to kill me in the Hospital. I can’t go in there. The way to help me is to clean the wounds and but bandages around” I closed my eyes and bit on my Lips. I didn’t felt the Pain earlier but right now I could fell every single cut and it burned like hell. Somebody grabbed my left hand and I opened my eyes jack had it. Dean Stopped the Impala on the side of the road. And turned around like sam and Sam said “What do you mean Y/N” I Shook my head, eyes closed again “I can’t right now, could you just please stop the bleeding” Sam looked at Cas “ we’re changing places I will take care of Y/N. Dean drive to Jody’s House it’s not far away from here”. Sam took care of most of my wounds. He only left the one’s in the Private parts. Jack hold my hand the Whole time and said things like “It’s going to be ok. You can do it” And honestly these words helped me a lot. He always knew when I was about to fall asleep so he would tell me about the things he saw or the things he didn’t understood first. Sam looked had the whole ride tears in his eyes and I heard him say sorry under his breath. I wanted to say something but I was too weak.  Dean called jody and told her we were on the way and he asked almost every five minutes how I was doing. Jack always said “She will get through this” I don’t know how long we drove but when were there sam Picked me up Bridal style and Walked to the House. I couldn’t see this Jody women but I heard her voice and two other ones. “Sam put her down here on the Couch” Said Jody and he did. I realized that Jack wasn’t next to me. I needed his comments that I would make it I need someone who believed it because I didn’t. I had my eyes still closed I was to weak to open them. I Lifted my left arm a little bit “Jack” I whispered. Somebody grabbed my hand “hey everything is ok. You will survive” I relaxed immediately when I heard him. I heard a voice I couldn’t identify “Jody what happened?” I heard jody saying “Claire bring me the med kit and then everything we have in this house what has something to do with medicine Now! You boys go Out!” I squeezed Jacks hand. “Ok you can stay here just turn around!” I tried open my eyes but I could only open one “No Stiches” She looked at me in confusion “Girl you need them you-“ I shook my head and closed my eye again “No stiches” I stayed awake the hole time she cleaned my wounds and when she finished I felt asleep.

I waked up in a bed. It was pretty Comfortable and I looked around the room was little the walls had a light blue and other Furniture. I Looked at the chair next to my bed and I saw Jack siting in it. He still hold my hand and smiled at me “How are you feeling?” I Sat up a little “better than before” He stood up and gave me a glass water “Thanks” I took a few sips and gave the glass jack again. He put it in the little table next to the bed while I tried to stand up. “Hey wait you shouldn’t move!” He put his hands on my shoulder and I put my right hand over his one on my shoulder “I Really have to get up.” He looked at me “Why?” I smiled “Because I want to Jack. I’m better now “ He slowly took his handy away and stood there. I stood up and tried to walk a few steps. “See I can walk” He didn’t say anything. I opened the door and heard Voices. I went to them and entered what seemed a living room. I Smiled when I say Sam and Dean They stood up immediately “He-“ they hugged me and I felt so much Pain in this Moment but I Smiled and hugged them Back.  They took me to a couch were I sat. a women brought me Tea I looked up “oh Thank you very much ehm Jody?” The women Nodded. “Yes This girl there is Claire and the other one Alex” I Smiled “Nice to Meet you” Alex smiled and Claire just nodded. I looked to Sam and Dean. “It’S Alright” they looked like I had gone Crazy Dean stood up and said “Alright? Y/N Stop saying this. You know just as well that Nothing is alright! Do you Know how you look like? Like a fucking Dead Person and you almost became one!” Sam took my hand “Why didn’t you told them the answers Y/N We were more than ok with this” I Put the cup of tee down and looked at sam “It was my Choice to not tell them and Dean” I looked at him now “ I’m Not dead so stop making such a Drama about this!” He looked even more furious “I shouldn’t make a drama about this? Y/N Do you know what just happened? Do you Know why they did that? Because of us and we knew that something like this would have happened sooner or later !. do you even realize what they did to you?” I Stood up to regretting it instantly I felt a few wounds that opened again. But right now I was mad so I didn’t care “Did you Really just Asked me This? Do you think I’m  Not feeling the Pain or remember every cut? You don’t know what they did to me because there were things that they didn’t record!” I regretted these words as soon as they leaved my mouth. Sam Asked behind me “What did they do Y/N?” I Shook my head and sat on the Couch again “Nothing forget it “ Sam Looked so broken.  Jody came to sit across the couch on an armchair. “I’m going to change the Theme of multiple reasons. Y/N Why did you said that the Hospitals were going to kill you and that you can’t have stiches?” Dean went to the kitchen and Sam sat on the Other end of the Couch. I Looked at Jody “I don’t really know what is wrong with me but one time my parents Hurted me to hard and I had to go to the hospital and when they gave me painkillers, the pain got worse and when I got stiches the cut got deeper. Since then always when I try to fix myself it won’t work. So the only thing I can do is cleaning the wounds and putting a bandage around it” Jody nodded “Could it been a Spell” she asked at no one specific. Castiel stood next to her and looked at me “Possible but Somebody extremely strong  should have done that but why?. I can’t remove it The spell is too strong” I took a sip from the Tee and looked then at Jody “can I use your Bathroom?” She smiled at me “Yeah You don’t have to ask sweety its the first door down there” I smiled and went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror my face was full of bruises and little cuts. I Looked down my body and almost every centimeter was covered by bandages. I signed and went out the Bathroom.  I went Outside. I needed fresh air . I walked a little and sat on a wooden bench. “Y/N” I turned around  and saw Claire walking towards me I made some free space for her on the Bench and she sat beside me. “I Know we don’t know each other very well but I heard what Sam and dean told Josy about you and your past” I nodded “They weren’t your Parents you know that right?” I looked at her “they were something” She nodded “Yes something but not your Parents” We saw Alex walking towards us and She sat down in front of us on the ground. She smiled sadly “I Know what they did to you. I mean it doesn’t need much to understand. And I Know how hard this has to be Y/N. And I also know that you don’t want to talk about this right know. But Sam and Dean are a part of our Crazy family and so are you! Me and Claire are always there for you if you want to talk ok?” I Smiled at them “Thank you” Alex smiled back “I know this is Probably not the right moment but Is Jack your Boyfriend?” I looked at her shocked and felt the heat rising up my face. Claire next to me said “Really Alex?” Alex laughed “hey we are friends. And I mean I’m not going to say anything. Also I know you want to know it too!” Claire rolled her eyes “Alex you’re wrong” Alex looked at me again and raised an eyebrow “And?” I shook my Head “I just met him like two times” Alex nodded “Right I Forgot. I just Thought it Because I saw you holding his hand in the Car and when you were on the Couch you wanted to hold his hand” I nodded still having red checks “He helped me not falling asleep and ha said those things that made me believe that I could make it” Claire looked at me “ but do you like him?” I looked to the ground  “I don’t know” Alex stood up and gripped my hand “Come on you have to eat something” We three went inside and to the kitchen. There was a little island where I took a seat while Alex made something to eat for me and me and Claire talked. Jody walked in the Kitchen and looked surprised “What are you doing?” Claire saw to her and said “We’re making Y/N something to eat” Jody smiled and went out of the kitchen.  Claire looked at me “Did you know that castile was my father?” I looked at her in surprise and shook my head “yeah he was well his vessel, Jimmy, I thought my father was dead I was pretty surprised when I saw him again walking around” I Nodded “Must have been pretty rough” Claire smiled “yes it was” Alex gave me a bowl with soup In it “Thank you two so much” they smiled and let me eat my soup. After I Finished my soup Dean entered the Kitchen “Listen Y/N I’m sorry but do you know how I feel? I thought I would give you a normal and save life by giving you to another family, and oh how wrong I was and then I knew that leaving you in this motel meant only trouble, and what did I do? Nothing” I Looked at him with tired eyes “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble” He had tears in his eyes “Don’t ever say this again you heard me?” he hugged me and I nodded “Dean Can we stay here only this Night I’m So tired?” He gave me a sad smile “We’re gonna stay here till tomorrow ok” I Smiled “thanks dean” we two went to the living room where Sam was Waiting he wanted to say something but I went to hug him “Y/N I’M sorry” I just hugged him and the smiled. Dean and Sam went out talking while I searched Cas. I found him in the Backyard “Cas?” He looked over to me and smiled. “Can I Talk to you for a second?”  He nodded “What’s bothering you?” I looked at a tree which was standing in the backyard “Do you feel emotions Like Love?” He looked at me confused “Yes” I nodded “What does it feel like?” Cas thought about it a while “ Whenever you see the person you’re in love with you smile and feel happy. You want to be there for them in every little step in their life. At least I heard people saying it like this. I love my family and I Would do everything for them. “ I looked at the sunset “Thanks Castiel” He looked at me “Anytime”  I went inside and went to the room I waked up. I found jody in it “Oh sorry I Thought-“ Jody smiled at me “this Is your room while you stay here ok?” I looked at her surprised “Ehm Thank you” Jody came to me “I told you. You don’t have to say sorry” She hugged me and went outside the room . I sat on the bed and laid down.  Someone knocked on my door “It’s open” Jack came in and close the door behind him “Hey how are you ?” I Still Laid on the bed “I don’t know” He laid besides me and said “What’s wrong?” I looked at him “besides the Pain? I don’t know I feel like I only cause trouble. Sam and Dean are worried and stressed and Only because of me.” He Looked at the ceiling “Trust me They are always stressed and worried, and its not your fault. And you don’t Cause Trouble.” I laughed “But it feels like it” He stood up and took my hands in his “come Dinner is ready” I looked at him “I’m not Hungry” He shook his head and he pulled me up on my feet “You are going to eat something” He dragged me out of the room to the diner room where everybody was waiting I Sat down next to Claire and Jack. Alex leaned a little over the the table and raised an eyebrow “What were you two doing?” She whispered .I felt the Heat rising up my cheeks again “Alex shut up. They are going to hear it” I whispered back and Claire Laughed. Everybody looked at us and I looked down at my Plate. Jack gave me a worried look “Are you alright? Do you have fever?” I Shook my head “It’s Nothing”. Alex gave me through the dinner always some looks who I started to ignore. After dinner I said Good night to everybody and went to bed.

In waked up in the Middle of the Night. I had nightmares. I Decided to grab a glass water and try to sleep again I put a blanket around my shoulders an went to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of water when I heard some noises from the living room. I Saw that the TV was on and jack was locking some tv show.  “Hey Couldn’t sleep?” I asked sitting on the Couch next to him. He gave me a little smile “I don’t sleep much” I looked at him confused but then I understood. “And you why are you awake?” I looked at the TV “Nightmares” Was the only thing I said. “Ehm I read that talking about them should help so if you want to talk I’m here” I smiled “Thanks Jack. But I would rather forget about them as soon as I can” He nodded and we watched the Tv for a while took my glass water “Ok I’m going to sleep again good night Jack” He smiled after me “Good night Y/N”    

[sanjisock]

broken

ao3. warnings for graphic depiction of violence and implied/reference to torture

Zoro thought he was prepared for this.

He’s a pirate in the middle of the New World, after all. Even if he weren’t, his dream begins and ends with bloodshed — someone else’s, or his own. Zoro has stared down both the barrel of a loaded gun and the sharp edge of a blade without so much of a flinch — he’s not afraid, and he is prepared. He is. He really is.

But —

The infirmary door swings open.

Chopper stands at the doorway. In his Heavy Point form, the slump of his shoulders is much more apparent, the gravity of the situation seems to weigh him down physically. Zoro feels his heart seize up beneath his ribcages at the sight.

Brook is the first one to find his voice. “How is it?”

Chopper bows his head, eyes avoiding everyone’s gaze. “I’m not sure,” he says after a moment, voice faint. “I’ve done everything I could. The next two days are going to be critical, and if he doesn’t wake up after a week, I don’t think…”

Chopper trails off, but Zoro hears the words unsaid. I don’t think he ever will.

A sharp ache burns in Zoro's chest at the thought, and he nearly chokes on it. He thinks of Sanji, lying on the infirmary bed, eyes closed forever and never waking up, and it makes Zoro’s throat tight and the back of his mouth sour. His nakama, his equal, his partner in crime, his lover —

“Can I see him,” someone requests, and it takes Zoro a moment to realize that the voice was his own.

Chopper looks torn. “He’s mostly stable for now, but…” his eyes dart a concerned glance at the infirmary before returning to Zoro. “I…”

Chopper’s voice quivers, and he looks like he’s a few syllables away from a breakdown. Zoro takes a good look at him for the first time since they found Sanji, and he notices how pale the doctor is, dark shadows under his eyes and his fur now a frizzled mess. It’s nice, in a messed-up kind of way, that someone here looks as fucked up as Zoro feels.

Thankfully for Chopper, he doesn’t have to make the decisions as Luffy says, “you should go in, Zoro.”

Zoro turns to their captain. He can’t see Luffy’s expression, the brim of his straw hat tipped low. “Can I?”

“You want to see Sanji, right? And he’s right there.” Luffy says, like everything is that simple. Maybe it is. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

Zoro nods. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” Chopper acquiesces. He steps to the side, giving way to Zoro. “Just don’t touch anything, okay? All those machines are there to help Sanji recover. If something happens — anything — don’t try to fix it by yourself. I’ll be right in front of the door.”

“Of course,” Zoro agrees quickly. “There’s no one else I’d trust the Cook with more than you.”

“That doesn’t make me happy at all, bastard,” Chopper says, but Zoro can see some of the tension seeping from his shoulders.

For a moment Zoro remembers the last time he saw Sanji — bloodied and battered and barely, barely alive — and he tries his best to shake the image from his thought as he pushes the infirmary door open.

There are machines. A lot of them.

He has seen them before, of course. Littered around Chopper’s work room. The doctor occasionally talks about them, even tried to explain what they are used for once, though Zoro had dozed off in the middle of that conversation. But Zoro has never seen all these machines used at once, on one person, cables and tubes bypassing one another, forming intricate coils, and — Sanji, in the middle of it all.

He expected the room to be quiet; no one else but himself and the unconscious cook, after all. But the room is filled with noises, the low hum from the machines and there’s a steady beep, coming from what he recognizes to be the heart monitor. And Sanji…

Even unconscious, Sanji’s muscles are tense with pain. His breathing is a collection of ragged gasps, and sometimes, the gasps would devolve into violent coughs that send tremors through his body.

Zoro strokes one hand through Sanji’s sweat-soaked hair, gently, and Sanji lets out a distressed whine at the gesture.

Zoro takes a seat beside the bed, and waits.

  The Cook wakes up on the third day. That’s the good news.

The bad news is everything else. The way the Cook’s eyes glaze, unseeing, before slipping back into unconsciousness. The way his vitals stubbornly refuse to stabilize. The way Chopper flips through pages and pages of data on Sanji, his voice trembling as he says, I know I’ve said two days, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Zoro doesn’t think he’s looking for apologies. Definitely not from Chopper, who’s clearly doing his best. Every time he catches sight of Sanji’s arms, he thinks he’s not looking for apologies from the ones who did this to the Cook, either.

Someone has clearly bound Sanji by the wrists. Something strong enough that the Cook couldn’t just break through — sea-stone, probably. Zoro can still see the faint impressions of the chains on Sanji’s skin, a stretch of darkening bruises around the wrists. At one point, Sanji must’ve broken his left arm fighting the restraint, and it was healing at a bad angle before Chopper and Robin managed to rebreak and set it right. Sanji screamed when they did it, a choked, pained howl, and Zoro thinks he can still hear it whenever he closes his eyes.

His legs aren’t faring any better. Those people who got him must have known that they were his weapons, and dealt with them accordingly. His entire legs are swollen, littered with bruises, and there are stab wounds on the base of both of his feet. Chopper suspected something has pierced through them; Robin was sure it was an attempt to bolt the Cook’s feet to a surface, effectively debilitating him.

Neither his hands nor his feet have any nails left. They have all been pulled out, clean.

Zoro still remembers the taste of the bile at the back of his throat when he first saw them.

Now the wounds aren’t visible after Chopper tended to them, but they have all been scarred onto Zoro’s mind. His eyes fall onto Sanji’s arms again, and he still sees the way it was twisted unnaturally, the broken bone tearing through the skin and jutting out painfully.

Sanji talks about it, sometimes. How important his hands are to him, as a chef.

Zoro looks at Sanji’s bandaged arms, and knows that he’s past the point of apologies. Kitetsu rattles inside its sheath, calling.

  “Those wounds on his hands,” Robin tells him on the fifth day, when she catches him staring at Sanji’s arms again, “they aren’t the worst of it all.”

Zoro stares at her incredulously. “You know how important they are to the Cook.”

“Yes, but…” Robin pauses, clearly picking her words carefully. “Those wounds wouldn’t have killed him. But here…” she reaches over the bed, hand hovering right above Sanji’s bandaged neck. “Here, it could’ve been lethal.”

“I thought you said they weren’t planning to kill him,” Zoro says. He still remembers — doesn’t think he can ever forget — how Robin took one look at Sanji and immediately recognized the signs of torture. The objective was to maim, not kill.

“They weren’t,” Robin agrees, but still shakes her head. “But it still could’ve killed him.”

“What is it,” he asks, and his voice is low, almost a growl. The bandage around Sanji’s neck is wrapped neatly, never showing what’s underneath. Zoro simply assumed it was a light wound, something from a stray hit to the neck. “What is that wound.”

Robin’s hand falls to her side. “It’s a knife wound.”

Zoro suddenly feels sick because he knows where this is going. “They stabbed him in the neck?”

“It’s a cut,” Robin explains, and shakes her head grimly. “it should’ve killed him, but someone has made sure that it didn’t.”

Zoro thinks he can imagine what’s underneath the bandages now — an ugly, jagged scar across the Cook’s throat. The way it mirrors the serrated edge of a knife as it pressed onto the skin. He remembers the way Sanji curled into himself when they found him, hands desperately grasping onto his neck, and Zoro thinks they’ve left him like that for a long time, bleeding out, drowning and choking on his own blood —

“Zoro,” Robin says, and Zoro snaps out of his thought.

His swords clatter against his hips. When he looks down, he finds his right hand gripping on a hilt, tight enough that his knuckles start to whiten.

Robin watches him, but doesn’t say anything.

  Zoro thought he was prepared for this.

But then Sanji coughs, voice hoarse and damp with blood, body trembling as he struggles to find his breathing again — and Zoro realizes that no matter how much he was prepared for himself, he was never ready to see it happen to Sanji.

  Zoro picks up Kitetsu. He brings Shusui too, just in case, but it’s still tucked inside its scabbard. He won’t unsheathe it unless he has to.

He leaves Wado behind, leaning at the side of Sanji’s bed.

They just found out who did it. A fracture from the remains of Big Mom Pirates, driven by nothing but revenge to the crew who destroyed them. They must’ve heard of the Straw Hats — of Luffy — but the face of the wedding has been Sanji, and that’s who they put the blame on, too.

Zoro doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Zoro doesn’t even know how he’s going to find them on this island, doesn’t know if they still haven’t sailed away, but he knows there’s an itch under his skin that is bone deep, a loud rumble in his ears that won’t go away unless he does something.  

Luffy is at the deck when he walks out, perched on the railing. Nami is standing near, observing the two of them.

“Captain,” he says, and his voice sounds foreign, even to him. “Permission to leave the ship for a day.”

Luffy tilts his head, regarding him. His straw hat slides to the side of his head, and for once, Luffy ignores it.

“Luffy,” he repeats.

Luffy crosses his arms. He stares at Zoro, and Zoro feels like he’s looking into Zoro, deconstructing him. “Where are you going?” He asks.

“There’s something I need to do.”

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Luffy says. And then, “will you come back?”

Zoro thinks of Sanji. He thinks of the Cook he knows, the one with the smile that stretches across his face, who’s filled with so much love and kindness that he’s bursting at the seams with it, who always has his back in a fight. Zoro misses him with a solid ache, and says, “yes.”

It's apparently enough for Luffy, because he nods. “Okay.”

And that is all the permission he needs. He finally, finally lets himself feel the anger, the one that’s been tucked alongside and wrapped around the ache of Sanji’s wounds. It’s like opening the Pandora box — Zoro can feel it spread, a suffocating weight in his chest, and it bounces around his ribcages, echoing and reverberating until it comes back with sharper edges.

He lets the darkness overtakes him.

They don’t call him the Demon of East Blue for nothing.