#because her eye squeeze makes me ill and the split second you see him consider simply not letting go makes me ill and

[catty-words]

#you're the worst #ytwedit #gretchen x jimmy #jimmy shive overly #gretchen cutler #jsoedit #gcedit #gjedit #gifs by catty #no you don't understand it was absolutely essential that gratuitous gifs of this hug exist #because her eye squeeze makes me ill and the split second you see him consider simply not letting go makes me ill and #girls-when.jpeg #otp: i now have the power to destroy you and why would i give that up?

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Five

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Fluff, Injuries, Kinda Angst

Word Count: 2.7K

A/n: Happy New Year to all you beautiful people. I’m writing this and I’m feeling pretty happy right now but I’m also feeling very drained because I’m working so much and there's shit going on, BUT I wanted to post this because it’s been long awaited. It’s shorter because it’s a rare (Kinda) fluffy chapter and It ends off on a good place to have me starting the next part openly. My brain is mush rn so Idk if this is even making sense.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

~*~

“I need to know exactly what you did to her. She is in there, in pain and agony and you stand here acting as though you are the one who had to endure the hardships.”

James grinds his teeth together, wishing his reunion with his beloved was going better.

“I... I was harsh with her. I told her she would never replace you... that her only purpose was to give me an heir and that she could be easily replaced. She... she angered me and I struck her... I have forced myself upon her in my anger and my haste to consummate the marriage. I know I am wrong for all I have done but I am doing everything in my power to right my wrongs.”

He doesn’t see it coming, only realizes it when his nose crunches beneath Steve's fist.

“You are a coward! A King would not behave like that even if he had lost his entire kingdom! You have treated our wife as though she is a prisoner! And I say our wife because in title that is what she is. However, she is my wife in my heart as well. But anyone can see that she is not your wife in yours. The way you have treated her... you should not be allowed near her.”

He strikes his husband again, his knuckles knocking the side of his cheek as the brunet dodges swiftly.

“I know. I understand that what I have done is wrong but-” “No, James, I don’t think you do! She is terrified of you! She’d sooner seek comfort in me, a stranger, than in you. You are the first face of our kingdom that she met and you...” The blond trails off, beyond furious with his husband.

“You have broken that woman. What can you even say for yourself?”

The brunet backs up a step, his hands raised in surrender as Steve steps closer to him, his hands clenching into fists.

“Nothing will excuse my actions and I realize that. But I will not stop trying to fix the damage I have caused.” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head at the other man.

“I’m not sure if you will be able to fix it.” They’re both quiet for a long moment before Steve speaks again, walking past his husband and towards the door.

“I think it would be best if you gave both (Y/n) and myself some space. Do not come to either of us unless we have directly summoned you.” The brunet nods, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Steve has to focus on his breathing as he walks back to your chambers, wanting to be there when you wake up and wanting to be in a better space as to not scare you.

When the door opens you’re awake, seated on your bed nursing a small cup of tea.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, dismissing Wanda with a nod. You take a deep breath and smile weakly at him.

“Better than yesterday, Your Majesty.” 

A shake of his head at the use of his title.

“Please, (Y/n). You’re my wife. You may address me by my name,” he says while stepping further into the room. 

“Steve,” you test the name, surprised at yourself for liking the way it feels rolling off your tongue.

He smiles warmly at you, sitting at the edge of your bed when you motion to it. You take a moment to really take him in as he sits in front of you.

The second King of Acadia is as gorgeous as his husband. He’s got endless blue eyes that shine with kindness, a kindness that has been shown to you only by Natalia and Wanda since you entered the Kingdom.

His frame is large and muscular, and you find yourself entranced and intimidated by him. Your brows furrow, however, when you see his split knuckles.

“You are hurt?” You ask, looking pointedly at his right hand. He instinctively clenches it into a fist then sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me when I learned of what His Majesty did to you.” You frown, looking down at the porcelain cup in your grasp.

Fragile and delicate, just like you.

“My very presence drives a wedge between the two of you. For that, I am sorry.” He shakes his head, fingers coming under your chin and lifting it until you look at him. The way you flinch when he raises his hand has his heart aching.

“It is not you who has created a wedge, nor is it you who drives it between us. James is well aware of his actions and he must face the consequences. He does not get special treatment because he is King. He’s lucky I only struck him for what he’s done to you. He deserves far worse.” You shake your head, grabbing the King’s hand tightly in yours.

“Please do not punish him. I fear he may think his fears are coming true. I do not wish to replace you nor do I wish to replace him. And by punishing him more I fear he may think that that is what is happening.”

Steve’s brows pull together in confusion.

“Do you not wish for him to feel what it is you’ve felt?” You shake your head, a shaky breath leaving you as you choose your words wisely.

“I... I would not wish my treatment upon anyone. But he has made efforts to repair our relationship. I do not wish to anger him with a relationship with you. I fear that us being close may be enough to bring his anger back to the surface.”

Steve is quiet, pondering your words for a long moment before lifting your entwined hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If he makes one hostile move towards you I will have him thrown in the dungeon. He will not bring you any more pain. I give you my word.” You nod slowly, not used to someone being so protective of you.

“Now I’m sure you need your rest, so I will not deprive you of it any longer.” He goes to stand up but you tug on his hand, not wanting him to leave just yet. His presence is refreshing. Something unlike anything you’ve experienced in years. And you do not want him to leave anytime soon.

“C-could you perhaps stay with me for a while longer? I... I value your presence. I know that I have only just met you, but you... you are a comfort in a kingdom that has brought only pain.” You don’t mean for your words to hurt him, and the sadness on his face nearly makes you regret speaking.

Until he settles back on the bed, a smile on his face as he squeezes your hand gently in both of his.

“I will stay with you until you no longer want me. This place should be a home to you, not a place of pain, and I will do all I can to ensure you feel safe and comfortable in your own Kingdom.”

The new approach has hope sparking in your belly, and you’re cautiously optimistic about your relationship with Steve. You only hope that you’ll be able to repair the one you have with James before he gets angry again.

~*~

“Is she eating?” Wanda nods, smiling at the blond king from her spot in the kitchen.

“Good. She looks ill. I want her to be healthy again. It is my goal to have her happy in her new home. Undo the damage that James caused.” Wanda sighs, shaking her head.

“They were rebuilding their relationship. Slowly but I’m sure they will have grown to love each other,” she says softly, and then it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head at her.

“It would be nothing more than love built on lies and fear. She deserves more than that.” Wanda nods, her heart heavy. She knows you haven’t been treated fairly, but she had hoped you and James would be able to build your relationship.

“Will you forgive His Majesty?” Steve sighs, not truly knowing the answer.

“I want to, but with what he did... it feels wrong to forgive him.” Wanda nods knowingly, gathering things for your lunch.

“Well, I know that the Queen is well on her way to forgiving him. I think it would do you well to forgive him. However, I have already overstepped. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go tend to my lady.”

She pauses at the doorway, looking over at the King and speaking freely for a moment. 

“I think you would do well to speak to the King with a cool head. Consider all that has happened and all that you had planned for your marriage.” She bows her head then leaves the kitchen, having given Steve many things to consider.

He stays in the room for a while longer, gathering his thoughts and trying to figure out what to do.

As he’s leaving, he nearly bumps straight into his husband.

James averts his eyes, although it pains him to do so. He wants nothing more than to devour every inch of the man before him.

He says nothing, instead, bows his head and waits for Steve to do something.

“James.” His eyes snap up, meeting the endless blues of his lover.

“Steve. H-How is she?” Steve grinds his teeth for a moment, Wanda’s words echoing in his mind before he huffs out a deep breath.

“If you would like, I will take you to see her. However, if she requests you leave, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?” James nods, his shoulders lifting slightly.

As they walk towards your chambers Steve takes a moment to take in the appearance of the brunet.

He’s got deep bags under his eyes and a heeling bruise on his cheek branching out across the bridge of his nose.

His skin is pale and almost lifeless, and Steve feels and for a moment. Until he remembers what his husband did to you.

By then they’re already at your door, far too late to turn back, and Steve knocks softly.

“My darling? May I come in?”

Your voice calls out eagerly, allowing him entrance.

In the few days since his return, he’s spent every waking moment with you, and you find yourself missing him in the few moment’s that he is not by your bedside.

He smiles at the sight of you. You’re far livelier than before, a smile on your face as he walks in.

“Good afternoon,” you say softly, your smile fading slightly as you see the man behind him.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing your head slightly.

“He is your husband, (Y/n). You may address him by his name. We would prefer it if you did.” You look between the two before nodding slowly, scooting back on your bed to make room for the two of them. 

Wanda smiles warmly at you, handing you a fresh cup of tea before excusing herself.

“May we sit?” James asks softly, motioning to your bed. You nod, taking a slow sip of tea while not taking your eyes off of the two men.

“You look well. You are eating more?” You nod, smiling at James softly.

“The same cannot be said for you,” You whisper, frowning at the bruises on his face.

“It is nothing that I do not deserve. I deserve far worse for all I have done. It is only my hope that we can grow together.” You’ve got a sad smile on your face as you look between the two of them, the tension rolling off of them in waves.

“What is it, darling?” Steve asks softly, reaching out to take your hand. You squeeze his warm hand then sigh, struggling for a moment to find the words.

“I have created a wedge between you. That is not something I ever wanted. I never wanted to come between you, nor have I ever wanted to replace either of you. I... I apologize for all that my presence here has caused.”

They both shake their heads, eyes meeting momentarily, Steve's filled with accusation while James’ are filled with guilt.

“You have done nothing wrong. That is something I want you to fully grasp.” You look at James as he speaks, heart thumping in your chest.

It’s been a while since you’ve had him so close to you and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

“Everything that has happened... it is all my doing. You have not done anything wrong. I am the one who has created a wedge between us... the one who has caused such distance. And I will spend every day trying to make up for that. I know you may not trust me or what I say, but I mean every word that I have spoken today.” You look between him and Steve, bottom lip tucked between your teeth for a moment.

“I want to trust you. I want us to be happy and I want us to have a good marriage, however, I will need time. But I do not want the two of you to be at ends with each other because of me. I fear it will cause far more conflict than it is worth.” Steve looks at you for an impossibly long moment before nodding, looking over his shoulder at where his husband is.

“I do not know how you have forgiven him, but I suppose I will try as well. We will forgive, but we will not forget.”

James nods, wanting to feel relieved but something is gnawing at his stomach.

“Your forgiveness is far more than I deserve. I will not, for as long as I live, be able to ever forgive myself for what I have done to you. The pain I have caused.” His eyes flitter down to your stomach, now devoid of the life that was growing. Devoid of the child that would’ve been his. A child that would’ve been the product of pain and of torment.

“How are you feeling, truly? I can only imagine the pain.”

You follow his gaze down to your stomach then swallow hard.

“If I may be honest with you... a small part of me is sad... but a larger part is relieved. I know it is wrong and horrid of me to think, but I am grateful to not be carrying a child that was forced upon me. It is my duty as Queen to give you heirs, and I shall. But not like that. It is too bold of me and I apologize, but if we are to make this marriage work then it is something that you must know.”

He nods easily, understanding what you mean.

“This marriage... we chose you, (Y/n). Specifically you,” Steve says softly, waiting for you to look up at him before speaking.

“We could’ve chosen any woman.” 

Upon seeing the frown on your face, James jumps in. “When he says that, he means that we had been offered wives before but none of them stood out to us. And then we were presented with you...” You look at him, confusion bringing your brows together.

“The princess of Orlen. A woman with kindness and beauty. From the way your father spoke of you, we chose you. If only to save you from a fate that he promised.”

You’re not sure how you feel about this.

“We spoke of you for weeks on end. We spoke of how we would love you, how we would treat you. How we would bed you...” A shiver races down your spine and you glance down, shaking your head.

“I-I do not think I will be ready for that for quite a while. I am sorry, but I just... I cannot. I can hardly walk without being in pain and Doctor Banner thinks that it may take weeks before I can do anything such as that.” Steve’s hand is on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“We will wait. Your body has gone through something that neither one of us could ever imagine. We will not be angry with your healing process and we will not rush it. It is as I said before, your health and happiness mean everything to me.”

James nods his agreement but can’t help feeling left out of the tender moment being shared. As much as he may try, he knows he will not be welcomed with open arms. And he doesn’t expect to be. However, it doesn’t lessen the pain. If anything, it amplifies it.

Jealousy and anger simmer deep in his core, and he has to take careful breaths to make sure he doesn’t let them show. The last thing he needs is to scare you further. And although he truly does wish to be on good terms with you, seeing you with his husband the way you are... it brings something monstrous to the front of his mind.

Something he’s only ever taken out on the battlefield.

The good part if him is afraid for your safety if he cannot reel in the beast. But the beast roars beneath the surface, ready to claw its way out and reclaim what is his.

#king!bucky #king!steve rogers x reader #king!bucky x Princess!reader X king!steve #king!Steve X reader #king!steve x reader #princess!you #queen!reader #dark!fic #dark!bucky #Bucky Barnes x reader dark au #bucky x reader dark au #steve x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark fic #stucky/reader #Stucky AU #stucky x reader #Steve X reader x bucky smut #bucky x Steve X reader #steve x reader #bucky x Steve X reader smut #bucky x reader

[debbierhea]

and the world around us shatters / better call saul / wc: 2392  / kimmy jimmy omaha cinnabon reunion / special thanks to @kimberly-wexler for the beta <3

Summary: 

She’d been searching. For years.

She’d been searching. For years. Hired a PI and then another. Scoured every database she had credentialed access to and then a few she didn’t. Even adopted a cat to soothe the loneliness, lull the throbbing emptiness she felt in her chest. She’d had one as a girl once, a stray really, whom she loved. But this cat was as sulky and capricious as she had become and no matter how committed she was to ignoring it, the ulterior motive of pet adoption was glaring, if not to anyone else, to her.

After three months of No. Not like this. You can’t. Leave it alone. Don’t get involved, the ill-tempered tabby was Kim’s foot in the door. It was a Thursday when she sat across from his veterinarian, cat on the exam table, and said, “I need your help.”

“What kind of help are we talking?” He eyed her, stroked the tabby between her ears.

“I’m looking for someone.” Silence followed.

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

“You know him. Jimmy McGill.”

His eyebrows rose. More silence.

“Well, can you help me or not?”

“You know it’s not always a matter of can I help.”

Kim tilted her chin, raised her eyes to meet his, unflinching. “Does that mean you won’t help me?”

“Hm?” The cat was purring into his hand, licking his thumb. “Oh, no. Just that my price may be something you’re unwilling to pay.”

She swallowed. “That’s not possible.”

“Okay then,” he nodded, stuck out his hand. She shook it.

Now, she was wandering through a sea of midwesterners in puffy coats and mittens, dusting snow off their shoulders, chattering about the weather. She hasn’t been back to this part of the country in years and it oddly feels like a homecoming, though she stopped considering Nebraska home the moment she left. It was simply a place she had lived, never one that offered family or comfort or love. There were sparse memories of joy with the odd classmate and a fond recollection of the first grade teacher who encouraged her to read, helped her get her very own library card. But now as then, there never existed a sense of ease or belonging for her. Even so, the familiarity of the Casey’s General Store on the corner, the Runzas on menus across state rest stops, the flurries of snow reddening her nose and chilling her bones, fostered a small flame of hope deep inside. She could still recognize, even find comfort in, a place she so detested. After the passage of so many years, this place was still the same and, underneath the new high rises and parking meters and sushi restaurants, she could see the bones of this city. Maybe the same could hold true for other things in her life.

Looking over the map in the lobby, she cupped her hands before her mouth and blew into them. The chill rested deep inside her, the hope she fostered in her heart doing little to warm her weary bones. All her work was to lead to this: trudging up the tiled stairs in damp snow boots surrounded by people who knew nothing about pain, not really. Not pain like hers.

She smelled it before she saw it, curving with the second floor walkway past storefront after storefront of clothes and books and knick knacks. She had just side-stepped the man trying to give free lotion samples when the warmth of cinnamon and sugar wafted over her. Her footsteps stuttered and her gait slowed. It was like watching a car whose engine was stalling out. She was light-headed, unable to string a thought together, parse out what she was feeling in her body besides a deep urge to run. Her therapist would tell her that she wanted to run because of her fear of being vulnerable and then being left behind. Again. Kim pushed hair that had fallen loose of her ponytail behind her ear, took three deep breaths, and followed her nose.

A small line stood in front of the cash register, three or four people, waiting for a treat to get them through their holiday shopping. She contemplated her next step from across the food court. Anticipation fluttered through her, givinggave rise to goosebumps beneath her layers of knit and down. Then further, deeper, beneath the adrenaline, lived something twisting and gnawing inside of her chest. She knew this thing like she knew the location of every security camera at the Hinky Dinky or the route she took home after school when her mom got too lost in the liquor aisle to remember to pick her up. This thing she knew was fear—fear of hope, of the inevitable ache of a further bruised heart. She crossed the food court despite it.

Trying to slip back into her midwestern skin, move through this world unassuming and deferential, she stood to the right of the registers, observing the ebb and flow of workers behind the glass. Dough was being kneaded by one, another opened an oven to check the progress of the bake. A third manned the register. A second till was sat unused, cash drawer open and empty. She stood there, just outside the current of customers, twitching her chapped fingers, tapping them against the inside of her own palm. He used to tease her for it. Five minutes passed, then ten. The line grew longer. Her flame of hope was waning.

Then, a voice—a bellow, more like—broke through the low hum of conversation in the food court.

“Coming! I’m coming, Miranda!” Kim froze.

A man in an apron and mustache came through the door marked “Employees Only” and made his way to the front of the store, a full cash drawer in his hands.

“Sorry! For some reason the safe just wouldn’t open.”

Kim was drifting through the crowd, pulled toward his voice. Her eyes began to burn.

“Here are some quarters for you. I figured you might be running low.” His eyes flicked up, scanning the crowd, estimating how many rolls they should throw into the oven. “I’ll open this one up and—,” his roaming gaze stopped. “And I, uh....”

She swallowed, her throat tight, eyes glassy. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He stood, slack jawed, staring.

“Um, Miranda I—Just, uh, just take this,” he handed the cash drawer to the teenager standing next to him, eyes never leaving Kim’s. “I’ll be right back.”

His shoes squeaked as he made his way around the counter and out into the seating area of the restaurant. Kim hadn’t moved, stunned like a deer in headlights on a Nebraska back road. He seemed as though he was moving in slow motion, each step towards her an eternity, and yet it was still not long enough to prepare herself for him to be standing directly in front of her. She felt like she’d just fallen through the ice into a glacial lake. No, she hadn’t fallen. She’d jumped. On purpose. And broke through.

He stood there, inches from her; she could see the gray in his mustache. He paused, just for a moment, then said, “Follow me.”

And she did.

They weaved in and out of tables and shoppers and janitors picking up fast food wrappers off the floor. He glanced back at her once, as if he was scared she wouldn’t be there behind him, as if she hadn’t been following him, chasing him, for what felt like her whole life. He led them down a hallway, empty save for a woman waiting on a bench between two bathroom doors, one labeled with a dress, the other a tie. Kim gave her a close-mouthed smile.

Jimmy stopped abruptly, reaching for the door to the family restroom. He held it open, looked into her eyes. Kim gave the woman another glance, cheeks reddening, and walked through the door before she could think or feel or do anything that would make her stop herself. She moved towards the far, tiled wall and as she turned, heard the clicking of the door’s latch, then the lock.

He paused then, there, gripping the door handle, his head resting against its grain. His body was tense, coiled and bound and, she realized, foreign to her. Stooped shoulders, billowing polo, slight waist cinched by an apron. Even from behind, he looked bleary, posture like a drooping flower on the sill. What happened to him?

Kim was grateful for this pause he was granting her. Everything seemed to be moving at a pace she was incapable of matching, an emotional marathon she had not trained for; she never did have much emotional stamina outside of simply holding them all in, like a child holding their breath in the deep end of the pool.

Then, he turned.

He was just as unfamiliar from the front as he was from behind, cheeks a bit sallow and stippled with five o’clock shadow, wiry glasses. His nametag read “Gene.” But Jimmy McGill was still the same in his bones and in the time it takes to exhale that breath you’ve been holding under the gentle waves of your childhood pool, the split second it takes for that breath to form a spray of bubbles racing you to the surface, they were in each other’s arms.

Centered on the yellowing, speckled tile, they grasped at shoulders and elbows, knees knocked, tears fell. Finally, Kim slipped her arms around his ribs and clutched him to her chest, nails digging into cotton and, beneath, soft skin. His face caught between shoulder and neck, he inhaled the scent of her, goosebumps rising as her puffy, down sleeves brushed against his bare arms. His hands roamed her back, skidding and sliding across slick fabric. It felt as if his hands had been frozen and he had finally found the fire he’s sought to warm them. Sneaking his right hand up and up and under the thick wool of her scarf, he hesitated just a moment before placing his fingertips to the soft skin of her neck. She gasped, a sob drawn out on a breath. His left hand pushed into the small of her back. She pulled him in tighter.

They held each other there, flushed and desperate and weepy, for a time—how long, neither could say. As the hand rubbing her back would slow, she would squeeze his middle gently as if to say Not yet and he would answer with gentle pressure between her shoulder blades. When her grip on him would loosen, his fingers would drift into the hairs at the base of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer, and she would let him. This is how they stayed, questioning and answering each other as only they could with little more than a sigh passing through their lips.

Then, Kim began to pull gently away. He stiffened the moment he sensed her movement from him, but she did not try to leave his embrace, this wasn’t her intention, not truly. She only wanted to see his dear face, maybe say hello. Placing one hand on his chest, she leaned ever so slightly back as his arms moved to circle her waist. Tears clung to his lashes and dripped from the tip of his nose. He swallowed hard as her eyes roamed his face, different but somehow entirely the same. She felt like she was back in the HHM parking garage bumming a smoke from the new guy in the mailroom. Hundreds of days and miles from then, he was still hers.

Bringing both hands up, cupping his jaw, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs, she smiled. “Jimmy.”

At this, his eyes closed, Kim holding him tenderly in her palms. He hasn’t heard that name in years. When was the last time he thought of himself as anyone other than Saul Goodman? Saul the criminal defense attorney. Saul on the run. Saul posing as a Cinnabon manager. More tears fell free.

Removing his hands from her waist, he held her delicate wrists, one in each hand, his thumbs mimicking her caress across his skin. She gave the slightest tilt of her head and he answered with a reed-thin voice, a sad smile, “It’s you.”

She knitted her perfectly arched brows, that tell-tale wrinkle emerging between them, her eyes soft and wet, red-rimmed. She bit her lip and began to shake her head, never removing her gaze from his. After a moment, she smiled again, smaller this time, lips closed, and slipped one hand smoothly into his, the other onto his shoulder, not willing to break contact.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

More tears welled in Jimmy’s eyes as he rolled them to the ceiling, heart aching.

“Kim…I…”

“I know.” A pause. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Baby, I know.”

From shoulder back to his neck, Kim guided Jimmy with her hand, resting his forehead against her own, meeting in the middle, holding him there.

“Oh god—” a sob broke from deep in his chest.

Kim stroked his neck, shoulder, face, back. Jimmy wept.

Tears darkened the collar of his polo shirt and the tremors running through his body prompted Kim to wrap herself around him once more, burying her nose in his neck, focusing on the sickly-sweet scent of yeasted dough rising, cinnamon, and icing sugar over the pain so fierce living in the main between her arms.

As all things do with time, his sobs became weaker and fewer, until his breathing returned to a shallow, exhausted inhale, sniffly exhale. Kim lifted him from her shoulder and he raised his eyes towards hers. Her lips twitched, and then she brought them to his cheek. One, then the other, over and over, like salve to a wound she covered his drying tear tracks with her lips. Gentle and soft, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings did she kiss him. And then, she centered herself, hand threading into his hair, she moved to his lips.

“Kim,” he whispered, a breath from her lips.

“Yes?”

“What if you’ve come all this way to find someone who…doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

Again, Kim knit her brows and shook her head. She placed her right hand over his heart, lifted her shoulders gently in a shrug.

“It’s you.”

#better call saul #bcs #mcwexler #my fic

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00599: Captain Rex

"Rex," the captain answered without preamble. He sounded thoroughly miserable, voice thick and intonation slurred.

"Captain, Kix here. I need you to come down and sign the wounded files."

"Already?" Rex asked, sounding somewhere between weary and impressed. "You're never fast when it comes to paperwork."

"True, so hurry over before the next crisis walks in."

"No, I sent Hardcase to scrub the mess," the captain joked with a pained laugh.

"I'll see you soon?" Kix pressed.

"On my way now, Kix."

When Kix ended the transmission, he found Commander Tano watching him. "You haven't even started your paperwork, have you?"

"No," he said, unrepentantly. "But he wouldn't have come here otherwise. You should be sleeping."

"Especially if Rex is coming here," she agreed. "How often will you be waking me up?"

"Once every fifteen minutes for the next two hours."

"Every-! How do you expect me to sleep?"

"Very well, considering that your eyes are already closed," Kix said softly, knowing that she would likely be asleep before the end of his retort. She certainly didn't answer.

When Rex arrived, he was wearing full armor, including his helmet.

"Where are the forms?"

"Oh, I have them locked away," Kix said blithely. "Let me finish this round of status checks and I'll get them for you. Sit down and take off your bucket for now."

Kix fiddled around the medbay until he saw that the captain hadn't taken either of his suggestions. With a sigh, he retrieved the thin stack of forms he had completed - none of which were from that day - and set them down on the desk.

"It's been a while since you came in for an examination," Kix remarked.

"Haven't needed one," Rex said, scrawling his signature across the pages. A moment later, he paused and violently sneezed inside his helmet, the external speakers muffling the sound into a dull burst of static.

"What was that, Captain?" Kix asked, voice a touch too casual.

"Nothing," he said sharply. "There must have been some dust in my helmet."

Before Kix could respond, Rex signed the last form with a flourish. "Goodbye, Kix."

"Captain, you and I both know that you're sick. Your nose is stuffed up and your throat hurts. I can hear it. Find a bed, let me examine you, and you probably won't even need to spend the night." Rex had paused when Kix started speaking, but he didn't turn. "I've already called the General once tonight. I don't mind doing it a second time."

Even through the heavily tinted visor common to all trooper helmets, Kix could feel the captain's glare. "Kix, I order you not to call the general."

It was Rex's 'authority' voice, the one that made troopers obey even over a HUD frequency. It almost hurt not to salute and agree… at least, it would if Kix could pop the tiny, gleeful bubble rising inside of him.

With no small amount of effort, he kept the smirk from his face and voice as he said, "Sorry, sir. According to the GAR regs, medics take authority position when it comes to matters of health where the men are concerned. Just like Saleucami, I outrank you in this. Pick a bed."

If glares could kill, Kix would certainly have died from the heat of the stare emanating from underneath the 501st-blue Jaig eyes. Still, Rex made his way to a bed - the next one down from the commander - and removed his helmet.

Kix was there a split second later to take a scan. He scowled at the results displayed on the datapad. "You have a severe infection in your sinuses, and it's beginning to affect your lungs as well. Your temperature is rising and you're showing signs of fatigue, muscle aches, and dehydration."

"I'm fine," Rex said stiffly.

"You look like hell and I'm willing to bet you feel it, too. There's no karking way you should have fought in the battle today." Rex's face went carefully blank and Kix sighed loudly. "That's why you didn't come in, isn't it? You knew I would sideline you."

"It wasn't this bad when we set out. When I realized how severe it was, it was too late. I couldn't send the 501st into battle without me." He chuckled and coughed with the effort. "Didn't do a lot of good. I got the commander injured because she had to save me."

"You and about twenty other men," Kix countered. "She would have had to help them even if you were completely healthy. There's no guarantee she wouldn't have been hurt either way."

Rex eyed him strangely. "Are you trying to make me feel better even while you're mad at me?"

Kix shrugged. "Occupational hazard," he quipped.

The medic found a bottle deep in the medical cabinet and brought it back to Rex's beside. He uncapped it and squeezed a healthy amount of thick ointment onto the end of a cotton swab.

"Brace yourself," Kix advised, not giving Rex the chance to do so before he swabbed the inside of the captain's nostrils.

Rex tried to rear back, sputtering at the burn and the smell of the ointment, but Kix only followed his movements. When the swab was done, Kix deposited it in a nearby waste can before preparing another one. This time, he smeared the viscous substance just under Rex's nose.

Kix stepped away. "Just a moment, Captain. I just need to check on the commander."

Rex, busy wrinkling his nose and shooting disgusted looks around the medbay, didn't answer.

Kix woke Commander Tano and she sat up, blue eyes narrow as she held a hand against her bruised montrals. He asked her name, age, where she was, and various other items, relieved when she answered every question without a struggle.

When he finally ran out of things to ask, she offered him an impish smile. "Any more questions?"

"I've got one," Rex interjected, eyes still watering from the ointment in and under his nose. "Did you tell Kix on me, kid?"

"I didn't mean to, I just-"

"She just let it slip due to her suspected concussion," Kix said sharply. "Go back to sleep, Commander. I'll wake you again in another fifteen minutes."

Commander Tano nodded and laid back down, wrapping the covers around herself as she turned to face the other direction. Her breathing evened out in moments.

Kix returned to Rex's bedside and the captain narrowed his eyes at Kix. "So you only find a bedside manner when the commander is asleep?"

"No, I only use my bedside manner when you're not making the commander feel guilty for accidentally telling me about an illness you should have reported yourself." Rex winced at Kix's condemnation and the medic sighed. "I know you didn't mean anything by it, but she's prone to blame herself, especially where injuries are concerned."

"Fair enough," Rex eventually agreed with a half-hearted nod. "I didn't think it through and I'm glad you stopped me. What now?"

"Well, the ointment is a combination of decongestant, bacta, and anti-inflammatory painkillers to lower your temperature. None of those will address your dehydration or fatigue. You have two choices: monitor and record your own fluid intake and output for the next full day and take a sleeping aid I give you or stay overnight in the medbay and I'll do those things for you."

Rex carefully considered the choices. "How long in the medbay?"

"It is currently…" Kix checked his chrono, "ten p.m. I can have you discharged by eight tomorrow morning."

"I'll stay here, I suppose," Rex agreed begrudgingly.

"Excellent choice, Captain," Kix congratulated, moving to get Rex a full pitcher of water and a glass. After draining four glasses and watching Kix interrogate the commander once more, Rex fell asleep and Kix went to work on his paperwork.

---

A/N: as always, reblogs and comments are the best forms of appreciation! Also, you don’t need to wake up someone with a concussion, as it turns out, but I wanted to include it here. 

#Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper kix #captain rex #commander ahsoka tano #cold #illness #head injury #clone troopers deserve better #one-shot #but part of a series #more to come

[operation-619]

Satan’s Angel

Johnny Storm x WOC!Reader

Summary: She was hidden from the world at the age of 16 when something within her awoke. Something demonic. But she has her brother to hold onto when things start to get worse, because he’s there for her. Right?

warnings: language, blood, violence, mentions of medical problems. mentions of needles, abuse and torture. 18+

WC: 2.2K

masterlist I Chapter 2

So I wrote this ack in my Quotev days, and I decided to edit it - because it was atrociously written. And I’m now posting it on here so I hope you enjoy my loves 

-619x

The world has never been in my favour, I realise that now.

I should’ve realised it years ago.

But standing here looking my estranged brother in the eyes; I finally realise that the world has led me on a path that had to end this way, no matter how hard I tried to swerve and dodge the upcoming circumstance, I would always end up staring at my brothers empty eyes, with my hand deep in his chest.

Killing him. Killing my brother.

She sat there, waiting for the pain to embrace her like a long-lost cousin. She knew it was time; her heart was spasming, she could hardly breathe. Her eyes were watery, tears sliding down her face.

Yet she sat there at the edge of her bed staring out the window that occupied the whole wall opposite her bed. She could see the mountains from her bed so clearly. It was as if she was there.

If she was there.

Her chest moved erratically, her cheeks soaked with tears, yet she sat calmly; pondering, wondering, daydreaming about a life outside these four walls that kept her trapped in her own mind.

A mind that kept her sane and crazy all at the same time. She would dream up stories of a handsome young prince saving her with a fiery kiss. Or most times it was a nightmare, a world made of purple skies and vibrant green grass, set aflame; with bodies lying across the ground as she ran with some man, her hand in his so he wouldn’t lose her, the other hand on her belly housing a precious creature. She never got the end of the nightmare because she would wake up just before a monster jumped on top of her.

She would always jolt up, sweat weighing heavy on her skin, a scream rising up her throat along with bile and the feeling on nostalgia. She hated how she knew the place she was dreaming of yet couldn’t place a finger on it.

Before she could ponder anymore, she felt the first flicker of pain, it started at the bottom of her spine, and oh-so painfully started to spread across the rest of her rigid body. She drew in a ragged breath as the pain wrapped a hand around her heart and squeezed. She clenched her eyes shut tight and tried soothe her breathing, but the hand around her heart squeezed harder. She gasped out in pain and rolled forward; landing on the floor on her knees as her hand started to scrape at her chest, desperately trying to remove the hand off of her heart. It was as if it was laughing at her attempts because next thing she knew, the hand squeezed so hard she fell forward onto her hand and screamed.

She screamed so loudly, black dots clouded her vision and danced around her. Her throat felt sore, but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Her body shook as sobs replaced the screaming in a matter of seconds. She hated this, for the past eight years it just seems to be getting worse. Ever since she surpassed her sixteenth birthday, all it has ever been was pain, pain and pain. It was tenfold as worse as it used to be. Before her sixteenth birthday it was like a build up to the pain she was feeling now. Minor headaches, to migraines, to temperatures either too hot or too cold. No one knew what was wrong with her. Not even the best doctors’ money could buy. And if it wasn’t for Victor she wouldn’t be here, with round the clock care to make sure she is okay, she knew that he loved her even though he wasn’t around as much as he used to be. She knew.

Of course, he loves you. Your all he’s got, and vice-versa.

The thoughts echoed around her head, bouncing painfully off her head.

The vibrations of the floor let her know that the people were on their way.  Moments later she felt her body being lifted from the floor, she felt herself slump against the broad chest of some man, she given up fighting against the pain and just let it take over her system. She couldn’t stop the tears, the echoed the lack of control she had over her own body as the gushed down her paling face.

“Hush now, close your eyes. I’ve got you.” The deep voice vibrated through her body, it felt oddly familiar and through all the pain she managed to look up into the familiar blue eyes of her brother.

“Vic- “her words fell short as she lost the energy to speak, instead she used all her energy to place her hand onto his smooth cheek.

“Hush, it’s okay. I’m here now.” With that statement she let her eyes roll to the back of her head, as the pain drowned her in its last tidal wave.

  Victor released a long ‘huff’ as he stopped at another traffic light. He regretted coming back to New-York at 14:00 pm when the streets would be busy with the afternoon rush. He rhythmically tapped his fingers against the arms rest and looked on through the divider, he smirks as he saw his driver’s hand gripping the wheel tightly out of frustration too.

His attention was quickly drawn to his phone when he heard the ringtone brake through the silence in the car; reaching into his jacket he removed his phone from the inside pocket of his black Louis Vuitton suit jacket.

‘Her vitals are erratic again; she’s going to go into Comatose. But I think it’s best if you came over. You can get the samples you need.’

The text message was all he needed for him to clear his throat and say;

“Michael, turn back around to the airport, please. We’re going to visit my sister.” With a nod from Michael, the car was swiftly turned around and quickly driven back to the airport. He sent a text to his pilot, telling him to ready the helicopter that will bring him to the facility he has in the Alps, which is coincidentally where he is keeping his sister.

Victors blue eyes grew stormy as he remembered how much pain his sister has been through in the past few years, the undiagnosed tantrums her body would throw sent his sister into an unbreakable cycle of pain and then unconsciousness. He knew deep down that one day she’ll have an episode that she won’t concur.

He remembers the first time it happened; he was stepping through his front door. He barley even had time to take his jacket off before he heard a scream that made his blood curl, rushing upstairs he was met with a sight that had the breath taken out of him, there hunched on the bed was his sister.

Head clasped between her hands, nails digging into her skin as if she was trying to peel her own skin off, her lower face was covered in blood from her nose, and her eyes were screaming for help, for an escape that she was so desperately seeking.

Victor rushed forward and attempted to prise her hands off her head. But was met with a force that had him crashing into wall next to the door. He looked up and saw his sister looking at him with unnatural black eyes and a hand pointed towards him with her palm open. Her eyelids fluttered before they were back to their normal hue.

“Help me…” her voice came out hoarse and timid before she convulsed onto the ground.

Surging forward Victor managed to catch her head just in time before it hit the corner of the bed frame. His vision was blurry as he looked at his sister, her head cradled in his lap as he tried to steady her from the excessive shaking.

His ears picked up the sirens and then the sound of the door getting thrown open as paramedics came rushing upstairs.

Yet he couldn’t move, his body wasn’t registering what was actually happening.  

Their voices all became mumbled as he watched them pry her out of his grip, he tried to speak but his mouth wouldn’t move it just stayed there, hanging open like a fool.

He continued to stare at the group of paramedics struggling to hold his sister still as he felt two pairs of hands under his arms to haul him up.

‘Come on son.’ The voice sounded so distant and foreign to him as he let the two strangers support his weight as it appeared his own legs couldn’t do that. He hazily watched as the world around him moved without some much of a struggle. Next thing he knew he was sat on the curb with a blanket wrapped around him. Apparently for the shock.

Fuck that.

His head snapped to the side as he heard the shouting of the paramedics as the rushed his unconscious sister out of the house; one split off from the group and came over to him.

“Are you the boyfriend?” Victor shook his head, eyes trained on his sisters’ body being hauled into the back of the ambulance.

“Brother,” he managed to rasp out.

“Okay then that’s even better. Can you tell me anything about her?” His eyes stayed trained on his sister as the paramedics sorted her out in the back, the doors were wide open so he could see what they were doing.

“Yeah, yeah.” He numbly nodded. Half listening to what the man was saying.

“Any mental illness, inherited disorders from the family?” Victor continued to shake his head; the man continued asking questions, but they all had the same answer. A shake of the head from Victor Von-Doom.

“Okay can you tell me how old she is?” Victor looked down at his Rolex, his eyebrows furrowed in sadness when he realised what day it was. The watch read back 03:45am.

“October 31st, she turned sixteen forty-five minutes ago.” He finally looked over at the paramedic and noticed how young he really was, said paramedics face contorted into a look of unease. Victor sent him a look of confusion which lead to the boy looking away.

“Sorry sir, it’s just three am is considered the ‘witching hour’ in my religion, and it clashes with it being Halloween today as well- ‘the paramedic turned around and noticed the look on Victors face and cleared his throat- ‘Sorry sir. Happy birthday to her, you can ride with her if you wish.”

And with that the young boy scurried off.

Looking out the window, Victor noticed they were about to touch down on the landing pad. Exhaling unsteadily, he rolled his shoulders back preparing himself what was to come.

If only he knew.

  The steady, rhythmic beeping of the EKG machine soothed Victors heart as he stood by the window and looked out onto the scenery that was suspiciously calming. Now he understood why his sister made him replace the tiny window for this huge one. It was once a wall, but with the extra light and the view it made the room less constricting, less likely of a panic attack for her.

“Hey.” The soft voice barley reached his ears, but he heard it and he couldn’t be happier. Spinning around he marched to her side and plonked himself down onto the chair that he’d been sat in for the past fourteen hours.

“Name?”

“(Y/N) Von-Doom. Victor?”

“No, Birthday?” “Monday, October Thirty-first, three am. Victor please.”

“Favourite person in the world?”

“Steve Harvey.”

“Hey, what happened to it being me”

“You wouldn’t shut up. Your making my head hurt Victor.” She raised a hand to rub her temple, only to hiss in pain as her muscles burned. Tears clouded her vison as she remembered what happened.

“Did anyone get hurt?” She was met with a ‘no’ from her brother. She mumbled a response that Victor couldn’t hear. He watched her as she looked out the window; eyes glassed over and distant, like she was somewhere else.

“I can’t do this anymore,” her voice was quiet, lacking emotion. It caused Victors heart to beat faster. He couldn’t let her go. Not now.

“(Y/N)?”

“I mean, here. Here in this room. Because these episodes are getting stronger, I can feel it. I probably won’t survive the next one. Or fuck, the one after that. Who knows Victor. I need to leave, get out of here. I don’t care where, I just need to leave.” Her sobs grew louder as did the EKG machine, he tried to soothe her, but it only grew worse.

Doctors and nurse appeared in a matter of minutes, they checked the vitals and the machine only to see her hysterically crying.

“Ma’am, you need to calm down for me please.” The nurse’s voice was sweet, almost taunting to (Y/N). She sighed when the girls crying grew louder. Nodding towards the older man in a pair of grey scrubs she quickly caught (Y/N)’s attention as the Doctor came forward and injected her with a mild sedative.

With in seconds the room grew quite as they all watched (Y/N)’s eyes close slowly.

Just before she went completely under; Victor cupped her cheek.

“I need you. So, I promise I’ll find out what’s going on. You’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”

He watched her eyes close completely and looked out of the window, leaning back against the chair he spoke one last time before closing his eyes:

“I promise.”

——

Chapter 2

#johnny storm #johnny storm x reader #fantastic four #reed richards #ben grimm #victor von doom #marvel #WOC #POC #Female!reader #angst #satan's angel

[imagining-supernatural]

The Surprise Illness

Part 16 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: Reporters ambush you outside of the hospital

Word Count: 2,258

The last thing you remembered was Sebastian noting how hot you felt and insisting the two of you call it an early night just a few hours after the almost-kiss in the elevator.

Then you were waking up in the hospital late the next morning.

“What am I doing here?” you rasped out upon spotting Sebastian dozing in a chair next to the hospital bed.

He jerked awake and exclaimed your name. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, and in the hospital. And that clock and the sun says it’s almost noon? It was just, like, eight o’ clock at night.”

Sebastian scooted his chair closer and grabbed your hand. “You had a fever and would barely wake up around 3 this morning when I tried to get you to take some more medicine. Dr. Chowdhury says it’s most likely a bug.”

“A bug? How’d I get… I’m so careful, how’d I catch a bug?” A muscle in his jaw jumped in anger and you realized, face dropping. “The reporters. They were shoving their microphones in my face.”

“Plus your immune system is super weak because of the treatment; it didn’t take long. And it hit hard.”

“Well, fuck.” You raised your free hand to scrub at your face, surprised at how sluggish your body was. That simple movement required so much concentration. “What does this mean for my treatment? I’m supposed to be getting the shots today.”

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Chowdhury poked his head in. When he saw your open eyes, he strode in. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good?”

He offered a smile at your challenge. “How are you feeling today?”

“Tired. My body hurts a bit, like the flu. Um… Surprisingly no headache.”

The scratch of a pen on paper was the only sound for a second while he notated your remarks in your chart. “That’s good about the headache. No pressure in your head either?” You shook your head. “Good, very good. I was worried this virus might have irritated your tumor and caused it to swell. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“So, what now?” Seb asked. “Will she still get her shots today?”

Dr. Chowdhury nodded. “And I would like to keep you for a few more hours. You are hooked up to an IV that should help speed your recovery from the bug.”

“Okay.” At your quick agreement, Seb squeezed your hand. “Do you think I’ll be able to go home tonight? I’d like to continue my streak of not sleeping in a hospital bed overnight here.”

“Barring any setbacks today, yes. We will do our best to help you continue your streak until surgery.”

“You know,” you mused with humor, “I’m sure the nurses are okay to hand me something themselves.”

Sebastian shook his head as he unscrewed the water bottle cap before handing it to you. Janessa, the nurse in question, grinned and winked at you before leaving the room. “I’m not taking that chance. They’re touching other patients all day.”

“And I think they know how to not pass on germs.”

“Still not taking the chance,” he insisted with no room for argument. Slipping into the bed next to you, he threw his arm over your shoulders. “I’ve been with you all day, so I’ve only been by your germs all day. They’re around everyone’s germs all day.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, resting your head on his shoulder. “Surprised you let me even hold this water bottle, considering Janessa touched it with her bare hand.”

“Good point.” He moved as if to take it from you. With a loud laugh, you jerked your arm away, keeping it just out of his reach. His lips were pulled into a grin as he pretended to reach further to fight you for the bottle. If he’d been serious, it wouldn’t have been a fight at all. You were still paler than normal and weak as a twig in a hurricane. But you appreciated the lack of effort on his part.

Just before pulling back and settling back into the bed, he kissed the tip of your nose, warming your body in a way the thin hospital blanket couldn’t.

A rerun of How I Met Your Mother was playing on the TV and you turned up the volume. After a few minutes, you started drifting off, completely safe in Sebastian’s arms.

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly. Between reruns of sitcoms, being forced to eat cafeteria food, taking catnaps, and threatening Sebastian until he let the nurse take your temperature herself, you barely noticed the passage of time.

It wasn’t until you woke up and saw Sean with your phone camera pointed at the bed that you really noticed what time it was: just after eight o’ clock in the evening.

“What are you doing with my phone?”

“You two just look so cute right now,” he replied with a wink. “Picture perfect moment. Couldn’t pass it up. I didn’t want the stress of having a picture of you two on my phone.”

“I’d trust you with one.” He handed you your phone and you unlocked the phone to get to the gallery. As soon as you pulled up the photo he took of you and Seb asleep together, you were glad that you had your phone set up to allow your camera to be accessed without your security code. It was a damn cute picture. “Psychiatrist, media specialist, and photographer. Shit, Sean you really can do it all, can’t you?”

“Add bodyguard to that list too. Sebastian texted me that you guys were leaving around eight thirty. I got here a little early and decided to come in. There were a few reporters hanging around when I pulled up. Figured I could clear the way if they swarm again and your man there could keep ahold of you.”

“Damn reporters,” you grumbled.

“You can say that again,” Seb’s scratchy voice sounded from beside you. He shifted, stretching a little as he woke up. “Hey, Sean. Time to leave already?”

“Just as soon as I sign your discharge papers,” Dr. Chowdhury announced his presence, walking into the room. Seb slipped off of the bed to allow Dr. Chowdhury to give you a quick once over. Once he determined that your throat, ears, and nose looked good and that your fever was under control, he signed the papers and a nurse came in with a wheelchair. She assured Sebastian no fewer than three times that the wheelchair was sanitized before he let you sit in it.

Sean split off to bring the car around and you ditched the wheelchair in the waiting room. It probably would have been better to let yourself be wheeled out to the car, but your vanity overpowered your decision. You weren’t too fond of the idea that pictures of you in a wheelchair could be splashed across the internet.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to get nearly all of the way to the car before the reporters started circling. Sebastian and Sean had the one-track mind to keep them away from you and get you inside the car as soon as possible. Once you were scooting across the backseat to make room for Seb, he turned his attention to the vultures.

Seeing they were about to get a quote, the crowd quieted.

“You guys attacked my wife yesterday and exposed her to germs that got her sick when she’s already going through the hell that is cancer treatment. When I requested everyone keep their distance, it wasn’t just for privacy. The next time you prioritize your big story over my wife’s life, my lawyers and I won’t be so nice.” With that, he climbed into the car and slammed the door shut on their questions.

Quick, concise, and to the point. You could tell he’d considered his words in advance. Hell, he’d probably been thinking about them all day.

He was still thinking about them five minutes into the drive. You could tell by the tense set of his shoulders. So, you decided to try and lighten the mood.

“You feel like John Mulaney right now?”

“Huh?”

“Get away from my wife!” You did you best to imitate John Mulaney’s voice during that segment. “No one talk to my wife!”

He cracked a smile and you felt victorious. “I didn’t kill my wife!”

“Ooo. Who’s that fella?” You finished off the segment, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a laugh.

“You callin’ me your fella?” He asked, leaning closer.

The sparkle in his eye drew you in. “Maybe I am.”

“Hey, so…” Sebastian wandered into the bedroom the next morning. You’d been under strict doctor’s orders to sleep in and not come to the hospital until the afternoon for your infusion. So that’s exactly what you did.

And while you were sleeping in, Seb had gone to get a workout in, since he’d missed it yesterday.

Which brought you to now: Him walking in, fresh from the shower, and you on the bed with your laptop, catching up on your finances.

“Hey, how was your run and, uh, weights?”

“How are my weights?”

“Yeah. They doing good? Feeling neglected?”

He laughed. “God, Y/N. You are so smart about so many things but you have no idea what goes on in a gym, do you?”

“Yeah I do,” you replied defensively. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to prove it. “Lots of sweating and, uh, grunting? Guys taking off their shirts to show off. People drinking from water bottles? Probably a lot of regret.”

With an eye roll, he flopped down on the bed next to you. “Once you’re all better, I’m making you come to the gym with me.”

“Does your gym have a spa there? Or a massage room, at least?”

“Yeah. But I’ll only let you use it after you work out.”

You scrunched your nose in distaste. “Pass.”

He closed his eyes, a content smile still on his lips. With a fond shake of your head, you went back to updating your finance plans.

A few minutes later, Sebastian sat up and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. He fiddled with whatever it was for a second before hesitantly saying, “Y/N?”

“One… second…” You finished what you were doing and set aside your laptop. There was a strange tone to his voice. It was serious, but slightly unsure. Whatever he wanted to talk about, you were sure he wanted your full attention. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I was thinking… since your name is out there and we’re not a secret anymore…”

“Seb, it’s me. You don’t have to beat around the bush.”

“I was wondering how you felt about wearing the ring.”

Well. That was not where you’d expected this conversation to go. “The ring.”

He plucked the diamond engagement ring from his hand and held it between his fingers. “The ring. I also, uh, I guess I should have talked to you about this before… but I swung by a jeweler this morning and picked out wedding bands too. For both of us.”

For the longest while, you didn’t know what to say.

It wasn’t like you had to pretend that you’d gotten married for love. He’d told the truth about your wedding on Seth’s show. It was on tape that you’d had a drunken wedding and stayed married for insurance purposes.

So if he had actually purchased wedding bands… a physical tie between you two… that had to mean something, right?

“I-I’m… I’m not against it, I just—why?”

“I don’t really know. Well, I know, but I also don’t, you know?”

“No. Not at all.”

He huffed a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “I guess I just thought that since I’m flying to Georgia on Sunday to start filming the show and we’ll be apart so often… I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid.”

“It is stupid,” you assured him with a teasing smile. “It’s stupid of you to think that since we’re not going to see each other every day that we’ll forget each other. I mean, I know you won’t forget me because I’m pretty amazing and all. Thought I guess it isn’t a long shot to think that I’ll forget you. The guy who bought me oreos. The guy who I’ve slept next to for the last week. The guy who yelled at paparazzi for me. The guy who is literally saving my life. The guy wh—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

Looking at him, nervously fumbling with the ring in his fingers, you realized this was about something more. This wasn’t just him being a good person. It wasn’t Sebastian helping someone survive cancer.

This was about Sebastian and you. You and Sebastian.

This wasn’t about a drunken Vegas wedding officiated by Elvis. This wasn’t about cheating the system to get insurance.

This was about your relationship with Sebastian.

“I get it too,” you said softly. After a moment and a deep breath, you extended your left hand and stilled his anxious fingers. His eyes darted up to yours where you hoped he saw his same hesitance, fear, and hope reflected there. “I get it, Seb.”

Without any further conversation, he gently slid the diamond ring onto your finger. Out of his pocket, he presented you with an engraved gold band and your heart was beating at a million words per minute as you slid the band onto his left hand as well.

RINGS!?! And, gah! Stupid reporters!!!

Also, I wrote this long before this whole Coronavirus and rereading it now was like GEEZ I was ahead of my time with the whole germaphobe thing...

CHAPTER 18: THE WORK CALL

#sebastianxreader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader

[bangtancentricsblog]

jjk/qw: 1

➣ a little something that came about because of Jungkook’s outfit and the way he was mad feeling himself on day 2 of on:e

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff(?), implied smut,

❒ alternative universe: mafia,

❒ rating: 18 +

❒ word count: 1.9 k

warnings/disclosures: no edit we die like men, a little bit of violence, implied smut, Jungkook is tall, dark and handsome, Hoseok is done with your shit, spanking, violence kink?? Is that a think?, cameo from yoongi, joongki must die I don’t think I missed anything but yeah let me know if you see anything!

main ml • AO3

There isn’t much that bothers Jungkook, not by a long shot. He’s a particular kind of man; he takes everything with a grain of salt so he usually isn’t bothered by anything a simple grunt has to say about him. He is however annoyed at the way this grunt speaks of you. All the nasty things he’s got to say about you, how he thinks a cock hungry slut like yourself is fine with anyone as long as they can fuck you stupid. And Jungkook doesn’t like that one bit as he runs the tip of his tongue over his lips. It does nothing to quell the simmering anger that sits beneath the twitch of his fingertips. He can hear a few snickers here and there others throwing in their own thoughts.

Hoseok can see the glazed look that fills Jungkook’s eyes the longer their subordinates speak ill of you. He’s known the younger long enough to understand his limits and this was a limit. It’s a peculiar thing to Hoseok the way Jungkook is with you, he’s soft and sweet but not all the time. And Hoseok will admit he’s walked in on his fair share of your sexual escapades to know that you and Jungkook were something completely different. If he were to compare your relationship to anything he’d say a modern day Harley Quinn and the Joker except with a whole lot less crazy. You two had your moments but he hadn’t seen anything too extreme, yet. The fact was Jungkook ran the biggest underground operations in the world and you, well you were his biggest asset.

Hoseok knew you were good at your job, better than most almost as if you’d been born for it. Now he isn’t saying that you don’t play the ditzy slut well because you do but he knows you’re much, much more than that. You let the underlings believe you’re nothing but a dumb bimbo who likes to sit all pretty in Jungkooks lap when he so pleases. Let them believe you’re nothing but huge tits with a pussy made of gold to have their boss keep you around like he does. It’s laughable really, especially to Hoseok because he knows you.

He knows that Jungkook is the brawn, the face of the operation but you were the brain. You were the reason Jungkook now sat in a gilded throne like the king of an empire when he came from nothing, and he’d done it all for you. Because if Jungkook was king then you were the queen, his queen and Hoseok respected that. So who is he to try and stop Jungkook from harming easily dispensable nobodies? Truth is he could care less but recruiting is slow right now and he doubts Jimin would have anyone ready to replace the empty positions. He’s sighing before he can think better of it, but as luck has it you come waltzing in.

There’s a distinct click clack that comes from your Louboutin heels every time you step foot in the massive warehouse Jungkook runs the operation from. In fact the previous voices have gone quiet as you easily make your way to the back headed straight for the second floor where Jungkook sits and oversees the work of those beneath him. The long sleeved v-neck bodycon dress you wear molds to your figure in a way that grabs the attention of all of those who’d been previously lusting after you, but this outfit is for Jungkook.

You waste no time taking your rightful place in his lap, both legs thrown over his thighs as you sit sideways to better wrap your arms around his neck. Today he’s wearing red, a silk patterned shirt tucked into his pants with nearly all the buttons undone. His chest is out little glimpses of ink peak out from where the shirt lies open for your viewing pleasure. His fingers have found the slight sliver of skin that lies just above the top of your thigh high boots and below the hem of your dress. He’s quick to draw patterns on the only skin available to him, your gaze falls to the necklace that sits pretty at his collar. A thin silver chain you’ve seen once or twice, it makes him look sexier.

“Hello Hoseok.” you chirp never taking your eyes off Jungkook.

“____, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asks.

“Can’t I just enjoy the company of my boyfriend and his right hand man?”

“No, there’s always something with you.” he sighs gaze moving to Jungkook who has begun to mouth at your neck as you giggle into his ear.

“You guys are weirdly attached at the hip, it’s kinda gross.” Hoseok shudders, before snapping his attention to the sound of voices making their way closer to them. Jungkook, it seems, has also noticed the new arrival pecking your cheek one last time before he’s staring long and hard at one of their subordinates. A boy in his early twenties, Joongki he thinks his name is, personally Hoseok can’t stand him. The boy thinks he’s a hotshot because Taehyung had been nice to him a few times, and had managed to complete a job fairly quicker than some of the others. Had heard him boast that he would definitely be moving up in rank soon, maybe even to the same rank as Yoongi, which was laughable really considering Yoongi did a lot of one man jobs and was good enough to have been recruited to the CIA.

But he supposed a boy could dream, it would take him decades to get to Yoongi’s pay grade and even then it would never happen, not with the way you disliked him. Maybe it’s his arrogance, maybe it’s his swagger (or lack of) but something about his recruitment hadn’t sat well with you. You’d played your dumb bimbo part well when he was around giggling up a storm with him really boosting his ego because it was fun to watch him think your laugh was something he’d said and not actually him. Because as far as you could tell he was a goddamn joke, a real chump and one that they should’ve gotten rid of sooner. But you trusted Jungkook and the boys, so if they kept him around it was for a reason. You’d yet to see it though, today was no different.

Joongki saunters into the room, nose to the sky which already sets you off. Then he’s giving you a once over, the ugly shit brown of his eyes darkened as they zero in on the hemline of the number you’re wearing. You want to wrinkle your nose in disgust because eww you’d never. Then he’s greeting Hoseok and Jungkook like they’re friends, as if he’s on equal standing with them. But what really pisses you off is the way he greets you, the lecherous ‘hey doll’ he let’s slip past his lips makes your blood boil. Heat rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin to the point that Jungkook has to squeeze one of your thighs to reign in your anger.

“Joongki, why are you here?” Hoseok finally asks swallowing thickly, as tension fills the air.

“I’m a higher up now so I’m entitled to the second floor.” He grins, your eyes meet Hoseok’s in confusion, who had promoted this clusterfuck of a human?

“Who promoted you?” Jungkook asks, expression pinched.

“No one directly but Taehyung mentioned a rank promotion a few days ago and I’m the only one worth promoting.” You laugh, an ugly gut busting laugh that fills the halls and startles the others that occupy the floor.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” You say in between hiccups. His eyes narrow at you.

“What would a fucktoy like you know? You’re just here because Jungkook likes an easy fuck.” He spits. Oh what a poor fragile ego he has, you think with a smirk.

“Oh honey I’m more than an easy fuck.” You stand now, easily stepping into his space, in your heels you're a few inches shorter than him. Today was the perfect day for these, you think.

“Yeah, you fancy yourself a housewife? Sorry but whores like you could never be a housewife.” You land a solid blow to his cheek, stupid disrespectful kids. Your hand throbs, the warmed metal of the rings you wear press into your palm as you curl your hand into a fist again. You raise your fist ready to hit him again when a hand wraps around it, pressing into the split skin of your knuckles pulling a hiss past your lips.

“That’s enough, you hurt your pretty hand.” Jungkook says, prying your fingers from the tight fist you hold. Your gaze meets his anger burning in their depths, because this kid was so damn disrespectful. He needed to be put in his place, you refused to let a turd like him talk to you like that.

“Put your bitch in her place.” Joongki spits and Hoseok let’s his eyes fall closed because he doesn’t need to see what comes next.

*

You shove Jungkook against the wall, lips finding the skin of his chest easily. He groans carding his fingers through your hair, tugging on the ends a bit. He’s not surprised that you’d pulled him out the room after he’d beat the shit out of Joongki, it’s one of those things you’d liked about him way before you’d built up this empire. It’s never occurred to him to ask just what you liked about him beating someone up, but he wants to ask now. He wants to know what makes you so much more eager to take his cock, you’re nipping at his jaw, hands tugging his shirt from his pants. He moves to unbutton it but you stop him with a whine.

“Don’t take it off.”

“Hmm?”

“I like it like this, looks sexier.” You sigh, pressing your lips to his a little too desperately.

“Like this, fuck me like this.” You whimper rolling your hips into his. He smirks as you fumble with tugging his pants and boxers down to free his dick. His hands slide under the hem of your dress pulling your panties down, letting they slide down your legs. He pushed the skirt up around your hips landing a solid smack to one of your cheeks, you let out a choked gasp relishing the sting as he smooths his palm over the area. He’s going to thoroughly fuck you, he thinks smirking as you whine needily pressing your tits tighter to his chest.

*

Yoongi stands in the hallway when Hoseok makes his way out the room. He feels like he’s aged years just being in there for that long. He hates when he has to deal with the two of you.

“I saw the lovebirds scurry that way.” Yoongi offers, nodding his head in the direction of the sole bedroom in the warehouse.

“I figured, how’d the job go?”

“Fine, better than expected I had wanted to talk things over with ____, but she’s busy.” He laughs good naturedly.

“Yeah, those two can be domestic as fuck sometimes.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is dangerous. I’ve seen both of them do some pretty crazy shit.”

“Makes you wonder if maybe they’ll ever settle down.” Hoseok sighs.

“This isn’t a family kinda life.” Yoongi mutters, turning on his heel and leaving Hoseok on his own.

#heartsforbtsnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #alternative universe: mafia #jeon jungkook #reader #jungkook fic #emm writes #mine writings #bts fics #mine

[yumestar19]

Can you make him confess... his sickness!?

When they heard Christo moaning, the demons instantly knew something was wrong. Even Red Magnus let his fist drop and stopped in the middle of his training to face his troublesome-looking friend.

"Are you okay, Christo?" Red Magnus asked with a smile that was too cheerful for Christo to look at, so he dropped his glance.

"I'm fine." He simply said, shaking off the sick feeling that made his limbs ache like... Damn, he couldn't even find a simile. He pushed two fingers against his throbbing temple, silently wishing for the pain to ease. Of course, this would have required luck and let's say luck was something he didn't have because his superior always picked up the worst horoscopes for him. His lucky word for today was "confession". Yeah... He wouldn't go that far...

As Red Magnus didn't stop glaring at him, (his stare almost screamed "suspect", Christo swore he had heard it), the tactician asked politely, "Why don't you continue training?"

"'Cause something's super wrong with you."

Christo's smile dropped, but he tried hard to make a good expression. At least, he had worn a smile for a split second, before the harsh coughing made him hide his face into the soft fabric of his cape.

"I'm fine", he mumbled, sounding less confidently than before.

"Ohohoho, nobody said anything about you not being fine just now" Seraphina's laugh hurt in his ears and he sunk deeper into the fabric, closing his eyes.

"But my, you really look pale", she said at least with a compassionate tone of voice that made her sound like a worried old lady.

"Don't you two have anything better to do than mocking me with your lame jokes?", Christo asked and looked up when he had made sure that there was no blush on his face anymore. Still, he felt like his cheeks were on fire and he could see on his friend's faces that they knew it, too.

That he, an angel, had come down with something only demons could catch.

A demonic sickness.

Damn, how he hated the small grin on Seraphina's face.

"If you are truely sick, then I may need to drop the "you're an angel" attribute of mine, because only demons can get sick, but you should know that."

Christo growled to himself. Why did this spoiled princess always twist the knife into his wound? Didn't he feel awful enough already? Wait, he just needed to think hard... Think hard, think hard... Damn, his headache was killing him. And still, he didn't know how to escape from the situation.

"You know, I don't know why you always mistake me for an angel. Do I have anything in common with such low creatures?" While saying that, he imagined the dumb grin of his superior and it felt so right to continue talking, "Angels are disgusting, awful creatures that will surely accuse you of anything randomly, like... They don't even have proof-supported reasons!" He shook his head like he couldn't believe it.

"So, you're calling me an angel, Christo?", Seraphina asked with a grin wider than the devil's mouth when consuming helpless human souls.

"Y-Yes, ehm no, of course not, no one's an angel here..." Christo looked around like he wanted to make sure. Sweat dropped from his forehead and he was now sure that his body temperature has risen to 200°C, at least it felt like he had developed a moderate fever. Damn, when did the atmosphere turned so hot? Even his throat felt sore and burned and it didn't help with the cough. Oh, when did he cough? He forgot to cover his mouth and yes, they heard it loudly.

Double failure: Usalia and Zeroken just came around the corner.

Now, he was ready to burst into flames.

"What's wrong with you, plip?" A worried child voice squeaked out. Usalia ran as fast as her small legs could carry her and she stopped sharp in front of him. The noisy scratch of the wooden floor made Christo grit his teeth.

"Nothing, nothing", he replied, keeping his composure. Of course, he felt fine. Of course, he was okay. He sense the alrightness throughout his entire body. NOT. (Expect you took away the bone aches, the clogged-up nose, the killing headache and the irritating feeling in his throat, but who would be so kind to stop his suffering? No one, of course.)

"You moaned about your pain a few minutes ago", Red Magnus reminded him.

Christo sighed and looked at all of them. Anger formed a knittering winkle over his nose. Somehow, however, he managed to not shout at them, as it was obvious that they weren't the cause for his malaise.

"Don't you all have something better to do than messing up with another person's life when they are in the middle of a cri... Critical thinking process?" He bit his tongue, surely he almost let the truth slip out. He shook his head and shook it again and again, until he felt so dizzy that he needed to steady himself with one hand on the wall. He smiled like the support made him look cool, when in fact, he looked like he was about to fall over. Zeroken rushed on his side and couldn't stopped himself from making an 'Awwww'-sound.

Of course, God hated him.

"Nawww, you look like a drunk."

"Have you got yourself a drink, plip?"

Christo was short before shouting that angels didn't carelessly drink (although he wondered if his superior had one glass or more whenever he called for stupid reasons), but he kept his mouth shut. There was the urge to cough, building up like a small fire that turned quickly in a major fire. How long was he able to resist? How long could he breathe? He heard the rattling, the little shakes in his voice when he spoke.

"I'm really... fine. Just a little... tired from... thinking."

'Or perhaps, a little bit too much tired from dealing with all of this disturbing non-sense', he thought for himself. It was then that he realized he was tired. Really tired. He could doze off in an instant. Of course, that was no option... Not here, not in front of them.

But this wooden floor almost seemed comfortable... He just needed to let himself fall on it, curl up and sleep. Every problem of his would be banned from the dream world. No pain, no cough, no sniffle, no disturbance.

He still had his pride though. That's why he didn't fall for it...

"Christo, you seem kinda pale. Better sit down." Killia advised him.

Of course, he didn't listen. He just focused on the voice. Had Killia's voice always sounded that soft and lovely like the singing voice of an angel? If so, he hadn't noticed until now. Perhaps, feverish illusions. He was fine with them.

"I'm okay, sweetheart", he said.

Wait... Did he just call Killia 'sweetheart'? Surely, the fever must have gotten higher. He shook his head and he immediately regretted what he just said.

"I knew he was gay!" Seraphina shouted half-angrily, half-victorious. How could a person be angry and victorious at the same time? It was a question that Christo never considered asking. But suddenly, he really wanted an answer. But first, he should clear the misconception.

"I'm not gay", he told them. Quietly. It was almost a whisper.

"You speak without confidence. I just found you out", Seraphina said, adding her usual Ohohoho-laugh at the end.

"I'm not gay!" Christo said now louder. It didn't help with his sore throat. He felt the fire burning. In his heart, too.

"If anything, I'm pan."

"Gay or pan, it's the same though", Seraphina told him.

"It's not the same, Seraphina." Killia told her. Surprised, she turned around and looked at him with her mouth open.

"And you consider yourself...?"

"Bisexual", Killia said with a bright smile.

Now, they were talking about sexual identity. Great. Christo really meant it. It was great that they didn't focus on his ill... He shook his head. He wouldn't even call it sickness for God's sake. He would go with "a little bit under the weather". Nothing several. Maybe, he should think about renaming it after his harsh coughing send him mercilessly down on his knees.

And the attention was back on him again.

He heard steps coming closer. Felt like a horror scene. Shadows were above him. The air was thick and it was hard to breath. He swallowed and it hurt. He clinged on his chest as the pain grew inside him. First, a little pounding, he could bare it, it's okay. Then, as the coughing started again, the pain was a cross over his chest, squeezing all the air out of him. Felt like monsters were laying their cold hands on him, suffocating him. He gasped for air. His breathing was out of rhythm, something between deep intakes and short outcomes. Almost like a panic attack. Was he panicking? He didn't know. Didn't want to know. The pain was the only thing he could focus on. And his breathing. He needed to calm himself down. Breathe in, breath out. Damn, why was something so simple so hard right now? Rattling. Didn't sound good. Should he sit up? Should he lay down? Was he able to move?

Questions overhelmed him. Unregular like his breathing. Uncontrollable. He was desperately trying to grab answers. Grabbed someone. Who was it? A demon? He would have laughed if he had had breath for it. He was safe. Maybe, he thought so. Safety didn't exist in the Netherworlds, did it? Why should he feel safe?

He pushed the hands aside with all the strength he could muster. His own hands reached for his bow and arrows. Could he make a hit in this condition? He wasn't sure. His finger trembled as he put them on the wooden grip. Sweat. He could taste it. Salty and bitter. He bit his tongue. The blood tasted like metal. Disgusting. He put the arrow between the arrow rest and shelf, then bend the strings. His fingers wouldn't stop shaking. Something awfully felt wrong.

The shadows stepped away from him. Scaried faces. Oh, he must be looking like a psychopath. His hair all messed up, his eyes red like blood, his pupils reduced to small points. Survival bonus. The tension of the string shook his body. He let go of it. Didn't saw what was hit. Just a sound similar to metal crashing. Then, everything went silent.

He smiled seemingly happy, then he crashed to the ground.

"Christo!"

Who was calling the angel's name?

It wasn't even his real name though.

"Christo..."

His name sounded funny. Was it a German word? 'Christ' maybe? Or did it come from the word 'Christmas'? He was born one day after the holy night. Coincidence, maybe?

"Christo!!"

Now, they were getting annoying. Voices calling out for a codename... Oh, wait, they didn't know it was one.

He was really dumb when being unconscious, wasn't he?

For the sake of not being called dumb, he opened his eyes, only to look into a burning light. He thought he was looking into the sun. Beautiful. Not really. It hurt.

He closed his eyes again, moaning. Maybe, rainy days were better days to get back to consciousness.

"Christo..." A quiet voice said.

"I wanna sleep", he replied, grabbing a pillow. He coughed softly into it. His throat still felt awful. Even more burning than before. He couldn't resist to the coughing urge, so he hid his face in the soft fabric, swearing to never let go of it. Somebody gently removed it from him.

"You need to keep your airways open" this someone said. It was Zeroken who put a worried glance on him.

"You really scared us, bro."

"I was so worried about you, plip!"

"Yeah, you made us super worried!"

"I'm glad you're awake." Killia said, even smiling a little.

"But you didn't need to attack us so suddenly, did you? Not that I was scared. I know how weak you are, ohohohoho!"

Christo looked up at them and met everyone's glances. Behind their kind faces worries lied. He couldn't even imagine how they felt right now. Maybe better than him. Maybe worse than him.

Maybe, they felt the same.

There was a call. From his superior. He didn't care for answering. Not now. He was feeling weak. Weaker than before. But somehow... Cooler.

He felt a cold towel on his forehead. Refreshing. He calmed down a little, he even relaxed. His thoughts were still a mess. He couldn't figure out where he was.

The underground was soft. A mattress? And there was a blanket... Though, he wasn't under it. He wished he did. He was shivering. Was it winter? Was there even weather in the Netherworlds?

No, he guessed no, Celestia hadn't snow either.

"Shhh, you are in the hospital" Killia explained while stroking through Christo's hair. It was a simple act, but it was good enough to calm the angel down.

"H-Hospital?" Christo asked weakly. He seemed to not know what it was. Something off the place. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't sick.

Coughing.

Maybe a little.

Harsh coughing.

Okay, he was really feeling down and ill and he had never felt that horrible in his entire eternity life.

His coughing eased a little. He put a hand on his chest in hope of finding the pain and rib it out. Then, he wouldn't need to feel it anymore.

This pain... It was cross-shaped. Though, he didn't know why he thought so. Just felt like it.

Someone put his hand on his. It was Killia. A warm touch. A wonderful feeling. If he hadn't been that sick, he might have smiled about it.

"Tell me what happened", Christo begged. He couldn't live with his ignorance.

"You attacked us, but you didn't hurt us", Killia told him.

"The healer said you had a high fever" Zeroken added.

"But a really really high one! Like... 41°C or more, plip!"

"A dangerous temperature for angels." Seraphina added. Her voice unusually cold.

"This was needlessly added" Christo said, "Cause I am not an angel!"

He coughed. Then, he coughed again. Suddenly, he remembered his lucky word.

Confession

Why was it so big in his head? The word felt out of place. It didn't sum up the story. Maybe he should just go over with it.

He opened his mouth, but he closed it in an instant. He didn't feel ready to tell them.

In truth, he never wanted to confess.

Especially not when all forces of the world were against him.

This couldn't be one of his lucky days. He knew it.

And when all of his friends were looking at him, troubled, worried, maybe even scaried, he couldn't tell them.

He looked away, breaking with all of their glances. He felt the rush of the fever. An energy draining and pushing at the same time.

He opened his mouth again. This time, words came out.

"I need to tell you something", he said.

"I'm actually... You see, I'm actually... An..."

"Sick, you wanna say?"

Killia was really a blessing. Christo just nodded.

It seemed like the confession took a little bit of his burden.

And soon, he would recover...

[luckyfirerabbit]

Jaune Doe pt 5

Even though she is up early every day for work, it's no different on her days off. Blake Belladonna is a creature of habit because routines are comforting, calculable, easy to plan around. It's structure, and she, and Yang, can appreciate a sound structure.

Blake stretches, arms already over her head as she lays in bed, her ears folding flat as the tension in her muscles peaks and she grunts quietly. The bedroom is washed gray with traces of sunlight from outside the one window, making her blink before her vision clears. One hand reaches for the nightstand, habitually gathering her scroll that she might have a preliminary glance at it. There's a couple messages for her to flip through with a swipe of her thumb. A couple are from regular clients, texts for appointment changes, the last one is from Pyrrha -call me when you get a chance- which rouses her more fully awake. She gently shifts out from under the blanket, all but silent, and eases to her feet. She barely gets into her slippers when she hears stirring in the bed couple with little huffs and grunts.

She hurries quietly around to the other side of the bed, smirking at the way Yang searches blindly for her in the vestiges of sleep with her stump. Blake knees down, pushes a few wild curls of hair from her face, and then gently kisses her cheek.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm not leaving." another little kiss, "I'm going to start breakfast." And a third to drive the assurance home. She'll wait until Yang settles again before straightening and heading out of the room. She needs the sleep, Blake thinks and finds comfort in it; this particularly harsh depressive bent is almost over, now Yang is just trying to recover from it.

With scroll in hand she moves through the house to the kitchen, methodically going from cabinet to cabinet to fetch everything she needs. With her eyes trained on her scroll as she files through the contacts, Blake manages to flawlessly fill the tea kettle and get it on the stove. By the time she's actually calling Pyrrha, half of her body is bent over into the now open refrigerator.

"Good morning, Blake!"

Blake flinches away from her scroll at the enthusiasm and volume of the greeting, not expecting it at all considering it's this early on a weekend. "Good morning, I got your message. What did you want to talk about?"

Blake continues about her business while closely listening, her feline ears ticking this way and that as she splits her attention. As she breaks eggs into a still cold skillet, Pyrrha tells Blake about her last visit with Jaune Doe. Blake is a little wary because she sounds a bit hesitant, which isn't like the lawyer at all.

"He remembered something, I think. I didn't mean to but...I upset him."

"It's probably not you personally, Pyrrha; sometimes recollection can be traumatic, some patients I've read about claim it can be like living the event all over again." Blake bites her tongue against a yawn. "And he's still very fragile. Even though he's in recovery, he's still under a great deal of stress, so I'm not surprised he had such a strong mood swing."

"I didn't mean to do it, really."

"I know, and he probably knows that too." Now Blake is gathering some ham and vegetables onto the cutting board beside the stove, pulling a knife from the block and spinning it in her hands before setting the blade to work. "Have you visited him since?"

"No, I've been kind of scared to. I don't want to stress him out any more than he already is."

"You should. And when you do, tell me how it goes; I could learn a lot from how he handles it."

"Why don't you go see him then?"

"It's too early." Blake resists the urge to shake her head, knowing to do so would send her scroll tumbling to the floor. "I won't be able to do any real work with him until after he's discharged and had some time to...settle down, so to speak. As long as his life is in flux and he doesn't have any stability, I can't do much to help him." Because it's hard as hell to heal the mind when one's life is stable, it's all but impossible when it isn't. "But the more information I can get now, the better."

"Okay, I'll try." the reply sighs across the connection.

"If you don't mind my asking," Blake pauses long enough to turn the stove on, "did he tell you about anything? What he remembered?"

"Oh yeah, that's what I meant to lead with." Pyrrha laughs, sounding a little embarrassed at her own distracted self. "He remembered falling out of the window, but he also knows who he was trying to get away from. He said they didn't use names, just titles,"

Blake feels herself tense unconsciously.

"He called him the Butcher."

Blake's brow furrows as she exhales, that tension peaking for a split second before she forces herself to let it go.

"I thought to talk to you about it because I remember you told me Yang might know him, and-,"

"Smart move." Blake cuts her off, part of her too afraid to wait and hear what else Pyrrha meant to say. "Pardon the segue, but have the police finished canvasing the area where they found your guy?"

"My guy," one could almost hear Pyrrha rolling her eyes, "but yeah, they did. They found the window he fell out of -his blood at the scene, you know- but the room inside was empty, no trace of anyone."

Blake's jaw clenches, molars creaking lightly.

"But I get the feeling this Butcher isn't the same guy who did the scarification. That means there's probably more than one abuser."

"I know there is."

"But...Blake?"

Her mouth opens to answer, but the words die in her throat as she hears the bedroom door creak open from across the house. "I can tell you more about it when I see you Monday. But think about what I said, try to see him again if for no other reason than to have a reasonable outlet for your impulsive need to apologize."

Blake doesn't expect Pyrrha to laugh at that, because the words had an unintentional edge to them, but she does.

"Okay, Blake, thanks. I'll see you Monday. Tell Yang I said hello."

"I will. Goodbye." and then she ended the call with a tap of her thumb, setting the device down on the counter in order to give her full attention to the stove. Not even a minute passes before she feels the weight of one strong, muscular arm pulling around her waist.

Then there's a stout body lining the Faunus' spine and lips at her neck. "Morning, baby." comes a soft, warm rumble.

"Good morning." Blake reaches with her free hand, sliding her lithe fingers between Yang's thicker ones.

"Mmm, you're making breakfast in your pajamas, you know what that does to me." Yang grins against her shoulder before kissing the bit of bare skin there. "Who was on the phone?"

"Pyrrha. Work stuff."

Yang hums in acknowledgment. "No offense, but I don't want to know."

"None taken, because I wasn't going to tell you." They both know how precarious it could be, so they both know when to keep their distance. "But it's good to see you out of bed at a decent hour."

"All for you." Yang's arms just squeezes, pulling them that much tighter together. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"Sure." and she's quietly grateful that she didn't have to push Yang to do it. Depression isn't exactly the most hygienic of illnesses. "Take your time."

"Thanks. And I'll wait until I've brushed my teeth before trying to shove my tongue down your throat."

"Much appreciated." Blake giggles, squeaking when that big, strong hand pops against her butt.

-----

Pyrrha creeps up to the ajar door, peeking through the opening as if to see the coast is clear before carefully -carefully- pushing through. Almost immediately she tries to double back, having looked into the bed to see him sleeping. Mentally berating herself she spins on her heel to try and leave.

"Hey, it's okay, you can stay."

"I'm sorry," She turns again, slowly, cringing with guilt. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes." which is true; they feel sore and swollen, like the knot on the back of his head. Jaune tries a hesitant smile. "It's good to see you."

"Velvet said you asked about me,"

"Yeah." he nods and pulls a hand down his face. "I want to apologize. For the other day."

Pyrrha exhales, relieved for a reason she can presently name. She smiles back at him sweetly, softly. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."

His eyes avoid her. "Sure I do. I was awfully rude."

"Jaune, listen," she weighs the words first, bracing herself to say them in hopes of them not being the wrongs ones. "I...you've been through a lot, I can tell, even without all the gory details. And I know...you're still going through a lot. Everything...I bet you feel overwhelmed all the time. Like things are never going to get easier."

"Some times, yeah." he nods again. "But that's not an excuse to snap at you, or anyone else. I'll do better."

"And I appreciate the effort. But, by the same token, I probably wasn't helping matter with my being nosy,"

"You weren't being nosy,"

"I was, so I brought you something." She has a brown paper bag tucked under her arm, and lets it settle on one hand to reach inside it with the other. Pyrrha pulls out a plastic container. "A peace offering."

He smiles and finally meets her gaze."You didn't have to do that, it's not like I'm mad at you."

"I insist." she says, leaving no room for debate. "Plus Velvet told me you haven't been eating much, so I thought maybe something home made would help your appetite. Because, let's face it, hospital food kind of sucks."

He just nods again, forgoing the explanation that it wasn't a stunted appetite, but just a sense of familiarity of going long periods without being able to eat. His brain was telling him he wasn't hungry, even though he had only had small bites for the last few days. Can't let you eat too much, clients don't pay for fat.

Still, Jaune laughs and relents to take the container and the plastic spoon sitting on top of it when she passes it forward. He likes the soothing warmth coming through to his hands. Popping off the lid lets a little steam waft up into his face, gives him a chance to catch the powerful aroma. "Can I ask what it is?"

"My mom's chicken curry, at least it's my best attempt at it." she giggles and shifts on her feet. "You ever had curry before?"

"If I have I don't remember."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gasps.

"It's okay." Jaune laughs as he takes the spoon in his hand. Before taking a bite he looks up at her. "You can sit if you want. Unless you have somewhere to go,"

"Oh, no, not really. So, yeah...guess I'll sit." she all but scurries to the only chair in the room, sitting prim and pristine in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"You're awful nervous for a lawyer, can't imagine what you're like in the courtroom." one last snicker before he puts the loaded spoon in his mouth. "...This is actually really good. Would you be mad if I ate it all?"

"I brought it for you." she assures him, her smile a little smug.

"Thank you," he says quickly, excited even, taking three more quick spoonfuls. He tucks it in his cheek long enough to ask, "so why aren't you in court? How'd you land this job?"

"Well," she shifts in the seat, getting comfortable for what she has always thought was a lengthy, somewhat boring story, "I actually started out on this hospital's legal team shortly after I got married, I've been here about seven years. Spent the first half of that just on retainer, I was hardly even hear most of the time, though. But I eventually found what I initially thought was just an enormous amount of improperly coded bills, but that turned into a fraud ring that almost the entire staff was in on."

Jaune stopped shoveling food in his mouth long enough to look at her with wide-eyed surprise.

"I built the case from the ground up, almost by myself because I couldn't trust the rest of the team, and I led the prosecution...three quarters of the hospital staff was let go after all was said and done. After that I founded the Patient Advocacy department."

"Wow." Jaune manages around a full mouth, then he swallows and chuckles. "Nice to know I have Wonder Woman on my side."

"Oh, stop," she blushes and buzzes her lips. "Being a decent human being isn't a super power."

"Sure could have fooled me."

"I...yeah, I guess so." she feels her ribs clench with sympathy. He'd been through so much, she's surprised he has any hope in human kindness left at all. "Still, super power or not, I'm going to put it all towards helping you."

By now he's finished, the empty container in his lap and between his hands. For a moment he just rests there, looking satisfied and full and strangely more human. He lets out a shallow but contented sigh before lifting his head and looking at her, his expression and blue eyes the softest she's seen yet.

"You know...I think I'm starting to believe it." though he isn't sure why. What's so different about her? Why no anxiety, no suspicion? How is it possible that he can find more trust for her than for the doctors who literally saved his life?

But now that softness leave his face again, replaced with deep lines and shadows. "I, um...I remembered a little more...if you want to know."

Pyrrha blinks. "Oh? I mean, you don't have to tell me now. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I could find an officer to take a statement,"

"No, no, you don't...I'd rather it be you."

"Okay, whatever you're most comfortable with."

He nods, grateful but unable to say so as his mouth has dried a little. "I, um," he clears his throat, feeling the anxiety tugging at his ribs, "The marks on my back. I don't know what they look like, but I remember the title of the one who did it. They called him the Artist...and he had a tail. At least...that's what I think it was. I...I think I woke up too soon, he was still...working on me, I guess."

Pyrrha doesn't realize she's holding her breath, only that her pulse has picked up and her stomach is about to drop.

"I mean, I could have dreamed it all -I was on a lot of drugs- but...something tells me it's real. And...the guy kept calling me Rabbit. That was my title." and that last bit he says with a sense of awe, maybe, as if he's remembering it in real time. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry, that got weird."

"No, not at all. You're doing great." she assures him, hoping the sparks of anger and empathy aren't audible. "Thank you for telling me, Jaune, I appreciate the trust. I'm going to add it to your file, is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure, guess so. If it helps you."

"It's going to help a lot of us." she nods. "Speaking of which, I need to get back, I've got work waiting on me."

"Sorry to keep you." though his remorse is tarnished by the little smirk he offers her. "See you tomorrow?"

She stands up, approaching the bed to retrieve her container with his nod of thanks. "I'll try and squeeze you in to my busy schedule."

"Hopefully not too hard, broken ribs you know."

She laughs, gods above she can't help but laugh just like she can't help the redness rising up into her cheeks again. "Get some rest."

"Yes, ma'am."

#jaune doe #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #bumbleby #blake x yang #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

[builder051]

My world’s on fire (how ‘bout yours)

Nat on Fire 9.0.  

Please note that I do not write scat outright, though this fic relies heavily on the idea of it.

Eating disorder tag warning

________________________

It’s not supposed to happen this way.  

Nat rests her cheek on the toilet seat.  It’s gone sticky with either her sweat or her vomit; she doesn’t care much which, and she’s certainly not going to take any steps to find out. Her gorge rises again, and she lets the preemptive saliva run out the side of her mouth.  It hangs in a long rope that refuses to touch down into the cloudy water.  Nat’s sure that if it did, it would part company with her lip, and she could tidy herself up.  But no such luck.  

Her stomach gives an ominous gurgle, and Nat clenches her abdominal muscles.  “No,” she growls, giving the side eye to foil packet of laxatives that didn’t quite make it into the trash can.  It’s the second packet.  Her hands got shaky and her gut started doing somersaults before she could successfully lob it across the tiny bathroom.  

It’s not supposed to happen this way.  

They’re onto her at SHIELD; Fury giving her extra-long stares in meetings, Maria tapping her pen as Nat steps on the scale in her medical debriefs.  Then there’s Steve, who practically lives with her when he’s not called away on missions of his own.  “Just want to make sure you’re alright,” he says.  “Because I care about you,” he says.

Plainly he doesn’t care enough.  He took his bike back to Alexandria after the plane touched down last night, and Nat has seen neither hide nor hair of him since.  Good riddance, she’d thought.  So she’d hopped, skipped, and jumped straight to the pharmacy and loaded up on her favorite brand of laxatives.  They’ve updated the font on the box, and the colors are a little brighter since the decade has changed, but the formulation is the same.  Nat has the ingredients list memorized.  She could probably formulate the medication herself if she had access to all the right -ics and -ates.  

Nat’s rock-hard core can only prevent the inevitable for so long, and when the pit of her stomach begins to feel as though it’s scorching on a bed of hot coals, she reluctantly lets go, leaning forward and letting sourness spill over her tongue again.  

She tastes the plasticky reddish coating.  It’s slightly sweet, and Nat finds herself wondering vaguely how much sucralose is swimming in her stomach.  Or maybe aspartame.  Or even maltitol.  That would be a fitting choice.  She nearly snorts, but it becomes a heave.  A wave of pinkish fluid, chunky with mucous flows into the toilet slowly, almost languidly, as if it’s just dying to choke her on an ill-timed breath.

Nat spits hard, then squeezes her pelvic floor again.  She’ll do just about anything in her power to keep from losing her bowels all over the bathmat.  For a second she considers clawing her way up the tank and plopping down on the toilet seat, but that would be too much effort. And inviting the worst.  No, she’ll stay in her current position, thank you very much.

She’s about to lie the side of her face down again when an infernal buzzing fills her ears.  The bathroom may be the size of a matchbox, but the subway tiling makes it echo like Grand Central Station.  She glances sideways at her phone, balanced on the lip of the bathtub, and rotating slightly with each thrumming vibration.  

It’s Steve’s picture that pops up on the screen, a jaunty shot of him in a leather jacket, standing beside his bike.  Nat scoffs.  The image is practically half a decade in age, but she still feels jealousy along with the pain in the pit of her stomach.  He’s out having fun, or whatever, while she’s cooped up doing... this.

This is her choice, though.  And it’s her choice whether to answer the call.  She bites her lip, tasting a tinge of coppery blood through the sourness and sweetness that are already there.  Nat rolls her eyes, then regrets it almost immediately.  It bypasses making her head hurt and goes straight to her stomach, ramping up the nausea and forcing her to roll to face the mess in the toilet water once more.

The phone stops ringing as she pukes up air and not much else.  Nat sighs in relief, though she’s careful not to relax her body too much.  But her temper spikes again quickly when the devices begins to vibrate again almost immediately.  

“Can’t you just shut the fuck up?” she mumbles, swatting a hand in the phone’s general direction.  The phone stubbornly ignores her.  

“Right.”

Not trusting herself to stray far from the toilet, Nat uses her foot to knock the device onto the floor so she can pick it up.  She snags it in her clammy grip and snorts in distaste before swiping at the green answer button.

“Yeah?” she asks gruffly, hoping the hoarseness in her voice will be lost to a combination of bad mood and bad signal.

“You ok?” Steve asks on the other end of the crackling line.  “I know it’s been a few days.”

Nat wonders if any of her old lines will work on him.  I’ve got the stomach flu, she considers saying.  I ate some bad takeout.

“Having a smoke,” she decides on.  At least it’ll explain the note of guilt in her voice.  

“In the bathroom?” Steve asks.  Of course he can hear the echo.  Of course he can.

Nat struggles to think on her feet.  “Gotta avoid the smoke detectors somehow.”  She tries to grin, but loosening her mouth makes other parts of her body loose as well.  She clenches again and bares her teeth.

“Want me to come over?  Between the two of us we can probably rewire it--”

“No,” Nat interrupts.  The only reason she hasn’t already done so is because the place is a rental.  On the very real chance that a spark from her gun or the ash from a joint hit the carpet, she doesn’t want to be in trouble with management.  She decides to throw in a touch of shade, just for good measure.  “Like I’d need your help with a project like that.”

“Oh.  Sure.”  Steve sounds properly chagrined. “But still, I could pick up something.  Korean barbecue, or something.”

Nat tries not to spill her guts again.  From any direction.  “I don’t like barbecue.  From any country,” she says snootily.  

“Right...”  She can tell Steve’s trying to fact check her.  “But weren’t you at Clint’s thing--?”

“I don’t like it,” Nat insists, which probably does the opposite of any good.  She just doesn’t feel well enough to come up with any other excuses.  Best to keep beating the last horse till it’s well and truly deceased.  Unfortunately, this brings up an image of ground equine like she’s seen in European factories, covered in a generous serving of Carolina’s best concoction of tomato and brown sugar.

Nat pulls the phone from her ear to her cleavage and heaves hard.  For a moment everything hangs in limbo, and she’s not sure where the sickness in the pit of her stomach is going to come from next.  But then with another cough, it’s all down her chin and speckled across the toilet seat, pink and gluey.

“Nat?”  Steve’s muffled voice asks, the phone buzzing in time with his words and sending minute vibrations through her shirt and into her very skin.  “You ok?  What’s going on?”

She has a split second to decide what to say.  If she hangs up, he’ll be onto her in a second.  If she makes an excuse, will he buy it?  Can she claim PMS?  Has she told him yet that she’s infertile?  Nat clenches her abs and glutes as she tries to remember.

“Natasha?”

“I’m just sick,” she says guiltily, hanging her head in mock shame that feels more than real.  

“I thought you were smoking...”  He’s suspicious now.  Nat can practically see the concerned crease between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I was.”  Nat breathes through a cramp.  “I just, uh, it’s been too long.  Turned my stomach.”

She’s surprised when Steve starts to laugh.  “Hm.  Yeah,” he says with a chuckle.  “I know how that is.  Only happened to me about twenty times before Buck finally banned me from cigarettes...”  He sounds almost wistful now.

“Yeh.”  Nat does her best to agree while swallowing another rising gag.

“You want me to come?  Best remedy there is to have something to eat.  Maybe rice and egg drop soup?” Steve offers.  “I promise to leave the barbecue there.”

Nat would smile if she thought she could.  Maybe.  Possibly.  She hasn’t yet decided.  What she can do is grimace as her lower abdomen begins to twist in a manner of more familiar discomfort.

“Nah,” she whispers, trying not to gasp in pain.  “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Steve sighs over the other end of the line.  He pauses, then says, “Ok.  Later, then?”

Nat knows she isn’t getting off the hook.  Best she can do is keep him away long enough to let her empty out in peace.  She doesn’t know how long it’ll take.  Hours, possibly.  

She doesn’t know what time it is, but Nat assumes it’s close to the lunch hour, since it’s light outside and Steve’s so hell bent on food.  “Maybe dinner?” she poses.  

“Sure,” Steve says with what can only be described as a sigh as relief.  It must confirm to him that she’s not too far gone.  

Nat’s pleased with what she’s managed to do, but now guilt squeezes her gut and threatens to make her sick all over again.  

“Eight, maybe?” Steve suggests.  “I’ll bring the food.”

“Yeah, ok.”  Nat’s mouth is watering again, but not with anticipation of the meal to come.  She wants to get off the phone before she vomits again, or, god forbid, before her body decides to do anything else.  “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

“Ok.  See you.” Nat lowers the phone and presses the red button before Steve finishes saying goodbye.

“Ok,” she sighs, lowering her forehead to the toilet seat again.  “Ok.”  She glances down at her phone again to check the time.  Just under seven hours to go.  It’s more than enough time.  She’ll be fine.  

Nat considers bolting across the tiny studio to crack the window and air the place out, but her stomach drops again, and she knows she won’t make it in time.  Oh well.  Just another thing to do later, then.  Along with cleaning up.  Getting dressed.  Readying the disaster of an apartment for favorite unwanted houseguest.  

Because for fuck’s sake, it’s not supposed to happen this way. 

#nat on fire #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #Black Widow #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #captain america #steve rogers #eating disorders #ed tw #laxitives #emeto #emetophilia #illumivomi #hurt/comfort

[darnloveablecharacters]

Prove Me Wrong, Part Twenty-Eight: Come Back

Series Summary:  Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Finally! We are at the gates of Erebor and gah.... again I’m super exited we’ve made it to this point!!!

Warnings for this Chapter: angst, mild cursing because....�� Dáin :)

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged @chevycastiel1967 @rices4me93 @tschrist1​ If you want to be added just let me know!

Caithwistë couldn’t help but fidget as she stood next to Mithrandir amongst the Elven army before the barricade of Erebor. She glanced at the faces of the Company that stood armed at the top, looking smug as if they had already won the battle.

“How can they feel so confident?” She asked as Bard held up the Arkenstone to prove the key to their bargain.

“Thorin is unwell, but not to be underestimated. He will have a plan.” Mithrandir muttered grimly.

Caithwistë frowned and glanced at the top when Kili’s voice rang out. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!”

“The King may have it, with our good will.” Bard said, tucking the Arkenstone back into his pocket.

“Is there any chance of this ending peacefully?” She asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

“No, My Dear. I do not believe so.” He said, patting her gently on the shoulder.

Caithwistë felt sick, but felt even worse when she heard Thorin’s voice. “Throw him from the rampart!”

She could see the commotion on the top, and blanched when Thorin pushed Bilbo to the edge. Without a second thought, she pushed forward through the army to reach them. “Thorin, no! Please stop!” She yelled.

It seemed as if he did not hear her as he continued to try and push Bilbo over the edge. “Cursed be the wizard that forced you on this company!”

“If you don’t like my burglar, then please don’t damage him. Return him to me.” Mithrandir said from behind Caithwistë. His voice boomed loud enough to echo through the valley and the Mountain. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain are you Thorin, son of Thrain?”

Thorin froze at the sound of Mithrandir’s voice and looked up, finally releasing his grip on Bilbo. He dropped his gaze from Mithrandir to Caithwistë and his mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of her.

Caithwistë glanced at Mithrandir, who nodded encouragingly, before taking a tentative step toward the barricade. “Thorin.” She called out. “I understand you have no reason to trust us, but please believe me when I say that no one here wants to see any more death. They only ask for what was promised, then what you desire most will be returned and we can all go home.” She pleaded.

Thorin regarded her silently for a moment before his face contorted with rage. “Us!?” He screamed. “You wish to gain my trust and yet you stand beside my enemies?”

“These people are not your enemies!” Caithwistë argued.

“Enough!” Thorin yelled. “Never again will I have dealings with wizards, or Shire rats, or filthy half-breeds!”

“Are we resolved?” Bard asked, distracting Thorin from his ranting. “The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised.”

Caithwistë caught the sight of Bilbo running toward them out of the corner of her eye and turned to him opening her arms. He ran into her embrace and sighed. “I kept my promise.” He said and Caithwistë chuckled.

“In a way.” She said releasing her grip on him as the sounds of marching reached her ears. “But I fear we are not safe from danger.” She added, turning as a new army approached.

Bilbo gave her a worried glance and she tugged him toward Mithrandir. As they ran, the elven army changed their position to meet the oncoming host, led by a stout Dwarf riding an armored boar.

“Who is that?” Bilbo asked Mithrandir when they reached him. “He doesn’t look very happy.”

Mithrandir grimaced. “It is Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin’s cousin.”

“Are they alike?” Bilbo asked, trying to keep up with the wizard’s long strides.

Mithrandir stopped and regarded them, looking exhausted. “I’ve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two.” He said grimly before moving toward the front of the Elves.

Bilbo gave Caithwistë a shocked look and she could only shrug, taking off after Mithrandir again as Dáin began to address them. “Good morning! How are we all? I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider… Just sodding off?!”

Caithwistë smiled, liking the Dwarf-Lord immediately.

“Come now, Lord Dáin.” Mithrandir said, stepping forward.

“Gandalf the Grey.” Dáin acknowledged and Mithrandir gave him a polite bow. “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood.”

The men surrounding them began to murmur in fear and Caithwistë tensed. “There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves.” Mithrandir said, loud enough for them all to hear. “A legion of Orcs march on the Mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any Elf. Not least this faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then.” Dáin said proudly.

Caithwistë could not stop the grin from spreading across her face at the insult to Thranduil.

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin.” Thranduil quipped as the Dwarves cheered.

“You hear that, lads? We’re on! Let’s give these bastards a good hammering!” Dáin cried, raising his Warhammer. He turned his armored boar toward his army and rode down the ranks, readying them for the attack.

The Elves readied themselves as well and Caithwistë blanched.

“Is this really happening?” Bilbo asked with a quavering voice.

Caithwistë glanced at him and grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Stay with me.” She urged him and he nodded, looking as sick as she felt.

Suddenly, a deep rumbling sound reached her ears and she turned in the direction it was coming from. “No.” She whispered.

“Were-worms!” Mithrandir exclaimed.

As if he had summoned them by speaking their names, the were-worms began to burst out of the rocky hills as if they were nothing more than strips of dusty parchment. Behind them, came streams of Orcs in numbers that Caithwistë could hardly believe was possible.

“The Hordes of Hell are upon us! To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!” Dáin called out, leading his army to the front to meet the Orcs.

“The Elves, will they not fight?” Bilbo asked as they watched Dáin’s army set up a defensive position, barricading themselves with their shields. The Elven army had not moved, and Thranduil was watching the action with wide eyes.

Caithwistë drew her sword and took a step to join the dwarves but was pulled back harshly. “No Caithwistë.” Mithrandir said forcefully.

Caithwistë gave him an incredulous look. “What are you doing Mithrandir? They need help.”

“Yes, they do.” Mithrandir said, giving her a searching look. “They cannot win this battle on their own. If the Elves will not join them, they will need Thorin.”

Caithwistë shook out of his grip and fixed him with a glare. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You have to convince him. I believe you are the only one he may hear now.” Mithrandir pleaded.

“He relieved me of my contract, Mithrandir. He hates me, why do you think he would listen to me now?” Caithwistë demanded.

“He loves you, Caithwistë.” Mithrandir said impatiently. She scoffed and turned back to the incoming battle. “Hate cannot grow without love.” He added softly, stopping her in her tracks.

Caithwistë watched Dáin’s army stand at the ready as the Orcs approached them. Her eyes glistened, taking in the sight of how they had placed themselves.

They were protecting the Mountain.

They were protecting the Humans.

They were even protecting the Elves.

All these lives, they protected with no guarantee that any of them would come to their aid. “I cannot let them fall.” She said softly.

“Then you know what you must do. Go to him. Go to Thorin and make him see.” Mithrandir urged.

Bilbo grabbed her arm. “There is a rope on the left side there.” He said pointing. You can use that to get in, the Company won’t stop you I know it.”

Caithwistë nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “Be brave, Bilbo, and stay alive.”

“I believe that is the most useful advice I have ever been given.” Bilbo said with a smirk.

Caithwistë grinned and gave him one more hug before she took off toward the barricade. She found the rope that Bilbo had mentioned quickly and scrambled up and over the wall, hopping onto the platform.

“Miss Caithwistë, what are you doing here?” Bofur asked, running to her.

“I need to speak with Thorin, now.” She said breathlessly.

“I do not think that is wise, Lass.” Balin said, sharing an uncomfortable look with his brother.

Caithwistë shook her head. “This is not an option, it will only go faster if you help me find him.”

Balin frowned. “You don’t understand…”

“I will take you to him.” Dwalin said, interrupting his brother.

“Dwalin, no.” Balin pleaded, grabbing Dwalin’s arm. “Do not put her through this.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Dwalin asked gruffly. “He is lost and she may be the only way to bring him back.”

Balin opened his mouth to protest but sighed in defeat. “Go then.” He said waving them off.

She walked quietly with Dwalin through the halls of Erebor, trying to figure out what she could say. They stopped in front of a doorway and Dwalin regarded her. “He will be in there.” He said with a wave at the door.

Caithwistë nodded and moved to enter the throne room but Dwalin stopped her with a fierce grip on her arm. “Be careful Lass. He is not the Thorin you know. The dragon-sickness has taken hold of him and I fear that if it crosses his mind, he will kill you. I won’t be far away. If you need me, call and I will be there.”

Caithwistë smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Dwalin, for always protecting me. I must do this though, for our King and for your people.”

“Our people.” He said gruffly with a tight squeeze to her arm. He released his grip and backed away to guard the door.

Caithwistë took a deep breath and entered the room. It was massive, walls made from the greenest stone and lined with streaks of gold. It would have been beautiful to her, if it weren’t for the sight before her.

In the center of the room sat a large throne, and Thorin lounged on it lazily watching Caithwistë approach. He was wearing thick fur lined robes and sported a golden crown on his head, reveling in his fortune.

“Come to share in my riches, half-breed?” He said with a smirk as she reached the steps that led up to the throne. “Your contract is void; you have no claim here.” He finished, sneering.

Caithwistë took another deep breath and addressed him calmly. “I have no interest in gold. I come on behalf of your kin, Thorin.”

He leaned back in the throne and regarded her with disinterest. “And what business does a treacherous liar like you have speaking on behalf of my people?”

Caithwistë felt anger surge within her, but she pushed it down hoping that he would see reason. “The business of one who cares for them, like Thorin Oakenshield used to.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed with disgust. “You care for no one, only yourself. I will no longer listen to your filthy lies.” He said with a wave.

Caithwistë bristled, struggling to control her anger. “You speak to me of not caring?” She spat. “Your own family will die today without your help and yet you sit here on your throne, hiding like a coward.”

Thorin stood, towing over her menacingly. “I am the coward? How many times did you have a chance to tell me the truth of your birth? How many times did you choose to lie instead? You call me a coward, but you are far less than that.”

Caithwistë clenched her fists and met his glare. “Yes, I lied. But look what happened when you did find out the truth. You cast me away, just as I expected. At least I was always there to fight for those I love. I would never abandon my family at the time they need me the most.” She said with disdain.

Thorin growled. “Do not dare speak to me of love. How can you speak of something that you have never felt?”

Caithwistë opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. This wasn’t him; he wasn’t himself. As she watched him, she saw only hate and greed in his eyes and nothing of the one she loved. She shook her head before glancing at him with sadness. “I love Thorin Oakenshield.” She said softly, taking a tentative step toward the throne. “I cannot take back what I have done to him. But I would do anything to make it right.” Thorin froze as she climbed the steps toward him. His eyes darting between hers as she slowly approached with her hands raised.

When she reached him, Thorin glanced down at her injured hand and let out a surprised breath. He gently reached out and took it, turning it over and studied her wrapped palm silently. After a few moments, Caithwistë stood on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear. “If there is anything left of you, please remember that the ones you love need you now more than they ever have. Come back to us.” With that she turned and retreated back down the steps. “I am going to fight by Dáin’s side. Join us when you are ready.”

When she reached the bottom, she turned to look at him one last time. For a moment, it seemed as if he had heard her, but his expression quickly turned back to rage, and he stormed toward her with a new ferocity. “Go then, traitor!” He yelled, unsheathing his sword and swinging it wildly. “You have no place in my presence. Go!”

Caithwistë grimaced at his outburst. “Whatever resentment you harbor toward me, do not let it define you.” She concluded and turned on her heel to exit the room.

She greeted Dwalin at the door and he let out a sigh of relief. “What did he say? Will he come?”

“I do not know.” She said honestly.

Dwalin hung his head in grief and shot a glance back to the room. “Come on then, Lass. I will lead you back.”

“No Dwalin.” She said, stopping him in his tracks. “Thorin is still in there, I know it. There is nothing more that I can say but perhaps you can still reach him.”

Dwalin crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “And what will you do?”

“I think you already know.” Caithwistë said, giving him a wink.

“Aye, I know.” Dwalin said with a nod. He gripped her shoulder tightly and added, “You take care of yourself now. We will see you soon.”

“I’ll try to leave you a few Orcs.” Caithwistë said with a laugh. She turned then and ran back to the barricade.

“My Uncle, is he coming to fight?” Kili asked as she ran up the steps to the platform.

“No Kili, not yet at least.” Caithwistë informed him and Kili’s face fell. “Do not worry, there is still hope.” She said as she moved toward the rope.

“Wait, where are you going?” Fili demanded.

Caithwistë turned and simply raised an eyebrow at him. “There are not many places to go from here are there?” She asked with a giggle.

“I’m coming with you.” Kili said, picking up his sword.

The rest of the Company cheered and began to gather their weapons but Caithwistë would not allow it. “Stop!” She commanded and they froze. “You will not follow me into battle. Thorin is your King and you swore an oath to him. You cannot abandon him now.”

“But what about you? You swore an oath to him as well!” Kili demanded.

“Yes, but I am no longer honor bound to follow his command.” The Company began to grumble at this and Caithwistë sighed. “Look, I know Thorin will come back and when he does, he will need every single one of you at his side. Please, do not give up on him.” She pleaded.

The Company glanced at each other, all taking in her words slowly. Finally, Balin spoke. “We will wait for him, Lass. But please do not get yourself killed out there.”

Caithwistë smiled, “The one goal I have had for my whole life is to stay alive.” With that, she gave them a quick bow and scrambled down the rope. She reached the ground again and moved forward, to battle. She was armed with her bow, her father’s dagger, Emel-o Orcrist and a fierce hope that her faith in Thorin was not misplaced.

Authors note: It was legitimately heartbreaking for me to make Caithwistë miss the moment when the Elves lept over the dwarves to lead the battle. I feel like it would have meant a lot to her, but this conversation needed to happen even more. *sigh* Also, idk if it makes a difference but I was listening to the song Gold Dust Woman from the Dishonored 2 soundtrack when I wrote this. Set a pretty good tone for it, especially when she enters Erebor!

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x ofc

[mrsbhandari]

Don’t Fear the Reaper

A/N: Hello!! I hope you all are staying safe and hydrated and well fed. I know that I haven’t updated AaF in like....a hot minute because I’ve been writing a lot of Haikyuu stuff recently, so I hope this kind of makes it better. I might write a more nsfw part two for this later, but rn this is just a lil one-shot of my fave couple chilling at a sideshow. Also, if you couldn't tell, I listened to Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult while writing this because of the Death refs in this, so I hope that makes a lil bit of sense and that you like it!!

Word Count: 1,538

Warnings: language, nonconsensual groping (but nothing explicit), slight reference to nsfw thoughts, making out

Summary: Colt brings Roze with him on a race. 

Tag list: 

@omgjasminesimone, @edgiestwinter, @bucketofsoup, @donutsgirl36, @desireepow-1986, @lovehugsandcandy, @troublemakerinspace, @client-327

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

The two men were sizing each other up, nose to nose, chest to chest, while Roze looked on helplessly. She knew that if she tried to get in between them, things wouldn’t end up well but at the same time, Colt was going to cause his own destruction if he continued being this reckless at every sideshow they went to. It started with a less-than-innocent foreign hand on her ass that escalated into Colt throwing a guy--Alex? Alan?--into the hood of a nearby car, fully prepared for a fight. Roze yelled to her boyfriend that it really wasn’t the biggest deal and they could just leave, but Colt tasted blood and wanted more.

“How about you race me, then?” Alex/Alan snarled, spit catching on his opponent’s lip. “Whoever wins gets the bitch.” Roze watched as Colt’s hands curled into fists at his side, ready to knock this guy out with one swing. He never did take well to any other man even looking at you; having one call you something anything other than your name brought his blood to a boil. 

“I--Fine.” Colt’s eyes glanced to yours, a nervous look on his face as he considered the stakes. You knew it was all for show. Walking over to Colt messing with his bike, Roze set a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth from his body radiating through the leather. 

“You sure about this?” She never really doubted him, but this track would be tricky with a motorcycle. She always worried about what happened when he was out on the road at one of these races because there was just too much that could go wrong.

“I gotta defend your honor, right? I need to be your knight riding in on my white steed.” He sent her a confident, playful smile that melted her heart, telling her everything would be alright in the end. She almost believed it.

“More like Death on his pale horse.”

“Oh, you’re right. That sounds way cooler.” 

“It’s not meant to--Fuck it, whatever.” She rolled her eyes, immense sadness filling them as he threw his leg over his bike, easily straddling it and sitting comfortably. She always loved how he looked on his bike; she thought he looked like he could be on the cover of a magazine, but she knew that this wasn’t a photoshoot. This was a possible deathwish. He saw how she was looking at her and gently grabbed her chin in his hand. He was wearing fingerless riding gloves and the leather was comforting against her skin. Roze always asked what purpose they served, to which Colt would always respond: “I look badass, Roze."

“How about you come with?” he offered, tenderly stroking her skin with his thumb. 

“You’re not worried about the race?”

“Nope, although even Death needs his good luck charms, and I think having a hot girl clinging to me while I beat this punk’s ass is as good as I can get.” Roze snorted at the shit-eating smile that slithered its way onto his face. She leaned down to press a heated kiss to his lips, effectively wiping the smirk off his face. “Mm, luck is already working.”

“Hey, sexy! Do I get the same treatment?” Alex/Alan bellowed from where he was seated in his car. In a moment of unplanned routine, both Colt and Roze made matching gestures of ill will toward him, causing the racer to laugh loudly and return the favor. “You’re right, I’ll have plenty of time for that tonight when I take your bitch to bed. Oh, I’m gonna make some sweet, sweet--”

He was quickly shut up by the sight of Roze grabbing Colt’s face and pressing it to hers with open-mouthed kisses, hands closing around anything she could to pull him closer. She threw her leg around the motorcycle in front of Colt, facing him so they could continue kissing in the closest possible position. After several seconds like that, she moved her lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking large hickeys wherever she could as she went. Colt glared at his opponent from across the asphalt, keeping uncomfortable eye contact with him as Roze took his hands and moved them down to her ass, revealed largely by her short shorts that he told her to wear so he could show her off. Colt watched Alex/Alan’s face grow redder and redder as he listened to Roze’s exaggerated moans that increased in volume with the tighter he squeezed; the tomato face of his opponent only made him happier that his girlfriend had taken his fashion advice. Finally, she climbed off the motorcycle and took her seat on it again behind her boyfriend, proudly glancing at her artwork stretching across his skin. 

Pulling on a helmet, she turned towards the other man. “You ready?” He said nothing, electing to roll up his window. She bit back a laugh and settled behind Colt, prepared for the immense amount of speed they were going to reach to win. A girl walked between the vehicles and pulled up a flag, signaling the start of engines. The bike rumbled beneath Roze and she didn’t think she would ever tire of the warmth radiating from the man in front of her and the light vibration of the machine she was straddling. To her, they both meant freedom.

The race began and she wrapped herself tighter around Colt, who let out a whooping laugh as he sped along the track, easily passing ahead of Alex/Alan. This was one of the only straightaways, though, so the difficulty would soon come from the frequent turns that could easily overturn the bike. Roze decided not to think too hard about what would happen if Colt were to lose control; he was a good driver, and she had no reason to be scared from the number of times he raced this exact track. 

The feeling of the bike tilting below her with Colt’s hip movements was both terrifying and exhilarating; the road was so close, yet her boyfriend was in complete control. Their challenger hadn’t caught up yet, but judging by the sound of screeching tires, he was trying his hardest to. It was all for naught though since Colt’s easy maneuvering of the road only sent him shooting ahead without giving Alex/Alan a chance to even get close to the bike. It wasn’t going to be a close race, that was for sure. 

A tunnel was coming up, lit up by large lights attached to the cement inside. Going through it and watching the bright lamps flash by in her vision was like entering another world. Colt had given his only helmet to her (he insisted he didn’t need one, but she was still getting him a personalized one that read PASSENGER across the back as an inside joke), so she watched the lights cast interesting shadows on his face, highlighting his cheekbones and determined pout that always seemed to show up when he was driving. She could tell that he was calculating in his head, trying to figure out what he would need to do next to stay in the lead. The hard expression on her face only made her fall more in love with him as heat pooled between her thighs, pressed up against his jeans and jacket. 

The finish was in sight, and their opponent was not. Colt crossed it and easily braked, stopping his bike a few hundred feet away and parking it before helping Roze off and taking her helmet off for her. He had barely put the helmet and his gloves on one of the handlebars when she grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards her, smashing her lips into his to try and pour every emotion she was feeling into the kiss. He eagerly returned it, not giving a damn about the spectators who wanted to congratulate him on winning. Right now, the only thing on his mind and his hands was Roze Wheeler, girlfriend extraordinaire and his driver forever. 

She finally broke apart from him and let go of him long enough to let other people talk to him, but he quickly made it clear that all he wanted to do was go home with Roze. His opponent showed up minutes after he won, heaving as he exited his car and slammed the door. 

“You’re a fucking hack!” he yelled, jabbing a finger in Colt’s face and landing more spit on his cheeks. Colt didn’t flinch, electing instead to raise a fist and connect it to his jaw with a sickening crack! that silenced everyone else at the sideshow. His challenger fell to the ground, out cold, and Colt shook his hand out, bruises quickly blooming along the knuckles. He turned to Roze.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Sure.”

At that moment, Alex/Alan decided to open his eyes to see Colt and Roze climbing on the white motorcycle. “Where are you two assholes going?!”

Colt looked at him laying on the ground, face deadpan and devoid of anything besides indifference. “I’m going to spend the night with my ‘bitch.’ You know how it is.” His face split into a grin. “Oh, but you don’t.” Roze’s laugh carried behind her as they sped off.

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt rod #colt choices #colt kaneko x mc #playchoices #choices rod #rod #ride or die #a bad boy romance #fanfic #fanfiction

[goodproofingwater]

Hi, could you do a second part to the one you did about the domestic violence were he confronts her boyfriend and takes her home and makes her feel wanted and loved? Thanks💜

I love this loving and caring Michael so yes absolutely I can do a part two!Part One | Part Two

Warnings: Strong domestic abuse, violence, threats

Soft scratching on paper was the only noise to be heard as Michael Gray sat at his desk on a Saturday morning, the need to ensure paperwork was up to scratch more than the need to rest especially with all of the drama which polluted his life through his uncles. He had always wanted to be a good businessman, and some of the things which wafted his way from his cousin’s activities were things he did not want to be in the vicinity of. And it was lucky he had chosen that particular Saturday. 

The bang on the door made him jump out of his skin, lucky for the pen being out of its inkwell or the black substance would have ruined the papers he had worked so hard on and had barely finished. He was about to light a cigarette when he heard it, the noise which made his heart and his stomach drop - a woman, who sounded a lot like you, crying. Not just sobbing either, wailing like you had broken an arm and he stood without giving himself a moment to consider it, the sound of a man’s voice cutting through the silence so deafeningly that he could only imagine how loud it was outside of brick and mortar. 

The rendezvous with Michael had become your only solace from home. He had allowed you to work in his office particularly when the bruises were bad, and you found yourself sharing looks you should not be sharing with him when you were engaged. The looks had turned to small touches, and you had been so used to his soft hand on your back to gain your attention that your fiancée’s palm against your cheek felt even worse. 

“I don’t have to put up with this” you had screamed at your abuser, “I could have a better life but I stay here because I want you to get better!” 

It had unraveled from there, the audacity of you fighting back making him angry enough to grab your hair and pull you down Watery Lane, throwing you into the door of the bookies. You swore you could feel a rib crack as he kicked you, and you were glad for the door opening when it did or he may have kicked your head in. 

“What the fuck?” Michael’s upbringing became clear with the distinct mix of Birmingham city and countryside in his accent, emphasised by the words he had chosen. “Do ya mind takin’ ya domestic elsewhere—“ he started, and then your eyes met, the sadness in them almost completely undiluted sorrow as he looked past the fresh bruises to confirm it was you. 

Instead of raging as you had expected, he pulled a cigarette from its case and lit it, giving you a chance to stand as your fiancé made eyes at the man who had long since stolen your heart. 

“Thought I’d bring ya the whore that you’ve been payin’ for,” your fiancé spoke loud enough for the street to hear, and Michael leant a hand to help you up without taking his eyes off the man in front of him, “or did ya think fuckin’ someone else’s fiance was gonna give ya no consequences.”

“I’d keep my voice down if I were you,” his tone was dangerous as he pushed you behind him and into the shop, his eyes slightly squinted as he anticipated his next move. 

“Keep my— you’ve got to be fucking kidding me mate” the sickly laugh which followed was one you were familiar with, and your previous lover let a blade slip from his sleeve as he swung for Michael. The younger man had the foresight to duck, but not to anticipate the fist which sunk into his stomach as a reward for a blade not swiping his throat. 

“Stop!” You shouted, and distracted your fiancé for long enough that Michael punched him firmly in the face, kicking hard at his knees and stepping on his hand as it tried to grip the knife. 

“I said keep your fucking voice down so that you didn’t make a scene, and now look what you’ve done” His eyes looked around at the people who were either walking slowly to get a better look or had sped up to avoid any kind of confrontation themselves. 

“As for callin’ her a whore – she’s done nothin’ but defend you when anyone has asked about the increasing amount of bruises she has come in with so I don’t know what the fuck–” 

“She told me she could have a better life with you so don’t fuckin stand there and act like you haven’t been fuckin’ her behind me back”

The surprise which Michael felt at your confession to the man you were sworn too was hidden as he got more and more angry at the insinuation. He was far from a virtuous man, but he had done nothing but take care of you, had actively made sure that he was never in a situation where what he was implying would actually happen. 

“I’ve not touched her mate, same can’t be said for you.” His eyes were so dangerous that you watched your previous lover falter as he stepped forward, and you wondered if there would be any going back from this, if you had made the right decision or if you had just dragged Michael into hell when he had been such an angel. 

Michael stepped closer to your former lover, his voice matching his eyes as he hissed, “You’re going to stay the fuck away from her or I’ll make sure that knife ends up down your throat understand me?” 

Your former lovers eyes widened as he stepped back at the threat, and he nodded, looking between you and Michael, “You can fucking keep her mate, she’s shit anyway.” and then he left, and you were left standing with eyes from the street staring at you, Michaels arm looping around your waist and pulling the door of the shop shut. 

Michael immediately moved to the first aid box after you had made it to his office, pulling ice from the small container that sat next to his whiskey decanter and placing it in a cloth so that you could press it against your face. The flinch as you sat down worried him more than anything, and he gulped as he realised the suggestion he was about to make was entirely inappropriate. 

“I need you to get out of that dress.” He spoke, cursing himself for using that choice of words out of all the versions that had run through his head as he decided how to approach this. Luckily you still had enough humour in you to let out a small laugh

“I don’t think I’m in the right way for that kind of thing right now Michael even if you did just save my life..”

He shakes his head and tries his best not to think about the insinuation you had just made, “No, I meant I need to see how bad the bruises are..”

You swallowed at his words and bit your lip for a moment before you nodded, standing and unlacing your dress before you pulled it over your head. Michael pulled the blinds down in his office just in case. Although it was a Saturday and no one was here, he didn’t trust one of his cousins not to burst through the door and get the wrong idea. 

The colour of your ribs made his entire body flinch, the large purple and yellow bruise which lay across the bottom of your ribcage and your waist a myriad of different shades and although it took some convincing, Michael called the Shelby family doctor to come and take a look. 

Thankfully there was nothing broken, just severe bruising and some split skin on your face where your had failed to protect herself against the cobbles as you tried to shift away from the offending blows. 

When the doctor asked how it had happened, you begged Michael with your eyes not to mention names, and you were in sync enough for him to understand although he desperately wanted to shame the horrible man who had done this to you. The doctor was used to Shelby illness’, had treated multiple bullet wounds and Tommy’s skull and so he was used to secrets and didn’t press any further.

When he left Michael paid and thanked him, seeing him to the door and walking back into his office to see you struggling to reach your dress. 

“Hey… no, let’s just leave the ice on there for now and we’ll get it back on you when you’re a little more comfortable okay?” He spoke in a tone which was so comforting you had no choice but to agree with him, and he grabbed his jacket to put over your body so you didn’t feel as exposed. 

He sat on the floor next to the couch you lay on watching as your fingers assessed the damage of your face, and he moved to hold your hand if only to stop you making it worse. 

“I don’t want you to leave my side until this is sorted okay?” He spoke softly, kissing each knuckle in turn and moving up your arm until he forced himself to stop at the shoulder. 

“Michael I can’t–”

“Yes, you can.” He speaks to your defiance and shakes his head, “I want you to stay at my place with me, I’ll send someone around to your old place to pick up your things.”

“I can’t just run from this..” You continued and he shook his head, his hand moving to caress the part of your face which wasn’t bruised but you flinched anyway, as if every inch of you was in pain. 

“You’re not running from it because I’m going to make sure no-one is chasing you.” He kissed your hand again and you nodded as he smiled softly. 

“I–” He knew it was too soon to tell you how he has been feeling, too much for him to lay it on you when you were so hurt so he held back and instead whispered, “I’m going to make sure he never hurts you again, and I’m going to show you what it’s like to be cared for, to..to be loved.. If you want me to..” 

Although it pained every part of you to move you did, your hand touching his face as you moved closer to him, your nose running along his own for only a second before you closed the gap that you had been dying to for months. 

His lips are soft at first, testing the waters and moving you back to the position you were in where you were in the least amount of pain, but then they become more passionate, more wanting and loving, his hand squeezing your own as you moan softly against him despite the pain in the rest of your body. 

When he pulled back he swallowed thickly, looking at you as if you are made of glass and letting out a small breath as you smiled. 

“Was that okay?” He spoke and you nodded softly, 

“The perfect pain reliever..” You joked, caressing his face and he kissed your hand softly,

“Would you prefer tea or whiskey?” Is the question he asked but he made both, helping you to drink until you felt that you were ready to move, and he took you home and let you sleep in his bed with him. Each night he kissed you softly, and whispers, “I’m going to protect you for as long as you will have me, beautiful girl”

#this was HARD to write #michael gray imagines #michael gray imagine #michael gray #peaky blinders imagines #Anonymous #lvblurbnight

[dumbbitchenergy17]

I’m Sorry (Part 2)

Summary- You are Michael’s vessel as you are dean’s kid and letting him use you instead of your dad

Dean x daughter!reader

Word count- 3,630

No One’s POV

“Is this...Are you real?” Jack questioned

Holding out his arms as if to gesture to himself “Always.”

“Sam said you're dead. He said Michael killed you.”

Lucifer shrugged “Yeah, I don't like to speak ill of people, but Sam is a big fat liar and he's a bad person and... like, freakishly tall, so,

“I-I don't understand?” Jack questioned

“No, Michael didn't...Sam was the one who left me behind.” Lucifer said acting innocent “What?” Jack said

“Yep.” Lucifer walks closer to Jack to face him “I mean, I think he thought I'd be trapped over there in "Giant Litter Box World" forever, 'cause that worked so well the first time. I don't blame him, though, okay? I mean...for everything that I've done to him, I think, uh, I had it coming, you know? But you know what? I'm moving on.” He explained

Jack responded, “But if the rift is closed, then how are you here?”

“Oh, no. Not ‘how.’ ‘Why.’ I'm here for you, Jack. Because, you know, even though the Three Amigos -- Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Dean’s little spawn -- won't admit it, you need me. You do, 'cause we're blood. And we're not human, no matter how much we pretend to be. See, humans are...limited and fragile. And I'll admit, they bring out the worst in me, I gotta say. It seems like, you know, no matter how much you try to do right around them, something always goes wrong. Follow?” Lucifer sighed

“I ...I know.” Jack frowned Y/n was his friend and she was gone.

Lucifer smiled “Right? And that's not their fault, or ours. It's just, us and humans, we're like oil and water. You know, sardines and strawberries. It's just a bad combination.”

“What do we do?” He pondered

“Leave,” He smiled Lucifer turns from Jack and looks towards the sky, “I mean...there's a whole universe out there, buddy. Planets. Stars. Galaxies. Why should we stay here on Earth when we can go anywhere else? Heck, everywhere else.”

Jack smiled “Like, um, like Star Wars?”

Lucifer turns to Jack excitedly “Exactly like Star Wars. You want a lightsaber? I can make you a lightsaber. Heck, I can make you a Wookiee.”

“But...no. Sam, Dean, and Castiel, they'll miss me.” he frowns

Lucifer placing his hand on Jack's shoulder “Yes, they will. They will. It'll be hard. But you have to live your life for you. Right? This is our second chance, kiddo. This is our opportunity to escape our past and our sins and start over. What do you say? Father, son. You up for an adventure, buddy?”

Jack nodded “I...I'd like that. But there's something you need to do first.”

Back at the Bunker 

“Talked to the other refugees. No one's got any idea who'd wanna hurt Y/n.” Bobby said scratching his beard

“Maybe it wasn't one of them. Maybe...there are monsters in this world that aren't monsters.” Mary said

Jack and Lucifer came down the stair “Jack! Hey --” she began

lucifer sent a small wave “Hey.”

“Kid, what the Sam Hell?” Bobby jaw dropped seeing Satan back

Jack held his hands up “It's all right, okay? He's here to help.”

“He is.” bobby said skeptically Lucifer walking with Jack past Bobby “You know it, Longmire.”

“Call Sam. Now.” Mary said to Bobby

Lucifer and Jack walk into the main room in the bunker. Y/n is lying on the map table. She has been cleaned up and is covered with a sheet up to her neck. Mary follows them into the room. “Hmm. So you're leaving dead bodies on tables now. Nice.” Lucifer smirked

“We were waiting, to give her a Hunter's funeral,” Mary said

“You won't have to. My father, he's gonna bring Y/n back to life.”

“I am?” he said shocked

Mary grabbed Jack’s arm “Jack, what are you doing?”

“What I have to. This...it's my second chance to prove to Dean I’m good.”

Lucifer clapped his hands ‘Yeah, uh, Jack, about this, uh, resurrection stuff -- It's not always a great idea because, uh... you know, people come back...different.”

“Well, Sam didn't,” Jack replied

“Right. Well, Sam's always been...sort of different. You know what I mean? Some would say ‘special.’, lucifer looked over at Mary “No offense.”

“You said you'd do anything.” Jack presses

Lucifer grudgingly walked over to Y/n “Fine. Fine.” He places a hand on Y/n's forehead

Mary leans over to Jack “Has he done something to you?”

“I heard that. Heard it.” Lucifer said annoyed

“Mary, everything's gonna be fine.” Jack placed a hand on her shoulder

“Okay,” Lucifer says Lucifer's eyes glow red. He pulls his hand away quickly and Y/n sits up, gasping. Sam, Dean, and Castiel come rushing through the door on the upper level.

“Jack? Jack!” Sam yells

Dean not caring for Jack staring at his daughter looking at him “y/n.” his voice cracking tears filling his eyes.

“Dad?” She said

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

Y/n’s POV

Uncle Sam, Dad, Castiel, Mary, and Bobby sat are around the map table in the bunker “How did Michael and Lucifer both get here? How did they open a rift?” Sam runs his hand through his hair

“You know what? It doesn't -- We -- we've gotta find Jack before Michael does whatever the hell he's gonna do, okay? I-I'll call Jody and everybody else.” Dean says grabbing his phone

Bobby grabbed his arm “You're gonna put out an APB on the Devil?”

“Yeah, I am.” Dean snaps back passing by you not giving you a single look

“I'll check angel radio,” Cas states to no one

“Sam, even if we find Lucifer, how we gonna stop him?” Mary asks

Hearing footsteps heading to you as you just stare at the wall “Y/n? Hey, sorry. You okay?” Sam asks grabbing your hand

“I'm alive, so... yes? One second I'm with my family and then everything dark and I’m in heaven.” You sighed

“Listen, I-I know this is weird -- so...weird -- but, um, before you...died, do you remember anything about the person that killed you?”

“Does it matter? Kinda seems like you have bigger, you know, Satan-y problems. and Michael here”

“Yeah, but -- but we're -- we're dealing with those. Mostly. Um...But yes, it does matter. It matters to me. and your dad.” Sam says rubbing his hand up and down your back

“I... I never saw his face, but, uh... I saw his eyes.” you said Sam nodded about to continue when your dad walks in “All right, Jody's lookin'. So far, Nada.” he frowns

Cas sits down as well “Yeah, angel radio is nothing but static, which is disturbing.” Dean sighs “Great. Well, we'll just add that to the list.”

“So what do we do now?” Mary asks A loud banging sound and the lights begin to flicker “What’s happening.” You ask your dad coming to your side.

Sam looks at the door to the outside world beginning to shake.

“oh god.”

“What the hell is that,” Bobby yells as the alarms blare

“Mom, Bobby take Y/n and get her out her go through the garage,” Sam says as the banging gets louder and the door shakes

Mary grabs your arm “We’ll buy you time.” Dean says 

“Dad no I won’t leave you!” You yell as mary begins to pull you with Bobby “Go Y/n.” Dean tells you “Dad no. no.” you yell out as you’re pulled out the room.

“Come Y/n we have to go.” mary tells you as tears stream down your face as you yell for your dad. 

Pulling your arm free from her you start sprinting towards your dad as Mary yells your name. Entering the room you see Cas thrown across the room and sam on the ground your dad in a chokehold in Michael's grip.

“Dad!” you yell getting everyone attention 

“Ah the youngest Winchester Y/n pleasure seeing you again.” Michael smirks tighten his grip on Dean

“let him go.” you yell at him 

“Y/n get out of here.” Your dad gasps for air struggling to free himself.

“Dean Winchester will be the first life that I take in this world, the first soul I save. Some would consider that an honor.” He smirks at you flicking his wrist sending you to hit the pole falling on the ground groaning in pain. “y/N! Y/N” Dean yells struggling in his grip

“Well, as Shakespeare once said, eat me, dickbag.” He growls out

Michael smiles and tightens his grip even more. Dean is struggling to breathe. Behind them, Sam is on his hands and knees “Jack, Jack. Jack, I don't know where you are, and I don't even know if you can hear this prayer, but we need you. We need you.”

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

“Could've done this quick, but I wanted to enjoy it, that moment when the soul leaves the body... ‭‬it's beautiful.‬” Michael grins seeing Dean slowly turn blue RIght before he passes out, he and Michael are hit with a shock wave and they fall to the floor. As they fall, Jack appears behind them. Behind Jack, Sam uses the wall behind him to push himself to a standing position. While you push yourself up by the table.

“Jack.” Sam breathes a sigh of relief

I heard your prayer.” Jack answered staring at Michael

“Yeah, it's me. Yay,” lucifer yelped, “Uh, we done, buddy? Buddy?”

As Michael starts to stand up. As he does, Jack's eyes glow and he raises his hand “You hurt my friends.” he growls Michael starts to yell in pain. Black liquid runs out of his eyes and ears. “You hurt my family!” Jack yells squeezing his fist and Michael goes to his knees, screaming in pain

“Whoa.” Lucifer gulped

“Lucifer, we -- we had a deal!” Michael screamed out ‘Deal’ you look over at Sam who was also confused

“Okay, game over,” Lucifer laughed, “Hey, buddy, let's, uh, let's, uh... split, okay?”

“What does he mean?” Jack questioned “I-I-I don't know. I didn't -- I didn't hear.” Lucifer stammered

“They had a deal. Lucifer gets you, and Michael gets everything else. He's gonna nuke our world, Jack, just like he did his.” Dean said walking over to us wrapping his arm around me pulling me closer to him.

Jack looked over at his father “Is that true?” he asked

“‭No! It's not.‬” he lied

“Is that why you wanted us to leave?” jack questioned, “Leave?” You called out looking at Jack with a frown.

“He said -- he said we'd go to the stars.” jack defended his dad

“What, and you're just gonna leave the rest of us here to burn?” Castiel accused Lucifer “Okay. Hold on a second. Let's slow down, 'cause I...I'm not currently the bad guy here.” he exclaimed

“Yeah, tell that to Y/n,” Sam said pointed towards you

“What about y/n?” jack asked about one his closest friends

“She saw the eyes of the person who killed her -- the glowing, red eyes,” Sam said

“You're gonna -- you're gonna believe this guy? Come on, man! Sam's a hater!” Lucifer sputtered

“Tell me,” Jack stated “He would say anything to get you on his side.” lucifer tried getting on jack’s side

Jack moved towards Lucifer, eyes glowing and hand outstretched “Tell me the truth!” He yelled

Lucifer’s eyes start to glow, his head tilts to the side and he starts speaking “She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed, and then...so I crushed her skull with my bare hands. And it was warm and wet, and I liked it.” Dean pulled you closer keeping far away from Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes return to normal and he looks confused “You're not my father. You're a monster.” Jack cries

Lucifer yells “Come on, man!” He bellows so forcibly that you, Sam and Dean cover their ears, his eyes glowing red “Okay. I tried with you. I really tried with you.”

“Everything you told me was a lie,” Jack replied

Lucifer threw his hands up “Because I told you what you wanted to hear, man. So what?! I killed the runt! Big deal! She's a -- she's a human!,” He points at you, “We need fewer Winchesters anyway She doesn't matter!”

“So am I!” Jack yells back

“Yeah? And that's your problem,” he points at Jack, “You're too much like your mother.” Lucifer steps closer

“Jack...” You say

“Stay back. I'll handle him.” Jack holds his hand up

Lucifer laughs “Will you? Oh, buddy. We could've been something, you and me. We could've remade the universe. It would've been great. We could've been better gods than Dad. And I really wanted that, pal. I wanted that. But now if I can't have it with you, I...I don't need ya. I just need your power.”

‭Lucifer produces an angel blade from his sleeve and cuts Jack on his neck

“Jack!” You cry trying to go to him your dad holding you back.

“No!” Castiel yells‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Lucifer grabs Jack's jacket in his fist and sucks Jack's grace into his mouth. His eyes glow yellow as he touches Jack's neck, healing him. Jack looks as if he's going to collapse.

“Jack,” Dean calls to him

Cas yells “Jack!” Dean and Castiel rush forward to grab Jack. As Dean touches Jack, there is an explosion of light. Castiel is thrown down to the ground by the force of the explosion, while Dean is absorbed into it.

“Dean!” Sam yells

“Dad!” You cry out.

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

“What just happened?” Sam asked

“I don't know,” Cas answered equally confused

“The Devil won. That's what happened.” Michael says Your heart drops your dad was with a juiced-up Devil.

Dean’s POV

He lands on the floor in a church. He struggles to his knees. Lucifer is standing in front of him, holding Jack up by his coat collar

“Really, Dean? Hitching a ride? I mean, do you ever quit?” lucifer hisses

“Go to hell.” He spits back

“Hell, yeah.‬ Been there. Done that.‬” He smirks Lucifer drops Jack and turns to kick Dean, knocking him to the ground)

Y/n”s POV

“How do we stop him?” Sam asks

“You don't. After consuming the Nephilim's grace, Lucifer's juiced up. He's super-charged. He'll kill the boy, your brother. Hell, he could end the whole universe if he put his mind to it. And you thought I was bad.” Michael says shrugging his shoulders

“No. No, you beat him. I saw you.” You said pointing at him.

“When he was weaker, and I was stronger. Believe me, I'd love to rip my brother apart. But now in this banged up meat suit... not happening. This is the end, of everything.” Michael holding his arms up showing off his body

“No. What if...what if you had your sword?” You said looking at him Sam and Cas both looking at you shocked “I'm Dean Winchester’s daughter I the next best thing.” you said staring at him a grin forming his face

Dean’s POV

“You know... it's been really fun. I really had a great time with you, but I think we should see other people. What do you say?” Lucifer drops him, his eyes glow orange as he places a hand on his's chest. ‭‬‬‬‬He grimaces and grunts in pain. Behind him, Jack is getting to his feet, his face bloody.

“Stop!” Lucifer turns, dropping him

“Now, why should I listen to you?” He laughs at the now human

“Because...I'm your son,” Jack replies

“Oh, yeah.‬ ‬‬‬Well, you had a chance with that, but,” Lucifer punches Jack in the face, twice. Jack falls to his knees, “Now?‬‬‬” Lucifer punches Jack a third time and he falls to the ground completely. He is standing up behind him.

“As for kids...Ah, I can make more of those.”

He grabs Lucifer by the shoulder, turning him around. Lucifer punches him in the face and he falls to the floor

“Wow, Daddy Dean coming to the rescue. But your little Jackie, the nougat-loving boy that you had before, he's killed, people. He's got lots of blood on his hands.”

He stands up “I don't care. He's family.”

“Ha! What's family done for anybody? My dad left me. My brothers tried to kill me. A lot. Family blows. And I'm gonna prove it to you.” lucifer yells

“What, by killing me? Go ahead.” He sighs holding his hands out

“No, I'm not gonna kill you,” Lucifer points at Jack, “He is.” As Jack and he looked at each other, Lucifer pulls an angel blade from his sleeve and drops it to the floor between them

Y/n’s POV

“Y/n, no,” Cas says looking at you

“I am your sword.” You say

Flashback

“It's you. You're the Michael sword.‬” Zachariah says

“Your perfect vessel.” You looking at him

“Why do you think you are his vessel? Michael You were born to become his other vessel. Gabriel explained when you first meet

“With me, you'd be stronger than you've ever been.“ you state

“Oh, I know what you are,” Michael smirks

“If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?” You ask

“Y/n!” Sam tries to get your attention. ‭‬‬‬ 

“Can we?!” You yell.‬ “We'd have a chance.” He replies

“Y/n, you can't.” Cas grabs your arm

“Lucifer has Dad. He has Jack. Cas, I don't have a choice!” You decided “If we do this, it's a one-time deal. I'm in charge. You're the engine, but I'm behind the wheel. Understand?” You look at Michael both your uncle and Cas look at the interaction in fear.

Dean’s POV

“Now I could -- I probably should -- execute you. I mean, really, really use my imagination. But I'm feeling generous today. So one of you is gonna walk out that door, and the other one will be laying dead on the ground. You choose.” Lucifer smirks glancing at them both.

“No.” He says

“Or you could do that, and I can murder you both and end all life in the universe. Remake it in my image, better than Dad ever could. I'm thinkin'... mm... fire-breathing dragons, sassy talking robots. I might give humans another chance if they know their place and worship me, 'cause I've earned it. But hey, it'll probably take a few days to unravel the universe, Maybe, uh, 7, 10 days tops. So maybe, just maybe, one of you could stop me. Maybe. Well, let's see. Clock's ticking, guys.” Lucifer lists off

Dean picks up the blade. Jack looks at him questioningly. Dean hesitates for several seconds and turns the handle of the blade towards Jack

“Kill me,” he says

“What?” Jack chokes out “Kill me.‬‬‬‬ You can stop him, Jack.” Dean begs. Placing the blade in Jack's hands “You can get your power back.”

“No, I-I c-can't. I can't beat him. But you can.” Jack answers

“What?” DEan says confused‬

“I know you can.” Jack turns the blade to point at his stomach

“No, no, no, no, no. Jack. Don't! Jack!” Dean yells

“I love you. I love all of you.” Jack cries

“Jack, don't! Don't!” Dean yells Jack pushes the tip of the blade into his stomach and blood stains his shirt. A bright light glows from behind him and he turns to see Y/n, bathed in light, angel wings unfurling behind him. The light goes out and they all turn to face Y/n.

“Y/n” Dean whispers

“Hiya, Dad.

“You let my brother in,” Lucifer growls

“Well, it turns out, he and I have something in common. We both wanna gut your ass.” You snap back Lucifer runs towards Y/n. As he gets near Y/n kicks him in the chest, sending him flying across the church

Y/n goes after Lucifer with an angel blade and the fight, Lucifer eventually knocking the angel blade out of Y/ns hands. They separate, and then run towards each other, rising into the air as they grab each other's shoulders. They continue to fight several feet above the ground. Lucifer gains the upper hand and proceeds to punch Y/n in the face several times, to the point that Y/n can no longer fight back.

“Well...” ‭‬‬‬Lucifer continues to punch Y/n “Good try, Y/n I'll give you that, buddy.‬ I'm not just powerful now. I am in power.”

Dean rushes over to picks up the angel blade

“And I don't need a blade to end you, pal.” He smiles

“Y/n” Dean throws the angel blade into the air and Y/n catches it

“Bye-bye, runt.” Lucifer's eyes glow as he places his hand on Y/n's head. As white light emanates from Y/n's eyes and mouth, she stabs Lucifer with the angel blade. Lucifer lets go of Y/n and she falls to the ground. Lucifer screams as fire burns from his eyes. There's a flash of light and Lucifer falls to the ground.

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

Y/n’s POV

Lucifer lies on the church floor. His outstretched wings are charred and burning. Y/n, Dean and Jack approach him

“Is he...” Jack starts

“He... he's dead.” Dean states

“Holy crap.” You mumbled

Dean looks over at you “You did it.” 

“No. No, we did it. We did it.” You correct him

You, Dean, and Jack are smiling as they realize what they've done when you double over, grunting in pain “Y/n,” Dean asks grabbing your shoulders

“We had a deal!” You yell when you stop grunting and stands up, incredibly calm “Michael” Dean whispers

“Thanks for the suit,” Michael said before he disappears leaving Dean and jack alone. Dean lost his daughter again. In the bunker, Castiel is sitting on the stairs Sam pacing tears in his eyes. Mary and Bobby run up to him. As they look down, Castiel slowly shakes his head.

No One’s POV

As the rain pelted down on the street as people headed to there destination a woman dressed in a suit a large coat on and a newspaper boy hat rest on her hair. As she looks up grinning her eyes flashing a blue glow.

#dean winchester #dean x daughter!reader #sam x niece!reader #jack x reader #michael!reader #dean!michael #castiel #dean #Sam Winchester #Jack Kline #daughter!reader masterlist spn #SPN

[mimiplaysgames]

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 9,275

Summary: Too many people need Aqua’s help, and if she’s going to do her job as a Keyblade Master, she’s going to have to set aside her personal needs to pull them through... Only to find that something is not entirely alright with her.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ahhhh, I've never meant to ignore this particular fic for so long. ^^;; In all honesty, aside from so many other things going on in my life (I went on hiatus and am due for another, I was dedicated to other projects and I just got accepted into another zine ;-; and there was my stupid, broken computer which is now replaced! :D), I really dreaded writing this one. When I announced that I was splitting this story in two fics, I knew I dug a grave for myself. There is no way to fix this chapter without rewriting the first one entirely, but I figured it was much more important to get started Aqua on her journey and I need this loose end tied as soon as possible. If you're new to this story, I'm sorry this chapter is so bad - I'm totally aware, I promise. I've tried my hardest to make this side-quest as sensible as possible.

****

Crazy

His heart beats hard, fast, irregular, and it's about to collapse.

He doesn't hear how ragged his breath is, running as desperately as he is, and he ignores how much his muscles are screaming for rest.

Then there's the headache. That's the one thing Terra is mindful of.

He trips.

The Realm of Darkness doesn't make it easy, not with how rough it shapes its terrain, like it tripped him on purpose. Cobblestones not fitting well together. Pits in the dirt. Rocks hidden in tall grass where he won't notice.

Flashes of light burst somewhere far behind. It's too foggy to see what's going on. Terra spits sweat out of his lips.

There are eyes - a pair wedged right next to a pebble, near enough to grab his fingers. Another in the hollow trunk of a tree. And one more in the distance, in the direction he was heading, and now he has to choose another way and pray he doesn't fall off a cliff.

Behind him, he hears bubbling, the same sickly sound that always announces the arrival of Heartless.

It simmers across his back and he grabs whatever landed on him and throws it as hard as he can and he summons Ends of the Earth -

But can't. He hasn't been able to, not since he left the beach.

Not since he saw a flash of light and Aqua was gone, sent home to her freedom like she deserves. Not since some tall men in dark, hooded cloaks appeared out of nowhere in the sandy shores. Organization members. They wanted to kidnap him.

Terra had to choose between waiting for his friends to come back in dangerous waters, or running away.

When he can turn back into Xehanort at any moment.

He chose to run.

And now he's surrounded without a Keyblade. He thinks about Xemnas, and even though he's tired, and even though his stomach hurts, he takes that brief memory of what it feels like to be numb, to be detached and disheartened, and waves his hands in a sweep against the earth and flies them upward.

A barrier shoots erect - but not just any protective shield, an offensive one. The type that electrifies the Heartless that ram into it, and sends them flying backwards. The kind only a Nobody can summon.

He conjures more - two by his side, another behind him - to force these damn things to back off, and he escapes when he's had enough -

Tripping again when the Realm tricks a hill to look like a straight path and oops, there he goes, falling in air, rolling against dry dirt and tumbling until he finally halts.

It's dark down here. The headache will split his scalp open.

"No," he grumbles, running fingers through his hair and he wants to rip the strands off. "I can't control-"

His limbs go rigid. "No," he says again. He wants to make sure Xehanort hears him loud and clear.

Terra cannot summon his armor anymore for that matter, since Xehanort has clouded both in darkness. They should be in arms' reach, waiting peacefully in his heart, ready to come at his will… but it's like his Keyblade can't see or hear him either.

He manages a small sob when he loses control of his arms - which are quite literally, moving on their own to grip at his legs.

The taste of loss is bitter, as prickly as the tree roots ripping out of the earth and tangling around him. It's like the Realm sees what he's going through, and wants to point and laugh. They squeeze, tightening so his bones can't reply, and he's left to allow them to drag him.

But light is warm and always there - because without it, there wouldn't be any shadows. It shines like a halo, making the roots writhe and wrinkle away, letting him go, letting him breathe. It eases his headache, which he knows won't last forever, but finally… relief.

"Mickey?"

Two large, yellow shoes - big enough to belong to a clown - step in front of him, a pair of comically round ears leering over him with a huge smile. Mickey is the physical embodiment of a hearth, of everything that makes children happy in the outside world, a complete mismatched reflection of the twisted underground of the Realm.

"Slipped, did ya?" he squeaked.

"Maybe," Terra scoffs, just able to move a finger to trace the dirt. It feels so real.

As real as Aqua's skin when he held her - he held her. That was real. And she escaped. Terra considers this a success, a wish fulfilled, to stay behind so she could taste food again.

… Terra didn't even get a chance to tell her about his feelings. He chickened out in the last minute.

She's smart. She'll free Ven, too. And Terra will drag Xehanort to drown in the darkness together.

If he can manage to keep control of his body that is.

Mickey's Keyblade now dons some new chinks and chips.

If they continue this way, neither of them will last much longer. Terra has already woken up a couple of times, right in the middle of a duel with Mickey, a silver Keyblade high in the air and ready to strike, only for Terra to realize what he's holding and drops it. It's flashes of moments that in reality may have lasted only minutes but seem much longer. If Xehanort keeps hacking away, Mickey's Keyblade will break.

And then Terra won't have anyone left to help him.

But it hurts, that headache.

"Chin up, Terra," Mickey says, surveying where they should head to next.

The fog dissipates and gives them two paths: one paved with a line of lanterns illuminating the way, the other a rocky uphill hike into a forest.

"I… need to rest," Terra breathes, wanting to take back the words. If he rests, he'll lose control again.

"Aww, Terra, don't worry."

"I'll hurt you again." He chokes on a whimper, the headache roaring this time. "I don't know how Aqua survived years of this…"

Hands take hold of his shoulders, and this small mouse, barely as tall as his knees, takes Terra's entire weight onto his shoulders to sit him up. "Remember, I got ya."

"What are we going to do? I can't summon my Keyblade anymore and I just don't-"

Terra doesn't know what to say. I just don't know if I can keep waiting for anyone to come back?

"Well," Mickey muses, "we'll have to keep moving."

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

"I don't know how you do it, either."

"I don't have Xehanort weighing me down, and I think that makes you pretty strong. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"This place doesn't make you sad?"

"If I think about it…" A frown on Mickey's face is ill-fitting. "But we don't have time for that."

Funny, since the Realm will be sure to give them all the time it has to offer. The Realm will be sure to give them reasons to stay.

Maybe it's darkness creeping in, or maybe Terra had enough of reality to taste - it's sour.

"I don't see how anyone is going to find us," he says.

Mickey is silent for a moment.

"I had an old friend," he starts, "who used to have a motto he lived his life by."

He holds a fist up, and releases each of his four fingers with every rule: "'First, think. Second, dream. Third, believe. And finally, dare.' To honor him, I have to believe that every step we take will get us closer to freedom."

As if to prove a point, he faces Terra, and finishes with, "I think that's what helped Aqua last this long down here."

Condensed simply, those all sound like tenants of a Keyblade wielder.

"Was your friend a gentle man?" Terra asks.

Mickey smiles with a shrug to his shoulder. "Ohoho, he also said something to the effect of, 'You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.'"

"... It makes you stronger." How often has his own Master said the same thing? The Realm will kick him when he's already down, and he's supposed to stand on his own two feet and carry on like it doesn't hurt.

"Something like that." Mickey points to the rocky uphill hike. "My heart tells me this will be the safer way to go. C'mon Terra. How's about we keep going? Our friends think about us all the time, and they will light our way."

Terra grunts like his legs hate him, and he rolls his neck. It helps soothe the headache.

"Okay."

It starts with the suggestion by a simple-minded mouse, and Terra gets on his feet, fighting off dizziness, to face more odd nights.

****

The clock still hasn't struck ten and if the way her legs are shaking are any indication of how… is annoyed is the right word? Anxious?

Impatient. Aqua keeps crossing her legs and checks the time, and for a second she thinks she's back in the Realm of Darkness when she swears the minute hand went backwards.

The lights in the lobby are dim, the carpet as red as a deep wound. The chair she's lounging in is comfortable at least, but it nags at her back and she's desperate to move. She's still in the hotel, her heart torn by her duty to the people she swore to protect, nowhere near Ventus, nowhere near Terra, nowhere near anywhere she truthfully wants to be. If it continues to tear in opposite directions, will her heart break in two?

Rydia is also slouched in a lounge chair of her own, and has a radio playing, the static clearing to the lullaby of an accordion and violin. Their story is a long trek through a city filled with the lights of a harp, guided by the sad, gentle canals of a tuba. The violin abandons the accordion, and the tuba reassures the accordion, and it's lonely until they all reunite powerfully at the end of a long night.

Rydia is dressed stunning as always, her empire sleeves in gold trimming piling on top of the floor as she braids and unbraids her long green hair, a gentle smile on her face as she eases into her chair, losing herself to the song.

Everyone around Aqua is either doing two things: hustling to wherever they need to be - the infirmary, the battlefield, to their families - or, they linger, living out the seconds until Kefka comes.

Until Kefka comes: that is what is on everyone's mind, and Aqua can't bear to pass more than a second of thought to it.

But she'll stand corrected when the clock finally hits ten, and after ten strikes from the clock tower, here come the sirens.

They wail at first, getting louder which every passing vibration until she can't hear anything else, and she feels Rydia getting stiff right next to her. The sirens keep blaring.

They quiet, only to come back around and Aqua realizes the town is desperate because there won't be a place that could possibly escape the sound. They need her help. Terra and Ven need her help. Too many people need her help.

Focus, Aqua.

Silence, and her heart still drums in her ear.

"I swear that clock tower is haunted," Rydia says, slowly letting out breath as if letting it go all at once would make too much noise. The music sounds softer, as if the sirens had intimidated it, and Rydia leans over to bring her ears closer. "It always knows when to interrupt the best parts."

When Aqua stares at her with uneasy eyes, Rydia continues, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Aqua never wants to hear them again.

The bustling energy in the hotel took pause during the sirens, and is now at full speed again - maybe even faster, knowing the minutes are ticking. Kefka arrives at eleven. One hour.

Cid barges through, keeping the double doors to the lobby open with a lit cigarette pursed in his lips, and a scowl worse than his usual attitude. "Incomin'."

In comes a tall, blond man with ridiculously spiky hair, and a giant blade strapped to his back (giant is an understatement), dragging carts of wooden boxes, throwing them open to reveal potions - as much as a store inventory.

Aqua recognizes him faintly from the night she came through the Door to Light... and suddenly she feels that twist in her gut, a sweaty coldness that only comes with what she must be most familiar with at this point.

Darkness. This man has the trace of it… and Cid is helping him like no one is in danger and Rydia is welcoming him like he's a friend.

The man pauses his hyper-focus when he sees Aqua, the severe look on his face softening with… pity.

"You're Aqua, right?" he asks her.

"That's right." She hates the way he's looking at her. "And you're…?"

"Cloud." Here it comes. "I'm sorry about Terra."

She has to remind herself that people mean well (and once she frees Terra, everyone will stop trying to apologize to her).

"Thank you," she says and she's relieved she doesn't sound ungrateful.

Cloud looks away at first, minorly distracted by Cid's grumbling about how they only have one ram left for the fight. Then he stands up, approaching Aqua.

"I was really torn up when I heard," Cloud says, uneasy like it's weird for him to be so open-hearted, "but I respect his decision. He has a good head on his shoulders."

Then he extends his hand to her. "Welcome to the team, Aqua."

Cloud has a gentle half-smile on his face, and darkness extends its hand, expecting her to shake it.

She's expected to be polite and she tries - she really wants to try - but her hand limps in his firm shake. Cloud gets the message, dropping his own and turning over his shoulder. "I'll be at the site," he tells Cid. "Hurry it up."

Cid groans, and saying out of ear shot, "Kid swears he's a hot shot."

Aqua rolls her lips inward.

"You alright?" Rydia asks, leaning forward.

"He has darkness." It's impolite to say, but Aqua has little patience to play with the dark.

Rydia cocks an eyebrow, her gray eyes searching for a proper explanation. "Your point? We all harbor darkness within ourselves."

"That is true, but… it's not normal to be able to sense it."

Rydia sits back, nodding to what she's understanding. "I suppose Cloud has been through so much, considering… what I don't understand is why it has to be such a black and white issue."

"What do you mean?"

"Where I come from, darkness isn't considered to be evil, at least among mages. We have white and black magic, but it has more to do with how you wield them. Darkness alone says nothing of your character."

Then Rydia smiles, to prove her point. "I trust Cloud with my life."

Aqua supposes she's being unfair - after all, her reflection has proven to her countless times that there are cracks within her very own heart, and it's unrealistic to believe they have all been sealed and darkness-proof.

There's been a lot of nights when Aqua had wondered if she should end it, pierce her chest with her Master's Keyblade and let the ocean take her. What darker sadness could there be besides that?

And then there's Terra… he has darkness, and maybe it's strong but it's always outshined by his spirit. He will always be a good person.

"Cloud, the sad hero," Cid gruffs, pulling potions out onto tables so everyone who passes by can easily pack them. "Basque in his greatness when he feels sorry for you."

Rydia takes a sleeve her mouth to cover her chuckles. "Where is this coming from?"

"He's more depressin' than an opera." He takes a puff of smoke. "But eh, I can respect 'im. He gets shit done."

Cid glances over to the hallway, suddenly switching gears and gives the two girls a fair warning: "Look sharp."

It's for Garnet's arrival, who is followed closely by Lulu, the organizer of the orphanage... So she hasn't followed the children to safety after all.

Garnet walks like she's on air, the most feminine Aqua has ever seen, her head held high like she's not as small as she really is, her hair and her bubble sleeves floating like there's a breeze that only graces her presence. Her heart is determined and open, embracing what's to come.

Lulu has her arms crossed, her face contorted in annoyance and a touch of impeccable, heavy makeup, her fur and leather-trimmed gown trailing long behind her. She walks with responsibility, but her heart doesn't want to accept what's going on around her.

"You're going to find me hard to submit, Your Highness," Lulu says, her voice as serious as her disposition.

Garnet whips around. "What you propose is preposterous."

"Your point?" Lulu scoffs. "I didn't stay behind to let you do what you please. I'm speaking for what is best for everyone else."

Garnet huffs. As if to end the conversation, she pretends to organize through potions even though they are all the same color, handing over some to Lulu, taking more for the battle ahead.

Lulu apprehensively accepts, and proposes something: "When the children want to win an argument, they play a game called Snap. Winner gets the final word."

"Is that so?"

"It's a game of magical prowess. Hold a coin flat in between both palms, and you fight to keep it."

Garnet straightens up, understanding exactly the kind of filibustering Lulu is trying to do, and extends her hand, gesturing to be given something. "Let's have it, then."

Out of Lulu's bra comes a large silver coin. She holds the coin together with Garnet's palm, like they are slapping it in place. Visually, nothing seems to be happening as their faces lose themselves to concentration, but Aqua recognizes the energy in the air: there is magic bustling in between their fingertips, and whoever exercises more willpower gets to keep the coin.

"Now," Lulu says and they pull hands apart like they're avoiding harm.

It takes a moment to process, and Garnet flips her fingers to reveal that the coin has stayed with her. Whether it's beginner's luck or she's that more skillful, Aqua doesn't know enough to figure.

"I've won," Garnet announces.

"Except you've lost," Lulu says with dejection, with concern, with stern ambition. She hovers over to Rydia's side.

Rydia has cast her eyes downward, avoiding the game altogether, a profound look of guilt betraying her need to keep a straight face.

Three women standing on one side of the room with Garnet opposing them.

It's enough for Cid, who's sitting on his own away from the drama, to throw his hands in the air, as if saying this isn't worth the trouble. "Women."

"What is going on?" Aqua asks.

Her interruption makes Garnet jump, but the princess ignores the question.

So Lulu answers, her tone as exasperated as her eye roll. "Garnet thinks she can get away with sacrificing herself."

"You haven't left me with much choice," Garnet says, sending a glance over to Rydia. "I have been blessed with more time to be there for those in need of me. And yet, I have to do what is best for my people, and I cannot sit idly by to watch you play the sacrifice on my behalf."

Aqua stands up. "I don't understand what you're implying." Except she does understand. She just refuses that there's any justification to it.

Garnet breathes, ignoring Lulu's scoff. "Kefka demands female mages… Turn them into Heartless or else it will continue to haunt us every single night, and I cannot have this when we are in the middle of evacuations. I must ensure the safety of my peers."

Garnet then holds a hand to her heart. "Speak of nothing to Noctis. He'd never leave me out of his sight if he knew."

Hands gripped into themselves, shaking her head, Aqua groans and doesn't know what to say. "Riku never…" Said anything to me.

Just to stay behind and protect the hotel, out of real harm's way without giving her a choice.

So Aqua sets her sights. "Kefka is supposed to come every other night, right?"

"That is correct."

"So you'll buy one night with your life?"

"...Yes. We are the last ones." She gestures to herself, Lulu, and Rydia.

The entire room is quiet, weighed down by the severity of what was said.

They are the last ones, and does it matter really which order they get taken out, one by one?

It's not fair. It's ridiculous, and Aqua, Keyblade Master, is not going to tolerate it.

"Your Highness," she says, "I don't mean to show disrespect, but I think you should listen more to your peers."

Rydia leans forward, like she's looking for a speck of hope. Lulu thanks some force out there that someone around here is speaking reason.

"What would have me do, Master Aqua?" Garnet asks gently. "Shall I be content in my path to survival while those who've paved it for me waste away?"

Aqua swallows hard. The job of a Keybearer will sometimes have easy missions, and sometimes impossible ones, but they are all equal in the importance of saving lives. This decision is a no-brainer.

Even if they buy just one more night of peace, Terra is rotting and Aqua has to get going. Ventus is waiting and she promised…

"If Kefka wants a female mage, I'll give it one," she says, starting to head to the exit.

Garnet drops her jaw. "Are you mad? In your condition?"

"I don't have a condition." Aqua stops at the ornately carved wooden doors, and turns to face everyone in the room. "Cid, can you take my place in protecting the hotel?"

It's not just Aqua and the other mages squaring themselves against Garnet's judgment - Cid proudly dusts off his shoulders, nodding. "Better than facing that crazy clown."

Crazy clown doesn't seem to cut it as an appropriate nickname for the terror everyone around Aqua is feeling.

Aqua glances over to Rydia, who is still healing from a wound. "You need to always be by her side. Rydia, are you okay with this?"

Rydia has fire in her eyes, grabbing her longstaff and using it to keep herself standing. "I don't need to move much to destroy Heartless. I'm strong, and I'll stay."

"You're either really naive, or really powerful," Lulu says to Aqua. "I'll take my chances. I'll follow." She picks her potions like she's heard good news, taking her place across the room.

Garnet stands silent, defeated, with an expression that makes Aqua feel horrible, as though the Keyblade Master is really asking the princess to commit to something that is extraordinarily difficult and painful.

This morning, she had such a bright light within her that her healing touch shone white. Now it's dim, her eyes an empty black.

"It's my job to protect you," Aqua says, attempting to comfort her.

And Garnet only stares, like she doesn't believe it. Like she's faced this too many times, and knows from experience that they will all lose.

****

By the way she breaknecks towards the third district, Aqua can feel the clock ticking, even though the tower is quiet.

She takes long strides, stepping on the occasional puddle, leaving a poor Garnet to jog with her short legs in order to keep up. Traverse Town is decorated in lights, but it's otherwise a vacation town for ghosts. No one to dream about fancy jewelry, to admire the latest fashion, to salivate at the aroma of tonight's dinner.

The third district would have been a sight if it wasn't already halfway-destroyed - debris piling on colorful electrical wiring, lanterns that have been bent in half, a water fountain that has been blown open, and apartment homes with all the lights off, wind blowing through curtains. No one lives here anymore.

In the place of a bustling modern district are a bunch of wooden crates, tossed around between people to gather potions and weapons. ...It's a lot of fighters for one Heartless. Aqua would make the fourth Keyblade wielder up against this thing.

A part of her has this sudden apprehension to take another step forward - these people follow her now, swayed by her confidence that all of their worries will end tonight.

What if she has given them false hope?

Could she cope with it?

It's cold. Someone is watching her.

Aqua recognizes this feeling, since she's been faced with it for the better part of twelve years. There's already Heartless here, and she looks every which way to see if she could spot them hiding among the shadows.

Whatever is there is already studying the people gathering here, honing on the way Garnet and Lulu stride towards the middle of the square, pleased by how frantic people are rushing to finish preparations.

She whips around to find the clock tower in the distance, a great vantage point for anyone to stalk from. It's twenty past ten, but…

It's very cold.

Kefka is already here. It's just waiting for the time to start.

It's a sick situation, Kefka twirling these terrorized people in its fingers.

Aqua's expecting to find a certain pair of yellow eyes that would normally come from feral demons, but a different pair perks up when he sees her arriving to the third district.

And they belong to none other than Lea. She is surprised that he even cares that much.

Or maybe he's just really dramatic, but something about the twitch of his lips tells her that he isn't exactly pleased with her presence there.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he says with a smirk, feigning surprise and she doesn't know why he tries so hard to plant certain impressions on other people.

Aqua has no other answer for him except the obvious: "I have to help."

The facade in his eyes flicker out like a lighter turning off. He places his hands on his waist, letting himself be more honest, yet still keeping a hot air of distance between them. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to fight something this malicious?"

The nerve of him. "I've faced more nightmares than anyone has ever slept with. I can take care of myself."

"Even after what Terra went through to get you back? Do you think that's fair to him?"

Aqua stammers. It isn't fair to drag Terra into this… "I don't need your permission to fight."

She leaves him with his mouth wide-open, searching for words and failing to find them.

Which only leaves her hearing the words, "She's just as dense as him!" fading behind her. It makes her smirk. Terra hasn't changed - when he has his mind set, he can become the worst kind of stubborn, as immovable as a boulder.

On her way to the middle of the square, past some men mapping out the upper levels where long-range fighters should situate, Aqua finds two particular individuals in one of the highest balconies who take way too much interest in watching her.

A well-dressed man, impeccably so, his silk sleeves a clean white like he's never been to battle, bracelets like he appreciates the finer things in life, and an exquisite embroidered vest like he can afford it, and a rifle sitting casually on his shoulder. He's not the one who initially took an interest in her - he only does so when his partner whispers to him about her arrival.

Said partner is a dark-skinned woman, with long, stark white hair that reaches her thighs, and jackrabbit ears stretching high into the sky out of her helmet. It only makes her look taller, taller than the well-dressed man, taller than Terra. Something about this woman makes Aqua wonder if she's seen her before, but this is no time to sit and think about it - that can wait until later. This rabbit-woman immediately takes notice of Aqua, tightening her grip on her bow.

Now there are two more pairs of eyes watching Aqua's back as she continues onward, out of ear-shot of whatever their opinions are.

Aqua comes across Cloud and Noctis, the latter with a clipboard filled with a checklist to make sure everything is in order. Occasionally he asks Cloud about the setup. Garnet and Lulu are already making laps around the square to check in on their sole wooden ram - Aqua gets the sense that Garnet is avoiding her, and Lulu is only following to make sure she doesn't do anything drastic.

Without really looking at Cloud in the eye, Aqua reaches over to hold Noctis' elbow firmly. "Make sure to keep an eye on Garnet," she says softly.

Noctis stammers before getting grim, and he's disappointed. He looks over his shoulder, where he sees Garnet cheerfully speak to a man like nothing is wrong and no foul plans are being made.

"Make that four eyes," Cloud says, smirking, and Aqua can't bring herself to smile back.

"Thanks for the warning," Noctis says. "She never learns."

… That's the weird thing about the people here. There's so much sadness, in Noctis' eyes, in Cloud's, in Garnet's… and they try smiling anyway like they're tricking themselves. Aqua doesn't remember if she's ever really smiled the entire time she's been in the Realm of Darkness.

Maybe once, when she saw apparitions of Terra and Ventus, but when they disappeared, she reasoned that she was being too hopeful. That it was never really truly a smile, because she can only give one around the people she loves. Not ghosts.

How grateful she is that a super-friendly face comes running up to her, bright (huge) yellow shoes splish-splashing through puddles to greet her, Donald and Goofy closeby.

"What are you doing here?" Sora asks, skidding to a stop.

Aqua really wishes people would stop questioning her drive. "Where is Riku?"

Sora takes a pause, his eyes darting for a moment towards the ground. "He's not here yet."

So it's not four Keybearers against Kefka, but three.

A faint thought nags at the back of her mind again. "He never told me about the female mages."

Sora's eyes widen, like he forgot that detail. But he lets it melt away into a small smile. "Riku hides stuff from me, too, sometimes."

"You've fought it before? Kefka?" Aqua searches his eyes for the truth, and she realizes that she actually sounds apprehensive.

She could fail this mission. It wouldn't be the first.

"Ah, phooey!" Donald scoffs, waving his arms like he's shooing a gnat. He's in a really bad mood, and how can he not when he's stuck here for duty's sake just like everyone else? "It's just a clown."

Sora brightens up, a triumphant fist in his palm. "We have a good team here."

His smile is ill-fitting because it's genuine. Nothing like the others who try to hide their fear, but he makes his out of immense faith. Sora's light is powerful, and… rare, Aqua thinks.

"We do," she says, remembering Ven's smile. Something about Sora reminds Aqua that there are reasons to look forward to happier times.

But everything pleasant is short-lived, and maybe that's a sad fact of life.

Someone screams. Points to the clock tower.

The minute hand speeds up, gaining velocity towards the top of the eleventh hour.

It takes three strikes of the bells for everyone to decide whether this is a joke or it's actually happening early.

Two more strikes for Noctis to yell, "Get aggressive! Stay alive!"

Three more for Garnet to whisper a spell that shines a light upon every single person in the area, and another two for Aqua to witness a faint crystal wrap and spin around her before fading away.

A protection spell, something completely unique and rare. Garnet's light is pure and blinding.

One more and it strikes eleven. Ten minutes to do the job or Kefka walks for another night.

The bubbling that signals the arrival of Heartless gargles, a dark mass growing and growing and growing to the size of a building, before an enormous clown steps down, shaking the ground underneath its mismatched shoes and socks.

It laughs, piercing like a speaker is about to blow her ears. Aqua clutches her heart, protecting it from ripping out of her chest - everyone else is gripping their heads like they're containing a massive migraine.

Kefka leans forward just to take a peek at Aqua, its stupid-looking collar a vomit-inducing mix of yellow and red, three swords carried on each shoulder, its white mask welded onto its dark face, bright yellow eyes in circles wide and without lids, a smile painted and screwed together -

And two huge gashes diagonally across its shield of a face, exposing the skin of a shadow underneath.

They all have been saying this thing is impenetrable. Sure.

Aqua summons her Master's Defender.

The clown's hands shiver, and its jaw widens just like a machine - it lets out a screech that sounds like gears out of control, getting louder and louder like Kefka is offended by her weapon.

And it cuts off.

A cleaver flies into its face, knocking it out of place. There's no way someone has that kind of strength but there is Noctis appearing out of nowhere in its tail, like the weapon is a destination. He strikes and Kefka barely blocks it with its forearm. Noctis throws his cleaver elsewhere, and wherever it appears he warps to. He sends a spear to strike Kefka's shoulder. Disappears. A sword, and then Noctis again, attempting to jab the clown in the eye.

Either way, Noctis stays up high, distracting the clown from doing anything else, like a fly determined to be annoying.

"Light!" Sora yells.

He beams, a force bursting out before racing back to his body, and suddenly he illuminates white and takes two Keyblades (Two? Aqua can't think about it right now), sending himself flying high, his weapons a passion to be reckoned with.

They are both heavy hitters, Noctis and Sora, black and white, one sneaky, the other forward, both brave.

Aqua has much to catch up to.

If it's aggressiveness they want, she has plenty of it. Her magic swirls around her as she charges forward, drawing her thoughts inward to her belly, letting her body twirl faster and faster to hurl the energy out in whips and circles.

Donald and Lulu tag team, throwing lightning strikes, icicles, fireballs on the top of the clown's head. It really, really hates having its face touched, and between those spells and Sora and Noctis zipping around like insects, there's already enough distractions.

Cloud thrusts at its metal calves with his giant sword, an impressive power from below to add to the frenzy.

The well-dressed man and the rabbit-woman take calculated shots from afar, aiming for the eyes and only when the clown has an opening.

Lea also takes that cue and throws firey pot shots from afar even though he's a Keyblade wielder (maybe it's smarter to keep a distance).

Goofy is a little all over the place, but his attack, inspired by a tornado, hits the spot when it does, joining Aqua in the mess she's created.

That's… ten fighters at least against one Heartless and it doesn't do much.

Kefka instead takes a moment to just… stand there and take the heat like it isn't bothered. It can't be this easy.

It's not. Like it suddenly woke up, Kefka stomps the ground, and with it comes a roundabout of explosions that start at the rooftops right behind it and circle the entire third district, tossing debris into the ground and causing several people to succumb to coughing fits.

Garnet immediately checks person to person, her light shining to heal. Noctis is already at her side, and she pretends not to notice.

Cloud starts yelling commands to get the ram ready. He's trying to maneuver it and several men crowd together with him to make it move faster. "Aim it toward our bombs. Let's send it back to darkness!"

As though Kefka heard him, it sprints directly towards Cloud and his group of fighters, as if ready to run them flat. They all scream.

Sora scrambles for the feet with his double-weaponry and misses - just because Kefka likes to hop and skip around.

The clown freezes before it takes the last step, one knee high in the ground like it's deciding to squish them, and a hand outstretched - and balls into a fist.

Aqua expects another explosion, and the fighters scream again in fear.

The fist makes a honk - like a toy car.

Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, hands gripping heads to ease the headache, Aqua holding her heart still.

Now Kefka ignores the men it has targeted.

It instead whips around and with that same balled fist, it throws a blast of dark energy at the group of fighters on the opposite side - throwing bodies, slamming doors, disheveling potions and ripping weapons from their holders.

Aqua stumbles from the quakes, and she sees freed hearts, softly glowing, floating gently as the bodies disappear - three of them at least, heading towards the sky.

"No…"

Three lives lost already. She's failing.

Lulu is on the ground, clutching a Moogle doll closely to her chest as Lea holds her by the shoulders. Garnet is frantically throwing light to various people. The only healer in the group.

Both female mages are okay for now.

Kefka loses interest in Cloud's group - who are still preparing the only ram - to strut across the square like no one is watching, right toward a vulnerable Lulu.

Not like she's the type to get intimidated. She raises a fist close to her face, a succession of explosions slapping Kefka in the face and keeping it at bay. She's shaking it like she's grabbing hold onto something stronger than her and the explosions keep going until she has no choice but to let go.

Here is where Lea follows her patterns, but he's not as skilled at the Keyblade. Blessed with deception, definitely, his movements just as unpredictable as Kefka's, throwing fireballs to distract the clown like tossing bees, only to look like he'll dodge in one direction but he really dodges another.

All to keep the clown's attention away from Lulu.

"Cloud!" Lea yells. "Now!"

Cloud and two men push the ram with all their mind, Cloud yelling about making sure to hit it from the southeast direction or they'll miss the planted bomb.

Then the ram loses a wheel. Dilapidates onto the ground.

Kefka takes notice. It always smiles at the expense of others.

A loud whistle, and the sound of water. A wave. A tsunami, really. The well-dressed man blew the whistle, summoning a massive wave to overflow the district and head straight for Kefka.

A new ram, built by exquisitely rare water magic.

This is no time to admire, but an opportunity and Aqua takes it, throwing a trail of ice onto the water as it passes by her and she skates it up, up, and up. When she gets to the crest, she spreads the ice all over the thrash of ripples, turning them into steely icicles, straight into Kefka's torso, right onto the building behind it.

She missed the planted bomb but she's got it pinned. Standing on an icy wave, face to face with the smiling beast. It struggles against the ice, and she readies her Keyblade.

"Time to take care of you," she says.

Kefka stops, leaning its head forward with whatever movement it has left to stare right into her eyes, and even though it's programmed to make only one expression, it almost looks like it's smiling wider.

Aqua lowers her Keyblade. Kefka isn't in front of her anymore but there are flashing pictures of a man. A funny-dressed man, a river, throwing poison into the water, so much that it turns dark. There are many people dead and there's a laugh, and a trial, and a battle, and powerful magical transformations.

The worst kind of people become the worst kind of Heartless.

There's a voice.

"Crazy is just a word they use to describe us."

Aqua has never known a Heartless to be able to talk. It can't talk, it's all in her head.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" Donald yells from the ground below.

Kefka has its large hands around the brim of her icy prison and breaks it piece by piece, thrashing against the building, and she slips and slides off the back of the wave, away from its inevitable freedom.

"Let's go!" Sora and Lea zoom past her, aiming for the clown before it sets loose, but Lea is smarter and backs out when he realizes it's too late, and Sora keeps going until he's exhausted.

One of his Keyblades fade away and he falls, Goofty barely catching him while skating on his shield.

"Keep it up, come on!" Noctis yells to a huge disheartened crowd, followed by Cloud for another barrage of assaults.

Not that Kefka is particularly interested. It hops and dances, skipping along the block and every step it takes strikes a random explosion in a random location, some hitting nothing, others being blocked by Lulu's powerful barriers. One hits near the balcony where the well-dressed man and the rabbit woman were standing, leaving rubble and two long-range fighters onto the ground where they have less of an advantage.

It's dusty and Donald's fireworks sprinkle the air in bright colors that combat the sound of bombs to the point that Aqua has a hard time following Kefka.

She tries but a lot of her attacks end up missing because of Kefka's erratic movements. She has to rely on widespread attacks, which drain her and she takes deep breaths in between to keep herself going.

Sometimes when Kefka runs, it attacks where it aims for, and sometimes it decides not to. It's hard to keep up.

Garnet slips by in all directions, her main concern is healing other people - with such sharp determination that she doesn't care whether Noctis is trying to protect her.

Just when Aqua thinks that Kefka doesn't see her, it attacks, and Garnet is flung straight into a wall, her protection crystal shattering.

"NO!" Noctis yells.

She slumps and doesn't bother to get up. She folds her arms around herself, waiting for the next hit, and Aqua summons another trail of ice to get there faster (faster, faster). She can't let this happen on her watch.

At this point, Aqua is shielding a stupefied princess with her body, and Kefka will attack the both of them, already ready with a dark mass bubbling in its palm.

But it gets hit from behind by a massive… missile? It's forceful enough to actually make the clown stumble.

The droning sound of machinery draws near, a flying gummi ship coming close. Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, Aqua gripping Garnet tighter to quiet the squirming princess.

Kefka telepathically takes all six swords and glides them in a sweep, up right through the middle of the ship, cutting in half, and Riku vaults out of the captain's seat, rolling off a roof and landing with a huge thud right next to Aqua and Garnet.

"Just in time," Riku says, summoning his new Keyblade. It's heavy and massive for his size.

Garnet snaps out of her stupor, heaving because she's just escaped death. Her eyes flash anger, and she takes her shortstaff and holds it in the air. A column of light bursts through the cobblestone with a loud punch, shooting right into the sky with such a trembling force that Kefka is knocked away from them.

"Thank you, Aqua," Garnet gently says as she picks herself up. She casts another spell, encasing herself and Riku in crystal.

Even though he has his Keyblade ready, Riku gladly waits for her to finish like they've done this routine one too many times and it's the best they can do to keep an eye on each other.

But Riku doesn't wait for a command though, chasing as soon as his crystal stabilizes itself. It's Cloud that sprints by his side and gestures an order without saying anything. In sync, they hit both of Kefka's ankles with their massive weapons, tripping it to its knees.

Garnet is also on her knees, exhausted. Whatever attack she conjured, it drained her of power and Aqua slumps her over her back - Garnet may be short but she's heavy.

Some force of wind takes Aqua off her feet, and Noctis suddenly has his arm around the both of them, and they glide over the ground until he reaches his next waypoint and drops them right behind Lulu, who is frustrated, worried, and determined to keep Garnet behind her.

The look on Noctis' face is awful as he takes a glance at the chaos: Kefka easily standing up after being tripped, Cloud and Riku desperately attacking its shins, the ram since abandoned. Goofy and Sora attacking its ankles from behind, Lea acting like bait, the well-dressed man shooting his gun upwards and missing, the rabbit-woman shooting an arrow and hitting the clown straight in the eye, but it all does so little.

Noctis is tired - not just exhausted, but the kind of tired Aqua dealt with for years.

Not the kind when he's had enough and he's angry - the kind when he's had enough and it's time to give up.

And Aqua's had enough.

She charges forward with a yell, jabbing her Keyblade straight into the air. She summons a giant snowflake, spinning and flashing until it stabs Kefka right at the hip.

In reaction, Kefka commands its swords again, and throws them all at her with a huge swipe, and Aqua doesn't dodge. She blocks, each slash of a sword against a properly placed Keyblade. Kefka is strong, and Kefka is big, and these swords are twice her size - but none of them matter. She's been training with two large men her whole life, and Kefka doesn't compare to her Master's skill or Terra's ferocity.

"You're pissing me off!" she cries when she blocks the sixth sword.

It takes a lot out of her but they are not called special techniques without a good reason.

Her Master's unique chains, first encircling her in a glow of golden light, then lurching until they wrap around Kefka. At the touch, these chains burn Heartless - they've certainly burned her when the Master first taught them how to use it.

Success. Kefka's arms are twisted tightly against its torso, and one of the links wraps under its thigh and actually keeps the stupid thing on its knees, a perfect target for everyone else.

The air chills, fog rolling in and Aqua at first considers a new threat but it's actually a dragon shaped out of mist, bobbing in the air before landing on the roof. It blows steam onto the clown, carefully skipping allies like they are precious, leaving a clown squealing like an unoiled engine.

"That's my girl," says a breathy Lulu, who barely has the energy to stand up.

It has to be Rydia's summon. Such powerful magic, Aqua has so much to learn still.

But a dragon twice the size of Kefka still doesn't make a dent (what the stars is its skin made of?), and it soon dissipates, leaving a dumbfounded Aqua - but no one else seems surprised. They keep throwing attacks, and Aqua is getting drowsy. She can't hold onto the chains much longer.

Ah, Kefka's floating swords, she forgot about them. They strike against her chains. They'll break. The damn thing.

At this point, Aqua has nothing left to give and so much to lose.

"Noctis," she says, whipping around and holding him by the shoulder. "Can you fly me up?"

He has dirt on his face and defeat in his eyes, but why not? He grabs her by the waist and throws his dagger up in the sky. She flies, then he grabs her again, throws his dagger even higher, making her soar to heights she couldn't possibly jump to on her own.

Aqua lets herself float, aiming for the sword nearest her. She grabs the grip of the hilt. Her feet stomp the guard and she stands straight.

She ignores Noctis when he freaks and screams, "Don't touch those!"

The sword spins to knock her off but she has a direction she wants to go and this thing will obey.

Down she goes, the point of the sword cutting straight through the air with one very particular destination: in between Kefka's shoulder and clavicle.

She rips into it, metal creaking and gears popping apart until she hits a thud that she's sure is the ground. Like a needle, Kefka is pinned in place by its very own. Aqua's chains flickjer but still - it can't move.

Kefka can't turn its face well to get a full look at the Keyblade Master triumphantly standing on its shoulder, right in between its lost limb.

"Get off of there!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Are you nuts?"

Voices by some she recognizes and some she doesn't, she ignores them. Instead, she watches Kefka's eyes, hard on her. The smile on its face doesn't waver even though she can tell - she can feel - rage building.

Several gears choke right under its chin, still turning but only barely. It's so weak under the frame - most of its inner skeleton is just metal beams and a cloud of purple smoke for organs with a black balloon for a head, all wrapped in a tacky costume. For a Heartless, it cannot create a hard shadow body like all the others, so it made itself a hard shell instead.

Like that of a man with a soft ego, too short-sighted to see his his arrest and execution coming, the ghost of a crazy clown who never wanted to be weak again and has only proven himself so.

"It's not as fun like this."

Aqua studies the two gashes on its mask, burnt at the tips and curving outwards.

"Terra did that to you, didn't he?" She scoffs. Her hands are melting into the swords hilt - this isn't fully solid either, and she can feel Garnet's soft puffs of white light healing her fingers the longer she's touching it. "I've faced worse than you in the Realm of Darkness."

She summons her Master's Defender. In darkness, only light slices the way. Even though the Keyblade is blunt and rounded, the point is to reach the heart - and every darkened heart has a weakness to exploit, the very same insecurity that haunted its former human.

Aqua has felt it all with every Heartless she's defeated in the Realm: the grieving, the enraged, the depressed, the vengeful, the feral, the crazy.

She yells, the light off her Keyblade aiming straight for the neck - she promised to be a Wayfinder, and for darkness that simply means releasing them.

Her Keyblade sparks against the gears and she has to look away, and this force burns like steam but she keeps at it. She's not letting this thing dance away tonight.

Kefka screeches.

There are yells about abandoning her with the clown.

Sora yells back that they have to help her.

Riku agrees.

Lea (apprehensively) follows along.

And Aqua keeps doing what she's doing.

Kefka's shoulder budges the moment the purple smoke of its insides release like gas, into her face and up her nostrils. It's putrid and it burns behind her eyes. She coughs but she stands strong until her Keyblade gives way and suddenly there's another collapse and she's falling backwards with the arm.

Something large topples on itself as there's a shimmer in the air.

Cries of amazement. Hollers. Yells to get back as far as possible. Aqua can't tell, it's cloudy in dark purple and she can't see in the gas.

Two pairs of hands grab her by the shoulders and drag her, and there's so much coughing - her throat burns and she hears Riku telling Sora to hurry up and he coughs as well.

It's clear now, the gas slowly fading away and whatever is left of the clown slowly - slowly - topples away like it still wants to resist. First the entire right arm where she chopped it off, then the left, until the knees buckle and its head rolls forward and it all turns black and gets blown open by sparkles of light.

A large heart floats upward, the crowds watching in silence like it's a stunning show they respect too much to interrupt. They don't shift until it floats higher, somewhere high in the sky where Kingdom Hearts will eventually accept its arrival.

The crowd doesn't believe it at first even though it's as clear as day. Claps start, then sobs, then whoops, then hugs and kisses, and a melting of relief rolled into a platter of overused desperation that still needs a place to be served.

The fight is over, and the night is as bright as the dawn.

There's so much happiness but all Aqua feels is shivering - it's so cold all of a sudden and her teeth chatter.

Riku is on his hands and knees, hacking.

Sora is on his side, his hand rubbing a massive headache and he moans.

Donald and Goofy run to his side, the former giving him a lecture instead of congratulating all the accomplishments of the night, and Goofy swings Sora over his shoulder to carry him away.

Lea throws Riku's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, buddy," he says, patting Riku's back.

Cloud gently carries Aqua in his arms, whispering, "I wasn't expecting that. It's impressive."

But it hurts to swallow and she doesn't say anything back. He lowers her onto a stretcher, in between Riku and Sora, who each have their own.

Riku rolls his head. "I can't quite believe it. Stupid clown."

Sora makes a trembling thumbs-up. "We did it." It plops down.

Gasps and sobs make way near them, and Garnet wanders into view, unable to keep up with her smiling tears, her gloved fingers intertwining with Aqua's.

"It is done. It is over," she says.

"What is happening to me?" Aqua asks hoarsely.

"Oh, you've been poisoned, dear," Garnet says with a sweet smile, leaning over her. "Not to worry. Terra has made sure we've plenty of elixirs."

"Terra…"

It's just like him to always be there.

Even during treasure hunts, where he left clues through the forest to make it easier for her to find him. Like stepping stones on an ocean so she could walk across, and she follows.

Garnet melts into tears again, the cheers silencing her quiet sobs and Lulu is asking for her, gathering everyone except the poor souls on stretchers into a huge embrace.

Celebrations are just as chaotic, nothing like the stars.

The stars. Aqua gasps when she sees them, and it sends her into such a coughing fit that Cloud has to put an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

But there they are, dim due to the light pollution. They're her first since she's been freed, and she's forgotten how special she always thought of them - a light to pierce the darkness. Guides to give people directions. Reminders of hope. Wayfinders for all the dreams she's had.

They're beautiful.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #garnet til alexandros #rydia of mist #lulu final fantasy #kefka palazzo #riku #sora #MERRY CHRISTMAS I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD #my fic

[lastbluetardis]

Family of Six (5/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter:Teen, 7500 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 33, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: (almost) 6, Twins: 3 weeks

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Chapters will be posted every other week → next update: September 3rd. (Notice that the chapter count went up... there’s going to be twelve chapters and an epilogue.)

Note: This chapter has some slight warnings for allusions to child abuse, as well as implying an underage relationship (between a 17- and 18-year-old).

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

Robert walked into the house, immediately spotting the almost-birthday girl. 

“Happy Birthday, Sianin my darling,” he said, crouching down for a hug. She bolted into his open arms and he stood with her.

“It’s not actually my birthday yet, Grandad,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not?” he asked, his jaw dropping.

Sianin giggled as she shook her head. “Nope! It’s not ‘til tomorrow.”

“Oh…” Robert glanced down at the small pile of packages in the bag he’d been carrying. “I guess I can’t give you your presents yet, then?”

“No, no,” Sianin said hastily, looking panicked. “The party’s my pretend birthday, so we’re still doing cake and presents and everything.”

Robert laughed and blew a raspberry into her neck, making her shriek and squirm in his arms. After giving her a final squeeze and a kiss, he set Sianin on her feet and turned to greet his other granddaughter. He couldn’t quite pick Ainsley up anymore, but he gave her a great big hug that lifted her off her toes for a few seconds.

“Mum’s in the kitchen,” she announced. “And Dad went out to get more ice cream.”

Robert stepped into the kitchen and saw Rose at the counter chopping vegetables.

“Hi Dad!” she said, grinning. “I’d give you a hug, but, well…” She brandished the knife in her hand.

“I’ll get one later,” he said. “Do you need some help?”

“Nah, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Lookie what Elena and Juliette drew me!”

Sianin skipped into the kitchen, waving her right arm. He saw a bunch of little doodles, including a birthday cake with six candles and three stick figures in pointy party hats. He remembered the days when James would proudly show him and Vera the drawings Rose had made for him, especially on holidays.

“That’s lovely,” Rose said.

“I wish they could come to my party,” Sianin sighed, tracing her fingertip over the ink on her arm.

“Soon, darling,” Robert soothed.

“Nuh uh! I have to wait ‘til I’m eighteen, but that’s ages away!” Sianin whined, slumping dramatically across the table.

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Rose said sympathetically. “And it’ll be well worth the wait.”

“Your first meeting with your soulmates is going to be utterly magical and spectacular,” Robert chimed in. “It’ll be one of the best days of your life, and you’ll look back and realize that the wait wasn’t as long as you’d thought.”

Sianin made a small noise of disbelief. “What was your first meeting like, Grandad?”

“It was… incredible,” he said softly, his chest aching with a combination of sorrow, longing, and joy as the memory conjured itself in his mind.

“I’m leaving as soon as I’m eighteen. I can’t stand to be in this house a moment longer,” he’d written onto his arms one night. His father had, once again, taken Robert’s entire paycheck from his job at the butcher’s for not only rent, but more liquor too.

“I’m so sorry about your dad,” Vera replied. And after a beat, she wrote, “Where would you go?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere. I’ll hide out in the shop after it closes. I’ll go to a group home. I’ll live in a goddamned park if I have to.”

“Don’t do that! It’s January for God’s sake! You’d freeze to death!”

“I can’t stay in this house anymore, Vee.”

She was quiet for a long time. Long enough that Robert brushed his teeth and crawled into bed for the night. He kept his bedside lamp on for a few minutes longer, hoping she hadn’t fallen asleep already.

Finally, she wrote back. “Well… if you want… my house has got plenty of spare rooms. My parents said they wouldn’t mind (that’s where I was just now).”

Her words came slowly, as though she was nervous to say them.

His heart lifted, but he tried to quash the hope.

“We can’t meet yet, darling,” he said, wishing so badly they could. “You know that.”

“I know. But…” There was a long pause. “What difference would ten months make? No one would report you or anything. And if they did, they’d have me to reckon with. Just think about it? Please?”

Robert told her that he would, even though a larger piece of him told him it was probably impossible.

As his eighteenth birthday grew nearer and nearer, Robert started to seriously consider Vera’s offer. A recent winter snowstorm made him rethink some of his previous ideas. However, she hadn’t brought it up again, which made him nervous that she regretted her invitation. 

Then one night his father gave him a split lip for not forking over the entirety of his latest paycheck. His father had hit him before, but mostly uncoordinated swats or a tightly-gripped arm. Never hard enough to draw blood or a bruise. Then again, Robert had never withheld money from his father before. Robert had begun working longer hours, squirreling away the extra money for when he could finally meet Vera. But his father had somehow found out and confronted him about it.

Robert had gone to bed without dinner and his money, near tears with anger, frustration, and helplessness.

“Hey, Vee?”

“Yeah, love?”

Her quick reply made his tears spill over. He wiped them away when they rolled into his raw lip.

“I was wondering…” He couldn’t bring himself to get the words out. He felt pathetic.

“Wondering?” she coaxed.

“What you said about your house having plenty of spare rooms. Is that… Could I…”

He started and crossed out several sentences before Vera said, “You are more than welcome to come stay with me and my mum and dad. More than welcome.” She underlined those words heavily. “You’re family. Have been for as long as we’ve been soulmated. My parents already consider you to be their son.”

His tears started up again in earnest, and all he managed to say was, “Thank you.”

Barely a week later, Robert found himself on the train headed to Scotland. He’d packed the barest of essentials: clothing, mostly, as well as a few books and all of the letters he and Vera had exchanged over the years. His entire life—the last eighteen years—fit in one medium-sized suitcase and a backpack. Looking at how little he had made Robert feel hollow inside.

The train ride took forever. He tried to distract himself with a book, but couldn’t silence his racing thoughts. His father had been furious when he realized his son was leaving. Robert had hoped to be out of the house before he had woken up. Alas, his father stumbled into the kitchen as Robert was writing a brief note telling him he was leaving and never returning.

His father had shouted at him and lunged for him, but was too hungover to properly do any damage. Robert grabbed his suitcase and used it to push his father to the side, then he left the house behind without ever looking back.

Robert knew his father’s fury wasn’t due to any emotional attachment; it was simply because a source of income was gone. Robert had learned ages ago not to expect an ounce of love or affection from his father. The only thing he did learn was what kind of father he himself wanted to be, if he and Vera were lucky enough to have children one day. He would be the sort of father his children could come to without hesitation, without fear, and know that they would be loved endlessly and eternally, no matter what.

Ignoring the lingering guilt of leaving his father behind, Robert had walked all the way to the train station. He’d bought a ticket with the small amount of money he’d managed to hide from his father. Finally free, Robert was now on his way to meet the woman he’d loved his whole life.

After the train ride, he hailed a taxi to Vera’s home. If his calculations were correct, the drive would use up the last of his money, leaving him penniless and homeless to meet his soulmate.

“A great start,” he scoffed to himself.

He gave the driver the address and slouched in the back seat as he was driven out of the city to a small neighboring town. Even then, they bypassed the town until they were in a wooded area. He grew nervous that maybe he’d gotten the address wrong. But he’d been sending letters to her for years, and she’d always gotten them.

The driver made an abrupt turn that had Robert clinging to the seat to keep from toppling. The car wound through trees on a narrow, bumpy road before turning onto a long dirt road. The dirt road was actually a driveway that opened up to a huge old manor house.

Robert’s eyes widened as he took in the beautiful home with the pristine white wrap-around porch and the wide expanse of grass around it. There was a tree line beyond the house, stretching out farther than Robert could see. His stomach lurched and his heart hammered. This was where Vera lived? It was like a castle.

Self-consciousness burned like acid in the back of his throat, and he was painfully aware of his tattered, ill-fitting clothes and unkempt hair and dusty shoes.

The taxi pulled to a stop. Robert fought against the impulse to tell the driver he’d gotten the wrong address and to take him back to the train station. But he couldn’t afford another taxi ride into the city. Or a new train ticket.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and Robert saw a girl with dark brown hair jump off the front porch, not bothering with the steps as she ran towards him. His stomach unknotted and he fumbled for the door handle.

“Robert! Robert!”

She had the most beautiful voice in the world. It made his knees tremble, and he was sure he was about to fall face-first into the frozen ground.

“Robert!” she shouted again. Her face was split into a wide grin. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“Vera,” he breathed. He forced his legs to stay steady as he took a few steps towards her. His stride grew longer and longer until he was running too.

She flung her arms wide and he followed suit half a second before their bodies slammed together. The breath left his lungs in a gasp, and he heard her make a similar noise. Then he was being held and squeezed by the person he loved most in the world.

“You’re here!” she cried.

She pulled back from their embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was an automatic response for him to lift his hands to cradle her cheeks, swiping at her tears with his thumbs. He didn’t realize he was crying too until she copied his movements.

“Hi!” she giggled, beaming at him.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. He caught a whiff of her shampoo. She smelled amazing.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, then down his cheek, before resting her palm against his chest. “You’re here. Oh! Happy Birthday!”

She lifted onto her toes and pecked a kiss to his cheek, then rocked back onto her heels, her cheeks pink.

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he told her honestly, his eyes flickering across her face, memorizing every detail. She was more lovely than his imagination had been able to conjure; he didn’t think he would ever grow tired of looking at her.

Robert was then aware that the taxi was pulling off down the driveway.

“My things,” he protested, turning, but he saw a middle-aged man and woman holding his suitcase and backpack. “I… I didn’t pay him.”

“We’ve got it,” Vera’s mother said gently, stepping up to him. “Our birthday gift to you.”

She set his backpack on the ground and opened her arms in an invitation for a hug, one that he stepped in to. He held himself somewhat stiffly for a second—wasn’t it awkward to hug a virtual stranger?—but the hug felt so nice that he couldn’t help but relax into it.

“We’re so happy to see you,” she whispered into his ear, then she kissed his cheek.

She released him, and he turned to Vera’s father. Despite his enormous size—he stood at least half a foot taller than Robert’s six feet—his face was kind and there were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.

Robert stuck out his hand to shake his, but was instead pulled into another hug, to his surprise.

“Welcome,” Vera’s father said, giving him a firm squeeze. He pulled away and ruffled Robert’s hair.

His cheeks burned with an odd mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. 

Vera skipped up beside him and hugged his arm to her chest, then twined her fingers through his.

“Are you hungry?” Vera’s mother asked. “Nobody’s eaten lunch yet. Let’s go inside and out of this cold. C’mon my dears.”

Vera’s parents picked up his bags and began walking hand-in-hand towards the house. Before he could follow them, Vera gave his hand a squeeze and tugged at his arm. He looked down at her and couldn’t help but smile. He was finally with his soulmate. She returned the expression, then reached up and rested her palm on his cheek.

“I love you,” she said softly.

He thought his heart might collapse in on itself, and he was slightly mortified to feel tears welling in his throat. Swallowing them away, he covered her hand with his and turned his head to the side to press a long kiss to her palm. He took her hand off his face and brought her knuckles to his lips.

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her skin. “So very much.”

Her face was beautifully pink, and he couldn’t resist kissing her fingers again. He then tucked her small hand into his and followed the people that would become his new family into the house.

“Awww.” Sianin’s dreamy coo brought Robert out of his own head and back to the kitchen.

Of course, Robert had skimmed over the details of his father and had expanded upon the details of Vera, but he stayed as close to the truth as he could.

“That sounds lovely,” Rose breathed, misty-eyed. Robert realized with a start this was the first he’d told Rose about his first meeting with Vera.

“It was,” he said simply.

Robert stuck his hand into his pocket for his wallet. When he withdrew it, he opened it up and took a small faded photograph from within. The photo was of a lanky, messy-haired boy with his arm around a petite brown-haired girl. They were both beaming.

“Look at this,” Robert said, sliding the photo across the table so his granddaughter could see. “That’s the day we met.”

“Oh!” Rose clasped her hands to her chest and smiled down at the picture.

“You look like Daddy,” Sianin observed.

“No, your daddy looks like him,” Rose corrected. When Sianin frowned in confusion, she clarified, “A child looks like their parent, not the other way ‘round, since the parent made the child.”

Sianin ignored her mother and instead looked down at the photo again. “She’s very pretty. She looks like Ainsley.” Sianin then glanced sidelong at Rose. “Er… I mean, Ainsley looks like her.”

“She was the prettiest girl I’d ever met… apart from my beautiful little granddaughters.”

He lifted up Sianin’s party hat and ruffled his fingers through her hair. She squealed and ducked out of his touch, but he caught her around the waist and peppered kisses across her neck and cheeks just to hear her laugh again.

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

“Love you too, Grandad,” she said, breathless and beaming.

The front door then opened, and James called out, “I’m back! And some guests have arrived. Sian, your mate Emma is here.”

Sianin scurried out from Robert’s arms and darted to the front of the house. He watched her go with a fond smile.

He picked up the photograph of him and Vera and tucked it safely into his wallet behind James and Rose’s latest family Christmas photo. He made a mental note to ask Rose if she had any family photos that included the twins, and if he could get a copy.

“Meeting before she turned eighteen… how scandalous.” Rose stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she smirked at him.

Robert rolled his eyes. “You know how big the manor house is… I had my own bedroom, and she had hers.”

“And how long did it take before you started sharing?” Rose teased knowingly.

“Longer than it took you and James,” Robert replied sweetly, laughing at the deep blush staining her cheeks and neck. “You know, I never did thank you.”

Rose frowned. “For what?”

“Being there for James when he needed you the most. And me.”

“Dad…” Her voice was soft as she approached him. She rested her hands on his cheeks and said, “You will never need to thank me for that. For either of you. I love you and James so much. I didn’t hesitate. You both needed me, so I went.”

He smiled at her.

“I love you,” he said, taking her hands off his cheeks to kiss the backs of her knuckles.

“I love you, too.” After a beat, she said, “By the way, your dad was an absolute wanker and you deserved so much better.”

“Yeah, he was,” Robert agreed. He hadn’t spared his father a single thought over the last fifty years except the day he was notified his father had passed away. He didn’t bother going to the funeral, and Vera hadn’t pressed it. “But he doesn’t matter. He was my past. I found a new home, a new life, in Vera. Then also in James. And now with you and my granddaughters, too. My life is so full, and I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Not anything,” Rose mumbled, her eyes going sad.

A familiar ache wrapped itself around Robert’s heart.

“I still miss her,” Rose confessed.

“I do too, darling.” He took Rose into his arms and rocked her from side to side. “But I still wouldn’t change anything. Even if it meant having her back, I wouldn’t erase a second of the time I’ve had with you and my grandchildren.”

Rose squeezed him tightly, then let him go to return to the vegetable chopping.

The guests began arriving in a steady trickle, with James and Sianin greeting everyone while Rose finished up the work in the kitchen. When she was able to join the party, she saw everyone was split into groups. Sianin was playing on the floor with the five friends she’d been allowed to invite, while the adults—their family members, mostly—cooed at the two sleeping bundles in James and Jackie’s arms.

“Oh, Rose, they’re simply beautiful!”

“They’re adorable!”

“Wow, you’re looking amazing, Rose!”

Rose dutifully smiled and accepted everyone’s compliments, shooting James a wink whenever anyone congratulated her on their beautiful babies. It was a running joke between them that she got all of the praise for making their children, as though they’d magicked themselves into being rather than have any contribution from him.

Ainsley was the lone misfit of the party. She was too old to play with Sianin and her friends, but too young to be fully integrated in the adults’ conversations. As a result, she hopped between groups and often hovered by the twins, helping whoever happened to be holding them.

“No Sylvia today?”

Rose looked over at her husband’s voice, not realizing new guests had arrived.

Donna, Lee—who was holding little Joshua—and Wilf stepped into the foyer. Rose went over to greet them with a hug and kiss apiece, including a raspberry for Joshua.

“Mum was indisposed,” Donna said, giving Rose a meaningful look.

“Everyone’s in the living room,” Rose said. “The pizza should be here soon, but there are nibbles to pick at in the meantime. Drinks are in the kitchen; Donna, want to lend me a hand?”

Donna gladly followed Rose into the kitchen and away from prying ears.

“Indisposed, eh?” Rose asked when they were alone.

Donna went to a bottle of wine, pouring some into a paper cup.

“We sort of… had a falling out,” Donna admitted once she drained half the cup in one go. Rose stayed silent, letting Donna gather her thoughts and continue her story, if she wanted. “Lee and I decided we want another baby.”

“That’s exciting!”

“Thanks. Mum didn’t think so. Joshua’s a little bit… behind the other kids his age,” Donna admitted, her cheeks turning pink. “Developmentally. The doctors said it’s nothing to be too concerned about yet. But he’s nearly two and hasn’t started walking yet. And because he isn’t walking, we can’t even think about preparing to toilet train him.”

“He’ll get there,” Rose assured. “And toilet training is a long way off. He’s not even two yet.”

“That what I’ve been saying, but Mum thinks Lee and I are doing Joshua a disservice by trying to have another baby when we’re… what did she say?” Donna frowned and stared off into the distance while she tried to remember. “Oh! When we’re neglecting the child we already have.”

Rose gasped, a combination of sympathy and anger bubbling up within her. “Oh, Donna.”

“Yeah. So now of course I’m worrying that maybe Mum’s right, and that we should try to get Joshua the help he needs before our lives are thrown into chaos from a new baby.”

“But you said the doctors weren’t concerned, so what help does he need?” Rose asked, puzzled.

“Exactly! I dunno, Rose. This is all so hard. I’m terrified I’m not doing the right thing for my child. But what more can Lee or I do? We have him in nursery, so he gets socialized with other kids his age and is with professional childcare experts. And when we come home, it’s not like we ignore him or anything. We play with him, we read to him, we try and get him to want to walk, but he absolutely refuses. He screams his little head off and starts crying for us to pick him up. Or he just happily crawls everywhere.”

Donna sighed and scrubbed her fist into her forehead. Rose stepped up and wrapped Donna in a loose hug.

“I love Joshua so much,” Donna whispered. “God, I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But I just… want another baby before I get too old.”

Rose nodded, understanding all too well what the other woman was going through.

“Needless to say, Mum and I had it out.” Donna shook her head in dismay. “I told her if she wasn’t going to accept and support her grandson as he was, then she wasn’t going to have the privilege of seeing him at all. I’m not going to let her stand around and talk down about him where he can hear her. He might only be a little boy, but I’m sure he can understand more than we realize.”

“Good for you,” Rose murmured, rubbing a hand up and down Donna’s back. “I’m sorry about your mum though.”

“And I feel awful for putting Gramps in the middle of it. I feel like I’ve made him choose between his daughter and his granddaughter.”

Rose gave her a comforting squeeze, and once Donna had composed herself, they joined the party.

Their house was loud, hectic, and full of people—the twins handled it well though, considering this was their first time around so many other people. Rose and James ran themselves ragged, making sure that not only were their babies satisfied, but that all of their guests were attended to, especially Sianin and her friends. They appeared to be content to stay as a group and play together. 

The family all tripped over themselves to have a turn with the twins. Rose hadn’t needed to change a nappy or comfort a crying infant all afternoon. Her mother and James’s dad in particular seemed to self-appoint themselves as the babies’ caretakers, and were often disappearing into the nursery with one of the twins.

“Hey Dad? We’re doing the cake soon.” Rose leaned up against the door frame of the nursery and found her father-in-law sitting in the rocking chair, bottle-feeding one of the babies. Hannah, she thought, but she couldn’t quite see her daughter’s face well enough to distinguish.

“I hope you don’t mind?” he said sheepishly. “James gave me a bottle out of the fridge.”

“It’s fine,” Rose assured. Because she breastfed, it was rare for somebody other than her to feed the babies. She knew Robert enjoyed the task though.

The sight of her nursing daughter made her breasts become tender. She would have to sneak away and pump soon. “I was just saying, we were about ready to do the cake. Did you want us to wait for you?”

“Nah, it’s all right,” he said. “I’ll join you when she’s done.”

Rose nodded and moved back to the kitchen, where she found James sticking six candles into the chocolate cake before sampling a bit of the peanut butter icing.

“I’m sure it doesn’t taste that different from when you made it last night,” Rose drawled, smacking at his hand.

“Well, you never know,” he said innocently. “A good scientist always performs an experiment to test that his hypothesis is still valid.”

“Uh huh,” Rose said dubiously. “Last I checked, scientists weren’t supposed to go around licking the science.”

“Oh… well… ehm…” James floundered for a few moments before turning away from her for the matches. “Is Dad coming? I set him up with Hannah and a bottle a few minutes ago.”

“He said to go on without him,” Rose answered. “After this, I’m gonna need to go pump unless I want my tits to start leaking all over the place.”

“Just not on the cake,” James said, pulling it away from her.

She swatted him halfheartedly, then went into the living room to let everyone know the cake was coming out in a minute. When she returned to the kitchen, James was touching a lit match to the last candle. The flame had burnt close to his fingers, and he hissed as he quickly blew it out and dropped the smoking match into the sink.

“Ready?” she asked, grabbing her camera off the kitchen island.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, picking up the pan.

Rose guided him out into the living room, flicking the lights off as she did so. Sianin looked up excitedly at her and James as they approached and began to sing. As they sang, Sianin looked around the room at her family and friends before she stared into the flickering candles on the cake that James set on the coffee table in front of her.

Rose loved getting this shot, when the candles reflected in her child’s eyes and cast shadows across her face. If it wasn’t such a hazard, she would love to have fire in all of the photoshoots she did.

She took as many photos as she could of Sianin’s face scrunching up as she thought of a wish, then of her cheeks puffing up as she blew out her candles. The room broke into applause as she extinguished them all in one breath.

Sianin carefully pulled the candles out of the cake and licked off the crumbs and icing clinging to the waxy surface.

“We’ll all get some cake and ice cream, then we’ll do presents,” Rose said, carrying the cake back into the kitchen.

“You can go pump, I’ve got this,” James said, making a shooing motion with his hands.

Rose skipped up to him and pecked a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

When she returned, her breasts feeling much more comfortable, Sianin ripped through the multitude of gifts everyone brought for her. As soon as all the gifts were opened, she and her friends took over half the toys out of the packaging and began playing with them.

Rose sat back on the couch with a piece of cake and her camera. She took shots of all of the family as everyone began to wind down from the excitement of the party. The parents of Sianin’s friends would be arriving soon to pick up their kids, and hopefully that would entice the rest of the family to leave too. Being a party host was utterly exhausting and Rose was ready to have her house to herself again.

“Rose! Rose, come look! Quick!”

Rose lowered the camera from where she was about to catch a photo of Sianin and Ainsley. She turned towards her husband. He was sitting on the sofa with Maddie lying in the cradle of his thighs.

“She smiled at me,” he said. “I swear it. She actually, properly smiled at me!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Jackie scoffed, even as she walked towards him. “She’s too little to smile.”

Rose rolled her eyes at her mother and had to bite her tongue to keep from reprimanding her in front of the other guests. She instead snapped a quick photo of James holding Maddie before she went to stand behind him. She draped her arms around his shoulders and looked down at their three-week-old baby who, as much as she didn’t want to admit her mother was right, probably hadn’t actually smiled at James.

“Do you want to smile for Mummy? Do you want to smile for Mummy? Or are you gonna be shy? No need to be shy, my darling, not with those beautiful big dimple-wimples and those lovely pink wittle gummy-wummies. Want to flash Daddy your gummy-wummies? Eh?”

Rose smiled fondly at her husband as he dissolved into his rarely-used baby babble. But then, as James started talking about her “big blue eyesie-wisies”, the baby’s lips quirked up and her eyes scrunched as she grinned.

“Oh!”

“Look at that beautiful wittle smile!” James crooned. “Maddie-Waddie has a beautiful wittle smile-wile, doesn’t she?”

Rose brought her camera up and, heedless of trying to get the perfect shot, began snapping photos at random, hoping that at least one would turn out well.

“Anybody would smile at your daddy’s silly voice,” Rose cooed. “Wouldn’t they? He sounds so funny, doesn’t he?”

“Yes he does,” James sang. “Yes he does!”

A crowd had formed a semi-circle around them, hoping to get a glimpse of Maddie’s first smiles. Everyone began making silly faces and speaking gibberish to try to be the next person to make a three-week-old baby miraculously smile; all they managed to do, however, was overstimulate her and send her into a whimpering fit.

oOoOo

Once all the partygoers had departed for the evening, the James and Rose collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch. Everyone and everything was quiet. The twins had fallen asleep, and Sianin disappeared into her room with Ainsley to play with her new toys.

“We should clean up,” James mumbled, even as he rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

“Mhm,” Rose agreed, sitting in a similar position. “In a moment, though.”

“Maybe two moments,” James replied.

They each dozed for the next hour, and when they awoke, they were groggy but somewhat refreshed. They used their rejuvenated energy to clean up the worst of the mess from the party.

They weren’t particularly hungry when dinnertime rolled around, but knew they ought to eat something more substantial than the snacks and birthday cake they’d eaten that afternoon.

“Ainsley, Sianin, are you hungry?” James called out as he moved down the hall. “We’ve got some leftover pizza.”

He leaned against the door frame of Sianin’s room; his daughters were playing with the multi-tiered toy car ramp that Jackie had brought as a gift.

“Girls, are you hungry?”

“A little,” Ainsley said, looking up at him. Sianin continued playing with her toy.

“Well, food’s in the kitchen,” he said, thumbing behind him.

When he returned, Rose was sprinkling cheese on top of her salad as she nibbled on a slice of cold pizza. He scooped out his own salad and stole a bite of Rose’s pizza, earning him a smack on the shoulder.

A few minutes later, Ainsley skipped into the kitchen alone.

“Sianin not hungry?” Rose asked.

“She’s angry with you,” Ainsley said before putting a piece of pizza in the microwave.

James paused with his fork half way to his mouth; a bit of salad dressing dripped onto the table.

“What do you mean?” Rose asked.

“Sianin’s angry with you,” Ainsley repeated unhelpfully.

James looked over at Rose, who seemed just as puzzled as he was.

“Why is she angry?” Rose asked.

Ainsley shrugged. “Nobody paid attention to her at her party.”

“Sure they did,” James argued.

“Not according to her,” Ainsley replied, popping open the microwave door a second before it would have beeped.

James was utterly confused. Sianin looked like she’d had fun at her party; she played with her friends the entire afternoon.

He and Rose moved at the same time, setting down their forks and pushing away from the table to walk down the hall to Sianin’s bedroom. Their almost-six-year-old was sitting on the floor exactly how James had left her ten minutes ago.

The toy she was playing with had five car ramps that all circled around each other, and Sianin was using them to cause a massive pile-up in the center where all the ramps ended. James thought the various ramps were to race the cars against each other; leave it to his daughter to prefer making them all crash.

They knocked on her open bedroom door right as she made an explosion sound with her mouth.

Sianin looked up at them briefly, then returned her attention to her toy, resolutely ignoring them. For good measure, she even scooted further around, turning her back completely to them.

“What are you playing with, darling?” James asked softly.

“Cars,” she answered shortly.

“Looks like fun.”

“Yup.”

“Can Mummy and I join you?”

“No.”

James clenched his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms. How had they not noticed before that Sianin was upset?

“Why not, love?” Rose asked, stepping into the room.

She crouched in front of Sianin while James sat on the bed behind his wife. Sianin shrugged.

“Are you angry with us?” James asked quietly.

Sianin shrugged again.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

Many long seconds passed before she grumbled, “I hate the babies. They’re stupid and take up all the attention. It was my birthday party but everyone only wanted to see them.”

James’s chest caved in on itself, snatching the air from his lungs. “This is the first anyone has seen the twins. It was exciting for them.”

Sianin continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And when I blew out my candles, Grandad wasn’t even there. Then everyone went to go see Maddie smile. How is smiling that big a deal anyway? Everyone smiles.”

“That was her first smile, love.” Rose’s voice shook slightly. “There’s only one first smile.”

“What about a sixth birthday party?” Sianin shouted. “I only turn six once but no one cares ‘cos the babies are here instead!”

“That’s not true…”

“It is true. Everyone wanted to be with the babies instead of me.”

“We’re sorry, darling. Truly. But your sisters are very little and…”

“You’re making excuses!” she screamed, angry tears beginning to leak down her cheeks. She swiped at her face and said, “I don’t want you here. Leave me alone!”

James froze on the bed, not knowing what to do. He wanted to stay and comfort his child, but he was the reason his child needed comforting.

“Sianin, we’re so sorry…”

“Go away,” she wailed. “Go away!”

Rose stood up and tugged James to his feet. Together they exited Sianin’s bedroom, and after they made it a few steps down the hall, they heard her door slam shut, making them both flinch.

“Shit,” Rose whimpered, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Shit!”

“What a mess,” James agreed, rubbing his hand up and down Rose’s arm. “We’ll let her cool off, then talk to her again.”

When they walked back into the kitchen, Ainsley was just finishing up her pizza.

“Told you she was angry.”

“Yes, thank you Ainsley,” James snapped.

Ainsley held up her hands defensively, then pushed back from the table to put her plate in the full sink.

“Can you help me load the dishwasher?” James asked.

“Don’t you want to finish eating?” Ainsley asked.

“Not very hungry. I ate too much at the party,” he lied. In truth, his appetite had been obliterated upon seeing Sianin’s distress. He dumped his salad into the trash and together, he and Ainsley filled the dishwasher to capacity then hand-washed the rest.

The evening passed slowly, with Ainsley and Rose reading on the couch and James pretending to read while his brain whirred frantically to figure out how to fix things with Sianin. Sure, a lot of the family had spent time with the twins, but they’d also spent time with Sianin, hadn’t they? And besides, Sianin had been with her friends for most of the party.

Unless she’d been with her friends so much because everyone’s attention was elsewhere.

Bugger, he said to himself.

James got through nearly fifty pages of his book without absorbing a single word, but finally it was time to get the girls ready for bed. Sianin was still in her room but playing with a different toy when he went to summon her.

“Sianin, bath time.”

“No. I don’t want to,” she said.

“Well, you have to,” he countered. “Come on.”

“I’ll do it myself,” she said, grudgingly getting to her feet. “Without you.”

“You can’t be in the bathtub by yourself,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

Sianin huffed out an annoyed breath, pushed past him, and marched to the loo.

“I’m gonna do it!” she said when he turned on the water out of habit.

“Sorry,” he said, turning it off.

He gestured for her to go ahead and turn on the tap and adjust the temperature however she wanted it. It took her much, much longer than it would have taken him, and he cringed as she stuck her hand under the stream when she had the dial set all the way to hot.

She yelped and yanked her hand away, then turned the tap to make it cold.

In the end, the bathtub was filled with water that was only tepid at best, but Sianin didn’t say a word as she stripped and lowered herself into the tub.

It was one of the most torturous bath times James had ever been a part of. Sianin was utterly silent and efficient in her movements, and she snapped at him whenever he tried to assist her.

“I’m trying to help,” he said defensively, setting down the shampoo bottle he’d been trying to hand to her. “Don’t be angry with me for that.”

Finally, Sianin finished bathing herself and stood up out of the now-cold water and drained the tub. Goosebumps prickled across her skin and she began shivering lightly as she pulled a towel around her body. Rather than dry herself off, Sianin hugged her towel tighter, a frown etched into her face.

“A bit chilly?” he asked gently.

She didn’t say anything.

“Do you want a warm Daddy hug?” he asked, opening his arms.

Sianin sniffed. “I can do it myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said. “But there’s no harm in getting a bit of help, too. Daddy will always be here to help his little girl, no matter what.”

Sianin glowered at the floor for a long minute before she stepped into his open arms. Her body was damp, but he pulled her close anyway. As soon as she was ensconced in his embrace, a violent shudder rippled through her body.

“My bath was cold,” she muttered sadly.

“I know,” he said. “You’ll get better at figuring out the right temperature.”

He held her in his arms for a few minutes, trying to warm her up. When her shivering subsided, he let her step away to dry herself off then change into pajamas. After she brushed her teeth, he followed her to her bedroom and dried her hair, but when he grabbed a book off the shelf, Sianin shook her head.

“I don’t want a bedtime story tonight,” she said, tucking herself further into her blankets.

“No?” he asked, his heart falling.

“No.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “If you change your mind, or want to talk, Mummy and I are always here for you.” He set the books back and stepped up to her. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you, Sianin.”

“G’night,” she said, and she turned away from him.

James exited the room, pulling the door shut behind him. With a heavy exhale, he walked to Ainsley’s ajar bedroom door, and saw her sitting up in bed, reading.

“Did Mum read aloud with you?” he asked wearily, digging his forefinger into his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “Only a couple pages though ‘cos Hannah started crying.”

James stepped into the room. “Let’s finish out the chapter, eh?”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Ainsley said.

“I want to.” And he did. Bedtime stories were one of his favorite parts of the night, and it killed him that one of his children hadn’t wanted one that night.

Ainsley scooted to the far edge of her mattress, giving him plenty of space to sit beside her.

“Is Sianin okay?” Ainsley asked, feathering her fingers through the pages of the book.

“She will be. She’s just a little upset tonight,” he answered. “Can you do me a really big favor? If she comes to you and wants to talk, can you listen? Or if she wants to sleep with you, can you let her? Let me and Mum know if it becomes a problem, but at least for the next couple of nights?”

Ainsley nodded, and he flashed her a small smile. “Thank you. Now, what’s going on with Harry and his mates?”

He lounged with his eldest as she read about the trio’s adventures with the Polyjuice potion. When she finished, he tucked her in, kissed her forehead, then turned off the lights. He pulled her door shut behind him, then made his way back to the living room.

Rose was sitting with the twins on the couch.

“That was the worst bedtime in the history of bedtimes,” he announced dramatically as he plopped into the seat beside her.

Rose pursed her lips in sympathy. “Hopefully Sian’s in a better mood tomorrow.”

“Yeah. God, I’m knackered. The party was exhausting enough, now our kid hates us.”

“I don’t think she hates us, James,” Rose said. “She’s just… upset.”

He grunted in reply. “Have we done something wrong? Did we not prepare her enough for having baby siblings?”

“I don’t know,” Rose admitted. “Let’s try not to worry about it too much now. There’s nothing we can do. Tomorrow, we’ll talk to her and see how we can help her adjust better.”

“Yeah. I wish we could’ve ended the day on better terms. This was supposed to be her day, after all. It was supposed to be fun.”

Rose didn’t say anything. She instead rested her head on his shoulder.

James pressed a kiss to her hair and stroked his fingers absently up and down one of the twins’ backs.

“Want her?” Rose asked.

“Please.” He slipped his hands beneath his baby’s tiny body and took her into his arms.

While his heart still hurt for Sianin, holding another of his daughters helped soothe the ache. The feel of her warm, solid body released a cocktail of hormones that loosened his taut muscles and attenuated his anxiety.

He brushed his lips across the top of her head, inhaling her fresh baby scent as he did so.

“Love you loads, my darling girl,” he murmured, kissing her again. “Which one are you, eh? Daddy promises he’ll get better at determining it.”

“You’ve got Mads.”

“How do you do that so easily?” he huffed.

“Well, I was the one who changed them into new outfits, and I knew Maddie was in purple while Hannah was in black,” Rose teased, knocking her shoulder into his.

James stuck his tongue out at her, but pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I love you, Rose.”

“I love you, too. We’ll get through this, James. I promise. We’ll figure it out.”

He nuzzled his cheek into her hair, taking comfort from her presence as they both lapsed into silence.

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