#only to find out it’s all dust in the wind. No means of contact. The website’s been down since July ‘07. The usernames generic by now.

[krourou2]

… y’know. I know it’s simply the nature of the Internet, but there’s something both oddly lovely and dreadful about how things can just… cease to be. Just stop being there. Vanish into dust, save perhaps hollowed ruins should anyone think to archive it, faint echoes of what once was.

Only ghosts remain.

#oh my gosh shut up krou #Does this make sense? It doesn’t make sense why am I asking #At this point this is simply screaming into the void to be honest. I’m not really expecting comprehension. #I absolutely have not spent two hours trying and failing to track something down besides web archive files wdym #I am not specifying what but just. What do you do when it died sixteen years ago. What CAN you do. Nothing. #Honestly this has all been very frustrating. Sifting and digging and all that remains is dust and faint inscriptions. #If you know what this is about you know what this is about. #But given I’ve made maybe ONE very passing reference in tags AT MOST odds are good you won’t. #… ok fine this is about anime. Specifically a subbing team that went defunct back in ‘07 that I’ve grown fond of #only to find out it’s all dust in the wind. No means of contact. The website’s been down since July ‘07. The usernames generic by now. #It’s all just… gone. #The only traces it ever existed are dull phantoms resting in the web archive. #The open plaza of the forum remains but behind the doorframes lies only rubble. Faded scripts and broken tools remain but little else. #What led me down this exact rabbit hole was a little notetaking project I’ve been working on #and I noticed one episode was subbed by a different team than usual. I got curious what the usual team’s translation looked like. #Turns out it doesn’t look like anything because it no longer exists as far as I can tell. #Not unless someone miraculously still has it after 16-17 years. #…… it feels good to get that off my chest honestly. Even if it is weirdly specific.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

A Quick Run

Summary: Spencer attempts to exercise with Reader.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word count: 638

When you told Spencer you were thinking about getting into fitness again, he was excited to tag along. Maybe so you’d have an easy opponent. Maybe because he’d take any excuse to spend time with you.

Even if that meant taking a run through a nearby cemetery. He wasn’t afraid of cemeteries or anything. He actually found them quite peaceful. This is especially since besides the comfort they can give to living loved ones, they are largely untouched areas of land that should be used more by the public. No, the issue is that this cemetery is quite… hilly. And Spencer couldn’t oversell his lack of coordination or breath control.

And it’s when he gets out of the car and spots you doing stretches at the beginning of the path that he realizes he made a huge mistake. You’re even jogging in place, eager to get moving. Spencer could not relate less. If anything, his heart is pounding from inevitable embarrassment.

“Ready, go!” You exclaim before taking off. Spencer follows, picking up his arms and legs with every step. He's already winded and the burning wraps his thighs quickly. Meanwhile, you jog like you’re floating on air. Like it’s all-natural to you. Like you actually workout regularly (or at all, unlike him).

He catches your eye as you look back, noticing your pace slowing. “You go ahead!” He shouts, still trying not to look like exhaustion and heat are already bright red on his face. “You’re doing great! Go!” He throws his arm toward the first hill like it’s not about to pop out of its socket any minute.

When you turn around to pick up your pace, your natural pace, Spencer slows down to what could be considered a slight jog or a wounded animal. His lungs become dust in his throat. He looks around at the headstones, some clean and decorated and others barely withstanding time. He wonders if any of them would enjoy a new neighbor. And it’s when you disappear over that first hill that he finds a vacant patch of grass to collapse on top of. He cooks himself in the late spring sun. Every exhale sounds like he’s a cartoon character exaggerating an asthma attack, and the pain makes him question (briefly) if he actually is.

He heaves while lying flat on the short grass, surely sucking down a couple of gnats in his suffering. He shielded his eyes from the sun. Spencer wished he could impress you. Three doctorates and being an FBI agent only mean so much when encouraging someone new in his life to stick around. He thought his drive to put in effort would be enough. He’s not even sure that drive would be enough to even catch up to you.

“Spencer.”

He looks over to the path, seeing you in leggings and a tank along with a graceful layer of sweat causing you to glisten in the sun. If air could have stayed in his lungs he would’ve said something. Maybe an apology or insisting he needed five more minutes. But you were already close, and you held out your hand to help him up.

Spencer swallowed what bit of spit he had collected in his desert of a mouth, then took your hand. You brushed dirt and grass from his sweatshirt. “We can do this another time.” You insisted.

“I’ll be fine.” He somehow says. “I’ll just be a… a pit stop for you.”

You chuckled. “Come on, pretty boy.” You touch his back as you walk toward the car. “We can rest while watching Dr. Who.” You even threw one of Spencer’s arms around your shoulder.

“Actually that sounds good,” Spencer says. “I can do that.” His fingers make contact with the skin on your arm, and he thinks that this might’ve been worth it.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert

[nouearth]

the black cat and the mysterious nightwing.

pairing ; dick grayson x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, nightwing. word count ; 2148. genre; angst. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; blood, depictions of violence, bone-breaking, head trauma, physical fighting, verbal arguing, flirty banter, blackcat!malereader. notes ; i tried my best doing a blackcat!reader. i gotta admit, i don't know much about the character, so i just did my own little spin on it! req ; anonymous.

“don’t you think,” you scrambled to your feet, but caught yourself with a lunge before picking your hands out of the dust to charge at your opponent with vigorous speed. the sensor in your gloves triggered your metal claws to come out and you attacked with the intent to mark the masked man—not to wound, but to warn him off. “we would make a great couple? i’d happily sell my persona if it meant that ‘the black cat and the mysterious nightwing’ gets turned into a film and made billions at the box office.”

“you know,” nightwing blocked every swipe of your claws except for one to the face—a nick. the fresh cut on his cheek stung when it caught the cold breeze, but he’s too quick on his feet for you to notice the blood. he then circled around you with his escrima sticks drawn out, huffing. like your opponent, you followed back in his steps in defense, facing him as your senses were on high-alert from the advent of his signature weapons. the last time you were tased with them, you were sent to the ground, feeling tremors days later—they weren’t exactly the highlight of your interactions with him. “i’m the one bringing the audience in, right? flip the order of our names and it’s a maybe!”

“and haven’t i told you that i’m taken?” he continued, stalking you in a circle like a predator with its prey—an eagle with its cat.

“huh...” you thought to yourself out loud, eyeing the rooftop environment around you for a brief moment. cardboard boxes, plastic bags, cigarette butts, candy wrappers—nothing you could use to your advantage. “never thought you’d be the loyal type.”

“what?! you’re kidding, right?” nightwing interrupted the banter by charging at you again and you leaped to the side to dodge the first, but your back eventually caught the stick when he swung his right arm. he hopped back in defense, watching you gather yourself in a hunch, groaning.

“I mean, fuck-“ you tasted the wind that was knocked out of you, chapped and dry, and it all made the taste of metal more profound in your mouth. “with that body? no way. i can only imagine what’s underneath.”

“I’m flattered!” as he rushed towards you, nightwing swung a powerful right, a heavy grunt paired alongside. you evaded with a flip and another with an arm-block, but the impact knocked you back onto the concrete floor. your padded uniform took the brunt of the contact, but not your exhaustion. you were almost at your limit, panting and grunting heavily as you continued to dodge his onslaught of thwicks and whams at your chest and sides, beat after beat to the best of your ability. he was fast, always been faster than you, and he showed no signs of slowing.

“you have no reason even stealing from bruce wayne. come on,” the man meandered towards you, arrogance in every step while he stretched the tight muscles in his arms and back. “give it up. i won’t tell him, and i’ll even get you off scot-free.”

“you’re too handsome for me to send you to jail.” he said, half-earnestly.

despite assuming full responsibility of blüdhaven, and occasionally, gotham, his personality never diverged from his regular civilian-self: confident, playful, optimistic, and much more, but that was what you loved most about dick grayson. he was always himself.

you watched him slowly approach, elbows scuffed and planted to the ground as it supported your bruised body. he lent a hand down to you—gentlemanly. 

“hm… so you do find me handsome.” you grasped his hand and he began to pull you up, naive and trusting. “i got a chance then?” 

but you pulled him downwards instead, met your foot with his gut, and one strong kick tumbled him to the floor. “i’m still up for you getting me off, though!”

the distance between the two of you was larger than expected. he was going to chase after you no matter what—he’s done it before. the mental clock inside of your head was ticking as you watched him writhe, catching his breath. worry ignited, but it ticked— continue ticking until he found his footing, and you made a run for the ledge. your thrown backpack that harbored the stolen item resided in the nearest corner and your arm extended, reaching whatever you could grasp onto in midst of your flee.

but your palm held nothing—only cold warmth when you gathered air into a tight fist—as nightwing rammed you onto the floor with all of his body weight, skidding you near the ledge. your head hung off the edge as you blindly bore his swings to your hips and waist with a groan louder than the next, a bruise stacked on top of another. “fuck!”

the familiarity of gotham became foreign as half of your body dangled off the ledge—apartment buildings emerged from skies and the moon rose from seas—and it didn’t help that your opponent was weakening you with every guttural punch, drawing out hard groans from your throat.

“one last chance, cat. this has been fun and all, but i’m kind of getting sick of your schtick.” nightwing grabbed you by the shoulders and yanked you back up.

but something in the wind caught your eye—something black, something familiar. you turned your head, groaning when the muscles in your neck have stiffened in the mere moments it vacationed on the ledge, and a gasped left your hot throat.

your mask. 

“is that a yes?!” dick shouted, hands still clutched onto your shoulders while your cheek was still turned toward him, watching the mask ride the wind through gotham.

the air cooled your exposed skin, bruises and cuts melting with every breeze, and you were hesitant to turn, to respond. but dick was frustrated now and began pressing a knee to your bruised gut to warrant a glance of any kind—he can tell you were close to surrendering. 

you do.

you bit back a pained scream and turned towards him; nightwing, dick, your boyfriend of two years. the frustration and annoyance in his face soon wrinkled into shock, confusion, then betrayal.

but he feigned normalcy; you could tell by the waver in his voice and the twisting of expressions between artificial calmness and deception.

“what- what is this?” he stepped back once he let you go, lying. “you’re just a regular dude-“

“i can explain,“ you coughed out, blinking the etched image of dick’s betrayal away—a desperate attempt. there was no lying your way out of this anymore. years of being untruthful regarding the wounds he unknowingly left on you, nights you disappeared into; it has all accumulated into this very moment—karma. “dick-“

“no-“ dick twitched at the sound of his name. it resounded from a familiar voice—a voice that he would yearn to hear every morning and night, a voice that he has loved since day one, a voice that wouldn’t have held secrets. “you knew? you fucking knew about me—about all of this the whole time?! what the fuck, y/n?”

“dick, I never meant for it to get this far.” you said, getting up with sluggish movements. “i was just- fuck, uh.” you stammered and your thoughts clouded. 

what were you doing this for? it started off with wanting vengeance for your mother, then it amassed into wealth, then… then? 

what else was there left in this second life of yours that you needed to fulfill?

“seriously? cat got your tongue, or what?” he walked towards you, pointing one of his sticks at you, intimidating. “you can’t even give me a reason?”

“calm down, okay? i can’t exactly think when you probably broke my fucking ribs-“ you spat bitterly. not the best time to be annoyed at him, but you’ve always been quick to anger.

“wow, okay… maybe, i don’t know—if you would’ve told me about all of this earlier then we wouldn’t be in this position right now!“ dick’s powerful voice shouted, and you flinched when he pressed his weapon to your chest.

“okay- why are you even angry about this? it’s not like i robbed you!” you shouted back, leaning your chest forward until the butt of it pressed into your bruise. it was painful, but your jaw tightened to hold your anger.

“you kinda did considering it’s from the manor i grew up in.“ he scoffed, irritating you further with multiple pokes to your chest. “you lied to me, stole from my family. you seriously think that’s okay? after everything i told you?”

you didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. though it was only a coincidence that you and dick happened to fall in love; you kept this charade up and toyed with his alter-ego despite knowing who he was. stealing from a billionaire sounded great on paper—if only you never knew dick grayson, but his alias instead.

“I trusted you.” his voice softened—hurt and disappointed—as he stared into your eyes, and you could feel guilt swimming in your gut. “i don’t even know if this is all real—us, y/n.”

but you’ve never been one to face the consequences of your own action.

“here,” you limped to fetch your backpack, and dick instinctively followed you in case you were to escape again. “take it.” you handed a jewelry box to dick. the valuable wasn’t worth it anymore, even if it meant it would make you a millionaire. right now, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep your injuries off.

maybe even rethink your purpose on earth.

“so, just like that?” dick’s voice began to hollow as you walked away from him, nearing the ledge. “no apologies? not even going to look at me?”

“that’s the plan.” you muttered to yourself defeated, strapping yourself to your backpack, and before dick could say another word, parachuted yourself into the night. “always the plan.”

that was all you could think about as you writhed on the ground, dazed from the multiple beatings to your head and body. 

it was a burglary gone wrong. since you’ve last seen dick, you became sloppy. heists were done with aimless drive; not for your own gain, but out of pure spite because you’ve lost the best thing you had in your life, all because you were stubborn—a coward. 

stubbornness has done nothing but led you into a downward spiral of life, and now, you were at its very last step. you thought you broke that spiral by giving back to the community—donating to charities that you were passionate about, that needed the wealth that you profited off the most. 

but instead, you envisioned yourself banging on heaven’s door, gasping and screaming in pain as you begged.

a wheeze was knocked out of you once more when you took another crowbar to the gut. the taste of metal in your mouth became your comfort—you weren’t dead yet. close—soon.

you moved, but barely, crawling to a void you were sure you’d be left dead at, with nobody to witness the final breath you would draw. it was an amusing image for the henchmen. the trauma to your head muffled the demonic laughter of the predator, but it induced another cycle of ringing in your ears—you whimpered. you could feel yourself breaking into tears at any moment—if you even had the strength to. 

when the henchmen pushed his heel onto your broken hand—hard—you knew it was over. excruciating pain sent your body into tremors and you halted to break out into a cowardly sob.

your begs for him to stop fell on empty ears and he only dug deeper, until you could both hear a snap—a wail. 

heaviness slowly fell on your eyelids and you became numb, lolling your head to the side for comfort as a sudden relief on your hands and body washed over you. pain throbbed in silence, soft whimpers like yours, and it would become your lullaby as you mindlessly watched—half-lidded—a shadow in pursuit of vengeance. it was a recognizable thrill upon memorizing the swing of his arms, the dance of his feet as it dodged, flipping and twirling, until it was victorious.

you expected a warrior, running to you with triumph, present to reclaim its prize. but instead, you were met with panic, heavy anxiety as you were lifted off the ground and immediately cradled into a pair of familiar strong arms. 

“you’re okay,” dick was disturbed, anxious in every motion of his hand, but he mustered the courage to gather you close, sprinting far from your death bed. you could only respond in hums, weakly curling into the warmth you longed for as the breeze cooled your injuries.

“you’re going to be okay.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.dc #✰ : nou.dickgrayson #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x m!reader #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x m!reader #nightwing x male reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x reader #male reader #x male reader #dc comics fanfiction #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc imagine #dc x male reader #dc x reader #x you #male reader insert #x reader #nightwing angst #dick grayson angst #dick grayson fic #dick grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #nightwing

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, descriptions of violence, death, graphic description of dead bodies, angst, smut (m masturbation), sexual tension x a million

A/N: please tell me if I should use any additional tags/warnings on this story. Also this is the longest chapter yet, I knew when I wanted it to end but I kept adding more detail and more scenes as I wrote and it just got away from me oops

Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

December 2003

Chicago, IL

The cold, bitter wind blew off the lake as you trudged through the snow. You had three layers underneath your thick jacket, but you were still freezing. You had forgotten just how cold it felt this close to the lake, but you kept eagerly pushing forward.

"I think I know where we are," you said excitedly to Joel, who had been unusually silent the past few miles. "There's this golf course a couple miles from my house, I think this is it."

"Can hardly see a thing out here," was all Joel said in response. You frowned, annoyed that he was bringing you down when you were finally starting to feel hopeful.

"What's wrong?" you asked, putting an arm out to stop him. He sighed and you watched as a puff of air leave his mouth then dance away on the wind before he turned to look at you.

"I'm just -" he stopped, rethinking his words. "I'm worried. If they ain't there, we need to go to the QZ, and I don't know if it'll be as easy to get out once we're in, like it was before." He paused before adding, "And I'm worried about you... if we don't find what you're expectin'."

"Don't be worried, I know it's a long shot. But I have to try. What else do I have?" You looked up at him through your eyelashes, dusted with snowflakes. You looked so beautiful that it took his breath away. He had to jam his fist into his pocket to keep himself from reaching out and cupping your face.

"You got me," he said, looking at you softly with his heart hammering in his chest. You inhaled sharply. He didn't mean it like it sounded. "We can go out west, see if we can find Tommy. It'll be warmer out there, too," he added nervously.

You could tell he was really trying, he looked anxious as he shifted his gaze to your surroundings, his hands fidgeting deeply in the pockets of his coat. You weren't even sure where you would even begin to look for Tommy, if that plan was even possible, but if he was willing to take you all this way to find your family, the least you could do is agree to try to find his.

"Yeah, okay," you said quietly. His fidgeting stopped, and he made eye contact with you again. "If I can't find my parents, that's a good plan. We can do that." You smiled reassuringly at him now, trying to ease his mind. He gave you a small smile in return and a quick nod, then looked back down at the snow, brushing his nose with the back of his gloved hand.

"Can we get moving, now? I'd like to get out of this cold soon," you said, stomping your feet lightly, trying to get more blood to circulate in your legs.

"Yeah, sure, let's get goin'," he said, and you headed across the golf course towards a wooded area in the distance. If this was the golf course you thought it was, then your neighborhood was just on the other side of those woods.

You made it to the outskirts of your neighborhood just before dusk. The familiar tree lined streets just a few blocks away from your house made your heart flutter in anticipation. You knew you shouldn’t get excited; you knew it was unlikely they would be there, or even leave any type of note telling you where they went, but you couldn’t help it. This was where you grew up, this was your home. Your memories were etched in these streets: learning how to ride a bike, falling out of the tree and breaking your arm in your best friend’s backyard, trolling the streets at night as teenagers thinking you were tough and cool. A part of you was excited to show your home to Joel, but you quickly stopped that line of thought. He was not your boyfriend you were bringing home to meet your parents. He was your boss who agreed to help keep each other safe these past few months.

You both approached your street as darkness wrapped around you. Joel insisted you survey the street for a while to see if there was any movement before giving away your position. You reluctantly agreed, ducking behind a house on the corner, until you saw light moving inside a house. Your house.

“Oh my god,” you said breathily, “that’s my house. Joel!” you latched onto his forearm, dragging his attention onto you, “My parents!” you gasped.

You lurched forward, but Joel’s hand yanked you back. You angrily spun around to face him.

“I know you’re excited,” he began, clenching both his hands on your shoulders, “but we don’t know if that’s them, it’s been a long time. I think we should wait- “

You cut him off, saying, “It’s got to be them, what are the chances? C’mon, Joel, please!” you begged, clutching his wrist. His gaze bore into yours as you held onto him, and again you whispered, “please,”.

He groaned, unable to deny you when you looked so sweet and adamant. “Alright, just give me a few minutes, let me think of a plan,” he replied, at which your face broke out in a huge smile, still grasping his hand in yours as you bounced on your heels.

“Sure, whatever, I just want to see them,” you replied, looking back at the lights moving around your living room. You couldn’t believe it; your parents were alive! Joel had tried to curb your expectations, but it wasn’t even necessary, they were there. They were right there!

You approached your house in the darkness, unable to keep the smile from your face as Joel led you quietly across the street. He rapped his knuckles three times on the door and pulled out his revolver as he stepped to the side, ready for hostility.  When the door cracked open, it was not what either of you expected.

A man you didn't recognize peered out from around the corner. All you could see was his eye, but he looked terrified as he feverishly looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Who are you?" he asked, the door still cracked.

"Who am I? Who are you?" you replied before thinking, "this is my house, what are you doing?"

The man faltered a moment and Joel stiffened on the other side of the door. "Are you armed?" the man asked nervously, unable to see Joel's revolver at his side.

"Goddamn right we are," Joel spoke up, his grip on the gun tightening, "you better start explain' yourself."

The man went to slam the door shut but Joel was anticipating it, shoving his boot in the doorway to stop him.

"Alright, alright, I don't mean any harm," the stranger said, opening the door up more and walking backwards with his hands in the air, "come in, I'm not armed, but please don't hurt us."

Us. You entered your living room. It looked the same, except some pieces of furniture were pushed closer together. You glanced up at the wall above the fireplace by habit, seeing your high school graduation photo still prominently displayed, then your eyes settled on a woman cowering in the corner of the room. She was taller than you and blonde, with wide blue eyes and bangs that brushed her eyebrows, and she was shaking with fear. You held your hand out to Joel and pushed his revolver gently towards the floor. He resisted until his gaze met the girl in the corner, and his arms went limp.

The man who answered the door stepped forward, and you noticed now he seemed much younger, maybe around you age. He kept his arms up in front of him as he stood in front of the woman, his eyes pleading.

"Please, we don't mean any harm, we are just looking for a safe place to stay." He repeated, his brown eyes anxiously shifting back and forth between you and Joel.

Joel met your eyeline, and you sighed. Obviously, your parents had moved on, which left you distraught, but these people were harmless.

"It's fine," Joel said, tucking the gun in the back of his jeans. "This is her house," he gestured towards you, "we're lookin' for her parents, you know anythin' about that?"

The man lowered his hands now that Joel put his gun away, and drifted backwards to stand next to the woman, who still looked shaken.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't know who used to live here. We just needed someplace safe to stay for the winter, and this neighborhood was abandoned. We just picked your house randomly, I'm so sorry." the man apologized again, truly looking upset he couldn't help you more. "I'm Tim, this is Lucy," Tim rubbed Lucy's back affectionately, trying to ease her nerves.

You both introduced yourselves and they relaxed a bit, sitting down on the sofa and chairs surrounding the crackling fireplace.

"You think havin' a fire is a good idea? What if someone sees the smoke?" Joel asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Hasn't been a problem yet," Tim replied, "until you two."

You shook your head. "We didn't notice the smoke, but we saw your flashlights."

Tim smacked his palm against his forehead. "The one day I forget to pull the curtains closed, dang it!"

Joel shook his head and learned toward to Tim, "You need to be more careful. You're lucky it was just us," he said, swinging his thumb between the two of you. "You need to be better prepared, you gotta protect her," now motioning towards the Lucy.

Tim's face paled and he gulped nervously, reaching out and clutching Lucy's hand. "Can you give us some pointers? We just left the QZ two weeks ago, we are doing our best out here but," Tim gave Lucy a tight smile, "we could use all the help we could get."

Joel's eyes shifted between Lucy and Tim, then back to you. He didn't want to waste his time helping some kids who clearly were in over their heads, but the look on your face when you turned to meet his gaze changed his mind. He was finding it impossible to say no to you.

"Yeah, alright. For starters, close the damn curtains and put out the fire," he told Tim gruffly.

"How will we stay warm?" Lucy spoke up for the first time, nervously casting her gaze between you and Joel.

"Blankets. Keep your bedroom door closed. Body heat. Set up tents to sleep in inside when the temperatures really drop," you replied curtly. "Only when absolutely necessary should you risk a fire. It's still November, there's a long winter ahead of you."

Joel smiled at you proudly as you spoke, Lucy catching his look. You had been picking up tidbits from him over the past few months, and he was happy to see you've been paying attention.

Tim got up to close the curtains as Joel began to put the fire out. Lucy turned to you, shooting you a nervous smile.

"Tim and I are already in the master bedroom, do you and your boyfriend mind taking the other one?"

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," you replied quickly. Too quickly. Joel's shoulders tensed over the fireplace. "But no, that's fine, we're used to sharing a bed, and that's my old room anyway."

Lucy smiled at you politely before shifting her eyes between you and Joel curiously, her eyebrows scrunched together as if she was trying to figure something out, then relaxed her brow when Tim returned to her side.

"Alright then, we're going to get some sleep. Obviously, help yourselves to whatever's in the cupboards. It is your house, after all." Tim said, glancing at you with a quick smile.

You nodded and wished them good night as they headed towards your parents’ room. It was just as well: it would have been weird to sleep with Joel in their bed.

The door shut behind them and you got to work rummaging through the familiar cupboards, pulling out some canned food you could eat and without having to think, pulled open the drawer that housed the can opener, and then the silverware. Joel eyed you warily as he sat down at the kitchen table. He knew he wasn't your boyfriend, but the way you quickly corrected Lucy still bothered him.

You ate in silence, leaving one flashlight on between you. Joel looked around your kitchen, trying to imagine you growing up here. His eyes landed on the fridge that had some pictures stuck to it with magnets. Once you were finished eating, he picked up the flashlight and went to take a closer look.

"Oh, those were taken so long ago, I hardly even look the same," you said, noticing where his attention was drawn.

Joel tsk'ed, zeroing in on a picture of you when you were little and drawing with chalk on the sidewalk, then another where you were on a field trip with your 8th grade class, and a third picture where you were in a sparkly red dress for a homecoming dance with some boy's arm around your waist.

"As I said, those were taken a long time ago," you whispered, suddenly appearing beside him. He turned to look at you, really look at you: he could still see the similarities from the pictures in the way you smiled, the shape of your eyes, and the curve of your mouth.

You yawned and reached out to grab your backpack. "Follow me," you said quietly, not wanting to disturb Tim and Lucy.

You led Joel down the hall towards your bedroom and pushed the door open. You were pleasantly surprised that your parents left it exactly the same. You still had posters hung on your wall of the Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, and Destiny's Child. The pictures that decorated your dresser mirror were the same ones you shoved in the frame from high school: pictures of you and your friends at dances, at a restaurant, the mall, and a couple with the same boy who was on the fridge.

"Who's the guy?" Joel couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, that's Matt. He was my first boyfriend. We broke up right before college," you said coolly as you pulled out some more comfortable clothes from your backpack and left to go change in the bathroom down the hall.

Joel took the opportunity to look casually through the items on your dresser, sniffing a few different half used perfume bottles and flipping through some CDs. It was strange to be here in your bedroom. He had never considered actually being here before, too focused on the journey and not really thinking about the destination. You returned to the bedroom with a couple of extra blankets in your arms.

"My parents kept these in the hall closet, I already made sure Tim and Lucy had enough," you explained, spreading the blankets over your twin bed. You swallowed nervously, realizing this bed was smaller than the beds you've previously shared. Joel excused himself to go clean up and change as you slid into the sheets, your eyes closing in relief at the familiarity of the room. You didn't realize you had nearly fallen asleep until the mattress shifted, and your eyes snapped open. Joel's leg and arm brushed up against yours as you tried to keep your body from going rigid at the contact. It was unavoidable, your bed was too small, so you forced your body to relax and tried not to overthink it.

"Tomorrow, I'll ask ‘em about the QZ. If they can share any details about the place, then I think we can go there lookin' for your folks," he whispered in the dark.

"Mhmm, sounds good," you whispered back, still struggling to control your reaction from being so close to him. Your whole body felt hot. You told yourself it was just the extra blankets, but you knew better. Whenever he had been this close before, it was in your sleep, your mind was unable to process his touch until he was already pulling away from you. You squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"You need more room?" he asked, about to move before you stopped him.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," you said quickly, and turned to your side, finally getting a few more inches between you.

Joel stared at your back longingly. It seemed like every day something reminded him of what he would never have. The way you shirked away from his touch and how you made it perfectly clear you were nothing more than companions to Lucy felt like a punch in the gut. It's been months, and he still couldn't get his mind off you. You were becoming a burning need and it was driving him crazy. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing sleep to come so he could find some peace.

You woke up the next morning feeling well rested and warm. Really warm. With your eyes still shut, you burrowed into your bedsheets deeper to enjoy the warmth a little longer before having to wake up and face the frigid Midwest. You nuzzled your face forward and froze when your nose and lips met skin instead of a blanket. You slowly opened your eyes and found yourself face to face with Joel’s chest. You must have shifted around and ended up facing him at some point overnight. You stared at the exposed skin of his neck, taking in the little details of his tanned and pebbled skin, examining every birthmark you could lay your eyes on, then leisurely allowed your gaze to travel upwards where his prickly beard scattered over his neck, jaw, and upper lip. You inspected the patchy spots in his beard, seeing a few grey hairs sprouting up on the corners of his jaw. You noticed one bald spot resembled a heart, making you ache with the desire to press your lips there. His lips looked soft and plush, and you remembered how good they felt pushed against your own as they maneuvered your mouth open. His nose was sharp and angular, your favorite feature after his eyes. You were caught up in examining the wrinkles developing around his face when he woke up suddenly and his gaze immediately fixated on you.

You now realized you had your arms tangled around each other. Even your leg was wedged in between his under the blankets. You both lay on your sides, faces inches away, as you continued to stare at one another silently. Joel's eyes flicked down your face, examining you the same way you had just done to him. You felt your cheeks flush under the scrutiny, and you parted your lips to take in more air as your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Joel noticed the movement, his gaze fixed on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. He exhaled softly through his nose, the puff of air blowing gently over your face. The air around you was thick with tension, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Joel lifted his hand from your hip to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your lips. You sighed and your eyes fluttered shut, unable to resist leaning into his touch this time. He took a moment to appreciate the gentle features of your face while your eyes were closed. He ran his thumb over your lips again, marveling at how soft they were. He swallowed nervously, moving his thumb from your lips to rest on your cheek, then leaned forward, closing his eyes when his nose tenderly nudged your own.

A sharp knock on the door made you gasp and jump away. You sat up in bed, clutching the blanket to your chest and Joel laid back with a frustrated groan, roughly running his hands up and down his face.

"Yes!" you yelped; your voice high pitched. Lucy's quiet voice on the other side of the door answered.

"Just checking on you, we have breakfast and coffee whenever you're ready!"

"Be right out!" you replied, voice still too high, no doubt the result of your nerves short circuiting. You stared down at your hands, unsure what to say.

"Did you sleep alright?" you finally asked, a question he usually was asking you. You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket and turned to look at him, anxiously waiting for his answer. He dragged his hands down from his face and let them rest on his stomach, then shot you a grin.

"Slept fuckin' great," he said, grinning wider as he watched your face heat up from embarrassment, and you bit your lip to hold back a smile of your own. It took everything he had to not grab you and pull you back into his arms as you stood up and walked to the door.

"I'll see you in a minute," you said shyly, and closed the door behind you. You headed to the bathroom first, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath. You hovered over the sink and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, and your face was flushed. You looked completely wrecked. What were you thinking? The tension was beginning to be too much, and maybe if you just had sex and got it out of your system, just one time, it would help clear your head. It doesn't have to mean anything. If that was all he was willing to offer you, would that be so bad? You could separate the physical from the emotional, right? You sighed, raking your fingers through your hair to tame it, and went to meet Tim and Lucy in the kitchen.

"Fuck," Joel whispered out loud to himself after you left. He palmed his erection over his sweatpants, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. It had been so long since he last jerked off. It was risky, you could come back in here at any moment, but he was convinced he would be hard half the day if he didn't take care of himself.

He pushed his sweatpants down just enough to pull out his cock, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped himself firmly, setting a fast pace right away, knowing it wouldn't take him long. He let out short, quick gasps as he replayed the events from that morning: the way he caught you looking at him when he woke up, the sound you made when you sighed into his hand, your soft lips. "Shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, his hips thrusting into his fist as he imagined those lips wrapped around his cock, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your face all flushed as you brought him into your mouth as far as you could before stifling a gag.

He frantically reached out to the bedside table where he saw a few scarves piled near the lamp, snatching one and catching his release just in time before he made a mess all over your bed. He laid there for a few minutes catching his breath and then tucked himself back into his pants, shoving the scarf deep under your bed. He reluctantly stood up to change his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair before heading towards the kitchen.

"Oh my goodness, that sounds awful!" Joel heard you saying as he walked into the room. The three of you sat around the table with mugs of coffee, some oatmeal and pop-tarts. He sat down in a chair next to you and poured himself coffee before digging into the food.

"It got really bad there, we just couldn't risk sticking around. From what others were saying, it was just as bad in any other city," Tim had finished saying. You turned to Joel, faltering for a split second when your eyes met, before explaining.

"They just told me the QZ is a shitshow. People are having their food rationed, they're doing grunt work for hardly anything in return, and some people are being attacked for their supplies and the soldiers don't do anything to stop it," you said, listing each item off on your fingers as you spoke.

"Well, it could have been worse. We heard stories about soldiers going to neighborhoods and filling up trucks with people, telling them they'll go to the QZ, but the trucks never arrived," said Lucy, eyes wide. "Rumor has it, there wasn't enough room, so the soldiers shot everyone and left them on the side of the road."

"Why would they do that?" you gasped, a hand over your mouth.

"Dead people can't turn into infected," said Tim sadly, "that's why we stuck it out in the QZ as long as we could."

"How long were you there for?" Joel asked, pausing to take a sip of the piping hot coffee. He looked around, frowning, wondering for the first time how they heated up food, and then he saw the fireplace roaring. His eyes flicked back to Tim angrily.

"I know, I know, we're gonna put it out, we just wanted to warm up a bit and make something to eat," he waved off Joel's glare with a chuckle, "besides, you couldn't even see the smoke last night."

"We were distracted, anyone else walkin' up this street will see it. I'm warnin' you right now," Joel scowled and pointed his finger menacingly at Tim, "if you get her hurt 'cause you ain't listenin' to me, I'm gonna make the QZ look like a fuckin' playground." The whole table was silent while Joel stared daggers into Tim's paling face. You were confused why Joel was so protective over Lucy, a stranger by all accounts, until the coffee kicked in and it clicked: Joel wasn't referring to Lucy. He was talking about you. You could feel the tips of your ears getting red.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the tension at the table. Then a thought occurred to you. You got up quickly and snatched a picture off the mantle over the fireplace, bringing it back to the table and slid it between Lucy and Tim.

"Did you ever see those two people in the QZ?" you asked desperately, your gaze bouncing between them as they examined the photo carefully. They frowned as they stared into the faces of your smiling parents, then slowly shook their heads.

"I'm sorry, I don't think so. But it was a big place," said Lucy, "it's possible they could be there, and we just never saw or noticed them!"

You sighed, thanking them anyway, and pulled the picture back towards you. Joel could see the disappointment in your eyes, and he wanted to take your mind off it. His gaze traveled to a corner of the kitchen where he saw a bow leaning up against the wall with a quiver of arrows. He nodded towards it.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, standing up to inspect it. You looked up and gasped.

"That's mine! Oh my god, I had no idea my parents kept it."

"Yeah, we found it in the basement. We didn't have any weapons, so we figured it was better than nothing. I've never even used a bow before," Tim said. Joel picked it up and pulled on the strings a few times, then picked up a couple arrows and flicked the tips to test their sharpness.

"You mind if we borrow it? I wanna try to get us something substantial to eat. Looks like it's gonna be a nice day," Joel said, peeking out the window up at the sun, watching the icicles on the gutters drip.

Tim agreed, since it wasn't really his to begin with. You insisted on leaving your pistol on the counter with them, in case of an emergency. Lucy shuddered when she saw the gun, and Tim picked it up to put it in the cupboard next to the sink.

"She hates guns," he explained quietly to you as you and Joel got ready to head out to hunt. "After seeing so much brutality in the QZ, she can't stand them. I'm just trying to keep her calm and happy, so I do as she says." He smiled at you both as you walked through the front door. Before you walked away, Joel turned back to Tim and just simply said "Fire," in a forceful tone, to which Tim nodded and gave a thumbs up, closing the door behind you.

The two of you walked silently down the street back towards the woods you came from, your heads swiveling every so often to make sure no one else was around. The sun was bright, and it was bouncing off the white snow, making you wince. You could tell as you walked that the few inches of snow that was on the ground was breaking up under the warmth. It would probably mostly be gone by nighttime, leaving muddy and dead grass to admire.

Once you reached the woods, Joel did his best to track any animal prints that looked fresh. He wasn't exactly an expert, but he knew enough. You followed closely behind him and kept your eyes on the trees for any movement. You had been walking around the woods for almost an hour before you stopped to rest. You found a fallen tree trunk elevated a bit from the ground that you could both comfortably sit on. You took a sip from your canteen as you glanced around. The forest was so still and quiet, it felt peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment to savor it, unaware Joel was watching you closely.

Neither of you had mentioned anything about this morning. Joel felt a glimmer of hope inside him that maybe not all was lost, that maybe you could feel the same way he did. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn't want to scare you off and ruin the progress he had made. He cleared his throat, the noise grabbing your attention and making you open your eyes to look at him.

"So," he began, fiddling with the bow in his hands, his eyes cast downward, "I guess when we get back, we oughta ask 'em how they escaped from the QZ, then we can make a plan, get in and see if we can find your folks."

"Mhm, that sounds good," you said, watching him pick at the bow. "Maybe we should stay one more night, then leave early tomorrow."

He looked up at you now, unable to hide the shock from his face. He expected you would want to leave right away, eager to find your family. He scanned your face, seeing a small, playful smile, and he swallowed roughly. You wanted to stay another night for a reason.

His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks. He hoped you would think the cold air was to blame as he shifted his weight on the log, dragging his gaze from you and onto the trees.

"Yeah," he finally squeezed out, "that's fine, we can leave tomorrow."

You bit your lip and turned your head away from him so he wouldn't see the smile that threatened to spill across your face.

You heard a snap of a twig nearby, drawing both of your attention as you fixated on the location of the noise. You froze when you saw a fat rabbit about 10 yards away, happily munching on some grass that had been exposed by the sun. Joel slowly reached down for the bow, but without looking you reached your hand out to place on top of his, stopping him. You motioned with your fingers to hand over the bow. You were more familiar with it, but it had been a long time. It was like riding a bike, right?

You loaded an arrow slowly into the bow, and drew back the string silently, closing one eye and aiming straight ahead. You let out a slow breath, then held it for half a second before letting go of the string. You cried out in happiness when the arrow made contact, killing the rabbit instantly. Joel swiveled his head towards you with a huge grin plastered on his face, beaming with pride.

You held the rabbit by the feet as you made your way back to the house, explaining you used to shoot archery in middle school but lost interest. The adrenaline from the kill combined with the excitement of what lied ahead for you and Joel was making you dizzy with happiness. You should have known something was going to ruin it.

You were a few doors down from your house, still smiling and teasing Joel about how much of a better hunter you were when his eyes fell on the front door of your house, and he froze. You stopped automatically, following his gaze to the front door of the house that was wide open. You both stood there for a minute, waiting to see if Tim was going to appear walking back inside with a bucket of snow to melt, but he never did. You turned to Joel, your eyes filled with worry.

"Did he leave the door open?" you asked shakily, hoping there was a reasonable explanation. Joel slowly shook his head, eyes still trained on the house. You looked around you now, trying to make out any footprints in the snow that may have been foreign, and Joel looked around at the houses on the street for movement. When it appeared to be quiet and still, you both begrudgingly approached your home, afraid of what you would find.

Joel stepped through the door first, his face immediately contorting in a grimace. He held his arm out to keep you back, but you refused, dropping the rabbit and pushing past him, gasping at the sight before you. Tim and Lucy were slaughtered, laying lifeless on your living room floor. Blood seeped into the beige carpet, making it spongy and red. Their eyes were open and staring up at the ceiling, their mouths agape as blood slowly trickled from their multiple stab wounds.

You bit back a sob, turning away to focus on literally anything except them. Joel desperately wanted to comfort you, but he first needed to know the bandits were gone, so he advanced into the small house, clearing each room before returning to find you standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down your face.

He briefly noticed the cupboards were left wide open, all the food taken, as well as the pistol you left for Tim, before he reached out to envelop you in his arms. You sank into his embrace, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. His eyes flicked back to the scene in the living room.

“That fuckin’ fire, I told him to put it out,” he said, staring at the small flames still licking at the embers.

You tried to argue with Joel about burying them, but he didn’t want to risk it. He wanted to get back into the forest behind the shelter of the pine trees. You had packed up your things quickly while Joel draped a couple sheets over their bodies. He made sure to grab the rabbit you killed before hurrying you out the front door and back towards the forest, not stopping until you were miles away and you begged him to take a break. He relented only when he found a secluded spot where he felt safe making a small fire to cook the rabbit. As you ate, he examined his map, trying to figure out where you were in relation to the QZ. He was fairly certain you were heading in the right direction, his eyes lifting up towards the sun and then turned the map around in his hands.  

“I think we’re here,” he told you, pointing to a green area on the map. “If we hook up with this road here,” he dragged his finger over to a thick line on the page, “then that will take us right into the city, and we can find the QZ.” You nodded, cleaning off your plates in what little snow remained on the ground. “You doin’ ok?” he asked you hesitantly. You stopped cleaning the plates to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just… that could’ve been us. It scared me.” You held his gaze for a moment, trying to express how much he meant to you with a look. Joel shook his head and leaned forward to grip your hand.

“It ain’t gonna be us, we don’t make stupid mistakes like that, you understand me?” You nodded, your eyes raking over his face, wondering if your luck will eventually run out. He gave your hand one more squeeze before standing up, urging you to pack up so you could make it to the QZ before nightfall.

The road Joel had pointed out to you on the map was deserted, surrounded only by thick forests and a few abandoned cars as you made your way slowly towards the city. You kept your gaze on the ground in front of you, absentmindedly kicking a stone here or there as you walked beside Joel, who was on high alert for raiders and gripping his rifle tightly in his hands. The road curved and steered you towards an open field, where you could now see buildings not too far off in the distance. Suddenly, Joel stretched his arm out across your chest, stopping you both. You looked up at him, confused, then followed his gaze. Not far ahead, you could see a pile of bodies on the side of the road, just like Lucy had warned. You held your breath, unable to fathom how evil those soldiers must be to execute all those innocent people. He looked down at you, and you nodded to him, telling him you were ok, to keep walking.

You continued down the road, both of you unable to keep your eyes off the bodies as you got closer. You couldn’t tell how long they had been there, the harsh winter had likely preserved their bodies, but with the snow melting today, you could make out most of their exposed faces and clothes. Your eyes scanned over a few of the bodies on top and that’s when you saw them: their bodies twisted and lifeless, laid next to one another on the side of the pile.

You dropped to your knees in the middle of the street, not even registering the pain from the impact. Then your vision went blurry before blackness creeped along the edges. You forced out a choked cry, unable to control the volume of your voice as sobs shook your body. Joel’s arms were around you instantly, cutting off your view from your parents, and kneeled down in the street with you, holding you to his chest to muffle your screams, rocking you back and forth until your breathing slowed and you ran out of tears.

Chapter Twelve

Taglist: @chiogarza, sparklejumpropequeen-777

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

[jinxedyaart]

A little too Similar Part 2

After assisting Winston with the preparations for the meeting, dusting herself while keeping the conversation small before saying goodnight to one another. Finally stepping out to go to her office. Reading over the back up plan papers a few more times before opening her office door. Flicking on the lights, motioning herself around her bed to sit down at her table. Checking the digital clock on her computer screen noting the fact it was now around 12pm. The wind howled just outside her windows as the cool ocean waves symphonized in her ears. The moonlight gave off a somber light. She reaches over to her desk lamp flicking on the switch. Giving her a little bit of light to work with. Shifting around in her chair making herself comfortable, she starts typing on her computer. Focused on her work, just as small knocks on her door steal away her attention. Looking at the door for a split second seeing dim glowing green lights and overly grey figure at the door. Knowing immediately who it was.

"Come in Genji."

She called out, looking back to her computer as the door softly creaks open. Once he hears the ok to come in, he steps in slowly closing the door behind him. His armor clicked softly against his body. She spins a small bit in her chair, getting up to start making coffee for the both of them. This might be a long talk for the night. As she starts the coffee machine, he begins.

"So Angela.. what do you feel about this meeting?"

He moved around a bit, choosing to sit down on the bed, taking off his mask and placing it on the small space next to him. Focused mostly on the doctor as she moved around the small space. Clearly trying to distract himself from the mission on hand. Glancing at her blonde hair moving gracefully following her body's motions. Her white lab coat obstructing her figure in his eyes.

"I think this would be good for all of us to have the enemies of our enemies be our friends as they say. No harm is done if we chat with them to see what they offer to us willingly.."

Her response snapped him out if the small trance he made of her. Hearing the machine pour out coffee into a small cup. She grabs it and turns reaching out for his hand to give him his cup of coffee trying to ease his nerves. Returning to the machine to make her cup next.

"Is it making you nervous Genji?"

She stopped for a bit turning her face slightly to look at genji. Noticing his posture, he tries to make himself look OK but she knew better. She knows he's nervous about this being another faux business like the original Shimada organization.

"How little information there is about them, how they make themselves look like they are trying to "protect their people".. I can not help but to feel this is just another gang like business. I-i.."

He sighs a bit out of frustration of what he's trying to explain. Anger, sadness, nervous was only scratching the surface of his true emotions. His eyes dart back and forth between his hands and his cup, never once looking up to Angela's blue eyes. Then out of his periferal vision comes Angela's hand to softly graze his own. Calming his nerves at least a little.

"I'm sure this is nothing like your family. We have to take a chance to see if they truly mean to help us against our common enemies. They reached out to us.. Doesn't that show something?"

She stops for a brief moment, tilting her head slightly. Trying to take his focus off of his unease.

"They contacted us willingly and offered up their aid to us. We need all the help we can get. This is a big battle we cannot win alone. Your family wouldnt have done that without having something to gain."

Genji slowly eases his head up, making eye contact with the doctor. He stares into her eyes seemingly trying to find anything to argue on. He sees the small bags under her eyes, ruining the fair tone of her skin. He knows she's tired.. Plus she's not wrong and he knows that too. His family wouldn't have bothered to contact somebody else far away from them nevermind give them aid. With how they were and how easily they turned their back on him, of course they wouldn't help others across the sea and he knew it all to well.

"I know.. You're right. I guess I was just overthinking it."

He whispers in response, taking his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers to calm himself. Turning his attention back down at their hands, blushing a bit of their closeness. Their skin tones contrasting eachother beautifully in his eyes. He glances up at her, his caramel eyes softening while her blue ones were still focused on his face, glancing around to see if he truly is soothing himself. Noticing instead his blush on his cheeks. Just a slight dust of pink on his pale scarred features.

"I trust Winston wouldn't have bothered if he thought this was a real threat. He wouldn't put us in such danger if it was."

She giggles a bit before smiling softly at him. Backing up to grab her coffee in one hand. Putting it up to her lips for a sip. Genji mimicked her motions, putting his robotic hand under the cup. Taking a small glup of coffee, sighing a bit after having something warm soothe his bodily nerves. His eyes closed for a moment taking in the peace of Angela's words.

"I trust him too, just needed some comfort about this.."

He smiles back at Angela. Scars stretching a bit from his smile making it a bit wonky in someone else's eyes but she didn't mind it. It was part of him. They both sat in silance smiling at one another, enjoying eachother's company in her office. Maybe it's not like that..

However things weren't so calm and quiet on the other side.. Bachata blared through the streets as people from all places danced with smiles on their faces. Music filled their soul with happiness. It was a paradise of leisure that other yearned for in their streets of Massachusetts. Food lined tables for the whole corner, children ran around. Their giggles overlapping the music. In the centre of it all was a "small" ornate building lined with greek style pillars and glass halls coming from the left and right of the building. White concrete fences lined affront, turn a bit and you'd see a concrete backyard which held the party. Two tall omnics were lined at the front gate, one dealing with a small little girl blowing bubbles with a smile plastered on her face. The other leaned against a door, seemingly having a conversation with someone just out of view. The sun blared down onto the streets, never letting up. The heat didn't bother anyone from what can be seen.

Inside the building was the little one all grown up, conversing with yet another omnic. A bit different from the other ones outside the building. He had a few stray wires for "hair" with a small gold necklace around his neck. The little one now had a head of platinum blonde tight curls around their head, roots a dark brown. Their body and face more matured to show their age. Walking with haste, passing a few pictures and paintings of the old leader and his siblings sometimes with their mother. Some were just his siblings, others was just one of each in their own world. Further down the hall was a large room with several stairs all leading in different directions. Statue of the leader crouched down in the middle of it all. Same serious expression on his face. A NYC baller hat, hair in a low ponytail behind him. A baggy jacket over a slim fit tee and equally slim pants. Next to it was a stone tablet with engraved writing. In bold letters was his date of birth and Death on the top. The odd pair stroll the room, going up a flight of stairs.

"Did they confirm the meeting time? Or another ghosted conversation?"

The omnic asked with an amused tone in his voice. Looking down at the little one next to him with a tilt of his head. A gutted scoff reached his audio mechanics. Making eye contact with the one who produced the sound.

"Valen, they responded this time and even decided to set up the exact time too. So yee they most definitely ghosted my ass. Willingly! Might I add"

They responded sarcastically with a smirk on their face. Valen couldn't exactly see it since they focused back on looking down at the floor to make sure they didn't misstep on the stairs. He puts out his arm as a pre-caution for them which they grab without hesitation knowing they were gonna fall forward if they didn't. His purely white robotic fore arm contrasted against their pale brown one. If he could show expressions better, he would've smiled softly at the contrast of colors. He looks back up to the steps ahead, retorting back with sass.

"Haha, Very funny Capt."

He fake chuckles, whipping his head down to 'glare' at the back of their head. Covered mostly by their bleached white curls. Their chuckles echoing slightly in the hollow glass halls. The omnic was clearly not amused with their leader's response to his serious question. At last reaching the top of the steps, arms still interlocked for a bit longer before finally pulling apart.

"So this Friday at 10 am?"

He asked slightly concerned about the little one next to him. Once they perk back up to continue on the path to their office, they say.

"Sadly yeah, 10 am.. I assumed they were mostly early people and for something like this, I treated it the way a court would."

They sigh softly, their face forward with eyes drifting down a bit in thought. Looking back up to the omnic next to them. Their black eyes shined a bit from the refraction of sunlight. A hidden anger deep within their pupils.

"This is important for both parties. Kinda like a watch my back i watch yours kinda exchange. Or at least i hope.. they've proven themselves to be strong in the past, so nurturing them when they are weak helps us too. They'd be more willing to chat with us if we need aid as well.."

They motion their hand for emphasis before they stop in their tracks, facing a photo that hung in front of them. A photo of a kindergarten graduation. Clearly their graduation when they were little. They stood in the middle with a white dress before a sign of the school's name. The leader dressed in all black with yet another NYC baller hat and the second oldest wore all white with a few black embroidery words spewed around. Both crouched down next to the little one with smiles on their faces.

"He put a lot of himself into making this place for the family.. Wanting a safe place for any and all in the ghetto. Free from gangs and streets that could kill anyone not looking out for themselves.."

Their hand reached out to touch the glass. Grazing softly over the face of the prior leader. Their nails scratching the glass a little, Creating a rough static sound. Eyes focused on all three of them, specifically their smiles. They genuinely seemed happy.

"Like hell imma let some robots and sneaky operations destroy this place. They gotta get through me before they hurt my family."

They noticed in the glass reflection that Valen had his attention elsewhere. Looking out the window behind him. They turned back to the omnic with fire in their eyes. Only to see Valen notice the movements to yet again be unamused but in his posture.

"Leo.. calm down. This is Overwatch not some kids show villains we talking about."

Valen retorted plainly to the overdramatization of his captain speech and actions. Leo mimics back unamused then quickly changes the expression with an annoyed sigh. Arms thrown up in yet another dramatic way before scurrying to their office door which wasn't that far off from where they stood.

"I meant Talon and Null Sceptor not Overwatch. Ya moron. Why would I invite the enemy into a place I find sacred huh?!?!"

They swing open the door, nearly hitting themself on the couch they had in the middle. Trying to get behind their desk for some paper work. Moving the desk chair away to open a few drawers. Valen steps after them, gently closing the door behind him and promptly standing infront of it. Leo stopped half way through the rummaging to smile, holding up a news article with the headline 'Overwatch Back Once More To Defend Against Omnic Crisis'.

"Well nevermind that. We got a few days to prepare for Winston and others coming over. Which to be honest he didn't disclose to me who was going to be coming with him... so we gotta make some accommodations for their carrier plane and a nice way for them to feel welcomed here. The last thing I wanna do is frighten them."

Valen chocked a laugh, turning away from Leo's line of sight to snort another laugh. Their captain whipping their head to the laughing man in the room, glaring harshly at him.

"ANYWAY.. ya little turd."

They whispered, pulling the chair back and sat down, skimming over the few lines underneath the picture of the new Overwatch. Trying to figure out what best to do for a warm family welcome for all teammates but also looking as to who is planning on coming back and who isn't.

"Of course Winston is coming as he is the leader of it and maybe Lena since she seems to be the only pilot on hand. Mei also seems to be a good guess as well since the two seem to be close."

Looking back up at the omnic with a small smirk on their face. A hint of mischievous intent behind the expression.

"Wanna bet who else is coming to the Fiesta? 20 bucks on Mercy and genji comin in."

The omnic chuckles Zooming next to Leo, placing on hand on the top of the chair and the other on the desk. A happy tone in his voice as he studied the picture.

"30 bucks on Mei and Cassidy"

He points down at her and turns his attention back to Leo, who was more interested on reading and studying the picture than to look at him. They laugh in unison before cut abruptly by the door swinging open. Slowly letting their laughter die, focusing on the doorway. A small figure comes from the hallway into the room, holding a plate of foods.

"Aquí tu ta mamá, tu comida." (Here you are mamá, your food)

A small elderly lady comes into the room with a small smile. Clearly Leo's mother with how she addressed them. Her dyed red curls softly bounce as she put the food on top of the paper, looking at her child with admiration. Her hazel eyes scanned over Leo's face then turned to Valen.

"Aye Valen.. si tu podrás comer la comida que ése. Pero todo con tempo mijitó." (Oh Valen, if only you can eat the food I made.. but everything comes in time)

She throws her hands up a bit in exaggeration over the fact that he couldn't eat. With a smile she turns to leave before hearing a simple "Gracias Ma/ Senorá" from both Valen and Leo. Finally leaving the room, closing the door softly.

#genji shimada x reader #genji shimada x reader smut #genji x reader #overwatch #genji shimada #overwatch genji #black reader #self insert #genji overwatch #genji shimada x you #genji x mercy #mercy overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #fanfic #genji smut #overwatch x reader #x reader

[aerodaltonimperial]

Prompt: eye contact across a crowded room

(PHENOMENAL yes this is made for me lol; Hookhausen, JungleCorpse)

The hotel conference room flipped into a catering free for all around 10:30 this morning; the specifics don't really matter, but it's worth mentioning. Staff has set up long tables along the patterned carpet. It's one of the nicer rooms, and definitely the largest, and they needed it since the pre-Canada tour kick-off means everyone is present.

Staff has tried to keep things orderly, they really have, but chaos descended almost immediately when the food came out. Instead of two orderly lines at the ends, there are multiple half-formed lines every few feet. Wrestlers aren't very good at following rules, after all. They bump and shove to get to the ladles and plates and bowls, talking and laughing and celebrating. The Canada tour, at the end of the day, is a big deal.

It's easy to get caught up in the sway and the buzz, but we aren't here for the faces turned up towards the fluorescent lights in amusement. There are four figures who have barely moved, even with all the energy around them. These four, you see, are having trouble joining in the excitement that has swept away everyone else.

Two of them are standing next to each other, a valiant bid to keep the loneliness away. It's not a bad choice; most of the time, having someone to talk to makes the event go faster. But misery shared is never really halved, and hearts broken by others rarely line up correctly. Hook is staring at his phone. Jack is staring at the far wall.

You see, Hook expected a text message that never came, and he's struggling with the realization that he is the reason it failed to materialize. He thinks he should have gotten a warning, and he didn't. He is staring at his phone to avoid staring at the face across the room—the face he has, if we are being honest, and we are, been waiting to see again for many months.

Jack didn't expect a text, and he got one. The bare vulnerability of it has left him too jittery to hold onto a normal conversation, so it is fortuitous, then, that his companion is not fond of speaking. He does not look at his phone, because he thinks if he ignores it, then perhaps the overwhelm swelling in his chest will recede.

They receive a few curious glances, but their silence isn't out of the ordinary, and everyone else is too busy making plans and eating their banquet.

Hook opens his message thread again. He types out a few words, chews on his thumb, and then deletes them. His hand falls back down to his side.

Jack hasn't taken a bite of his meal yet. His stomach has turned upside down and no longer knows what to do with the offering.

They are, by themselves and together, a rather miserable pair.

Hook runs a hand through his hair; he will have to rally to save this evening. Jack lets out a deeply weary sigh—he will need to face the music.

It's worth mentioning here that, if they would only talk to each other, they would find they have much in common at the present moment, but conversing fits poorly on them both, and practice is too daunting a thought. Perhaps later, when the dust settles, they might find the possibility more enticing.

Finally, Hook’s shoulders straighten. Something seems to bloom inside, a second wind. He clicks his phone on and types with purpose. He waits for one long, agonizing moment. Then he sends his message to the other side of the room, to the phone number he has long memorized.

I think I love you.

On the far side of the conference hall, a phone buzzes. The owner's head snaps up. He's grateful he's got the full range of motion back to reach for it and tug it out of his pocket. He reads the new message with an eerie sort of calm, though it's mostly shock. Surprise gives way to a panicked euphoria, the kind most are intimately aware of, even if they claim not to be. He looks up, scanning the room.

Their eyes lock across the bodies. Hook doesn't move, and neither does Danhausen. They remain as they are, staring across the space that has now been bridged.

They'll find their way across it later, as one would hope; Hook has laid the first brick in rebuilding. Next to him, oblivious, and again, if only they would speak to one another, Jack sucks in a deep breath, the steadying kind that normally fails to produce the desired effect. He wrenches his gaze from the wall and searches expanse of space.

He finds his target, though he almost wishes he hadn't. The stare he receives is more of a glare, really, sharp-edged: shields, one might say, cast up to protect everything beneath. Jack's lungs expand like balloons and press against his ribs, waiting for Darby to look away, though he never does. Jack inhales, holds the air, and then exhales in a rush.

Between them, like a wrecking ball, hangs the message received twenty minutes before the event started that Jack will never, ever be able to forget.

I think I love you.

#tag so you don't lose this shit

[jammie3132]

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Chapter Title: November 8th in a New World Chapter Summary: Blaine thought November 8th would be the defining date of every year, the date he found and then (one year later) lost Sebastian. Years later he put May 1st on his "crappy day list" when half the world disappeared.

Today, while the world outside is in chaos, a magic portal has opened in front of him. He has a feeling he’ll be adding October 17th to his list.

Chapter Note: With this fic's focus on November 8th, it would have been nice for this prompt to be yesterday's, but that's the way it goes sometimes.🤪

10 Days of Seblaine 2023 Day 4: Inspired by Another Media

November 8, 2022

It took months for people to come out of the stupor they fell into after Thanos snapped his fingers. When they did, the majority went into one of two camps…those who chose to try to move on and those who got lost in their anger. Blaine was fortunate in that most of the people he knew fell into the first camp.

Then there was Clint.

Watching his entire family turn to dust broke him and by the time what was left of Shield sent someone for him, he was long gone. The Archer did contact him once a month to check in, only because he promised not to tell anyone…especially Natasha. The longer this went on the more he wanted to tell her. He was well aware of Clint’s turn from Hawkeye to Ronan and all that entailed. But Blaine also knew if he said anything his friend would go off the grid completely. At least this way he knew he was still alive.

This didn’t mean he condoned what Ronan did and it made him sick to know in the pre-Snap world he would have been considered an accessory to multiple murders. But in the post-Snap world, you did what you could do to get from one day to the next.

Blaine hadn’t realized it was November 8th until Clint contacted him to say he was thinking of him. How he hated that it took losing his own family to understand Blaine’s pain. How he’d try to finally visit him sometime in the new year.

He wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

There had been a time where he couldn’t get out of bed on November 8th. The memory of Kurt and Burt telling him Sebastian and Sam were dead paralyzed him. That stopped in 2018. He didn’t have the time. He did have the time to honor those he lost. Dave (thankfully he and Xavier were still with him) suggested they have a memorial stone made. It took over a year but when it arrived 2 weeks earlier, Blaine cried for the first time in months. There were so many names. They were told half the population was lost in the Snap but his loss was closer to 95%.

However, today wasn’t about them. They were May 1st. Today was about the two plaques on the smaller stone in front of the memorial.

Sebastian Smythe Not snapped away Gone in the blink of an eye January 14, 1995-November 8, 2012

Sam Evans Son, Brother, Master of Impressions Founding member of Blam February 17, 1995-November 8, 2012

Even though the November wind was blowing, it was unseasonable warm for Ohio so he sat on the bench they’d placed in front of the memorial. He was immediately joined by a friend.

In the early days of their collective nightmare, Blaine had to find items to both feed and care for Lord Tubbington. He quickly found out there were hundreds of orphaned pets in just the Westerville area. Without thinking he volunteered Dalton as a sanctuary and rallied people to find these animals and bring them in. A month later he had what the surrounding area called Dalton Zoo.

It took time but people began to get back on their feet and were willing to adopt these pets.

But there was a tiny golden retriever who had lost not only his owners but mother and siblings. Blaine gave him round the clock care until he was a hyper, mischievous but loving puppy. He had no choice but to adopt the puppy and name him Sammy.

“Whatcha doing boy?” he asked as Sammy licked his face then laid down on the bench with his head on Blaine’s lap. “Did you know I was feeling sad?”

“Hi Uncle Bow! Hi Sammy!”

He had been so far in his head he hadn’t noticed the screen appear out of nowhere. He really had to find a way to get Saturday to alert him when someone was calling, especially Tony. But since it was Morgan, he’d let it slide this time.

“Hi Sweetie!”

“Daddy said you were sad today and to cheer you up. Do you want to sing a song with me?”

Tony knew he refused to sing again after Sebastian died. The obnoxious billionaire took it as a challenge. Once his daughter could talk, he taught her to ask him to sing with her. Blaine had always been able to distract her, but now that Morgan was getting older, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

“I am sad Sweetie, but you know what would make me feel even better than singing a song?”

“What?”

“You telling me about all the times your Mommy got mad at Daddy for running off to Uncle Bruce to do science.”

“So many times!”

“Hey! No talking behind my back” Tony whined as he kissed Morgan on the cheek and told her Pepper was looking for her.

“Bye Uncle Bow! Oh, I forgot. Can I come play with the animals?”

“I don’t know. Is your Daddy going to play science with Dalton again?”

Morgan turned to her father and smiled. “Busted! Bye again Uncle Bow! Bye Sammy!”

When she was out of ear shot, Blaine smiled and said “Next time you pull that crap, I’m going to ask Morgan if she wants a puppy. Or, we had two ponies born last month.”

“I have no problem with that but Pepper’s another story.”

“Yeah, I’m actually scared of her. But seriously, thanks for checking on me. I can’t believe it’s been 10 years.”

“Did you read the letter?”

“No, I thought maybe this was the year, but Xavier is having a bad day…week.”

“You know you’re never going to fully move on until you read it.”

“So, I’d be like 50% of the population?”

“Bow…”

“Tony, I tried.”

“You hooked up with a guy who we got out of NYC with that obnoxious girl from your old Glee Club. A guy you knew would return to NYC as soon as it livable again.”

“Elliot went home to California to help his mother. And from what I’ve heard NYC is still barely livable. It has to be if Rachel is still living with her Dads.”

“Fine, we’ll discuss it when Morgan, Bruce and I are there on Friday.”

“Are you kidding? Why?”

“Yearly maintenance on your arc reactor.”

When Tony rebuilt Dalton, he put in an arc reactor like the one he put in the former Stark Towers. When power shut down across the country on the 2nd night, nothing at Dalton even blinked.

“Ok, maintenance on the arc reactor is acceptable. Also, you’ve got to do something about Saturday not announcing my video calls and just putting them through. I was on the toilet this morning when Cli…” Shit!

Tony knew exactly who Blaine was talking about, or not talking about. Rhodey told him Barton was #1 on the government’s most wanted list. “Bow?”

“I’m not going to talk about it so drop it.”

The (former?) Avenger sat back into his chair and stared at the boy who had turned into a remarkable man in the face of tragedy. It made him miss the boy he couldn’t save even more. “We’ll discuss it when…”

“I know, I know, when you, Morgan and Bruce are here on Friday. Do I need to warn the neighbors you’re coming in one of your jets or a spaceship?”

“My jet plus a supply plane.”

“Supplies for the animals or supplies to store in my basement with the rest of the Iron Man technology you’re hiding?”

“Both. You know, it was brilliant to set up this charity so I can move stuff back and forth with no one being the wiser.”

“That’s not why I did it.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I know you love me.”

“Not until you make me a lightsaber.”

October 17, 2023

“You have no idea why Tony sent those boxes?” Dave asked as he and Blaine came up from the basement. “Or why they’re marked Do not open. That includes you, Anderson?”

“None whatsoever. And the fact he sent a supply plane without telling me? He always gives me a heads up so I can warn the neighbors.” “What about sending that huge jet with just those few boxes? You and I were able to move them ourselves. And no pet supplies?”

“Pepper told me he was working with the Avengers again but…”

The conversation ended when the entire room became shaded in a red hue. It’s exactly the same thing that happened the day of the Snap, except Dave wasn’t freaking out.

“Saturday, what’s the threat level?”

“Unknown”

“Can we get visuals?”

A screen appeared with the screen divided into four parts. They were showing news footage from major cities across the country and they were all showing the same thing…people appearing out of nowhere.

“Saturday, can we get local footage?”

The picture on the screen changed to what must have been traffic footage. The intersection they were showing was less than 3 miles away. What was happening in Westerville was no different than the major cities. Except…

“Oh my God!” Dave yelled as he moved closer to the screen. “That’s my Dad! But he was Snapped. I’ve got…”

“Go, but be careful.” Dave was already out the door so Blaine continued to watch the footage to see if he saw anyone else he recognized. Were people who were Snapped coming back somehow?

Was everyone who was Snapped coming back? Did that mean his Mom…Clint’s family…

“Brittany”

He was running out when he was stopped by sparks. There were only a few in the beginning but more and more appeared, all in the form of a widening circle. Soon the circle was big enough he could see two people inside it. A man wearing some sort of robe and waving his harm in a way that made Blaine believe he was causing the sparks.

The other was Pepper wearing a suit Tony had obviously made for her.

“Pepper, what’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” She walked through the circle (portal?) and handed him a large envelope. “This has power of attorneys, deeds to everything, bank account numbers, birth certificates, shot records…”

“Pepper, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry but Tony and I never got the chance to tell you…” She turned when another man in a robe walked through the circle holding Morgan and what looked like a packed bag. He handed the little girl to her mother and quietly said something along the lines of We’re out of time.

Pepper kissed Morgan on the side of the head then handed her to Blaine. “Be good for Uncle Blaine. Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything.”

And just like that the circle was gone.

November 8, 2023

I, I wish I could swim Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim Though nothing, Nothing will keep us together We can beat them, for ever and ever Oh we can be Heroes, Just for one day

Twelve years from the day he met Sebastian and eleven years from the day he lost him, Blaine broke his vow to never sing again. But when Morgan Stark asked him to sing a song with her on the day of her father’s funeral, he wasn’t going to turn her down. 

He'd actually been singing songs with the little girl ever since her mother walked through a magic circle and left her with him. However, today was different. It was November 8th. He hated this day so much.

Brittany was a big help while Morgan was at Dalton. She'd tell her stories about how she used to be scared and sad all the time, but Blaine always made her feel better. Then she told her what a special little girl she was for Blaine to sing with her because she hadn't heard him sing in a long time. She did leave off the part about being gone for 5 years.

Pepper contacted him 2 days after Tony's death to tell him what happened but didn't want Morgan to know until she could tell her. It was a few more days before she walked through another magic circle, this time to bring her daughter home.

For some reason, he was surprised when Pepper invited him to the memorial service she was having for her husband. There was no doubt she and Tony loved him. Hell, they left him their daughter.

At least one of parents made it back.

The problem was, for all these years, he was what they called Tony’s dirty little secret. At first it was to hide Brittany. Then it was to hide Iron Man technology Tony didn’t want to get their hands on…just in case. But Pepper insisted even though General Ross, one of the people he’d been hiding Brittany from all the time, would be there. They came up with a cover story of him being one of the winners of Tony’s scholarship at MIT. Then, during the 5 years the others were gone, they became friends when Tony took on Blaine’s animal charity as one of his pet projects (pun intended).

None of it was necessary. Ross never talked to anyone and left the moment the formal part of the ceremony was over.

Asshole

The service was short but sweet. He could tell Tony was respected by his fellow Avengers, even loved by a few. He finally got to meet Peter Parker, the boy he’d been so jealous of for taking away Tony’s attention. They laughed at how similar they were, expect Peter could do all that cool, twisty, swing from buildings stuff.

He hugged Clint longer and harder than he should have. Despite getting his family back, he was still living in a hell made of his own actions. He was never going to get over her sacrificing herself when he believed it should have been him as penance for Ronan.

Wanda was nothing what he expected. For so long she’d been the example Tony help up as the reason to keep Brittany’s genius away from people who would exploit it. And even though she almost defeated Thanos by herself at one point (that was mind boggling) she was as damaged, if not more so, as the other survivors of the battle with Thanos. But he could tell, when (not if) she completely broke down, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

About 2 hours later, he found Pepper to say goodbye. A sorcerer named Dr. Strange (seriously) was going to make one of those magic circles (which he found out were actually portals) for him to go home. But before she let him go, she asked to talk to him in private. Tony had left him something…just in case.

Hours later Blaine was sitting alone in the Warblers Commons (he should really start calling it a living room), staring at the elegant box he’d been given. It kind of looked like a jewelry box, but why would Tony leave him jewelry? He never wore any.

Finally, he opened the box and cried the moment he saw what the man he loved like a father, left him.

Tony Stark built him a lightsaber.

Blaine carefully removed it from the box. He studied the hilt and noticed three buttons. Two were black and one was red. Knowing Tony, one being red was a sign for press me first. So, he did.

A beam of light shot out which he assumed was the same technology Tony used in his blasters substituting for the saber. He was wrong.

It was a hologram.

“Hey, Bow! Miss me?”

Notes:

I always wondered who Pepper left Morgan with because it couldn’t be Happy. He was back but there wouldn’t be enough time to get to the lake house. Plus, being gone 5 years, he wouldn’t know about the house in the first place.

Blaine takes the place of the kid from Iron Man 3 at Tony’s funeral.

Heroes: Bowie, David; Eno, Brian 1977

#10daysofseblaine2023 #Day 4 #Inspired by another media #Inspired by MCU #seblaine #seblaine fic #blaine anderson #sebastian smythe

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

This Time was Different

Garvez wc: 3,657 Posted on Ao3 Reeling from the culmination of catching Voit and all that entailed, Penelope comes to a startling realization, but fears it might be too late.

“Is he dead? Tell me he's dead.” Desperate, accusatory, a tinge of hope; Tyler Green didn’t say anything sweet or loving. He didn’t even say hello by way of greeting the very distressed woman with whom he’d recently begun sleeping with, now standing in his hospital room and quite frankly, he didn’t care. She was his last concern, a wisp of thought if ever there was one.

"Wha-? No. Tyler, no.” Penelope responded quickly, confused. “But you don't- you don't need to worry about that. We'll keep you safe, we’ll look out for you, get you set up- your mom and nephew too. We want to make sure you’re all safe since Voit knows for sure who you are and knows that you can identify him. We can have security posted and cars monitoring. We can order a detail- unmarked…You could even- you could come back and stay with me-" she offered, approaching timidly, hand reaching and faltering to find his own.

Pleading with him. She was pleading with him to drop this vendetta, to accept that Voit would be caught, but he needed to stop interfering for his own safety. He just needed to trust that they could do what she knew they could, knew that they had done countless times before. She knew he had no real reason to trust the team, -her friends- she reminded herself, but he had to know she believed in them, couldn’t that be enough? Wouldn’t her faith be enough for him to have faith too?

He stopped her with an abrupt palm, hand jerking away from her own, expression caged. "That's not what I asked. I asked: Is. He. Dead. Don't tell me he got away again!" Tyler erupted.

She’d never seen this side of him, yelling, furious. She’d seen him cold, distant, and cynical, she’d seen that when they first brought him in. She’d seen what she first interpreted as stoic cruelty when he demanded she not be a part of his work again, but later she decided he was trying to be mindful of her boundaries and emotions. But this, blaming, and loud, and mean, this she hadn’t seen, she didn’t know how to react.

There was something cold in his eyes, and his tone seemed to say “you absolute moron” though nothing like that had been spoken. Penelope flinched, bewildered. "I- I don't understa-"

Tyler laughed mirthlessly, muttering, "Of course you don't." Then more direct, "Don't you get it? I was using you. I've been using you. I told you in the beginning I was using you. When I saw how fast you melted with the cat I knew I had you wrapped. You were a means to an end, Penelope. The only thing I’ve wanted my whole life was within reaching distance with your help, and with the BAU's superior hunters, after all, that's what you all do: hunt serial killers, I would barely have to lift a finger. But somehow you all let him get away! What? Could you not ping Rossi?! I know that’s how you found me! Were you really so blinded by my half-assed attention that you let a serial killer escape rather than follow him?! Jesus christ, you’re more pathetic than I thought! B-e-c-a-u-s-e o-f y-o-u” he enunciated slowly, “he’ll disappear again! Dust in the wind. My one chance fucking GONE. Well let me be clear: you mean nothing to me. Lee dead means everything. My sister means everything."

Her face fell, tears rolling wetly down hot cheeks. "But...You said-“ She jerked her head, clearing the thought. Desperately she clung to the hope of him “I forgive you. I know it's hard-"

But he cut her off, “Did you really think I forgot all about my sister's murder because YOU came into my life? I put you in my life Penelope. It was by design that we worked together. Or did you forget that I knew who you used to be and that I found you? I coerced you into working there again. Why do you think I contacted you instead of just going to the FBI? I knew you wouldn't be able to access everything I needed you to working at ~soar~" Tyler mocked the last part, her safe teen network, her pride and joy.

He was mocking her. Lashing out. He was hurt, she could understand, she would forgive him, they would work through it together."

And yet, somehow you all still failed. I failed. You failed. Lee got away. Again. I thought with your team as backup it would be a sure thing. There's good old American Patriotism for you. So no, Penelope. I do not want to stay at your house. I do not want to be around a cat ever again, and if I never chew on the sponge-like nothingness of another piece of tofu in what’s left of my life, it will be too soon. Leave me alone. Just. Go away. I get nothing out of being with you, romantically, as friends, as anything. You mean less than nothing to me, you’ve been useless.”

Penelope removed her hands from her face, her pink tights covered leg pressed solidly next to dark jeans. Luke sat in the waiting room with her, hand rubbing comforting circles to her back between breaks of sobbing and rambling about Tyler. This was part of being a good friend, this was part of being what she needed.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as every fiber of him was pulling, leaning, reaching for her, he pulled away, breaking their kiss.

She felt herself confused and sad, staring back at him, questioning, caught in the anger in the eyes mere inches from hers.

They were outside her apartment, it was dark.

Luke unwound her hands from his neck, taking a step back. "Look, Penelope, I Know you're hurting. And please, don’t get confused, I do feel for you, I do love you, you know that, I think. But you have a lot to work out. This isn't fair to me, I need to know the person I love loves me too. Not just for what I can give them or how I can make them feel in the moment, but because they really, genuinely, unselfishly love me. I'm not willing to risk it again just to be tossed aside and insulted to my face and treated as a... a... an acquaintance.” There was a hardness to his voice, it wasn’t the soft and warm velvet pillow she found frequently in the comfort she sought from him.

He went on stepping further away, cold air rushing in, “How you treat me is hurtful and offensive. And maybe it's my fault for always letting it slide, making room for you to grow the way you need to in the time you need to. But the problem there was you never ended up growing...anywhere towards me. Not unless it was convenient for you. I'm not a tissue to wipe away your tears after someone's wronged you. I'm a person who needs love and affection, but hell I’d settle for some respect at this point. So no, Penelope, I'm sorry, I can't be with you tonight. As much as I want to be, I need to be with my girl, nursing my pain, feeling my loss, and trying to move on."

Penelope Garcia woke up sobbing.

She’d been doing that a lot lately, waking up wet with tears or a dry sob caught in her throat. Sometimes they ended up together, sometimes, she called it off, sometimes he died, and one really horrific time he turned into Battle and shot her there in the hospital. That time she’d had to get up and make some tea and watch baby animal videos online until it was time to get ready and she was all zombied out.

She knew what it was, she knew what they meant, the dreams. They weren’t good for each other. What he’d done the deepest parts of her could not excuse. But this was the first time Luke had been involved and that rattled her. The anger in his eyes, his feelings glowing around him like an aura. For some reason the pain of a hurting Dream-Luke and Dream-Luke shutting her out was worse, felt worse than losing Tyler.

She hadn’t really hurt him like that, had she? She didn’t act like that with him, did she? And he didn’t care for her that deeply…certainly didn’t looo-. No. Luke didn’t. They’d decided.

But waking up, her whole chest clenched and ached and every string and sinew in her pulled, leaned, reached- just like she’d felt him do in the dream-for her phone.

To call him.

To ease her newly troubled mind. They were fine, right? He wasn’t going to leave her. He wasn’t abandoning her. And he certainly didn’t love her. They seemed fine sitting off together away from everyone else in her apartment after Bailey’s funeral…He’d poured her and himself more wine and they sat together and she tried to explain away her awful and selfish decisions of late and he was so understanding.

He was always so understanding.

And then he pulled out that quote and it was just the one she’d been trying to think of. Just the one. But did it fit? Was it that her heart wanted Tyler? Or was it that her heart wanted to protect itself from the possibility of getting hurt? If you’re with someone you know deep down you don’t love- couldn’t love…you can’t get hurt.

At that her thoughts drifted back to Luke. Back to when he’d first joined the team. What was she doing then? Why was she so rude? Yeah, he was nearly disrespectfully handsome and cavalier about it. But he wasn’t ever anything but sweet, friendly Luke. It didn’t even come off all that disingenuous. He was the new kid and she treated him with as much contempt as a school yard bully. There was nothing she needed to protect herself from except maybe the possibility of…

No.

She was just upset about Derek, that’s all. And then Luke came in all armed and ready to take over. To fill the void. He couldn’t possibly. She had to let him know that, know that one person at least wasn’t going to just let him slide right in.

But she did ease up…and she’d told him she was glad he was there once that finally became true (once she was made to realize she might be acting a bit heavy handed).

Her chest ached a little more thinking about Luke and Morgan together. Luke wouldn’t leave her like Morgan had, would he?

When lockdown started she shoved everyone away before they could get wrapped up in their own lives and forget about her…Everyone but Luke. She knew he didn’t have a whole lot around the area, he had Rox, that was about it. She had Serg. They were kind of fitting in that regard. But she felt him getting closer then and shut him out harder. Requesting he give her a heads up before coming over, limiting their time together…pulling faces and making comments more similar to when they first met. Hurtful. Cutting. She was putting distance between them. She was hurting him. On purpose.

She leaned on him -leaned into him so much. And he’d never been anything but supportive. But the second he showed he might need a little more from her she ran for the hills. What kind of friend did that? She never reacted that way with Morgan, with Spencer, with JJ or Emily… And the thought of him leaving her now scared her more than anything.

The possibility of those over-steeped tea toned eyes looking at her like that- like they had in the office that day- even just for a second…That’s where those eyes had come from. He’d never looked at her like that before. The anger and offense highlighted with flecks of wounding. She did hurt him, but she was too self-absorbed to see it then. Too wrapped up in drama of her own making to catch it. But why would that garner those emotions in him? That wasn’t a regular grossed out oversharing reaction, Luke was furious and crushed. If he wasn’t about to yell at her about putting the team and the case on the line…he was about to yell for other reasons.

And then the date started replaying in her head. How off it’d been. How strangled he sounded. She thought he wasn’t feeling it, she thought he was just being nice, polite Alvez and sparing her feelings, so she jumped in to let him know it was fine, it wasn’t too late to put a stop to it, there were no hard feelings…

Except it stung a little. She did like him, but she didn’t want another date with a completely stunningly attractive person to go bad, couldn’t handle it, so she cut it off hard.

Maybe a little harder than the situation called for…

She said they were better as friends.

She lied.

She said she could only talk to him when she was making fun of him.

That wasn’t true.

She shut it down.

Seeing his expression in her mind again, replaying that scene, she realized he didn’t really respond…but his face did. And oh fuck. She’d done it again.

Penelope began to hyperventilate, her heart beating rapidly unable to stop her quickening breath. This was ludicrous, outrageous, Luke Alvez was not, had not been in love with her! He would have said something! He would have told her that night he didn’t mean clunky as in no attraction! He’d be over it by now if he had liked her years ago… Right?

What in the ever loving. She needed him to tell her. To confirm he was just mad about the case…Mad in the way a friend is mad at you for getting them in trouble too, mad in the way that guys got mad when you told them too much, like Derek got when she told him too much. Hell, he’d even gotten weird and mad when she started dating Kevin, that didn’t mean he had a secret long-standing crush on her!

Penelope threw off the blanket and lunged out of bed dashing to the door to put distance between hand and phone- Calling anyone this early from a dream-induced panic was not a good idea- She then turned abruptly and marched back to her night stand- No, she needed to know- Losing nerve she jerked herself away back to the foot of her bed, down, shoes? No. Back to the night stand. NO. Back towards her bedroom door. Stop it! And back to the night stand. She snatched her phone and hit his number before cooler thoughts prevented it again. It only took one ring before the line connected. Even then her body jerked back towards the door, but her feet stayed rooted, a needle pinning her heart.

He sat up, grabbing his phone, and answered blindly, “-Alvez”

The voice on the other end was not the reserved sound of his boss he’d expected from a sleep-waking call, instead it was shrill and loud.

“You LOVE ME?! LUKE ALVEZ DO YOU LOVE ME?! Like you are IN LOVE. With. Me? BEEN in love with me?!”

Shit.

Penelope. Of course. He glanced at his alarm clock, red glowing numbers flashing. It was too early, and yet this made perfect sense. If Penelope Garcia was going to have a potentially life jolting epiphany, it would be in the middle of the night. Probably from some dream about an all cat-run circus.

He was still half asleep but training made him capable of operating like this. He considered lying to her, letting it go. She was in love with someone else just about three weeks ago, willing to risk everything for them. Was she really ready to face the truth of his feelings for her now?

A hand ran through his hair and he laid back down, eyes closing. “Yeah. Yes, Penelope, that would appear to be the situation. But don’t worry, you’ve made it perfectly clear you do not feel the same way about me.”

“But-“ She was at a loss for words. Luke, their Luke, loving, kind, polite and sometimes sassy Luke loved her? Had Loved her this whole time. Hadn’t been deterred, hadn’t changed a bit, didn’t treat her any different after she insisted they were kind of less than friends. Did she love him? Did he want to know? Of course she liked him a lot, he was very likable. And she found him very attractive, who wouldn’t. But did she love him? Would she be willing to admit it if she was? To be so vulnerable as to love someone openly romantically?

There was a long period of silence between them as these thoughts and more went through her head.

“Penelope, are you still there?” His sleep honeyed voice made her toes curl, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Yeah.” Just reconsidering everything I’ve known and thought for the past ten years.

“Are you ok?” It wasn’t like her to be this kind of quiet, Penelope and this kind of quiet meant bad things, negative things. He needed to know what she was thinking, how she was processing this. If they would be ok when they saw each other in a few hours.

Now, it was Luke’s turn to crush her. Even with how she’d been treating him since the date, he was still putting her first. His question locked around her heart like a fist and squeezed, pulverizing it.

She breathed out a laugh. “I think it’s more fair that I ask you that considering.”

He rolled the hem of his comforter between thumb and forefinger in the dark as he thought, “Maybe. But it’s fair to assume this is a pretty big shell to have dropped on you.”

Penelope dropped to the edge of her bed, some of the shock of the revelation wearing off. Luke Alvez loved her. And she’d been a total asshole to him and she’d run away from him. Dream-Luke was right, she really needed to work on herself. Tristian was not as helpful as she’d thought.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be all sweet and understanding and forgiving. I don’t deserve it.”

He considered it, for a moment. Could he be rough with her? Did she deserve it? “Did you know?” He could hear the pain and regret in her plead, or maybe he just wanted it to be there.

“No…Maybe? Not really, but I think somewhere inside…I did.”

Luke nodded his understanding though she couldn’t see it. “The dinner-”

“I don’t know what to say, except I was stupid and afraid.”

A corner of his mouth pulled up, bittersweet. “I kind of figured.”

“That doesn’t excuse how awful I’ve been to you though.”

“Have you been? Felt just like old times again.”

Penelope laughed, it wasn’t fair he was making this so easy. He should yell at her, put her in her place, hang up, tell her she’d lost her chance. Tell her this new person she’d been acting as was no one he loved, much less liked.

He wasn’t letting hope flutter, she called out of the blue, late at night after finally seeing it, but that didn’t mean…anything at all. But she was willing to talk, and from what he could tell, was willing to be honest with herself right now.

He thought, might as well… “Can I ask; has the being afraid changed? Does knowing change that for you?”

She chewed her cheek, thinking, wanting to give him as honest an answer as she could. “I’m not sure. I want it to. I want- I. Do you want to get some coffee? And maybe…talk. In person. I know I have a lot to make up for, to apologize for. But I want to talk about this in person. Over coffee."

Luke glanced back at the clock, most places wouldn’t be open, but he knew the one she was thinking of would be. “Now?”

“Well, I need to get ready…It’s not like I was up already, dream-you kind of shamed some sense into me and I couldn’t escape the need to call.”

He felt a twist in his gut. Despite his best efforts to not get up hope some had just creeped in. This was serious, possibly more so than the first time…More on the line now that they were both acknowledging his feelings, and yet he couldn’t help but lighten the mood. “Dream me, huh? Dream-me ever do anything Waking-me hasn’t? ”

“Hush. Meet me at Lunacorn in an hour?”

“Half an hour, less time for you to work up nerves and not show up.”

Penelope grinned, “Luke, perfection takes time…and I kind of don’t think I will this time...get nervous.”

He was already starting the shower, “45 minutes.”

She could hear the water jet out, sensed how eager he was, and yet, still no panic striking. Instead, a goofy smile was spreading and something warm and swishing was filling her insides.

“Okay?” he prompted.

“Okay.” she agreed, giving a brief nod.

The smile he could hear in her quiet assent gave Luke some reassurance. This time was different.

“45 minutes.” she repeated. “See you then.” Penelope hung up, walking to her bathroom.

Maybe the fear she was so used to would come, maybe that runner’s instinct would kick in when she saw him, but all she was focused on was that Luke had loved her, still loved her, and wasn’t put off. Deep down she knew she was safe with him, and that’s what the fear had been about. This time was different.

This time would be different.

#garvez #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds evolution #luke alvez #penelope garcia #ao3 #snail's tales

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Mortal Kombat: Before the end: Shaolin Storms.

Summary: At the White Lotus academy, Fujin is informed of a coming threat.

Chapter List.

Chapter List part two.

“Surely you are mistaken?” 

Fujin stood in shock as the elder gods confirmed their words with dispassion. He had come here for answers regarding Raiden’s disappearance. If anyone could tell him, he had hoped it would be the Elder Gods.

He was right, unfortunately.

“We speak only the truth. Your brother has changed, become darker than before. As he is your kin, he is your responsibility.”

Fujin bit back whatever retorts were brewing in his mind. When his brother didn’t return from Outworld, he feared the worst. But when a god is destroyed, their essence should reform as a blank slate. Neither good nor evil until their memories return.

But something had gone terribly wrong. And Fujin had to find out why.

“Understood. I will take my leave.”

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

Fujin opened his eyes from the memory, the one which played in his head again and again.

Fujin had not yet seen his brother’s new form, and a part of him didn’t want to. What did humans say? Ignorance is bliss. Especially in regards to your own kin.

As Fujin mused to himself, Kung Lao was training with Kai, who had returned from his soul searching to offer aid to the shaolin. And with Liu Kang’s spirit currently in Edenia, the White Lotus would need as much help as it could get.

Lao blocked Kai’s assault of kicks, delivering a rapid series of punches to his chest before delivering a powerful kick to his sparring partner.

Kai rolled to his feet, giving a respectful bow to his elder.

“Nice moves, Lao.”

“Likewise, Kai. Liu Kang trained you well.”

“I’ll say.”

Everyone looked to the new voice, finding Johnny along with several other warriors. Fujin turned to him, landing to his feet.

“Mister Cage, what brings you here?”

Johnny first looked to Kai.

“First of all, someone’s been hitting the gym.”

At no reaction to his compliment, Johnny returned to business.

“Alright, get this, for the last couple weeks I’ve been having visions about Shinnok making connections with all sorts of people. Last night, I tracked him down to Shang’s Island. I got some pictures for proof, overheard him talking to Quan Chi, and fought him for a bit before he escaped.”

Fujin’s expression was stoic.

“That is an amusing tale, Cage, but this is not a time for your humour. If that is all you have to say-

“He speaks the truth, Tȟaté.”

Nightwolf stepped forward, his stoic calmness instantly drawing Fujin’s curiosity. If he, of all people, was vouching for Johnny’s story, it had to mean something.

“What do you mean?”

“I have had visions as well. A war between good and evil in an edenian crater. A flaming monster atop a pyramid, with a dark figure masterminding events for his own ends.”

“That sounds like Shinnok to me,” Kai commented as he wiped dust off his arms.

Fujin was silent, the next warrior to give his thoughts on Johnny’s story was Kenshi.

“In my attacks on the Red Dragon, I heard the names Taven and Daegon. Do you know those names?”

At the mention of the two Edenian sons, Fujin’s disbelief flew away like a victim caught in a storm. Centuries ago, he and Raiden had questioned Argus about his son’s disappearances, only to be dismissed and given a cryptic message about how they would bring about a new world.

If these visions were true, there was much work to be done. He would need to track down Taven and Daegon, and learn whatever he could. Perhaps this coming threat would bring Raiden out of wherever he was hiding.

“I know of them. They likely have a part to play in whatever is to come.”

“So, are you in? It’ll help if we can have a god on our team.”

Fujin shook his head. He had to find Taven. Let alone Raiden and Liu Kang.

“I cannot join you yet, but Lao and Kai will join your forces. Take this, to contact me.”

Fujin handed Cage an amulet with a wind pattern in the centre gemstone.

“Is this like, your version of a phone?”

“More or less. Call my name, and I shall appear if it is necessary. Do not prank call me unless you wish for a painful demise.”

“Got it, no pranks,” Johnny quickly noted, shoving it into his pocket for later. Stryker turned to the two monks.

“So, where do we go now?”

Johnny hummed to himself, counting off on his fingers.

“Well, there’s the five of us, Sonya, Jax, Cyrax for the SF, if Liu can find his body that’s one more on our side. I’ve already told Kitana about this, so that puts her, Jade and Sindel on our team too. That leaves a few more places we can go.”

Kung Lao gave his thoughts on their next objective.

“Perhaps we should go to the Lin Kuei, tell Sub-Zero about what is to come. Afterwards, we should go to Outworld for Li Mei, Shujinko and Bo’ Rai Cho. You said Kitana already knows?”

Johnny gave a thumbs up.

“Yep, she and Liu are busy researching whatever’s going on. Once we have everyone, we should check up on them, maybe they’d have info.”

As the group of warriors left the academy, Fujin closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh. He had thought the greatest problem was his brother’s corruption, now he had to try and find two lost edenians.

Fujin spared a look into the sky.

“I could use your guidance this day, brother.”

#mortal kombat #my writing stuff #things i create #before the end #mortal kombat armageddon #Fujin #Kai #kung lao #johnny cage #nightwolf #kenshi takahashi

[abbatoirablaze]

Like Romeo & Juliet, Chapter 18

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: major angst, character death, mentions of death, slight manipulation, mentions of depression, mentions of murder.

Modi watched the racoon and Hulk push into his Uncle’s house, tears flooding the corners of his eyes. 

He knew that his uncle had slain Thanos with Stormbreaker years ago.  But that hadn’t changed anything. 

Not really.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Magni asked, his jaw tensing as he glared at his younger brother, “mom is gone…just like your father?”

Hel leaned into Modi and began to cry, nodding along to her eldest sibling’s question.

“You’re upsetting her,” Modi grumbled, shooting an icy glare back to his older brother, “stop it.  We need to do what mom said and find the Avengers.  We need to find your dad so-“

“So that he can what?” Magni asked, {“So that he can go on a suicide mission just like your parents did, and so that Thanos can kill him too?”

“I didn’t take you, of all people, a coward, brother!”

Magni’s jaw clenched and he turned towards his brother, his golden hair swishing with him, “don’t you dare call me a coward!”

“Well it’s what you are,” he growled, “you don’t want to find the Avengers or your father.”

“I don’t want to find my father, because the second we do, we’re condemning him to die just like your parents!” Magni hissed, “I DON’T WANT TO BE AN ORPHAN LIKE YOU AND HEL!”

Hel began sobbing even harder against Modi’s side.  The two carbon copies of their parents glared at one another, the brothers wanting to fight each other if only to get their frustrations out of the way.

“If we don’t find we’ll die anyways…” Modi said gently, choosing the path that was all too uncommon in their family, “we have to find them, Magni.”

Magni’s gaze softened as he looked at his siblings, realizing that he did indeed cross a line, “I’m afraid, Modi…”

“I know,” he admitted softly.  He reached down to protectively wrap his arm around his little sister, only to come in contact with no resistance.  He looked down to see his little sister looking horrified up at him, “Hel?”

“It’s happening…I’m scared, Modi…” the little girl whimpered, as her shoulder faded away into dust.  Modi and Magni’s eyes widened in shock as the little girl turned into a pile of dust that floated away in the wind.

“Hel…HEL!” Modi screamed as he tried to reach towards the dust particles which were already gone.  The tears fell down his cheeks in an instant as he turned back towards his older brother, “Magni…we have to-“

“I-I don’t feel so good, Modi…” Magni grumbled, as he took a step forward, his hands clutching his stomach.  He stumbled, and Modi went to catch him, only for his hands to be met with no weight, “I’m sorry, Modi…”

“Magni.  MAGNI!  COME BACK!” he begged, falling to his knees and sobbing into the ground, “I-I’m sorry.  Magni…come back.  Please.”

“We need your help,” Hulk asked, his large hand covering Thor’s shoulder, “There might be a chance to fix everything.”

“What?” Thor asked, “you mean like the cable?  Because it’s been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“With Thanos.”

Thor’s easily amused expression faded in an instant.  The Midgardian ale no longer numbed his senses as he thought about his brother’s death on the ship.  The snap.  When he killed Thanos with Stormbreaker.  He shook his head for a moment before turning to Hulk, the depression lacing his voice as he gripped his shirt, “Don’t…you say that name.”

“Yeah…we don’t actually say that name in here!” Korg said, standing from his spot at the couch.

“Please…take your hand off me!” Hulk requested lightly. 

Modi stepped further into the house, remaining stealthy even against the beings that had been known to protect the realms.  He kept himself tucked in the shadows of the house, watching for any signs that his uncle and his friends might help. 

It had taken him years to find the Asgardians and their settlement in Norway, but he didn’t expect this scene that he had been met with.  He didn’t expect the state of his uncle. 

Had he known about his mother?  About his siblings disappearing in the snap?

He watched as the hulk removed his uncles hands from his chest, “now…I know that guy might scare you…”

“Why would I-you-“ Thor scoffed, stumbling over his words, “Why would that guy scare me?  I’m the one that killed that guy, remember?  Anyone else kill that guy?  No…I didn’t think so.  Korg, why don’t you tell everyone who chopped Thanos’ big head off!”

He started walking past the hulk and rocket, to get another beer as Korg answered, “uhm, Stormbreaker?”

“And who swings Stormbreaker?”

“I get it,” Hulk sighed, “you’re in a rough spot.  I’ve been there myself, but do you know who helped me out of it?”

“Natasha!” Thor scoffed as he took another swig. 

Hulk shook his head, “it was you…you helped me!”

Thor shook his head at his friend, pointing towards the window as he surveyed the settlement the Asgardians had down below, “why don’t you go ask them how much I’ve helped them.  Go ask them how much my help is worth!”

He fell into the chair and started drinking even more.  Modi felt the rage that swelled in the pit of his stomach, and he knew that he couldn’t hide in the shadows any longer.  He raged into the center of the room, producing the daggers with his own magic and pointing them at his uncle, “YOU ARE A COWARD!”

Thor looked at his nephew, confusion lacing every inch of his features.  His eyes widened and he choked on his words, “L-Loki?  Brother?”

Modi’s nostrils flared, “DON’T YOU DARE SAY MY FATHER’S NAME!”

Thor’s heart ached as he looked at the carbon copy of his brother.  He hadn’t seen his nephew in years, not since well before Ragnarok, but he had grown into an exact replica of his father, down to the way his magic glowed angrily as he held his daggers firmly pointed at his uncle.

“Modi?” he asked in disbelief.

“My father trusted you,” Modi said angrily, as the tears lined his eyes, “HE DIED FOR YOU BECAUSE HE THOUGHT THAT YOU AND THE AVENGERS WOULD TAKE CARE OF THANOS.  THAT YOU AND THE AVENGERS WOULD PROTECT US!”

The last word struck Thor even harder as he stood, looking over his nephew’s shoulder for any sign of his own son or Ember and Hel.  But then he noticed how his nephew’s hand shook, the tears starting to fall down his cheeks, “Modi…”

“They’re dead!” Modi spat as his hand began to shake even more, “you let my father die…so mother went after Thanos herself…sh-she died alone on Titan…before the snap even happened…”

“Where are your siblings…nephew…”

“Thanos took them away with the snap,” he said angrily.  His body began to shake even more as sobs threatened to rack his body, “Hel and Magni turned to dust in my arms…because we were fighting over going to you and your friends…we spent so much time trying to look for you that by the time Magni finally agreed, Thanos had wiped them from existence…I LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF HIM…BECAUSE OF YOU!”

Thor was at a loss for words. 

He watched as the same emotions were expressed with him that he’d felt ever since he watched Thanos kill his brother.  He tried to reach out, but Modi swiped the dagger towards him, catching his forearm.  Thor retracted, clutching the wound.

“AND NOW THEY APPROACH YOU WITH A WAY TO FIX IT AND YOU WON’T EVEN DO IT?” Modi screamed, “YOU ARE A COWARD, UNCLE!  YOU’RE A COWARD!”

“I think we can bring them back!” Hulk said hopefully, looking at the unfolding scene, hoping that it would be just the call to arms that the Norse god had needed to pull him from his slump.

“Stop with the false hope, Bruce!” Thor spat, his attention turning towards his long-time friend, “don’t go filling the boy’s head with nonsense.  We can’t bring them back…any of them.”

“I want no part of it,” Thor growled, falling back into his chair.  His eyes refused to meet his nephews, “Whatever you’re trying to do…whatever you’re talking about, we have no interest, right guys?”

“All good, mate!” Korg said, backing up Thor.

“If you won’t do it then I will,” Modi said quickly, turning to the Hulk, “I am Modi, son of Loki, and Prince of Asgard.  I am god of wrath, at your service.”

“Modi-“

“You may not care for the people who are gone, but I still do…my sister, Hel…my mother, Ember…my brother and your son, Magni…your brother…my father, Loki…they believed in this.  Just as I do,” he said, reaffirming his position.  Thor watched as his nephew turned back towards Hulk, “Whatever you need…I am at your service, Hulk…I will help you even if my uncle will not.”

“He’s a child!” Thor said firmly, “his mother and father are gone, and he should be in my stead…I will not allow you to just take him, Bruce…”

“Then come with us,” Hulk said sadly, “we really need you, buddy…”

Modi looked to his uncle and Thor saw the slightest twinkle in his eye; one that was all too familiar to a look that his brother would give him, “Well, Uncle Thor?  Are you coming?”

Tag List:  @designatednewbie, @lohnes16, @blueeberryyy

#like romeo & juliet #marvel #marvel au #the avengers #thanos #avengers endgame #marvel cinematic universe #avengers infinity war #mcu #loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki #loki odinson #thor #hulk #rocket raccoon #korg

[thunderousone]

Chapter 5

Summary: Eirene explores the manor and gets to know Lyire.

TW: profanity, (eventual... it's slow burn get over it) graphic depictions of sex, pain kink, childhood trauma, parental trauma, chronic pain

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 🤍

masterlist | read it first on ao3

Eirene awoke again on the same chaise, this time rather quickly. She lifted her head off the pillow and slid up so she was sitting upright. Lyire was manipulating the breeze to help him clean up the dust and ash of the marble and what was left of the plush gray rug that the lightning had struck. Vír was nowhere to be found.  

"Lyire, I don't know what came over me. I'm-" He looked up and cut her off.  

"It's okay, Sparky," he threw her a teasing smile. He stood and the wind continued to do it's thing, cleaning up and carrying off the mess. All that remained was a crack in the floor and ceiling. A rift between the two pieces of marble like a rift between worlds. 

Eirene's head throbbed relentlessly. The ache radiated down her back, coursing through her arms in a wave of intense soreness, Nothing had ever hurt like his. It was a sensation unlike any she had ever known, a discomfort that seemed to suffuse every fiber of her being. 

With a significant amount of effort, she planted her feet firmly on the ground, gritting her teeth against the strain. The muscles in her arms shook as she summoned the strength to press them against her knees, using the sturdy contact to leverage herself upright. "Sparky?" She asked. 

"Well we didn't catch your name and well, it seemed fitting given the... We'll just have to work on that, shouldn't be a problem," he smiled.  

"Eirene. My name is Eirene Wynard," 

"Well it's nice to meet you, Eirene. Though I'm much prefer Sparky." He could tell she was looking around the room, the anticipatory fear in her eyes. "He's gone." He said, almost reading her mind. "I sent him out to give you time to calm down. We don't want to make things harder on you than they already are," he put a hand on her knee. His touch was warm and gentle.  

"What’s going to happen to me?" The questions that swirled within her mind were a storm in their own right. This question felt selfish on her tongue though, but it was the first to pour out of her.  

Lyire stood up and sat next to her, his blue eyes falling to the large crack on the floor before them. "Well, I don't really know to be honest. There hasn't been a new wielder in centuries. Eons, maybe. If you control or channel lightning, I don't know what that means for..." he paused, too timid to say Vír's name. "Him. Storms, thunder and lightning and the rainfall all fall under his domain. As does wind," he turned and gave a slight smile to her. "You can’t go back. Not until whatever this is, is out of your system or in your control. We're not sure if some of his power just channeled to you and needs expelled or if it's now under your control. Either way, it's not safe for you to be in the mortal world."

"I have to go back- I have a whole house of people depending on me. The storms-" she shuddered at the thought. How many days had she been gone now? Was Violet missing her? Did Paarth visit her room only to find her not there? Was Beck preparing an extra meal in the hopes that she'd return?  

"It's not safe, Sparky. If you'd done that in your own home it would have collapsed or caught fire or worse. Vír is out meeting with the other Guardians to try and figure out what to do. For now, I can help you get set up in a room here on the grounds and you can make yourself at home. When Vír returns, we'll all speak and figure out next steps. But you have to promise to keep your cool. I cannot��deal with two hot heads under one roof. It's hard enough dealing with him and his moods, let alone... that." And he gestured to the cracked ceiling and floor with a chuckle.  

"Come on," he stood up from the chaise and held a hand out in front of her. "I'll show you around, introduce you to the others here and get you a bath..." He looked down at her. Self-consciously, she lifted her shirt to her nose. Her linen shirt was dry, a feeling she was very thankful for, however it smelled of the must and mildew that most of her belongings smelled like. Her nose curled up in response. Lyire's laughter carried around her like a breeze as she stood up and took his arm.  

They skipped the tour of the first floor, the open concept living area that she was already familiar with, and headed up the marble stairs. One hand on the banister and one hand looped with Lyire's she ascended, the muscles in her thighs tight like she'd ran a marathon. Each step took calculated effort and Eirene broke out into a sweat not even half way up. She felt a wind at her back, helping keep her up right.  

The upstairs was alive with movement. House staff wandered in and out of rooms, most likely preparing for their new house guest. Most of them kept their eyes trained on the ground but a few of them stole looks at the human who now joined them. There wasn't a lot of laughter or conversation, none at all in fact. Eirene paused at the top of the stairs and walked toward the small sitting area at the top of the stairs. She looked out over this lofted area and had a perfect view of the entire first floor. Someone was already downstairs attempting to fix the damage she had apparently caused by calling that lightning.  

Sensing Lyire's wind at her back again she walked forward, on her own this time, down the hall toward the sound of running water. He smiled, "Alright, so I'm going to leave you here. There are clothes in the bathroom and anything you need should be in there by now. If you need me just say so, the wind will carry it to me and I'll come find you." He smiled to her and gave a quick nod, a look of unexplained worry in his eyes. 

Eirene entered the bathroom where someone was turning the water off. A young woman, no older than Eirene looked at her with apologetic eyes and looked down in an instant. 

"Thank you," Eirene stopped her. "I'm Eirene," her hand out stretched in front of her. The young woman kept her eyes low but simply bowed.  

"Yvonne, ma'am" her voice responded just over a whisper, and she left quickly from the room.  

The bathroom on the second floor is just as cold and beautiful as the first floor. As she removed her socks and clothes the marble floor felt cool to the touch and helped ground her to this moment. A large, freestanding clawfoot bathtub lay in the center of the room, its surface polished to a pristine sheen. A massive mirror hung above a long, marble vanity, flanked by twin sinks. Eirene removed the rest of her clothes and looked at herself.  

It was the first time in a long time she allowed herself to linger on her reflection. Her hair hung low and heavy, her cheeks hollow and the dark rings under her eyes made her look years older than she was. Living in Lyranth wasn't easy, but she didn't think it had taken this toll on her. No wonder everyone was always telling her to rest. What she truly wasn’t expecting was the lightning bolts that stemmed from each of her palms. The wrap up around her forearms, around her biceps, across her chest where they meet at the center of her neck. They were dark gray, almost black. They didn't hurt, they weren't raised, but she could feel something there. A static electricity bubbling beneath the skin. She pulled her eyes away from the mirror and turned to the tub that lie in the center of the room.  

With a soft sigh, she carefully stepped foot into the tub, the water so warm she instinctively pulled her foot back out quickly, now entering slowly, giving herself time to adjust. She sunk down deep into the tub and let the water engulf her.  

Once finished washing she gave herself a moment to survey the rest of the room, a glass encased area with a door was to her left, no sign of a shower head or pipes but the marble tiles still had the rain-slicked stone look as though someone had showered there. Two large paned windows sat far across the room. It was dark out, the kind of darkness Eirene grew to know as nightfall, not a storm.  

After a while, she forced herself out of the bath and wrapped herself up in a large fluffy towel. She allowed herself to steal one last glance at the mirror and took a coil of brown hair around her finger and watched it spring up. Perhaps there was hope for her hair if she spent another day here without rain assaulting her.  

Eirene found a pile of clothes folded and waiting for her on a chair next to the vanity. She lifted them to her nose and breathed in the soft smell of roses and eucalyptus. No mildew smell, no musty wet smell. Warm, dry, clothes. She slid on the soft linen trousers and blouse and cracked open the door to the hallway.  

A few people going about their duties froze in place as they saw her peek out and she could swear she saw a few of them sigh with relief. "Lyire?" She spoke softly, looking down both ends of the hallway. He said all she had to do was ask and he'd find her.  

Eirene knew he was coming by the warm soft, breeze that kicked up her hair.  

"She lives!" He laughed out, teasingly. He put his unfamiliar hands on her shoulders and Eirene pulled back. "Wow, I truthfully cannot believe it. And you're okay? You aren't hurt?" 

"What are you even talking about? Of course I'm alright? Sore but alright." 

"We were worried you might zap yourself in the bath tub," Lyire dropped his hands from her shoulders.  

"Pity." Vír's voice was unmistakable. As he walked past them, each footstep was loud and hard on the floor, like a rumble. His hair was fully down now, concealing his face, but the way he moved and held himself... There was no hiding who he was now. He was the storms incarnate.  

"Ignore him," Lyire gave an apologetic smile. He nudged his head down the hall, "Your room will be this way, far away from him. Come on,". Lyire lead the way down the hall to the room where Eirene would be staying.  

The gray and white marble veined walls seemed to shine in the candle light in the room. At the center of the room stood a massive bed, its headboard a beautifully carved piece of marble that looked like draping silk fabric. The bed was dressed in plush gray textiles that echoed the softness of storm clouds, and Eirene couldn't help but think of Vír when she looked at them. On either side of the bed, small nightstands held delicate crystal lamps that cast a warm glow. 

Eirene walked in and looked around at Lyire.  

"I don't know what's going on... Is there any way to communicate to my family? Any way to know they're safe? I appreciate the warm bath and food but I would very much like to go home." Her voice trailed off to a whisper at the end. Lyire walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed and signaled for her to join him. Carefully she followed, sitting a fair distance away.  

"I understand," His gaze looked down to the rug on the marble floor. "Our hands are tied until we figure out what happened with you. If it would help you, tomorrow once we hear what the Guardians say, we can ask that you be allowed to check in on the mortal world," He looked up at met Eirene's hopeful yet tired eyes.  

"Can I speak to anyone?" Her voice almost cracking in the excitement. 

"Unfortunately, no. You can see an area, but not specific people. And there's no way to communicate other than being down there and talking to them which at this point is still too dangerous."  

"I would never hurt anyone there!" The hurt behind her eyes echoed in her voice.  

"We never mean to hurt them. But accidents happen. And accidents have consequences. The best thing you can do for them right now is keep a level head and get a lot of rest. You're going to need it. The Guardians are coming here tomorrow to deliver their verdict on you... No pressure," he winked and nudged her shoulder. The feeling so familiar to the one that she and Paarth exchanged just this morning. Gods was that only this morning?!  

"Get some rest, Sparky." He put his hand in her wet hair to tussle it around and when he did so the warm breeze swim through her entire hair. "Now, that’s some hair," He teased as he got up and saw himself out of the room.  

Eirene's hands went to her hair and felt her curls completely dried and fluffy. She pulled a strand down and watched it spring back up and a laugh broke through her lips, and sleep took her quickly. 

#hyunjin #stray kids fanfic #straykids #ao3 writer #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz stay #fanfic #sjmaas #acotar

[phantomrose96]

Why Won't You Go Home

Disclaimer: I still don't go here.

...

It is exceptionally kind of Chat Noir to help with the search.

Maybe kind isn’t the right way for Marinette to think of it. Maybe it’s expected. Maybe it’s mundane. Maybe it’s rote, ordinary fanfare for a superhero of the city to lend his hand in a crisis. This search is just a normal superhero job for him. It isn’t personal to him like it is to her. She can feel it in the slow and stiff and disconnected way he picks through the rubble of the Agreste family mansion.

He looks up, and he catches her staring at him.

“M’lady?” he asks.

Marinette blinks. She’s short of breath. She shakes her head, and smooths her fingers over her black-dotted mask, and turns, and crouches to continue sifting through the scattered remains at her feet. “Nothing.”

“M’lady…”

She sweeps away a layer of ash—the pulverized remains of brick and stone and wood. Shards of dinner plates breathe in the open, blue-pattered rims chipped away. She lifts a piece, and it crumbles to ash in her numb and nicked hands, her fingers covered in bandaids from all the wanton cuts from glass she’d dug through so earnestly in the first three days after the collapse.

A hand falls heavy on her shoulders. She flinches. “M’lady…”

“It’s nothing, Chat.” She bats his hand off. “You take the eastern wing. I’ve got the kitchen.”

His presence remains beside her, heavy. “I went through the eastern wing this afternoon.” He crouches, attempting to force eye contact. “…And you’ve done the kitchen already.”

“I didn’t search hard enough.”

“You’ve searched enough.”

Marinette twists away from him. She dips her hands back into the rubble, silkenly demolished, grated down like fine beach sand so near the epicenter of the destruction.

Chat Noir’s hand grips hers, and he stills it.

“He’s not here,” Chat Noir says.

The jolt seizes Marinette by the throat. Tears she thought had long dried up well up unbidden. She blinks to clear her vision. She cannot speak through the knot in her throat, so she shakes her head, and pulls her hand away.

“His bedroom,” she answers, as the only words that can bubble out.

Chat shifts, until he is right in front of her, crouched to her level. “Carapace searched his bedroom already. Rena did. You did.” He grips her shoulder. “I did… He’s not there.”

“I’ll search again.”

“You need to go home.”

“There were 12 bedrooms in the mansion. Four floors. Dining and recreation rooms on every floor. A home theater. …Hawkmoth’s basement. We haven’t searched everything.”

“We have.”

“We haven’t.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I don’t.”

“Ladybug.” He takes her chin. “Look at me. Please just look at me.”

She has little choice. She’s staring into his green eyes, his tinged sclera. Chat’s brow is creased with worry, his eyes lined with exhaustion.

“I know you have a family, Ladybug. I know they have to be worried. Don’t do this to them. Don’t do this to yourself. You’ve done everything you can. There’s nothing more you can do.”

She pulls away from him.

“My family’s fine. I’m fine. What about you? Why don’t you just go back to your own family if you think they’re more important than Adrien?”

Chat’s tired eyes hold hers. His expression remains firm, blank, unwavering.

“Adrien’s gone, Ladybug.”

And it would have hurt less had he slapped her firmly across the face.

Marinette bounces to her feet, teetering unsteady, face flushed and eyes wet. She’s still blinking through tears, fists tight at her side, and it takes restraint to not try to deliver that pain back to Chat Noir. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t know him! You never met him! He was just some kid to you. You don’t care, do you? Maybe this was all some victory to you, huh? Hawkmoth is dead and his base is demolished and you just don’t care that Adrien was—”

“Clearly I do care. I’m still here. I’ve been here. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t care.”

“You DON’T care. You search like you’re barely even trying to find him. You’ve given up! Everyone else has given up except me! You don’t get it!” Ladybug slams a hand to her chest, palm open, feet spread, and the words erupt from her throat. “I LOVED him. And I never told him! Don’t tell me he’s dead, Chat! Don’t tell me I couldn’t save him in time. Don’t tell me I couldn’t tell him in time, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t…” Marinette’s resolve wavers. Her body is fizzling with static, light and numb. She tilts, and slowly lowers herself back to a crouch before her balance can fail her fully. “…You can’t tell me he’s gone. He can’t be gone…”

There’s an agony that rips across Chat Noir’s face, one which he holds, and then stifles, and then buries, to the point that Marinette may have only imagined it in the first place. His stance goes looser. His eyes dip, until he’s staring down into the sand-fine rubble of the Agreste manor whose ash has coated him nearly fully gray.

“…I’m sorry, Ladybug…” he says, and he means it. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Silence lingers on the wind between them. Every which way it blows, it smells of demolition.

“No I’m… I’m sorry for yelling,” Marinette mutters, face buried in her drawn-up knees. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you. You’re helping. …You’re the only one still helping. I’m so tired, and I’m so scared, and there’s no one else left helping.”

“You shouldn't blame the others for leaving. The search was called off a full day ago.”

“I don’t blame them.” Marinette lifts her head. “…But I just can’t leave.”

Chat pushes himself up from the ground, rising to full height from his crouch. He extends a hand for Marinette to take. “If you’ll go home, Ladybug, I’ll stay. He won’t be left alone if I’m staying here.”

Marinette blinks as Chat’s hand swims in and out of focus. She processes his words. “…Then what about you? If I leave, and you stay, then you’ll be alone…”

“Worry not, M’lady.”

“…And what about your family then?” She extends a shaky hand. Chat clasps it, and carefully, gently, he lifts her up. She’s eye to eye with him again, her vision darting from his one pupil to the other. He is the only pillar across acres of leveled land, decimated to nothing. “You haven’t left yet either, have you? You’ve been here just as long as me. You haven’t left. They must be worried about you.”

“No one in my family is worried about me, it’s fine.” His grip on her hand tightens. “My friends… are worried. But that’s because they’re good friends. They’ll be fine.”

“Chat…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You haven’t been able to go home because you can’t leave him alone here… I’ll stay then. I’ll keep searching, I promise, as long as you promise me you’ll go home to your family for tonight, and shower, and eat, and sleep.”

"And you?"

"Hmm?"

"Why haven’t you left yet…?”

Chat lets out a simple chuckle, and he offers her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just worried about you, M’lady. It’s that simple.”

Marinette blinks, and rubs her eyes through the mask. The sensation of grit digs into her knuckles. It’s coated her entirely. She blinks again, and her vision, her balance, is still hazy. She’s just now feeling the weight pulling so heavily on her chest, and protests die in her throat. “…Okay. Okay then, Chat. …Thank you. Thank you, I’ll—I’ll go home, okay Chat.” She looks up. “But I need you to promise me something too.”

“Anything.”

“When I get back, then you’ll go home and rest.”

Chat’s smile lingers, the dead and plastic one. His worn eyes hold hers, and Marinette realizes for the first time since the search began that there’s something uncomfortable nested deep in them, something staring at her like she’s the last thing holding him together.

“…Chat?” Marinette asks again.

“Hmm?”

“When I’m back, you’ll go home.”

He reaches a hand out, and he ruffles her hair. “You’re very tired. M’lady has been awake for far too long. The sun’s setting now. You should get going.”

“Chat.”

“I’ll only need a quick cat nap, M’lady, once you get back. I needn’t go anywhere.”

“That’s… no, Chat.” Marinette shakes her head. She pushes his hand away. “You also need to shower, and eat, and sleep, and see your family and friends, Chat. Promise me you’ll do that. Promise me that’ll happen once I’m back tomorrow.”

She’s staring deep into his eyes, watching that restrained and uncomfortable something bloom closer to the surface. She’s staring into glassy pools that are slipping harder to recognize, and Chat’s plastic smile remains on a face so absent. His eyes refuse to see her no matter how directly she stares into them.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Bugaboo.”

“Chat.”

“Please.”

“Chat.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

“Chat—” She grabs his shoulder, and pulls him a fraction closer, in hopes that his glassy eyes might finally see her back.

“Yes, M’lady?”

“Why won’t you go home?”

He is covered in ash and soot. His face is uniformly streaked with dust, and it mangles into his hair, soaked four days deep. And his four days sleepless eyes stare through her. He hitches his plastic smile higher until the corners of his mouth waver. He opens his mouth to say something, to say something, to say something.

“Sure then. Tomorrow. As soon as you’re back. I’ll go home. I promise to give my pillows a good few extra fluffs for you.”

And his face is unrecognizable by the time the words leave his mouth.

Marinette tugs him closer, until he is pressed against her. She wraps her arms around him and squeezes. Hesitantly, he returns the hug, with a force that presses the air from Marinette’s lungs, until he clings to her like she were the last thread holding him up above a chasm.

Then all at once, he releases her.

“Go. Go, Ladybug. Go home.”

She breathes deep, and her ribcage stutters. She nods.

“Tomorrow. Early. I’ll be back. Then it’s your turn.”

“Naturally. In the meantime, I’ll check the bedroom again, alright? I promise to leave nothing unturned.”

She backs away, and turns, and lingers. And somehow, even with the way her body stutters and stalls, she’s still gone faster than Chat realizes. He’s left alone with the setting sun tinging all the leveled debris orange. He exhales, shudders, and wills himself to not breakdown on spot. Not until he’s sure Ladybug is far away.

He moves, as promised, to the bedroom, taking the phantom trace of demolished hallways and doors out of habit. He stands at the center, and shifts ash with his toe, and silence falls around him like a blanket.

He sets his hands to the air, clasped around a pocket of nothing. He bounces his palms closer, once, twice, fluffing the air, and fluffing it again, so as not to break his promise.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #chat noir #ladybug #mlb #ml fanfiction #long post #angst #wwygh

[buttterknifeee]

Date with Destiny- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: you guessed it bitches its the prom episode with everyone's fav guy Robin (S2 Ep6)

Pairings: Robin!Dick grayson x reader

Word count: 4218

A/N: hey yall I love writing for this series bfgkfhg so if you want my inbox is always open to request!!! love yallll~

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of the day; the sun is long gone and the wind constantly bites at your skin. But it depends on what you're doing to decide whether you like it or not. Sometimes it’s not as bad; that’s when you’re hanging out with your friends, maybe going to a carnival or out partying all night. Sometimes it’s worse, like you being forced to chase after some villain who decided to only operate AT NIGHT. Unfortunately, the latter is true for you tonight.

You slump over in the backseat of the T-Car while Cyborg and Raven sit attentively at the front.

“Why can’t I sit in the front?” you whine, staring at the two Titan’s heads.

“Because I’m the only one that knows how to drive this car and Raven needs to use her telekinesis so we dont die!” Cyborg yells, focusing on the target, who happens to be a guy with a spider for his head that stole a bunch of jewelry.

You groaned and poked your head out the window. Starfire and Beast Boy were up in the air, Robin close by on his motorbike, and you were all chasing the half-arachnid. You stretched out of the vehicle and made punching movements at the criminal, ocean water from the bay twisting over towards him, mimicking your movements. The jets of water just barely nicked him before crashing into the sides of buildings, the teenage spider continuing to scuttle across the city.

You turn your attention back towards the road as the spider guy created a webbed barrier in front of Cyborg’s car and Robin’s motorcycle. You and Cyborg gasp, but Raven calmly holds her hand up towards the road. It cracks, creating a ramp for the four of you to jump over the webs with.

After making the jump, the half spider looks at the car. He shoots webs at you, and its splats on the car windshield.

“I can’t see!” Cyborg yells, swerving the car over to the side. You lurch forward as you finally come to a stop, thankful that Cyborg had installed heavy duty seat belts.

“I don’t see why you can’t let me drive,” you mumbled, stumbling out of the car. You aimed your hands towards the car and a jet of water sprung out from a fire hydrant, cleaning the silk from the windshield.

“I already said it, I’m the only one who knows the inner workings of the T-car! Besides, you don’t even have your license.” Cyborg said, stepping out of the car calmer than before.

“I do too!- You know what, we’ll talk about this later. Right now we need to find the others.” You say, taking in your surroundings. Then out of nowhere, Beast Boy popped out from behind the car.

“Uh hey guys! Kinda got lost back there!” he grins, dusting off silk strands from his arms.

“I’m going after them!” you tell the other Titans, sprinting off into the direction Robin and Starfire went. You flick your wrist as you run and water from the fire hydrant trickles out and forms a wave that you could ride on, like an aquatic skateboard.

You catch up to the two as Starfire gets shot down by the spider teen’s webbing. You make eye contact as you pass her, unsure whether to help her free.

“Just go!” she yells, already beginning to rip the webs thanks to her brute strength. You nod and race forwards to catch up with Robin. You find his abandoned motorbike and look up to see him chasing after the villain using his grappling hook. I’m trying to help him, but I can barely catch up to him, you grumble as you will the water to shoot you into the air, almost like a hydro-cannon. You bounce from roof to roof, inching closer to the Boy Wonder and his pursuit with the villain.

You were right under Robin when the spider-guy shoots some type of laser at him. Suddenly, he freezes up, and begins to fall, knocking you down with him.

“C-can’t… move,” he grunts, on top of you in mid air.

“YEAH NO SHIT” you yell, still stuck under him. Ok ok, options… you think, time seems to slow down around you. I can’t make a geyser because that’d take too long. I like Robin but not enough to break his fall, hmm…

You notice the grappling hook in his belt. You yank it out and shoot it at the wall you just fell from, wrapping your other arm around Robin. Your arm feels like it was about to fall out of its socket as you abruptly stop, hanging in mid air with Robin safely in your grasp. Starfire catches up with you, having broken free from the webbed trap. She helps you down and brings you to where Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven stood.

“He is okay?” Starfire asks, holding Robin in place while you catch your breath.

“He will be. The venom’s effect is only temporary.” Cyborg says, examining the Boy Wonder, who was still frozen in a climbing position.

“Getting away...we have to...go after him!” Robin musters, but almost falls over doing so.

“You mean, we have to go after him,” Raven corrects him.

“Yeah, you gotta wait until that stuff wears off,” you say, knocking on his frozen arm to prove your point.

“But-” Robin begins, but Beast Boy cuts him off.

“Dude, we can handle it. The guy's got a spider for a head. Not like he's gonna be hard to find.” he said. Robin didn’t say anything, which was code for a reluctant agreement. Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy agreed that they would go after the spider thief, while you, Robin and Starfire return to the Tower to get Robin sorted out.

Later at the Tower, you watched in utter horror and amusement as Starfire shook Robin while holding his feet. He hung upside down, making random yelps of pain as she did… whatever she was doing.

“Um Starfire?” you say. “You know I have healing powers… I could just heal him if we need to.”

“Nonsense Aquagirl!” she chirped as Robin groaned. “There are few problems that Tamaranean acupressure will not solve. Don’t you feel better Robin?”

“Uhhh yeah, thanks.” he said, getting back up to standing position. “Now we can focus on our other issue.” He pulls out his T-communicator.

“Titans! Any luck on finding our jewel thief?”

“We found something worse,” you hear Raven’s voice from the communicator. A live cam of the scene pops up on the living room TV screen. They were at the bridge near Jump City’s Bay; hundreds of cars pass there per minute. You noticed something was near the bridge cables, and upon closer inspection, you realized that it was thousands of moths gnawing at the bridge support. As more cables broke, the bridge grew more and more unstable, cars beginning to slide around.

“Titans go!” you hear Cyborg say, and the three of them run towards the giant cloud of bugs. Unfortunately, they were no match and could barely put a dent in the population.

“Uh, we’re gonna need backup.” Cyborg says to the communicator. You were already out of your chair and adjusting your wrist gauntlets.

“We’re on our way,” Robin says, the three of you making your way to the door. But a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don't bother. Even if you defeat a few of my children, you won't be able to stop me from releasing the entire swarm.” the villain you recognized as Killer Moth said, his face appearing on the screen. “Unless you want your city reduced to a moth-eaten wasteland, you'll do exactly as I say.”

“What do you want?’ Robin asked, brows furrowed.

“My demands are simple. The city will declare me ruler, the Teen Titans will surrender, and Robin…” he starts. You flinched at the mention of the Boy Wonder’s name. What could he want to do with Robin? To step down as a hero? Admit defeat? Reveal his identity???

“... will take this lovely young lady to her junior prom.”

Huh?

“Hi Robbie-Poo!” said a girl who appeared on the screen next to Killer Moth. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, was wearing pink pajamas, and although you had just met her, you could already tell that she was a bitch.

“Um… What was that last part again?” he asked, clearly not expecting that demand.

“Um Robin?” you ask. “Who’s this girl and why’d she call you… er, you know.”

“Her name is Kitten,” Killer Moth gloats. “And you will take her to prom.”

“This prom is the matter of a duel, yes?” Starfire asked, not very assimilated in American culture. “Robin eagerly accepts!”

“It’s not a duel, Star. It’s a date.” Robin patiently corrects her.

“Oh”

“Robin! You can’t do this!” you say, looking at him through his masked eyes. “Isn’t that right Starfire?”

“Oh yes!” she agrees. “You mustn't accept!”

“We’re gonna need a minute,” Robin sighs, pulling the two of you away from the center of the room. You stare at him, arms crossed.

“This is so stupid.” you begin. “What kind of villain makes a superhero go on a date with some girl? And what kind of parent names their child Kitten? There’s no way you’re actually going to go to a dance with some random chick!”

Robin doesn’t say anything about your comments, but opens his T-communicator again,

“Cyborg, report. How bad is it?” he asks.

“Bad! We can’t hold 'em much longer!” Cyborg yells through the communicator. “If you’re gonna do something, do it quickly!” You stared at the floor, knowing what he’s gonna have to say to Killer Moth’s demands.

“I have to do it.” he grimaces. You stayed silent as Starfire reacted.

“WHAT?!” she yells.

“It's the only way to save the bridge. The only way to give us enough time to stop Killer Moth.” Robin explains. Starfire looks at you and back at Robin.

“But you do not even have the feelings for her!” she protests, looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry, but I have to, as much as I don’t want to. And I really don’t want to.” Robin says, walking back towards the screen.

“So do we have a deal?” Killer Moth grins, as much as a person with mandibles can.

“I’ll take the girl to prom.” Robin says grimly.

“Don’t tell me. Ask her.” Killer Moth says, referring to the blonde girl still pasted on screen. Even though you couldn’t see Robin’s eyes, you could tell that he was rolling them.

“You’ve got to be-”

“Do it!” the villain yells. Robin sighs.

“Kitten, was it?” he asks.

“Meow,” she replied. You almost threw up when she said that. You could see Robin reacting in the same way.

“Right. Will you...go with me to the prom?” he said, his voice showing his utter disgust.

“Oh, Robbie-poo! I thought you'd never ask!”

I can’t do this you thought, as the screen finally blipped off. Robin calmly pulled out his T-communicator and projected it onto the screen. Raven picked up, Beast Boy and Cyborg crowded around her. You could see in the background that the moths were no longer gnawing at the bridge. He told them that he bought them some time, telling them to find out what he has planned. Then he shows them a picture of Kitten.

“Who is she?” Raven asked.

“She is a manipulative gremlock not worthy of Robin's time.” Starfire pouts.

“Yeah, she's a bitch too.” you add.

“She's got some kind of connection to Killer Moth. Find the connection, and I bet you'll find him.” He said, turning to you and Starfire. “Aquagirl and Starfire will join you to help with the search.” you rolled your eyes; Is he seriously going to do this alone?

“Hey, what about you? Aren’t you going to help us?” Beast Boy asked.

“I can’t. I have a date.”

.

You and Starfire were going to prepare for your mission when she shoved you into her room. You’ve forgotten how pink all her furniture is, from the curtains to her pillows. She whips out her T-communicator.

“Starfire what are you-” you begin, but she shushes you.

“Starfire to Raven,” she says into the communicator. “Please note that I will be the only person joining you, as Aquagirl will provide Robin backup on his date!”

“Um… okay.” Raven says, then hangs up.

“What??? I’m supposed to help you guys, remember?” you protest. “And I thought you had a crush on Robin??” The alien girl took you by your shoulders.

“Aquagirl, my feelings for Robin have long dissipated, but I am sure you still have the feelings for him!” she chirped. “Do not worry, four Titans are more than enough to defeat Killer Moth! You should go to the prom of non-duels!”

“B-but what do I even wear? Prom dresses were not on my shopping list.” you argue.

“Oh do not worry Aquagirl, you may borrow mine!” Starfire opened her closet to reveal a rack of sparkly dresses, all in different colors. You eyes glittered in awe.

“Ok, I’m in.”

You spent the next half an hour getting ready for the prom. You picked out a blue dress with black lace and black gloves that went out to your elbows. Your suit was camouflaged underneath, just in case you needed to ditch the dress.

“Oh you look wonderful!” Starfire cheered. You blushed, looking at yourself in the mirror.

She flew you over to the prom location, which was on a boat. Water, you thought. Perfect. You looked at Starfire.

“Thanks again for, uh, everything.” you said sheepishly. She smiled.

“It is the no problem!” she says. “I will see you afterwards!” And with that, she flew off into the night. You sighed, holding a corsage for Robin in your hand. You hear the sound of a motorbike. Robin appeared in view; he was still wearing his mask, but his usual outfit had been replaced by a tuxedo. He was still stoically frowning, probably due to not wanting to be here, but something about him just makes your heart skip a beat.

You walked over and tapped his shoulder. He flinched at your touch, but calmed down as he realized that it was you.

“Aquagirl?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Um, just call me (y/n) for today, don’t want to raise eyebrows.” you winked. You pinned the flowers onto his lapel. “It’s my first prom, so I got you a corsage.” It’s true; this is your first prom. You were supposed to go to your junior prom this year, but of course, being a superhero kinda distracted you from that.

“Aqu- (y/n)...” he began. “You’re supposed to be helping the others track down Killer Moth.”

“Well, you said that our job was to investigate that b- uh, girl. And there’s no better way to do it than up close.” you grin. “Besides, Starfire insisted that I backed you up, you never know if you need saving, right?”

Just then, you heard a loud honk from a car. You turn to see a pink limousine pull out. Out stepped an even pinker girl, Kitten. Her headband, dress, corsage, and heels were all an obnoxious pink. She scoured the scene until she found Robin, fiercely waving at him.

“Yoo-hoo! Robbie-poo! Your Kitten has arrived! Me-ow!” she yells. You both physically cringe at her words. Robin leans over to you before he leaves.

“On second thought, maybe I will need the savings.”

You purse your lips as Robin leaves, reluctantly linking arms with the girl. You open your T-communicator.

“Cyborg,” you say. “Robin just entered the boat with Kitten. “How’s it looking on your side?”

“Poor guy,” he says sympathetically. “We just reached Kitten’s house. Going in now. Nice dress by the way.” You grin.

“Thanks man. I’ll be watching him just to see if he needs any help.”

“Got it. Cyborg out.” the screen blips to black and you close your communicator with a sigh. Time for prom.

You awkwardly shuffle onto the boat, making sure to stay a few meters behind the two. Luckily, no one noticed that you didn’t go to their school because they were so distracted by Kitten’s yelling.

“OH ROBIN!, YOU’RE SUCH A GENTLEMAN! NOT AT ALL LIKE MY WORTHLESS EX-BOYFRIEND FANG!!!” your fists clenched as she moved closer to the Boy Wonder, all over his arm. Why did we let her take Robin to the prom again? I’d rather see that bridge collapse than whatever this is.

You stationed yourself at the punch table, pouring yourself a drink. The two were talking at the table. You knew Robin didn’t want to be here in the beginning, but what if he changed his mind? What if, somehow, he falls in love with Kitten, and then you are never gonna have a chance with him?

“OF COURSE ROBIN I’D LOVE TO DANCE WITH YOU!!!” Kitten yelled, the two of them moving towards the dance floor. Your cheeks burned with anger, and maybe a little bit of jealousy. You clenched your fist again, and the sickly pink punch from the punch bowl shot into the air. The couple next to you who was about to get some punch slowly walked backwards away from you. But you didn’t care. You stomped away from the punch table.

You were leaning at one of the clothed tables as you glared at Robin and Kitten dancing away. You don’t even know why you felt so angry; maybe it was the fact that they’ve been dancing for 10 long minutes, or the fact that Kitten’s resting her head on his shoulder, or maybe the fact that you’ve never held Robin’s hand before and she is!

You notice him looking at his T-communicator while he was dancing, relieving you of the idea that he was actually enjoying the dance.

“Kiss me,” you hear Kitten say, and you froze.

“Sorry, I don’t like you that way,” he smirks. “As a matter of fact, I just don’t like you.” YES, you thought, smiling from the table.

“WHAT?!” the blonde girl shrieks.

“Killer Moth’s being taken down as we speak. We’re done here.” He pulls away, tucking his T-communicator into his pocket.

“No we are not!” she yells, ripping the corsage off of her dress. The petals fall away to reveal a cylinder, push-button controller. “Daddy’s not calling the shots tonight, I AM!!!”

“Daddy?” you and Robin said at the same time, in shock. So that's why Killer Moth made Robin go to the prom with her.

“And unless you want me to let those bugs out for a late-night snack, you better pucker up!” she makes kissy noises at Robin, her lips inching closer and closer. Robin put his finger out at them as if to shush her.

“Not even if you paid me,” he said, pushing her away and grabbing the controller out of her hand. They fight over it, and you wonder whether to jump in and help. Suddenly Kitten turns her focus away from Robin.

“Fang?” she smiled. You turned to see the jewel thief from before climbing onto the boat, spider head and all.

“That’s your ex boyfriend?” he asked, staring in shock.

“Get your hands off my girl!” he yells, knocking Robin down with his spider leg, Kitten snatching back the controller. Ok, time to act you thought, holding up your hand. A jet of water sprung up from under the boat and hit Fang, sending him flying backwards.

“And keep your legs off my guy!” you yelled, not even sure if you and Robin were on that level yet. “You alright Rob?” you ask as the Boy Wonder stands up.

“Best I’ve felt all day,” he smirked, ripping off his suit to reveal his costume underneath. You smiled; you two seemed to be on the same track in terms of disguise. You ripped your dress off and your costume uncamouflaged, revealing the familiar blue and black swim gear you always wear. You yank off your gloves to show your gauntlets underneath, the spikes swing up into place. You both look back at Kitten and Fang to find them making out; mandibles and all.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mumble, getting into a fighting position.

“You know…” Robin says, bring the couple’s attention back to you two. “You two make a really bad couple.” Fang charges at the two of you, shooting his webs and venom. One of the webs hit you, sending you to the floor. You used the spikes on your gauntlets to cut yourself free while the spider villain goes after Robin. You finally free yourself as Kitten watches the action.

“Isn’t it romantic? They’re fighting over me!” she swoons. Your cheeks burn hot with anger. Now that you're out of disguise, it's the perfect time to beat her up.

“You’re not worth anyone’s time to fight over!” you quipped loudly, causing Kitten to start screaming at you. She tackles you, and the two of you fall onto the table.

“What the-” you grunt, the air knocked out of you as you crash into the food. You roll over and pin her to the table. You try to reach for the controller, but Kitten smacks a cream pie in your face. She pins you down this time, but you extend your leg to her side and swing, sending her flying across the table. She lands flat on her back, stretched lengthwise across the table. You lunge at her, but she grabs you and dunks your head into the punch bowl. You almost burst out laughing; she was trying to drown you, and you could breathe underwater.

Your eyes glow blue from underneath the punch bowl as the beverage explodes in the girl’s hunched over face. She screams, and you push her into the chocolate cake. She lands on the floor, her pink dress now stained with chocolate frosting.

“YOU.. RUINED… MY… DRESS!!!” she screams, clicking the controller. You gasp in horror, she’s crazy. She runs at you again, screaming and you dodge her, using your water powers to shoot the controller out of her hand. The controller rolls away, right towards the bottom of Robin’s foot.

“Consider yourself dumped.” he said, breaking the controller.

“NOOOOOOO!!!” she shrilled. You rolled your eyes and punched her square in the nose, her falling to the ground.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” you grin at the Boy Wonder, who looked at you in awe.

.

The other Titans rejoined you as you watched Kitten, Killer Moth, and Fang get pulled into a police van.

“Nobody dumps Kitten! Nobody! You're going to pay for this, Robbie-poo! YOU'RE GOING TO PASAY!!” the blonde girl screamed while being pushed into one of the vans.

“So, no second date?” Cyborg jokes. Beast Boy was sitting over the edge of the boat holding one of Killer Moth’s moth larvae. According to them, the controller Kitten had allowed them to turn into moths, but when Robin broke it, they all turned back into harmless giant bugs.

“So what becomes of Killer Moth’s larvae population?” Starfire asks.

“You know...now that nobody's making 'em all mutate-y,.these things might actually make good pets.” Beast Boy said, poking at the larvae's belly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Raven says, staring in disgust.

You and Robin walk towards some of the students to apologize for ruining their nights when spotlights turn on, the bright lights moving across the floor. The two of you braced for impact. The announcer began to, well, announce.

“And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...the king and queen of this year's prom are...Robin and (y/n)!” Your eyes widened at the announcement.

“I’m back on duty so it’s Aquagirl now! Sorry!” you yelled awkwardly.

“Well um then Aquagirl-” Robin begins, but you stop him.

“I mean, you can call me (y/n), if that’s what you want,” you offered, slightly blushing. He blushed back.

“Oh! Ok, then (y/n) it is.”

“So how about that dance, Boy Wonder?”

“I guess one more dance wouldn’t kill me.”

.

Robin led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You put your arms around his neck and he put his arms around your waist. His hands were gentle, and was only lightly touching your back, as if he was ready to pull them back at any time.

But he was smiling; something he barely did all night. You both laughed as you awkwardly shuffled across the floor; it's like you had two right feet and he had two left feet so it canceled out. You pulled in a little closer, he hugged you a little tighter. You stared at his masked eyes, imagining them looking back at you.

Suddenly you heard a whistle and whipped your head to see the rest of the Titans nonchalantly watching you two dance. They grinned, waving hello. You rolled your eyes and whipped your hand at them. A small geyser jumped up and landed on the Titans, drenching them. You and Robin laughed, then resumed your dance.

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of day, but with Robin, it’s a whole lot better.

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[insomniac-dot-ink]

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi  🌸 Patreon

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Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me. 

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it. 

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost. 

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl? 

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own. 

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

If you enjoyed the story please consider donating to my ko-fi or supporting me on patreon (even a dollar helps!), check out my Sapphic fantasy book as well!

#wlw #sapphic #found family #urban fantasy #writeblr #magical realism #fantasy stories #short story #writing #lesbian romance #patreon late release #femslash #f/f #8k #my work #long post #long post cw

[that-yandere-life]

i was watching Hawkeye and Kate is a big fan of him. So i was thinking, what if Clint’s darling is a also a fan? They meet each other and shes like OMGGG IT’S HAWKEYE!!!

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), mentions of a battle… lots of fluff and cute stuff if that’s a warning ;3]

Clint had been obsessed with you since he encountered you during one of the fights that took place in New York.

Saving you from getting hurt before dashing off further into the commotion leaving you while yelling back at you to run.

Once the dust had settled he only wished he had learned your name, the moment his blue eyes met yours he was already smitten.

The way you looked at him with such admiration and relief when he stopped your brutal untimely demise.

Dreaming about you that night wishing he knew how to draw so he could put your features down onto paper so he could always remember, though he doubted he could ever forget.

Sulking in his room for most of the day until he went to get something to eat and saw the others watching the news coverage from the event.

He swore his heart just about stopped dead in his chest when he saw the very scene he had dreamt about being broadcast on television, a helicopter catching the moment unknowingly.

Immediately asking Stark to run facial recognition on the footage to see if he could find you, and of course he was more than up for a challenge.

It took a couple of days with most of the cameras being down in the city, but as systems went back online it was easy to spot you and trace you.

Learning that you were staying in one of the temporary displaced shelters since your apartment building had been destroyed.

Meaning he was going to have to find you in a crowd of people all while trying not to attract attention.

Although who would really question an Avenger coming to volunteer to help people he reasoned with himself.

Funnily enough he didn’t have to look for you at all because you were in front of him nearly the moment that he entered the building.

A huge smile on your face as you rushed over to him, unable to believe your luck to get to encounter him two days in a row.

Not only that but he literally saved your life, he was a veritable knight in shining armor in your eyes.

Before all of that he was your favorite hero to begin with, and now it seemed the two of you had to be destined to meet.

Unable to contain the euphoria of the chance meeting, you immediately hugged him, thanking him for saving your life.

Not even thinking about how the action might be inappropriate to do towards an unsuspecting trained spy, hell to be honest your mind was clouded from the past 24 hours already.

Wrapping his arms around you accepting your embrace feeling his tense muscles relax as he apparently recognized you which you were very thankful for.

This was beyond anything he had ever expected and he couldn’t help but melt into your warm embrace welcoming the contact wholeheartedly.

Parting from each other he barely got a word or two out to tell you that he was just glad he was in the right place at the right time.

Trying to be humble while also soaking up every ounce of your praise as you tried to assure him that he did way more than that.

Explaining that he was your favorite hero, the very sentence knocking the wind out of him like he had been sucker-punched in the gut.

For once he was actually bashful, rubbing the back of his neck hoping that he wasn’t blushing too badly in front of you.

Immediately shaking off his trance outright asking if you would go to dinner with him, not wanting to waste a moment of this feeling.

When you accept in the same breath he can’t help but smile the widest he ever had before, holding his arm out for you to take.

The first steps towards the rest of your lives together, one he can tell is going to be oh so sweet.

[This was such an adorable idea! I hope that you enjoy it, and that it was close to what you had in mind! <3]

#yandere clint barton #yandere clint barton x reader #yandere hawkeye #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark clint barton #dark clint barton x reader

[ymiwritesstuff]

Adrift in Your Eyes

Here’s a Kazuha fic bc I love him a lot. This one doesn’t have as much of a plot and is just this carefree, fluffy drabble, if you will. Still, I hope you guys like it!

Genshin Impact

Kaedehara Kazuha x Reader

Summary: His eyes were like a sea you floated and got lost in, but in the most wonderful ways possible.

Pre Vision Hunt Decree

Notes: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, Reader being a mega simp lmaoo

Also posted on AO3!

The gentle leaves of the cherry blossom under which you lay cast a slight shadow that loomed above you, hiding you from the warm afternoon sun, something your eyes greatly appreciated. The grass below you swayed in the gentle breeze, as did the pink leaves above you. Narukami Island at this time of day was beautiful, however, your eyes failed to notice it, for they were glued on someone they found the most beautiful of all.

Him.

As your head laid on his lap, your orbs couldn’t look away. There he was, reciting another one of his haiku. You listened, yet at the same time, you didn’t. His gentle voice emanated to your ears, but that’s all you heard. The words became slurred, mixed together into something, and all that was left in your head was his voice that spread warmth and comfort throughout your entire being. It was soft like the grass beneath you, light as the wind surrounding you, and oh, so beautiful.

Kazuha held your hand, as he often did. It was warm to the touch, his skin was soft, smooth like velvet, a trait which not many samurai possessed. Every now and then his eyes, filled with the color of autumn, would glance at you, and you’d get lost in them, heart fluttering in your chest.

It wasn’t often you were this entranced by him. It only ever happened during these kinds of peaceful moments. Moments during which you could both allow yourselves to relax and take some time to enjoy each others’ presence. Though, it usually resulted in you staring up at him, eyes sparkling in awe.

“I hear falling rain,” he spoke, and you finally managed to pay attention to his poetry, your mind perhaps desiring to understand the meaning of his eloquent words.

“I hear my thoughts falling too.”

He gave your hand a light squeeze and a smile immediately crept upon your lips. He leaned against the tree trunk, letting out a tiny exhale and allowing his eyes to close for a brief moment. He basked in the light rays of sunlight that peeked through the leaves, focusing on the feeling of pure bliss he experienced whilst having you close.

His eyes finally opened and glued themselves on yours, the gentlest smile dawning on his face as he finished his verse:

“All I want is you.”

Your own smile widened at that, his words floating in your head for some time as you slowly reached up and placed a single hand on his soft cheek. Kazuha leaned into your touch, placing his own hand on top of yours. As you looked at him, you were once again awestruck by his stunning appearance. His silvery hair that housed a single crimson streak flowed in the wind, his welcoming eyes looked back at you with pure admiration and his fair skin glimmered even when it was only partially blessed by the sun.

He was so gorgeous, almost ethereal, you couldn’t stay silent:

“You’re so…” You ran your thumb along his cheek the skin under it becoming just a tad warmer as you finished your sentence:

“Beautiful.”

As soon as he heard those words, he let out a light sigh and your smile reached new heights when you noticed the pinkish shade dusting his cheeks. His lips soon made contact with the palm of your hand.

“And you are as subtle as the Shogun’s lightning.”

You couldn’t suppress a giggle that left your lips and he soon let out a chuckle as well, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. Before he had time to pull himself back up, you gently grabbed the collar of his kimono and guided his lips to yours. You slowly sat up as you kissed him, your hand finding its way behind his neck, while his soon laid lightly on your waist.

His lips, much like everything else about him, were perfect. They felt so good as they lightly moved against yours, his hands holding you as close as possible. He felt calm in your presence, so much so, that not even the most powerful thunderstorm would disturb him. With you, he was at ease.

As you pulled away from each other, you kept your foreheads together, drowning in each others’ eyes. His crimson eyes lost themselves in your (E/C) ones, his carefree heart filling with warmth at the way your lips curled upwards into a smile.

He leaned back against the trunk once again, with you placing your head against his chest, his tender heartbeat echoing in your ears. The breeze hugged your forms as you allowed yourself to melt in his welcoming arms.

Perfect, you thought. This was perfect.

He was perfect.

~

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#genshin impact #gi #genshin impact x reader #原神 #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #gi kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #genshin impact kazuha x reader #genshin impact imagines #kazuha imagines #kaedehara kazuha imagines #gi imagines #fluff #reader insert