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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 8 months

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Midnight Meeting

Not Natural

The Devil's Trap

Holy Water

The Demon's Altar

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (slick, knots, heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, threats, fear, PTSD, nightmares, panic attack, mentions of curses and childhood abuse, cuddles, teasing, silly come-ons, needy boys, descriptions of post sex messes ⚰️ rating: mature

Kells watched as the human he was preternaturally drawn to drifted off to sleep. He could smell the sensual combination of the boy's slick and his own seed still hot and dripping between Dom's thick thighs and he had to fight himself not to play. He knew how lightly the Hunter slept, he was always on alert and never truly rested. That might make it hard for a surprise morning blowjob but for the moment he could be good. The back of his mind was circling with his actions, he was still surprised at everything that had happened between them and part of him wondered if the kid would wake up hating him again. If that happened he would definitely play- he hoped his new friend just needed a steady diet of good sex to make him stop being such a bitch. Speciesist sexy little fuck.

He groaned low as he rolled over onto his back. He was a demon, he couldn't live with himself if he sat there watching a human sleep all night. No matter how gorgeous Dominic was. He normally loved the fact he couldn't sleep, it kept his time free for more deals, death, and partying, but for the first time in centuries he wondered what it might be like to wake up next to someone. He never wanted to find out what his dreams would look like though. He'd already spent time in hell.

The world outside their little room lit up from a lightning strike that made his hair raise on end. His eyes rolled and his hand waved to soundproof the room and keep his lover at peace but with one last longing look he pushed himself out of bed. On his way to the door he grabbed the first pair of underwear he saw and smirked to himself when the scent of Dom accosted his senses. He summoned a cigarette as he slipped out the door and snapped his fingers to light it. The air outside felt thick with electricity and the air reeked of sulfur. The reminder of home rolled his stomach but he refused to show his distress.

"Keliphos. I should have known I'd find you here. You always did like stealing from your betters." A voice came out of the darkness and he fought himself not to growl. He fucking hated demons but this one in particular needed a good dose of holy water up his urethra. He took a drag and blew it out slowly, clenching his fist to keep himself calm. "Do you like my- how do they say- sloppy seconds? You know the boy is mine."

Kells turned, his glare flashing to its natural state as he searched out the bastard in the shadows. He wished he had the weaponry to kill his enemy but that was something he and Dom would have to search out. It was the whole reason he talked to the boy to begin with, only a human could find it. He hated shit guarded by magic. Now though he was driven by so much more and it made his rage a hot flame in his stomach. "You never owned him, you tried to steal a child and you failed. Why did you even want him? Why turn him into that?" He didn't mean to sound like he cared, that was dangerous for both of them but he couldn't seem to stop it.

"Oh? You don't like what he is? Your appearance and stench beg to differ." Finally the other demon stepped out of the shadows and came close. Not close enough for the dick punch he deserved but near enough Kells could see him. The meat suit he inhabited was something young and beautiful, he just hoped the obviously teen boy was doing alright.

"Still up to the same bullshit I see. Dom's too old for you now. Move the fuck on." He growled low, trying not to lash out.

"Keliphos, you know he's special. You can feel it. Unless you find a way to ruin him, eventually I will take him. Eventually he will come to me willingly."

Kells laughed, he couldn't help it. There was no way Dom would go to him and he found the idea of ruining someone too medieval. "Stop calling me that and just move on. If you don't, I swear to you, I'll kill you."

It was the other demon's turn to laugh, the sound was too high pitched for the evil he knew was in the monster, but he had always possessed young boys to lure others. Kells was just happy he never had to deal with that. "You know together we could do so much. The offer to join me is always open. I might even let you keep him once I'm done." With that the ancient teen monster disappeared in a shock of lightning and Kells cursed under his breath, put out his cigarette, and turned back to stalk quietly into the hotel room. He couldn't tell Dom what had transpired but he definitely wouldn't leave. He might never be able to take his eyes off the human again.

His gaze settled back to his human lie as he stared down at the beautiful boy in question. Astaroth was right about one thing, he was very special but he had started thinking it was because of the curse. If that wasn't true… he was almost more scared of him. He was old enough he hated mysteries, this was just one he wasn't sure how to solve without pissing the Hunter off more. He didn't think the kid would actually want to open up and talk. It didn't seem like conversation was what he wanted from their… friendship. It didn't matter, he would just stay close and find out in time. It wasn't like staying with the human was torture.

Dom gasped awake like every day, his chest tight, his heart racing, sweat soaking every inch of him. He sat straight up in bed and tried not to cry out too loud but as his fuzzy gaze searched the dark room something touched him. He jumped, full body trembling, but the touch curled tightly around him and he wondered momentarily where he left his knife. "Shit Dom I'm sorry. I'm right here. Breathe for me?" A rasped voice whispered in his ear and the scent that hit his nose was… comforting?

"Kells!" The memory of the past few days fought their way through his anxiety induced brain fog. He never had someone close to help when he woke from a nightmare but with the demon holding him he could actually breathe.

Dom crumpled against his chest, that pretty face pressing against his neck, and while he wasn't used to comforting anything he tried. "It's okay. He can't have you. I've got you. Told you I'd watch over you." He soothed, petting down the human's sweat slick spine. The boy was overwhelming like this, his pheromones strong and cloying. He could fucking taste him on the back of his tongue and more than anything he wanted to distract him but he didn't think it was the time.

"S'not 'im. Not jus' 'im." Dom tried to speak but his chest felt too tight. He didn't think the beast he took to bed would care or understand his past though. His life has never been nice or normal and it had definitely never been healthy. He had only been so easily swayed by the monster when he was younger because he was so desperate to get away from home. Most nights he dreamed of some dark combination of his parents and the bastard who cursed him. It was nothing new but actually being calmed after it was surprising.

He sighed softly and pulled back enough to look at the creature he should be stabbing but Kells just smiled at him and something in his belly flipped. "Can still feel yas." He whispered before he could stop himself and that smile turned to a smirk. His cheeks burned hot but he felt that heat between his thighs flow and something about knowing it was him and Kells mixed together got him even hotter.

"You like that?" The demon purred, his fingers drifting lower on the boy's spine until he was ghosting just over his ass. "You have dimples?" He hummed, but he wouldn't move his lover to look yet, obviously Dom needed the connection. Maybe he did too after his midnight meeting.

"Shut up. No I don't." Dom blushed hotter but the wanker teased his fingers inside the little dips and it tickled him enough he jumped.

"Scary badass demon hunter has dimples." Kells sing-songed softly. He knew they hadn't known each other long enough to tease but he always teased. "Don't worry, I won't tell." He started to lean closer to kiss the boy but Dom pulled back a little and placed his hand on the demon's inked chest.

"Wait, tha' wasn't jus' a one time fing?" He didn't know if he wanted it to be or not but he was surprised. The monster seemed like a hit it and quit it kind of guy.

Kells watched as the boy nibbled his lower lip, his anxiety was obviously still up and he knew he needed to say the right thing or he'd fuck up whatever they were building. If they were building anything. Besides, he needed the human. For revenge purposes of course. That was all. "I'm not done with you yet. If you're not done with me?" He offered. It wasn't too sweet which he knew would scare the boy off and it wasn't too standoffish. It was simple and honest and left a world of possibilities open wide. Like he wanted the kid's legs to be.

"I… shite. I should tell you to fuck off again. I should make you go but… maybe a pet demon wouldn't be so bad." A smile tugged at his lips, it was a dangerous game but maybe he could play it. At least for a while. He'd never recovered from his nightmares so fast and… maybe he enjoyed the sex just a little bit.

"Pet demon, huh?" Kells purred, his hand slinking down to grope hard at Dom's perky ass. He was shocked when the boy squeaked but it was oddly heartwarming. Dom was special. Dom was human. Right? "How about instead I be the master, and you sit?" He winked, sealing his lips over the Hunter's before he could tell him off.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

I hope this was good, I'm feeling pretty ick but I don't want to get too far off schedule. I have a bad case of brain fog though so I really hope this was coherent. Astaroth is icky, but how do they know each other? How is Dom special? Do y'all deserve a little more porn with your plot as a treat? Hope you like it! ⚰️🖤

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aerodaltonimperial · 1 year

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Just give me more prince!Hook PLEASE. Cinderella? Sleeping Beauty? Beauty and the Beast? A sci fi prince? A prince of hell? I do not care, just give him pomp and circumstance he hates. 😌

(i can't believe you made me actually use a story i knew lmao, here's ur royalty au, if anyone guesses the source material you get a cookie and my eternal affection)

Prince Hook hated everything about being royal. Well, to be more specific, he hated everything in general, but the royalty part more than the rest. And he was not a particularly good prince. His father, bless his heart, tried his best to get Hook into the acceptable princely pursuits growing up: soliloquies, fanciful waltzing, lute playing. Hook even hated fencing, and kept dropping the rapier to swing at his opponent with his fist.

"We'll simply have to marry him off through a treaty," his father said, sighing. "One of those where they sign before they meet him."

"He's very attractive," his mother offered, ever the diplomat. "We could send a painting along with the treaty."

Prince Hook was not fond of this idea. So, instead of waiting around for a neighboring kingdom to be prepared to give farmland or herds of cattle or a nicely cursed mirror, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He set out towards the mountains, where the dragons roamed, with the intent of getting kidnapped.

It took awhile to find a creature who would agree to such a plan. The first one thought Hook was there to rescue the princess it already had, and Hook had to punch it's snout to knock it out and escape before the girl got any ideas. The second laughed him out of the sulfur-filled cave. But the third, when Hook called in through the cavern, replied with, "Ah, yes, come in!"

Hook did, with some trepidation. After all, he didn't want to end up stir-fried. "Uh, are you in the market for a prince?"

He expected a dragon to pop its head out, not a man with black and white face paint. "A what?" the man asked.

Hook stared. "I thought you'd be a dragon."

"Well, I'd thought you'd be a princess," the man threw back. "So Danhausen guesses we're both a little strange."

"Well, you're not a dragon, but maybe you could still use a prince. You could kidnap me just the same."

"Why would Danhausen do that?" Danhausen asked, but he hadn't done anything nefarious yet, so Hook might be onto something.

Hook shrugged. "I could help around here. Clean things. I'm classically educated, can read six languages. I'm also really good at punching people."

"Huh." Danhausen contemplated this. "I suppose having a guard might be kind of nice. The knights keep coming around and swearing they'll kill me and take back my treasures." Then he narrowed his eyes. "But why do you want to get kidnapped?"

"My parents are trying to marry me off," Hook said. "This is a perfectly respectable alternative. Are you particularly fearsome? That would go a long way in furthering my father's reputation."

Danhausen stared, eyebrows arched. "You haven't heard of the wizard Danhausen?"

"No?" Hook tried.

"Well, shoot." Danhausen sighed. "Then perhaps not. Any ideas on how Danhausen could go about becoming more feared and renowned?"

"Oh, absolutely." Hook tapped his finger against his head. "I know all the tricks to getting royalty's attention. Give me three weeks, and your name will be known everywhere."

"Splendid," Danhausen said. He stuck his hand out, which appeared to be streaked with some sort of odd, jelly-like substance. Hook reached for his fingers with apprehension. "Then I think we have an accord."

Hook smiled. "Perfect."

(Three knights showed up within a week aiming to rescue Prince Hook from the evil, devilish wizard Danhausen, but after Hook broke the third one's arm in two places by slamming him into the cave wall, word must have spread, because no more arrived waving their swords around. Which was all well and good, since Hook rather liked Danhausen, especially after he alphabetized the curse library by affliction and Danhausen gave him a kiss as a reward. Hook thought he'd perhaps found the best future for himself. Plus, the curses were interesting to read about, save the ones about boils. Barf.)

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faulty-writes · 3 years

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[ So I felt like I needed to do another Taishiro piece. So this is partly inspired by the songs Chocolate and Be Kind To Yourself. I hope you enjoy it!]

[ Not quite a hero and yet not quite a villain. You have gone by the proud title of 'Vigilante' for years now and for years Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as 'Fat Gum' has been chasing after you and...protecting you? Huh, that's weird. But it looks like he's going above and beyond this time and he may have broken his word for your sake. Either way, you find yourself listening to what he has to say. ]

Pants filled the air as you continued to run down the now wet streets of Tokyo, pushing down innocent bystanders that stood in your way while the sky above you continued to rumble causing the already present rain to fall harder, hitting the ground in large bursts.

You could still hear the loud stomps behind you as members of the police force continued their chase to try and apprehend you. The bag of stolen goods was still clenched tightly in your hand and you used your free hand to catch yourself when you slipped on the wet pavement.

Luckily you decided to take a small detour through a back alley and climbed up a fire escape before you proceeded to jump onto several rooftops in an attempt to make it to a safer location. Once you heard the noise of the police force fade away, which was oddly fast in your opinion.

You slowly made your way down another fire escape and slumped against the brick wall of another alleyway. The rain continued to pour down and you glanced up, the sky was dark and there was no hint of sunlight. You pressed your hand to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Hm?” That's when you noticed the faint cut across the back of your hand. But, that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering you had minor cuts and scrapes across the length of your body. Not to mention the fact that your clothes were currently stuck to the surface of your skin.

“Pff,” you reached up, pushing your bangs out of your face and allowing them to stick to the top of your head. Then you paused, making sure it was still quiet. Though it was a tad hard to hear any outside noise due to the pounding rain.

“Well…” you shrugged and stepped away from the wall, assuming that all was safe. “Let me see what I got…” you wrestled with the bag for a moment before finally managing to open it. But just as you were about to peer inside to see all the goodies you had gathered.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind you which prompted you to close the bag and turn quickly on your feet. You expected to see more members of the police force and kept the bag hidden behind your back.

But as soon as you laid your eyes on the rather large individual that stood before you, your defensive stance relaxed. “You know I’d like to see what you got in that sack too,” you narrowed your eyes and took a step back. “Fat Gum,” you stated as you continued to back away with your eyes locked on him.

Taishiro Toyomitsu or “Fat Gum” as you knew him as was someone you had run into a couple of times before and while you were well aware he was a hero and he was well aware you were a vigilante with slight villainous tendencies.

He had a bad habit of wanting to protect you and trying to convince you to fight for the side of justice, but that wasn’t at all something you were willing to do...again. Thus the game of cat and mouse continued. Your thoughts broke when he chuckled and began to casually walk towards you.

“That’s the name, glad you still remember,” he spoke in a teasing tone but you weren't amused and tightened your grip on the bag. You refused to back down to anyone, so you straightened your posture while casting a glare at the oversized hero.

But as he got closer you noticed that his clothes seemed dry or rather that the rain slid off of the fabric as opposed to absorbing into it. However, you noticed those small strands of blond hair sticking out from under his hood and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like you’re a bit wet there, not to mention those injuries of yours,” Taishiro said as he continued to loom over you, that large smile of his fading as he once again began to show the same concern for you he always did. But, you rolled your eyes.

‘Here we go again, the hero complex,’ you thought but didn’t exactly notice the frown that was playing across your lips until Taishiro pointed it out. “I’d rather not see you frown if it’s all the same to you,” he said, his voice deepening and you recognized there was some pitiful tone to it which caused you to growl.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” you snapped as you pointed your finger at him, once more your bangs seemed to come back to stick to your forehead and impair your vision. Your knuckles were slowly turning white as your grip on the bag tightened.

You didn’t register the fact you were no longer hiding the item behind your back. “Hm,” Taishiro reached up, scratching the side of his head with one of his abnormally large fingers. “That might be a problem,” he confessed, but his tone was light and you knew this was yet again something that normally happened between you two.

You’d do something, Taishiro would find you and proceed to give you a speech about how good you were in hopes you’d change your ways. The fact that he felt the need to protect you was...well, you felt a mix of emotions when it came to that.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that sack, please” you flinched, looking at him with a bewildered expression which wasn’t so surprising considering you wouldn’t just hand it over. Taishiro frowned and took a step closer before he leaned over and brought his arms up, almost like he was expecting you to hop away.

“Come on, I would never hurtcha knowing you’re already injured,” he said, the fact that his tone was filled with concern only made you angrier. “I am not giving you my bag!” you hissed before taking a step back. Even as Taishiro continued to loom over you, both of you seemed to know what you were about to do.

“Don’t,” he ordered, which was almost amusing considering his voice didn’t hold any sense of authority. You pushed your foot against the slippery ground and made a foolish dash towards the entrance of the alleyway. Of course, you should have expected the way to be blocked.

Actually, you should have expected Taishiro to have made a secure plan that would prevent you from leaving the alleyway until he got what he wanted from you. Just as you were about to reach the entrance, something bright flashed through the rain.

“Look out for the gun!” Taishiro’s voice broke through the sound of the rain and the scent of sulfur filled the air. “Ah!” you stumbled when you felt a blast of heat near your foot where the impact of a bullet made a hole in the concrete. However, instead of falling to the ground.

You felt someone grab onto your wrist and pull you against a squishy surface. “Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, already knowing who had a hold on you which meant escaping was going to be tricky. Especially with the police who were not only sealing off your escape routes but appeared to be trigger happy.

Yup, you were effectively trapped. The very opposite thing you wanted. “Let go!” you demanded as you stepped forward and attempted to pull your wrist out of the hero’s grip, but he kept a firm hold on you. Even with the rain, it seemed you couldn’t easily slip away.

“Sorry about this,” he reached over, and despite you still desperately holding your bag of stolen goods to your chest, he so easily ripped it away from you. “Hey!” you snapped as you tried to reach for it, but considering how tall Taishiro was. It was an almost impossible task, even when you stretched your arm to its limit.

“I got it!” he declared as he held the bag up for the police force members to see. “You boys can relax now,” he said and sure enough you watched as that police line up broke apart and started walking towards you. Another growl escaped and your free hand curled into a fist.

“Give it back!” you demanded, once more stretching your arm out and jumping to try and take it. The display was a little pathetic, you could admit. Jumping up and down to get something you wanted when someone else was holding it just out of your reach. Another cry left you when your foot slipped and your body fell to the ground.

A hiss followed when you felt the skin of your elbow tear against the rough texture of the pavement, despite the rain washing away the blood that came. You still felt the small amount of pain that coursed through your now broken skin. “Hey there, you better be careful!” Taishiro said as he leaned to one side and placed the bag down.

You completely ignored the fact that the police were now standing just a few feet from you, their guns raised as if you were actually attempting to do something. Well, you did try to lunge for the bag that was now on the ground.

Of course, you were stopped by Taishiro who grasped the back of your shirt. “Sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you continuing to injure yourself or try and take that bag back,” he stated and you cried out when you were suddenly lifted up.

You began to kick your feet, attempting to aim for Taishiro’s face. He didn't seem to take too kindly to this considering he was frowning, but what he did next threw you off-guard. He began to lower you down onto his stomach and you could feel something pulling at the bottom of your shoes.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed as you found yourself in a battle with his quirk which was currently sucking you into his body. You knew exactly what he was doing as you had seen him do it before. He could effectively absorb people or hold them in place with his quirk.

It was a way to disable and prevent them from doing any more harm to themselves or others. You tried moving your arms and legs but it was no good, it was almost like your body was being submerged in a pool of putty. “Fat Gum…” you hissed out, your body or at least what was still seen of it, began to tremble.

“Sorry, I wasn't too rough with you. Was I?” he questioned as he looked down at you, effectively trapped and safe within his fat. You couldn’t help but glare, but at least in a way, the rain wasn’t bothering you. However, your soaking wet bangs were still hanging in your face.

You grumbled as one of the police force members walked over to the bag and curiously peeked inside before looking at you. They wore a tan trench coat with white gloves and a matching hat. You could make out their black hair and dark eyes.

"Is this everything?" they asked and you opened your mouth to speak or curse him out, but Taishiro answered for you. Flashing a smile, he raised his arm with a confident nod. “Should be Tsukauchi,” he replied and you raised your eyebrow.

‘Naomasa Tsukauchi...should have known’ you thought. ‘Guess I didn’t recognize him in that getup,’ Naomasa was the police detective of the police force and someone you had dealt with countless times. Needless to say, you didn’t favor him much.

"Hm," he turned his attention to Taishiro. "Do you need an escort to the police station?" he questioned and you scowled. “Police station!? Again!?” no surprise you had been there countless times, sat in those tiny interrogation rooms for hours.

However, Naomasa didn’t answer you. He didn’t even bother to glance at you, rather he kept his eyes locked on Taishiro. “Nah,” he replied before patting his stomach and you could feel the slight vibrations course through your body as a result of the motion.

“This big ol’ body wouldn’t mind a little more exercise, I can take them in myself,” the rain continued to hit the ground, creating a random but somehow rhythmic sound that eased the current anger you felt. Naomasa looked at Taishiro with some concern before he nodded and turned to one of the officers who took the bag.

"Let’s wrap this up and go!" he said before walking away. However, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Taishiro. "Thank you for continuing to protect Japan," he said as he tipped his hat and resumed walking. Taishiro must have heard the rather animalistic growls coming from you.

But you knew he couldn’t see the way your eyes were narrowed and your teeth clenched together. Wishing that Naomasa would burst into flames at any moment, but you were quickly distracted away from your hateful thoughts when Taishiro turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“You alright there?” he questioned, his voice was back to its cheery tone and you knew he was smiling as he walked. You kept quiet, refusing to answer him as he rounded the corner out of the alleyway. Why should you even talk to him when he was only going to take you to the police station?

Or at least that’s where you thought you were going until you began to realize. “This isn’t the way to the police station,” you pointed out, though you had some doubt. You knew the streets of Esuha City well enough and you knew something was off.

You tried to glance up at Taishiro but the task was impossible considering you couldn’t fully turn your head. Taishiro chuckled and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you, but this wasn't the case. “I knew you were smart enough to catch on!” he replied and you growled yet again in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, the question coming out with a hiss as you tried once more to wiggle your way ‘out’ of Taishiro. But stopped when a series of lights began to irritate your vision. The pouring rain didn’t help as it caused the light to glare which, in turn, caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Those lights are annoying,” you pointed out and Taishiro came to a stop. Raising his hand up to press against his forehead as he looked at the large building ahead of him. “Yeah?” he questioned before laughing once more. “This is where I live,” he said casually, despite the fact your jaw dropped.

“...what?” for a moment you didn’t think you heard him correctly. That is until he started walking to the door, it was a tad bizarre to see a scanner attached to the outside wall. But Taishiro seemed prepared for it, considering he reached up to remove his glove.

You watched as he pressed one of his fingers against the screen of that scanner which then became illuminated by blue light. A few seconds later, the two sliding glass doors unlocked and Taishiro walked through. Humming softly to himself as he slipped his glove back over his hand.

“Mm,” you grumbled from your position. Your hair was mostly dry now, though your bangs still stuck to your forehead and it was a little irritating you couldn’t simply push them out of the way. You tried to ignore it in favor of taking in your new surroundings. The entrance of the building was rather well-kept.

The tiled flooring looked polished and there was fancy furniture everywhere. You could hear the faint sounds of individuals talking somewhere off in the distance mixed with the continued rainfall. ‘He lives in a place like this?’ granted Taishiro didn’t seem to be one that spent his money on large mansions and such.

He was social, so maybe he would prefer living in a place that had people. "Uh!" you shook your head, jeez. Were you getting soft? You tried to focus on your surroundings once more, and took note that there was an elevator but surely Taishiro wouldn’t use an elevator given his height and weight, right?

Sure enough, you felt the motion of him turning and watched as he entered through another door. It gave somewhat of an eerie squeak as it opened and you found yourself staring down a rather large and empty-looking hallway. How odd.

However, your thoughts were shattered when you felt Taishiro lean back and, in turn, you jolted forward. Hitting the floor with a soft thud, you felt moisture across the length of your arms and your clothes were still sticking to your skin. “What the hell!?” you snapped before frantically standing on your feet.

Your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed in a glare toward Taishiro. He gave a nervous chuckle and reached up to rub the back of his head. “Sorry bout’ that,” he replied before once more grinning, not that doing such a thing made you any less angry at him.

“There’s a big ol’ elevator at the end of this hallway," he said. "Sturdy enough to support you and me,” he claimed as he patted his stomach. “...elevator?” you questioned as you looked over your shoulder. “Mmhm, let’s go,” Taishiro urged as he laid his hand on your shoulder which you didn't take too kindly to.

You attempted to flinch away but his fingers took firmer hold. "Didn’t think I’d let you run off, did you?” a growl rumbled in your throat, but Taishiro didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Rather, he just smiled and proceeded to pull you along despite your continued attempts to wiggle away.

A familiar ding sounded when the elevator arrived and Taishiro pulled you inside with him. The elevator bounced some underneath his weight and for a moment you were expecting the cord to snap and for both of you to spiral downward.

Luckily that didn’t happen and he released his hold on your shoulder as soon as the elevator doors closed. You grumbled in response and reached up to grasp your shoulder, though Taishiro’s grip didn’t hurt you couldn’t help but pout.

First, you got caught, then you got your things taken away, and now you’re being brought home by a hero. What else could go wrong? What hero did things like this? “Mm…” you glanced up at Taishiro who had his elbows bent and a happy expression on his face, why was he always so happy?

“Why are you doing this?” you questioned and Taishiro turned to look down at you. Somehow he knew that no answer would satisfy you. So he wouldn't stress himself trying to figure out what he could say. Instead, he glanced forward. Watching as the light just above the door continued to change, indicating each floor you passed.

“We’re almost there,” he said, and you noticed his voice sounded a little flat, almost like he was disappointed. But part of you expected that more than likely he wasn’t planning on spending his night with a vigilante. Still, you were a little annoyed he didn’t answer your question.

“Fine then…” you said as you crossed your arms and turned away from Taishiro, somewhat acting like a child. But at the moment, you didn’t care. When the elevator finally came to a stop and the door opened, you had debated about running.

But chances are Taishiro would catch you again and you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Still, you were surprised to be greeted with what looked to be a rather large living room. There were several pieces of furniture including a couch which sat in front of a large flat-screen television.

“Well come on in!” Taishiro exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped off the elevator and you heard the wooden floor give a creak underneath his weight. You took a step back, once more debating if you should try for an escape. It would be so easy, just push the ‘lobby’ button and you’d be on your way.

You raised your hand, ready to reach over and enact your plan. But froze when Taishiro turned around, blinking when he saw you in the elevator. “Heh,” he placed his hands on his hips. “What are you still doing in there?” he questioned before he extended a hand out to you.

“Uh…” your arms pressed up against your chest and you looked down at that offered hand. It could be debated that it was a strange gesture, but somehow you felt as though Taishiro was always offering a hand out to you.

If it wasn't his hand, then he always appeared as though he were looking for any excuse to touch you. Maybe one day you’d get a real answer from him, but it seemed no matter what his answer always revolved around thinking you were a good person or that if you changed your ways you’d make a great hero.

Maybe he was trying to convert you, undo all the previous damage you had been through that led you to the path of a vigilante. Still, you couldn’t deny that he was trying to make some type of connection to you and despite the many times you had been caught doing this or that, Taishiro always let you go.

You partly wondered if he’d get in trouble for this, harboring a vigilante in his home instead of taking them to the police station as he said he would. You latched onto your lip before giving in and slowly laid your hand in his and once again you were reminded that despite Taishiro’s size, he was awfully gentle with everything he did.

Including clasping his fingers over your hand and guiding you into the living room. You couldn’t help but glance around, taking a full scan of the room. You never thought Taishiro would be one to hang pictures everywhere. But there were several picture frames lining the surface of every table and some were even hanging on the walls.

One, in particular, caught your eye. Taishiro was standing in the middle of the frame with his agency building behind him. But what struck you as odd was the young boys standing on each side of him. One had a white and yellow hood with dark hair and seemed as though he were trying to cover his face as the picture was being taken.

Then the other seemed rather enthusiastic, sporting a big toothy grin though he looked like he had sharp teeth as well as spiky red hair that stuck out at several points. Taishiro must have noticed you were staring at the picture and chuckled before releasing your hand.

“Those are my chick-lings,” he stated confidently, snapping you out of your small trance. “Huh?” you turned to look at him, blinking once or twice. Who refers to anyone as a chick-ling? Well, actually maybe you should have expected such from Taishiro of all people.

Still, you couldn’t help the confused expression on your face. “...what?” you questioned causing Taishiro to chuckle. Seconds later, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Ah,” frantically stepping away, you pressed your hands against the top of your head. “Don’t do that,” you said flatly, but Taishiro must have chosen to ignore you.

“Those two are the best work-study students I’ve had, our little Suneater is going to be my official sidekick next year! That is if we can work on those delicate nerves of his,” he commented as he pointed to the boy hiding his face in the photo.

You raised your eyebrow and stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the photo. ‘Sidekick, huh?’ you had never met Taishiro’s little helpers, but you often pulled your misfit adventures at night and if those boys had school. Well, it would make sense why you never saw them.

You continued to stare for a few more minutes before you heard Taishiro...sniffing something. You slowly turned your head, seeing that he was bent down to your height. That sniffing continued as he leaned closer, in turn, causing you to lean back.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, slightly bewildered at the man’s behavior, but he seemed to come back to reality a few seconds later. It was strange having him so close, though you noticed his yellow eyes seemed to stand out, especially against that black mask he always wore.

A few blond strands still stuck out from under his hood. You often wondered if his hood somehow hurt him considering it looked awfully close to his scalp. “Hm, oh sorry just…” he leaned back, suddenly acting a little shy as he glanced away from you causing you to tilt your head. Why was he acting so strange?

You flinched when he suddenly looked back at you and swiped his tongue over his lips which would have concerned you if not for his next set of words. “Well...you smell mighty sweet,” he claimed, and before you had time to properly react.

You felt his hands slip underneath your arms and let out a cry as you were lifted off the ground. You kicked your feet when Taishiro leaned close and you could feel the way he buried his face into your unruly hair. He then proceeded to sniff once more causing a chill down your spine.

“Your hair smells sweeter than chocolate, gotta confess it’s making me a little hungry,” he stated and you looked at him bewildered before he lowered you back onto the floor. “That’s a compliment,” he stated shortly after as if you were supposed to thank him for the fact you smelled like candy.

“...thanks?” you replied, still unsure of what Taishiro’s motive was. “Are you still a little wet from the rain?” he questioned as he placed his hands on his knees and once more leaned down to your height. “How about I getcha a towel or a fresh set of clothes?” you raised your eyebrow, despite the fact that you were mostly dry.

Your clothes were still sticking to your skin and had dried into uncomfortable creases and wrinkles. You latched onto your lip, almost angry that you were going to accept the kind offer from a hero. But, not all heroes were bad and Taishiro was proving exactly that.

Yet, you couldn't help but think that eventually...one day he would turn on you and end your vigilante days once and for all. But at the moment, you couldn't spend your time worrying about your unknown future with Taishiro. “No towel, but a change of clothes if you have anything that would fit me,” part of you doubted that.

But Taishiro proved time and time again he could surprise you. He seemed happy with your response. “You got it!” he said with a playful wink before he turned to walk away, once more leaving you wondering why he seemed to put so much trust in you. When he disappeared down the hallway, you turned to look over your shoulder.

Glancing at the elevator that you could so easily make a run for and finally escape. But for some reason, you felt compelled to stay where you were. You heard the distant shuffle of clothes echo in the background which was more than likely Taishiro searching high and low for something that could fit you.

“Mm…” the floor continued to creak underneath your feet as you walked towards one of the windows, the sky was painted a dull gray but even then Esuha City continued to flash its usual display of bright colors. But unlike most days, there weren’t many people on the streets below considering it was still raining.

You wondered when it would let up and got lost as you continued to watch the rain come down. So much so that you didn’t notice when Taishiro walked up behind you. "Hm?" he looked at your reflection in the glass and chuckled softly before he leaned down to your ear.

“Pretty ain’t it?” you jumped and quickly turned around with your hand clenching your chest. “Oh!” Taishiro took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and you responded with a growl which he seemed to yet again ignore.

“I found something for you to wear,” he stated as he held up what looked to be one of his standard hero suit hoodies. But there was something slightly different about this one. It looked significantly smaller for one thing and though it was still orange, the letters across the front of it were yellow with a white and black outline.

“Uh…” you raised your eyebrow, at least it would go past your thighs or so you assumed. “This is from when I first started my hero career, I fooled around a bit with colors since then…” he said with a sheepish laugh before lightly shoving the hoodie into your arms.

“Hm?” you blinked and held it up by the shoulders before pressing it against your body, trying to see just how well it would fit you. “I got a bathroom down the hall there, just past the closet. First door to the left,” he instructed as he pointed and your eyes followed that finger.

You glanced back at the garment in your hands, allowing your thumbs to run over the fabric. It was smooth and almost had a slippery surface, did that help with his quirk? You weren't sure and you were almost mad at yourself for even wanting to inquire about his quirk.

You latched onto your lip. “...thanks,” you replied before you ducked your head and quickly scurried past Taishiro and down the hall. “Huh!?” he seemed rather surprised by your actions and the fact that he had to step back as you scurried past him. He shifted his gaze to the hallway where he heard the bathroom door slam shut.

He reached up, scratching his head as he was clearly confused by your actions. He partly wondered if anyone had ever gifted you anything before, then again maybe he was coming off too strong. A click sounded as you locked the bathroom door behind you and turned around, slightly startled by the sight before you.

The bathroom itself was rather large and had a stand-in shower with sliding glass doors with one corner squared off to make a bathtub. The counter of the sink was well-organized and had a large square mirror hanging on the wall. You blinked. ‘Well...maybe I was wrong…’ seemed Taishiro did enjoy certain aspects of being a hero and making a lot of yen.

Regardless, you shook your head and proceeded to the sink counter, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair still appeared dried out and slightly curled, your clothes looked crusty and had several stiff creases in them. "Mm..." you lifted your arm, glancing at the elbow that had gotten torn.

The wound itself still looked fresh and the skin around it inflamed, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Overall, you certainly looked like someone who had spent too much time in the rain. You could still hear the gentle drops echoing as they hit the roof of the building.

You couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling, allowing yourself to get lost in the sound of the rain. You would have much preferred to have gotten away with your bag of goods. But instead, you were here. You then let out a sigh, once more holding up the hoodie you were given.

“Mm…” you laid it out on the counter before you went about removing your clothes. But you struggled as you tried to pull your shirt over your head and trying to wiggle out of your pants was a short-lived nightmare. You stumbled into the sink counter before kicking your shirt and pants away.

Then you quickly grabbed the hoodie and slipped it over your head, it was still a little big on you but the extra room felt cozy. The sleeves were a little too long and hung off your hands, leaving extra fabric to sway. But at least it went past your thighs and your hair didn’t look too bad when you pulled the hood up.

“Huh…” you glanced at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that as you tried to decide how much you favored how Taishiro’s hoodie looked on you. “It’s not bad…” you said to yourself before you quickly gathered your clothes off the floor and cradled them to your chest.

Once more the thought of escaping entered your mind as you stepped out of the bathroom and glanced up and down the hallway. “Lookin’ good!” Taishiro suddenly exclaimed, causing you to jump and stumble back. Your clothes falling to the floor in the process and you stared at them a moment before going to yell at Taishiro.

However, your mouth immediately closed when you were greeted with the sight of someone you didn’t recognize. However, they were dressed in Taishiro’s clothing and had similar hair and eyes. But they were rather skinny and muscular. You blinked, and your stance remained stiff as you stared at them.

“Everything alright?” he questioned and you watched as he leaned down. Positioning himself onto one knee in order to pick up your clothes. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said as he folded your clothes and stacked them on top of each other. “Here you go!” he said cheerfully as he held them out to you.

A smile was on his face and you raised your eyebrow. “Taishiro?” you questioned, trying to ignore how weird his name sounded on your tongue. “What...what happened to you?” you had never seen him like this before. Was this part of his quirk? Did it somehow malfunction?

You slowly reached to take your clothes back, being a tad clumsy considering the sleeves of Taishiro’s old hoodie got in the way. “Oh, this?” he said as he pointed to himself before standing on his feet once more. “Well, I figured I was going a little too fast so I thought I’d start from the beginning," he explained with a chuckle.

"That way, maybe we could get to know each other better?” you raised your eyebrow. “What?” you replied as you placed your hand on your hip, your other kept hold of your clothes. “That doesn’t answer my question, what happened to you?” Taishiro laughed, though it sounded a tad awkward.

“Well,” he began, ��this is my standard form, without all that...extra,” he said as he patted two hands against his stomach. “Either way, most folks seem to prefer this form but if you ask me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he stated before he lowered his hands and leaned slightly in your direction.

“Which is part of the reason I’d like to get to know you,” he said as he reached his hand out for your shoulder but you smacked it away. A soft growl rumbled in your throat before you took a step forward, stomping your foot against the floor.

Despite the fact that Taishiro was at least three or more times bigger than you, that didn’t stop you from pointing your finger up at him. “What the hell do you mean beauty is in the eye of the beholder?!” you wanted to make a point that you disagreed with Taishiro, especially knowing he was talking in reference to you.

Your fingers were curling into your pile of clothes, slightly trembling and your hood had fallen down. But you could care less about how unruly your hair looked at the moment. “Well the way I see it is, you seem like someone who’s bottling themselves up” you lowered your finger, tilting your head to the side.

“S-So what…” you replied before quickly turning your back to him in order to scurry down the hallway. “It’s not like...it’s not like I can be someone else you know!” you suddenly snapped as you once more found yourself in the living room.

It was one thing to assume someone was going to be your friend just because you may have shown them a little kindness. But it was an entirely different thing to assume you knew someone’s life story. Taishiro didn’t even ask! But...you couldn’t deny he was correct in a sense.

You had tried to be a hero once upon a time and maybe it was just bad luck, but you quickly discovered that some heroes could be just as bad as the villains they were sworn to protect others from. That’s what caused you to take the first few steps into becoming a vigilante. Taishiro ducked some as he exited the hallway into the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” and you didn’t mean to roll your eyes. “Hmph!” you replied, almost like a child as you reached back and pulled the hood over your head once more. Then you crossed your arms, your back still facing Taishiro as he continued to speak.

“It’s just...I’ve been noticing that you’re treating yourself like a villain..." he trailed off a moment. You imagined he was trying to gather his thoughts, despite how crazy they were. "I can’t help but disagree with the way you’re treating someone I like,” your arms dropped a little and you felt that familiar insecurity begin to rise.

But you refused to allow yourself to show it. “...what?” you questioned as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Taishiro. For once, he wasn’t smiling and you flinched slightly as he stepped closer to you.

“I like you,” he repeated, “...y/n,” he added a few seconds later and you couldn’t help but feel your heart accelerate when he spoke your name. A low heat began to fill your cheeks and you quickly turned your head back to stare at the wall in front of you.

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hood you wore and your knees were turned inward, you refused to speak. “Which is why I can’t let you continue this war between you and yourself, I suppose what I’m saying is...you should be kind to yourself even if you’re angry at yourself or what happened to you," he took a deep breath.

"I know some people aren’t so nice in the world,” he continued as he reached out to take your hand and despite your attempt to jerk it out of his grip, once more he proved he could be stubborn when he wanted to be. His fingers curled tightly around your hand and he narrowed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hero in him, but there was also some part of him that didn’t want to see you spend your life in this harmful cycle. Maybe he could continue to try and steer you back onto the path of a hero, but he knew that would take a long time. But he couldn't deny it would be worth every step.

After all, he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere until he at least got through to you a little. Despite knowing that he'd be in hot water by the end. Yet, isn't that what a hero was for? Sometimes sacrificing yourself for others was the noblest thing you could do.

His fingers continued to tighten around your hand, but he was careful not to hurt you, especially when he pulled you forward which caused you to cry out. Once more your clothes fell to the floor and at this point, you could care less about them. Rather you found both your hands preoccupied.

One held securely by Taishiro and the other curling into the front of his hoodie which now felt baggy and too loose for his ‘standard form.’ You still didn’t fully understand how he could switch between forms so easily like that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. You bared your teeth up at Taishiro with a growl.

But he simply blinked in response as though he weren’t the least bit threatened by you and he probably wasn’t. Rather you felt him guide your hand to place over his heart and he leaned down. His eyes locked with yours which didn’t help the fact your face was growing hotter.

“You gotta learn to love your enemies too, so why not start with me?” he questioned with a smile. “Then maybe you can learn how to do it for yourself and I’d be more than happy to help you,” the sound of the rain continued outside but you could tell it was fading and more than likely would stop at any moment.

“...I...” you were speechless as you stood there pressed up against the hero with your jaw hanging open and your eyebrows tilted in confusion. There was a burning anger building in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t actually be mad considering he was correct in some aspect.

You clenched your jaw and pushed against his chest with your free hand. “I don’t need your help!” you snapped as you ripped your hand out of his grip and proceeded to pound your fists against his chest. But it didn’t seem to affect him considering his quirk could just absorb the damage.

Taishiro frowned and reached his free hand out, cupping the side of your head. Allowing his abnormally large fingers to slip through the strands that made up your hair. You paused and your eyes widened. "I know you don’t, but I’d like to offer anyway,” he stated and you noticed the uninterrupted silence between you two.

“Hm?” you blinked and turned your head, looking out the window to see the rain had stopped just as you suspected it would. The gray sky was slowly being replaced with small patches of sunshine. You imagined the people down below were slowly coming out of hiding to once more go about their normal day.

That anger that was previously brewing in your stomach slowly faded and you turned back to Taishiro, your stare directed at your hands that remained against his chest. You slowly unfolded your fists and pressed them flat against him.

“You heroes don’t take no for an answer, do you?” maybe it was the hero complex, you weren't sure. But either way, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away from Taishiro. So was accepting the situation as it was, better for you?

No matter how hard you fought against Taishiro, both in the past and present. It seemed he remained the same, constantly chasing after you until he finally caught you in his web or in this case his arms. His soft chuckle sounded once more. “I suppose not,” he replied before smiling.

“What do you say?” he questioned and you glanced away, once more allowing silence to fill the space between you. “I’m...not going to stop,” turning your glance back on him, you continued. “Being a vigilante is the only thing I’ve known since…” you paused, wondering if you really wanted to confess why you choose to be a vigilante.

But maybe it would help Taishiro understand. “The world of the heroes is not all that it’s cracked up to be,” you glanced down. “Some are just as bad as the villains and those are the ones I need to stop," you stated as your hands began to tremble. Then you looked up at Taishiro.

"I know one of your so-called heroes was eyeing that store and could so easily be handed whatever they wanted even when they didn’t deserve it. So I needed to prevent that from happening,” you stated despite knowing that your explanation might not make sense to Taishiro let alone any hero.

Taishiro however, looked a tad confused but he knew that some people did strange things for strange reasons and he couldn’t blame you for trying to do what was right in your eyes even if it was wrong in the eyes of the law. He frowned and reached over. “Hey!” you exclaimed when you felt his fingers take gentle hold of your chin.

He slowly moved your head back to face him. “Sorry,” he said, “I know some heroes must have done you wrong, but I can promise you I won’t be one of them," he said with some sadness in his voice. "I wouldn't let any hero capture you," those set of words caused you to raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?” you questioned as you jerked your head back, reaching up to massage your chin despite the fact that Taishiro was being extremely gentle. “If anything happens involving you...I’ll be the first on the scene, don’t you worry about that,” you assumed this was yet again another one of his half-hearted attempts to convert you.

To show that he’d always protect you and yet you still couldn’t understand why, other than the fact that Taishiro somehow ‘liked’ you. ‘I might have to make that harder for him,' you thought before shifting your glance to the floor. Then a chuckle escaped you which seemed to surprise Taishiro.

“Is something funny there?” he questioned and you shook your head before taking a step forward. “I think I’m going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse,” you stated before reaching up to lay your hand against Taishiro’s cheek, getting somewhat amused as his eyes widened.

Was he truly surprised that you made an affectionate gesture towards him? Somehow it made your smile grow and you stepped away before turning your back to him. Though he was still slightly flustered, he kept his eyes locked on you and the way your hand ran along the top of a nearby shelf.

Your fingers slowly came to one of the picture frames Taishiro had and you traced the side of it before picking it up. "You know..." you began, catching Taishiro's attention as you continued to stare at the picture.

"You really shouldn't trust a vigilante," you said before your fingers grasped the picture frame tightly and you reeled your hand back. The picture frame flew out of your hand towards Taishiro who instinctively put his arms up.

You smirked and quickly grabbed a flower pot, you didn't bother to see if it was real or not. But you didn't picture Taishiro having a lot of time to take care of living plants. Regardless, you used it to shatter the glass of the window.

The thought of how far you'd fall if you were to jump out of said window crossed your mind for a second. But at this point, you'd take your chances. "Hey now!" he lowered his arms, his eyes wide as he felt the cold air come in from the now broken window.

You grinned and quickly jumped onto the shelf, managing to avoid Taishiro's arms that attempted to grab you. The extra fabric of his hoodie seemed to prove useful as you crossed your arms and took a leap of faith out the window.

Despite feeling the remaining shards that stuck out from the corners of the window shred through the fabric of the sleeves. A cold rush of air surrounded you as you descended towards the busy streets below. "Y/n!" Taishiro screamed as he ran towards the window and stuck his head out.

He glanced around before eventually spotting you and judging by the way you were waving, one of two things was clear. Either he was going to chase after you or for the moment, you had won. "Little troublemaker," Taishiro said as he turned and rushed for the elevator. "I'll catch you yet!" he declared with a determined but happy smile.

#fat gum x reader #taishiro x reader

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sokkascroptop · 3 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 22

part 1 | part 21 | part 23

a/n: just for clarification... one of these days Y/N will be happy. I promise. For being set in prison, this is a pretty upbeat chapter. She’s surrounded by her simps so that helps. Also, let it be clear, no Sokka/Suki kiss in her cell for obvious reasons. I like to think of her as being really happy for Sokka and Y/N, plus she’s like soooo wlw.

Y/N had heard all about The Boiling Rock.

It was the most notorious prison in the Fire Nation which meant kids at school had endless stories and rumors about the place. That also meant that any knowledge that Y/N could remember about the place was probably not true.

She spent the whole balloon ride there chewing on the skin around her nails and wondering what was going to happen once she got there.

Y/N tried not to think about the harsh words her father had said to her. It had been the same rhetoric he had spouted over the years, before and after bad training sessions, or any time she got into any type of trouble. It didn’t matter that it was the same thing she’d hear time and time again–about how she lacked the strength and determination that all of her ancestors had carried high on their shoulders–it all still hurt. Each and every time she heard it, she started to believe it a little more. The games her father liked to play on her mind were always bound to catch up to her. Even though she had just learned that her father would rather see her dead than alive on the other side of the war, she was still feeling guilty for disappointing him again.

Y/N took a deep breath through her nose filling her lungs with the hot air from inside the airship. She held for a pause and let it out slowly; she kept doing that, staving off the tears that were bound to come. It would be better for her if she didn’t cry in front of her fellow prisoners. She would only need to keep her cool for a little bit longer, tonight, when she was alone in the cell she would get to call home, she could muffle her cries into the lumpy pillow that was bound to be under her head. And then she could be happily numb to it all. Her father, the war, her friends. Sokka. Feelings couldn’t be felt at Boiling Rock. The only way she was going to survive was if she felt nothing at all.

Y/N spent the day as they travelled looking around the airship at the rest of the prisoners on board. They were all in separate cells and she was only able to visualize a few of them. Large men with lots of tattoos seemed to be the main character, but one thing was certain. Hakoda wasn’t one of them. Y/N didn’t want to think about why he was left behind.

The farther they traveled the warmer it got too. The metal that surrounded them was unforgiving and trapped the humidity making it hard to breathe. Y/N wanted to drop to her knees and thank the gods when she finally felt the airship touch the ground. Except that outside it was just as hot as inside and smelled like sulfur from the volcano the prison was situated on.

Each and every prisoner was handcuffed before they stepped off the airship. The guard that had waved fire in her face and threatened to burn Y/N’s fingers off latched hers. He was young and smirked at her as he tightened the cuffs to the point that her hands went numb. Y/N leaned forward and spit on his boots before she stepped away.

She was shuffled onto one of the gondolas with the rest of the prisoners in a single file line. Y/N did her best to school her expression. Terror spread through her body like a wildfire, so strong that her knees shook, but this was the last place she needed to look scared. She tightened her jaw and stared blankly ahead of her. Staying blissfully numb wasn’t working quite yet. She began to think about her friends; where they were and how they were doing. Was Aang still worried about firebending? Or had his worries shifted to the comet by now? Was Katara trying to mediate the situation? Was Sokka mad at Y/N? She groaned inwardly. Oh man, he would be mad when he found out what she got herself into.

Y/N picked at the collar of the shirt they’d made her change into. It was thick, almost burlap material. They even smelled like it too. It itched her neck and her back where it touched her skin just a little too much. The pants were no better on her waist. After making her change in front of them, the female guards had let her into the yard that Y/N had seen from the gondola. Y/N kicked her shoe against the packed dirt and looked at her surroundings. High walls surrounded her, topped with razor-sharp wire. It was a meaningless deterrent, the whole prison was surrounded by a boiling lake, no one could get out of here.

Y/N leaned against the wall as she surveyed the prisoners around her.

Then, Y/N did a double take.

It was impossible. It couldn’t be. Suki?

Y/N felt her feet fly under her as she ran to the girl; she paid no mind to the people she bumped into or pushed out of the way, Y/N just had to know if it was true.

“Suki? Is that you?”

She looked so different from the last time Y/N had seen her. Her face was free of the pale Kyoshi makeup and much tanner than Y/N had remembered. How long had it been since they’d met? Y/N asked herself. Weeks? Months even?

She was sitting on a bench in the middle of the yard, leaning back on her hands, but quickly stood up when Y/N approached her. Y/N was sure the girls hair was longer too. Half of it was pulled up and tied at the back of her head. It was choppy at the ends, much like Y/N’s was when Katara had first cut it, like she had been cutting it herself since being here. Suki’s brown eyes were expressionless when she looked back at Y/N. If she recognized Y/N, she didn’t show it. Either Suki had mastered the look of emptiness that was needed to survive, or she had fallen into a pit of despair. It had been months, Y/N concluded.

Suddenly, as if she had been struck by lightning, she cocked her head to the side. “Y/N?”

Y/N grinned and walked directly up to Suki. She didn’t know what she expected from the girl. A bow? A handshake? Maybe even a hug for having slipped her that fan before leaving? I mean, Y/N didn’t exactly know about Azula’s plan in the first place and she surely didn’t realize that even after trying to help them escape Azula would have the Kyoshi warriors captured and imprisoned. Suki would understand.

---

Suki did not understand.

She wound her arm back and punched Y/N so hard in the mouth that she saw stars.

Y/N crouched on the ground holding a hand against her throbbing bottom lip. Her eyes watered from the pain and when she pulled her hand away it was spotted with blood. More blood from her cut lip dripped onto the ground and balled up in the dirt. Y/N spit what was in her mouth out to the side. She ran her tongue against the cut her tooth made, lapping up any blood before it could run down her chin. She could hear the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the other prisoners around them; they had formed a tight circle around her and Suki, itching to watch the cat fight they knew was bound to ensue and protecting them from the prying eyes of any guards near.

Y/N stood up and faced Suki. “That hurt.” Was all Y/N could think of to say.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t even mad. Somehow it made her feel good. Suki was still there. She wasn’t as empty as Y/N thought her to be from first glance. Something about the presence of Y/N reawakened something in Suki. Y/N could see fire in her eyes as she held up her hands, preparing for a defense she wasn’t going to need.

“Good,” Suki smiled.

“Now what?” Y/N asked. She brushed her thumb past the cut and licked the blood off it.

“Now, we’re even.”

--- a few weeks later

Sokka peeked around the corner of the wall. “I still don’t see her.”

“Well, she’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

“What if she’s not here, Zuko. What if you heard wrong from Azula?” Sokka’s hands were sweaty and it wasn’t because of the heat.

“She’s here.” Zuko’s words didn’t necessarily comfort Sokka’s pounding heart, but it was nice to be able to rely on someone else’s confidence for once.

Sokka looked from side to side, scanning each and every prisoner. It shouldn’t have been so hard, most of them were huge guys with beefy arms, he was looking for the only teenage girl within miles. He was just about to suggest to Zuko that they find somewhere else to continue their search–maybe somewhere higher where they could look down–when he spotted her.

“There!” Sokka pointed at her for Zuko. Her arms were resting on her thighs and she was staring at the ground between her feet. “I’ll go pull her aside and tell her what’s going on.” Sokka stood up from their hiding place only to be immediately pulled back down by Zuko.

“Hey, what are you–” he started.

“Sokka, look. That girl, next to Suki. Is that–?” Zuko trailed off with wide eyes, his hand never leaving Sokka’s biceps as he stared.

Sokka looked back to Suki and–

Sokka couldn’t stop staring either. That was Y/N. His Y/N. Here. At Boiling Rock. Standing right there in front of him.

The last image he had of her was burned into his mind. Her standing on the cliffside with his father and half his tribe behind her as she watched him go. He’d hung over the back of Appa’s saddle until they were miles away and it had been hours since he’d seen her.

And now she was here with her hand on her hip, looking–surveying the yard around her. Suki was doing the same from her seat next to her. As Y/N turned more his way he could see a bruise high on her cheek and split lip even from how far away he was. She was practically looking directly at him but there was no recognition on her face. Of course there wouldn’t be. He was wearing a guards helmet. He was dressed like one more of her enemies.

Suddenly her face broke into a smile as she began to laugh at something Suki had said. Sokka could feel his heart skip three beats. He wanted to run to her, but he knew he couldn’t. Everything in their original plan had changed now. If she was here, was his father here too?

---

Y/N lay curled up her side on her cot. Even though it was the middle of the day she was trying to fit a nap in. Hell, there wasn’t anything else to do. The darkness of her cell helped but trying to fall asleep was always half the battle, day or night. She was exhausted, never getting more than a few hours a night, but even then sleep evaded her. The mattress was too lumpy and the clothes were too itchy and the cell was too hot but the worst part was that she was alone. She hadn’t slept alone in months, and it showed now. She used to think that Appa’s snoring was annoying and that Katara talking in her sleep was distracting but now, Y/N missed it. She missed the crackle of the fire and the soft breathing of all her friends around her. She missed the wind in the trees, rustling the leaves and the gurgle of creeks nearby. Most of all, she missed the comfort of her friends being near. The secure feeling of being able to sit up after waking from a nightmare and count the sleeping bodies around you and know that you were safe because they would never let anything happen to you.

Thinking about being near them again allowed her to drift off into a doze. She was in that state of half sleep when she heard the click of metal as her door was opened. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but she didn’t move. Whoever was in her cell with her was trying to be quiet. Y/N waited until they got close enough to surprise them.

She sat up quickly and turned on them. “What are you doing in here?”

The guard jumped back like they didn’t expect her to wake up. “I–”

“What are you doing?” Y/N stood up and took a step towards them.

The guard held up their hands defensively. “Wait, Y/N it’s me!”

Y/N gasped when she heard his voice. It was unmistakable, she didn’t need to watch as he lifted his helmet off because she was already barreling forward to pull him into a hug.

“Zuko, what are you doing here?” Y/N asked, her nose pressed into his chest. She hadn’t hugged her friend in a long, long time. After everything they had been through, she didn’t know if she ever would again. Despite everything that had gone down between the two of them in the last few months, it was a relief to see a friendly face. Even if the last time she saw him he was throwing fire at her. “How did you know I was here?”

“We didn’t–”

Y/N pulled away as her eyes widened. “We? Is Azula here?” Y/N could feel her heart beat a little faster. Of course Azula would be there too. Probably the second they heard of her capture they came to rescue her. Even after all of it, Y/N still meant that much to them, right? Azula and Y/N might not have parted on the best of terms but even she was smart enough to know that Boiling Rock wasn’t where Y/N belonged. Zuko standing in her cell was proof enough of that.

It might have been child-like wishful thinking, but maybe Azula had rethought Y/N offer to come with her. Maybe both her and Zuko had changed their minds...

Zuko shook his head slowly, then began to chuckle. “I guess it’s been a long time since we talked.”

Azula wasn’t there to save her. Y/N hated that she deflated with disappointment. Y/N was silent which Zuko took as his cue to explain.

“I left the Fire Nation—“

Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“—the day of the Black Sun. And I–well, I joined up with your friends. I’m the Avatar’s new firebending teacher.” Zuko scratched the back of his neck and laughed uncomfortably.

Y/N shook her head to clear it. Her thoughts were whirling inside her brain. No Azula but–“Wait, so does that mean Sokka is here? Toph? Where are they?” Y/N grabbed hastily at Zuko’s sleeves.

“Sokka is getting Suki.”

“Suki?” For a brief moment, Y/N forgot that her friend was even in the cell down the hall.

“Well, yeah we decided that it wouldn’t be the best I went in there.”

“Wait… so if you didn’t even know I was here until you got here, were you coming to get her?” Y/N couldn’t help that jealousy crawled up her throat and forced its way into her words at the thought that somewhere very near her, Sokka was meeting up with Suki and not her.

“Why do I feel like I said the wrong thing?”

“No!” Y/N said defensively. “No, just..” Now it was Y/N’s turn to laugh awkwardly. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll let Sokka tell you that, he’s the plan guy. Come on, we’ll meet at Suki’s cell.” It was almost like Zuko was trying to reassure her. Sokka was here. Not just here at Boiling Rock–but near her–just walls away. Y/N wanted to feel embarrassed at the way her heart sped up, embarrassed at how much she had missed Sokka and how much she had realized that she relied on him for so much since they had met. Y/N wasn’t supposed to rely on anyone.

Zuko opened Y/N’s cell door, motioning for her to go out ahead of him. Out of an abundance of precaution, Y/N glanced to the left and then to the right first, looking for any sign of a real guard outside making rounds. When there was none, she stepped out, and felt a weight lift off her chest. Y/N wondered if this was all really happening or if it was some cruel dream she would wake up from.

However, that was a mistake on her part–to hope for something that hadn’t happened in the first place. She should have waited until she was miles away to let out that breath she had been holding since she arrived.

Stepping from around the corner was the female guard that was always assigned to this cell block. Y/N forced her feet to keep moving forward and hastened to remind herself that to an outsider, neither her or Zuko had done anything wrong; yet. Y/N nudged him in the ribs and hoped that he would take the hint. Luckily, Zuko was on the same page and grabbed her bicep roughly, like he was escorting an unruly prisoner.

Y/N turned her head slightly to the side, letting her hair fall across her face, hiding her identity. This guard in particular was not the biggest fan of hers, always saying Y/N was too mouthy and threatening to send her to the cooler every chance she got. Even if Y/N had been led out of her cell for a legitimate reason, she still probably would have stopped them.

The guard was easily two steps away and had barely made a glance in Y/N’s and Zuko’s direction. At first Y/N thought they were home free. That is until the female guard slid in front of Zuko, blocking their path. “Where are you taking her?”

Y/N’s head snapped up and she felt instant regret as the guard realized who Zuko was escorting. Beside her, Y/N could feel Zuko tense up, his hand tightening around her arm unconsciously. “I was uh, taking this prisoner to the yard,” Zuko stuttered out.

Y/N wanted to facepalm.

The guard frowned deeply. “This cell block has already been to the yard this morning. You should know that.”

Zuko’s hand was now a vice on Y/N’s arm, begging her to help him. He chuckled awkwardly. “Oh. Yeah, I’m–um–new?”

“I was unaware that we had anyone new working on this block…” The guard’s eyes widened underneath her mask and Y/N knew it was now or never.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Y/N growled. She ripped her arm out of Zuko’s grip and pushed the other woman down to the ground, holding her forearm to her neck. “Run!” She shouted to Zuko.

Zuko took off immediately, his boots slapping against the metal floors. Y/N tried to watch him go while holding the guard down but she caught a knee to the stomach that made her wheeze and the woman tore into Y/N’s arm with her nails. “What are you doing?!” She screeched at Y/N.

The two of them rolled around on the ground, fighting for an advantage. Y/N grasped the guard’s long ponytail hauling her back and gripped her in a headlock.

Zuko was nearly to the stairs, as soon as she could no longer see him, Y/N would let go and accept whatever punishment that would be thrown at her for attacking a guard, even if it meant going to the cooler. She could take it.

Just at that moment another guard came racing up the steps, apparently having heard the ruckus that Y/N had started. Except it wasn’t just another guard. It was Sokka. His helmet was hanging loosely from his hand, and it nearly slipped out of his grip when he saw the scene before him.

Y/N and Sokka locked eyes for a beat and all of the air rushed out of her lungs as she gasped.

It took just that moment of distraction for the female guard to gain the upperhand. She leaned forward and using Y/N’s arm, pulled her over her shoulder. Y/N landed hard on her back with a groan. She let the guard push her onto her stomach and kneel on her back as she yanked Y/N’s arms behind her.

“Get him! He’s an imposter!” the guard shouted to Sokka.

Y/N couldn’t see–her face was pressed into the cool metal floor, but she could hear the two boys scuffle before Sokka’s voice rang out, “Don’t worry, he won’t get away with this.”

The woman leaned close to Y/N’s ear. Her breath was hot and it made Y/N shudder. “Yeah, and neither will you.”

Y/N wasn’t focused on that right now. Not the interrogation or the punishment for whatever they thought her and Zuko were planning on doing. No, the only thing she focused on was Sokka’s words echoing over and over in her head. Don’t worry, don’t worry.

She would never worry as long as Sokka was around to save her.

---

Y/N leaned her back against the wall of the cell they’d thrown her in. It was in a completely different part of the prison, one she had never seen before. So that couldn’t be good.

The door slid open with a bang and Y/N couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. The warden smiled cruelly at her. “How did Prince Zuko know you were here?” He asked, right to the point.

Y/N scoffed and crossed her arms. “Who?”

The warden chuckled darkly. “I know of your connection to the Fire Palace. You might pass anonymously through the crowds of criminals here, but your father sent a warning letter when you arrived, laying out everything you’ve done and everything I should be worried about when it comes to his precious little rebel.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows but otherwise didn’t make a sound. The warden paced in front of her like her father had so many weeks before, taunting her with hurtful words. Y/N let her eyes slide out of focus as they tracked his movements across the room.

“How did you get a message out of Boiling Rock to him?” He paused, standing in front of the open door. Y/N cocked her head and looked to the small opening between his body in the door. She couldn’t help the thoughts that intruded her mind about how small in stature the warden was and how fast she could run. There was a slight opening that she could take to run, given the chance, but there were guards posted outside and she’d be caught quickly and easily.

Y/N shrugged noncommittally. It was no use trying to argue against him, he wouldn’t believe anything she had to say. And she and Zuko had literally been caught doing exactly what they had been accused of. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

Besides anything she did say could risk Sokka’s disguise.

“Normally for a stunt like you just pulled, I’d lock you in the cooler for a week. I’d like to see how a non-bender would fare in there for that long.” A smile stretched over his wide lips. “But it might be more entertaining to just leave you to the masses. Everyone here might be a criminal, Y/N, but they are still mostly loyal to their country. And they don’t like people like you or Prince Zuko. It would be a shame for them to find out you were traitors to the Fire Nation.”

“Are you threatening to tell them?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

The warden mimed the same disinterested shrug she gave him earlier. “I won’t say anything. They’d have my job for that. But I can’t guarantee someone else won’t have a slip of the tongue in the future.”

The warden turned around and walked out, leaving Y/N with a feeling of urgency. She still didn’t know what Sokka’s plan was, but it was now or never for her and Zuko. Otherwise she had a feeling they could be in real danger.

---

It was hours before the guards let her out of that cell. She was led back to her cell block and told to do her chores like she had never been taken to be interrogated by the warden in the first place. Y/N spotted Zuko in Y/N’s usual spot next to Suki, mopping the floor by the staircase.

Y/N took the steps two at a time to get down to the both of them. She slid into the shadows, hiding from any guards who might see her not doing her job.

“Y/N!” Suki’s eyebrows knitted with worry. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, the warden was just trying to scare me. Zuko, are you okay?”

He paused his mopping. “What did he say to you?”

Y/N shook her head. “Just some things about how we were working together. He was wondering how I got you to help me escape. He said that it would–” Y/N deepened her voice to mimic the warden, “’be a shame if the other prisoners found out who we were.’ ”

Zuko frowned. “He said that to me too.”

“That’s not good. We have to get out of here as soon as possible,” Suki said.

“And we will.”

Y/N looked up to see Sokka hanging over the stair railing looking down at the three of them.

“Sokka,” Y/N breathed in relief. As he came down the stairs to meet them, the only thing Y/N wanted to do was run and jump into his arms, but she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing them. After what had happened with her and Zuko earlier, the guards were sure to keep a close eye on her. She settled for reaching a hand out and squeezing his tightly, trying to convey every emotion she was feeling into that single touch.

Suki sent Y/N a pitying look. She knew how much Y/N had missed being back with her friends. Prison wasn’t good for a lot of things, but it was good for catching up between two people. And slowly through that, her and Suki had become friends, even if it was a bit unwilling at first. Suki and her had spent the first two days of Y/N arriving just recounting what had happened between the two of them. Y/N learned of the early days of Aang, Katara and Sokka’s travels, the first time they met Suki, even Suki teaching Sokka how to fight like a Kyoshi warrior.

---

“He was so hopeless,” Suki had giggled. “It was like teaching a platypus-bear how to dance.” And Y/N had laughed. “He was the same when I first taught him how to sword fight!”

“I thought he had a little bit of a crush on me, you see,” Suki smiled slyly, “but when we met the second time in Ba Sing Se, I was sure he didn’t. He was different. More protective, but not in a love-type way. Like he was afraid for me, or what might happen to me.”

“I don’t know why he’d ever be afraid of that. You’re tough as nails, Suki.” At that point, Suki had flipped her hair over her shoulder and grinned. “I know.” but then her voice lowered. “I don’t know, but I think something happened to him when he was in the North Pole. He didn’t elaborate, but he told me that he lost someone he was close to, and he just couldn’t have it happen again. That’s why he pushed me away. Well,” Suki rolled her eyes, “he kept me close just to keep me at arms length. And then I left them there, at the wall, so me and my girls could go back and help more refugees.”

“And then me.” Y/N chewed on her lip.

Suki watched her. “And then you.”

---

Suki was giving her that same look now. The one where her brown eyes could dig wells into Y/N’s soul. It was like she knew Y/N better than she knew herself. Although at one time there might have been jealousy hidden in those dark eyes, there was none now, just sadness, and understanding. She had spent countless hours with Y/N sharing even the most mundane details about their friends. It passed the time and kept hope alive that someday they might be rescued, even if it took until the end of the war for liberation.

The foursome crouched down, hiding from any prying eyes. “I think I may have found a way out of here.” Sokka grinned mischievously.

---

Y/N stood on the banks of the boiling lake with Suki, waiting for Sokka to come back with Zuko and the cooler. The wind that blew in off the lake was hot and stifling but at least it was dark now. The night air gave some relief from the humidity. Y/N couldn’t wait to be off the island and well, anywhere else.

“That was some fight,” Suki kicked at some of the rocks on the beach, doing her best to look disinterested.

She was talking about the fight that had been staged between Y/N and Zuko hours earlier to get him thrown in the cooler. At first it had been just that, a fake fight for a means to an end, but by the end the guards really were pulling them off each other, trying to stop them from killing each other. Y/N rubbed her bruised arm, the one that Zuko had kicked when she had blocked him. It was better than a busted face.

“It got out of hand. We both have tempers.” Y/N had no idea what had set either of them off. One minute they were throwing fake insults at one another, and the next minute Y/N had her hands fisted in the front of his tunic hoping to get another punch in before she was hauled away from him. She hadn’t even realized how mad she was at him until she had come down from the adrenaline high in her cell. And she had yet to figure out why it all came about.

Suki smirked and held up her hands, “Hey, no judgment from me. He burnt down my village, Y/N. He deserves the black eye I hope he gets.”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to smile.

“But–

“Oh my spirits.” Y/N’s smile faded instantly.

Suki huffed. “But, you two need to get along for the time it takes for us to escape. After that, feel free to beat on him as much as you want.” Suki wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll even help hold him down.”

---

Y/N could tell there was something on Sokka’s mind once the four of them slid the cooler down the hill and into the water. At first the idea of knowing someone that deeply shocked her to her core; the last time that happened it didn’t exactly go well. The second she had that thought the fear melted away like an ice floe. Of course Y/N knew Sokka like that! They spent 24 hours a day, 7 days a week together for weeks on end as they traveled through the Fire Nation. He was her best friend!

His gaze was downcast and he definitely wasn’t acting like the same person who 30 minutes beforehand had come to her cell and hugged her tightly, sliding his hand into her hair and promising with such conviction that he was going to get her out of there if it was the last thing he did.

---

Y/N knelt beside Sokka as he pulled out his blue Water Tribe clothes from behind a rock. Y/N laid a hand on his back and felt him tense up.

“What’s going on?” she murmured. She couldn’t help but think Zuko must have said something to him just as she and Suki had while they were separated. Was he trying to make Sokka think that their fight was her fault?

“We heard some guards talking–”

Anger flared in her chest as Y/N heard Zuko speak. “I didn’t ask you,” she sneered. The only thing that quashed some of her irritation was the beginnings of a bruise on his cheekbone. A black eye for sure, Y/N thought.

“You know what, Y/N–” Zuko started.

Y/N didn’t expect Sokka to stand up so suddenly, turning on the both of them. “Knock it off, both of you!” Sokka rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. “While I was getting Zuko out of the cooler, he and I overhead some guards passing by. They said that there would be more prisoners coming tomorrow. War prisoners.”

“Oh, Sokka, your dad…” Suki left the edge of the lake where she was holding the cooler from floating away and joined the three of them on the rocks.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sokka shook his head with a look of resolution in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Zuko asked. His voice breaking the thick silence falling over the group.

“Of course I’m not sure.” Sokka admitted. “But we came here with the purpose to save Suki, and–and we were lucky to find Y/N here too. I feel like we’re risking too much now. If I had cut my losses at the invasion none of this would have happened in the first place. Maybe I need to do that now.”

“No, Sokka,” Y/N stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “We stayed behind and that was our choice. Hakoda and I did not get captured because of you.” Y/N didn’t mention that it was because of her they were all in this mess.

“It’s better to call it quits before you lose.” Sokka’s voice was morose.

“Not in this case,” Zuko said. “You can’t quit because you’re afraid you might fail.”

“Even if I stay, what about you two?” Sokka grabbed at Y/N’s hands. “You and Suki should leave, you’ve been here long enough. And you too Zuko, you can get them out of here. I’ll stay behind and find my dad.”

“Not happening,” Y/N muttered. When Sokka opened his mouth to protest she quickly shook her head and added. “We all care about you Sokka. I’m staying.”

“Me too,” Suki seconded.

“Me three.” Zuko shared a look of understanding with Y/N. Whatever was happening between them could be figured out later. For now, they needed to work together.

Sokka pulled Y/N in for a hug. “I hope we’re not making a huge mistake,” he murmured into Y/N’s shoulder.

“I’m not too sure we have a choice anymore.” Suki pointed out. “The cooler is floating without us in it in the middle of the boiling lake.”

It had been a long time since Y/N had laughed that hard.

---

Y/N paced around her cell. She wished that patience came easier to her but everytime she sat down, she stood back up and began walking in circles again. Hakoda was here, they’d all seen him come off the gondola, but now that they were all separated again, it felt like she was in the dark.

Sokka had told them he was going to talk to his dad and hopefully the two of them could come up with a new plan that could get everyone out of Boiling Rock. But that had been hours ago and Y/N was starting to get worried that she hadn’t heard anything from him. What if he had gotten caught sneaking into Hakoda’s cell? Different scenarios swirled through her brain and they all ended the same way. Sokka, locked up, wearing the same prisoner’s garb that she was.

Y/N pressed her palm into her forehead. “Well at least all of us would be together here if that happens.” Y/N muttered to herself.

“If what happens?” Y/N could see Sokka’s blue eyes peering through the slat in her cell door.

“Oh thank Agni, you’re here.” Y/N rushed forward to embrace Sokka.

“Of course I’m here. I told you I’d come back.” Sokka said.

“Yeah, but I have this very rational fear that you’re going to get caught masquerading as a guard.” Y/N flicked Sokka’s visor with her index finger.

“I won’t get caught,” Sokka grabbed her hand before she could pull too far away and linked their fingers. “I saw my dad. He told me what happened.”

“Oh?” A lot had happened the day of invasion. She just wasn’t sure what Hakoda had shared.

“He said you saved the rest of the warriors by luring off the Fire Nation soldiers. Otherwise everyone would have been captured. I couldn’t be more grateful for what you did for them.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew hot. “You would have done the same.”

“It was kind–” Sokka kissed one blushing cheek. “–and brave–” he kissed her other cheek, “–and very stupid.” He finished by kissing her lips.

Y/N groaned and snaked her arms around his neck. “Please tell me you have a way out of here. It feels weird kissing a guard.”

Sokka laughed. “I do. We’re leaving on the gondola; today.

Y/N eyes widened. “I’m not even going to ask how we’re going to pull that off.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything planned out. I’ve already talked to Suki but…” Sokka paused.

“But what?”

“I can’t find Zuko,” Sokka admitted.

“Well that’s not good.” Y/N might not have thought too highly of Zuko at the moment but Sokka seemed to be friendly with him and she knew that he wouldn’t leave without him.

“I’ll keep looking.” Sokka said resolutely. “I’ve got to go. Find me when they let everyone into the yard.”

“Be careful.” Y/N watched him step outside of her cell and slide the door shut, darkening the room once more. She was halfway to her cot when she heard Sokka’s voice, still outside her door, and it didn’t sound like he was talking to her.

Y/N tiptoed closer so she’d be able to hear what he was saying.

“–they’ve really got to get their act together.” A voice that Y/N didn’t recognize said.

Sokka chuckled nervously. “Uh haha, yeah. Well, I got this one, you just get the next one, okay?” Y/N could already picture him doing a set of cheesy finger-guns at whoever he was just talking to.

Just then, the door to her cell slid open again and Sokka stood there with a worried look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Y/N whispered, unsure whether the other guards were somewhere near.

“The warden wants to see you.”

---

The only thought that was rushing through her head as Sokka marched her back to the interrogation rooms was that she needed to keep one foot in front of the other. Her knees shook the whole way there and Sokka could tell that she was a bundle of nerves.

“This is why you couldn’t find Zuko,” Y/N said matter-a-factly.

“What?” Sokka’s head turned to look at her.

Y/N looked straight ahead. “You couldn’t find Zuko because they already pulled him aside to talk to the warden. They probably found that cooler floating in the middle of the lake and assumed that him and I had something to do with it. They’re going to lock down the whole prison trying to figure out how we did it and who helped us and you’re gonna get caught and th–”

“Y/N, relax,” Sokka squeezed her arm. “You’re hyperventilating.” He looked around the hallway, looking for some place to stop but it was too big of a risk; so they kept walking, albeit Sokka had slowed them down significantly. “No one is going to get caught. I don’t know why the warden wants to talk with you again, but it doesn’t matter. I said we’re getting out of here today and I meant it.”

“I’m not worried about me,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. “I’m worried about you.”

“I know. But don’t, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that.” Y/N hoped that what she said didn't offend him. Of course she knew that Sokka was a perfectly capable warrior who could protect himself. But it was just so much easier to be with him every step of the way to watch his back and make absolutely sure he was okay. It was the most frustrating thing about imprisonment. The control that she held so dearly was gone while she’d been here, and she was clawing at the walls trying to get it back.

“I’ll find Zuko and I’ll come back to get you,” Sokka muttered under his breath as he left her with the pair of guards standing outside of the room.

---

Y/N had prepared herself to expect anything when the door slid open, but seeing Azula standing there waiting for her was the last thing Y/N expected.

“Azula? What is going on?” Y/N jumped as the door slid shut behind her, leaving her alone, locked in a windowless cell with one of her enemies.

“Why did he send you here?” Azula asked.

“What?” Y/N was extremely confused.

“Your father. Why did he send you here?”

“I am a traitor to the Fire Nation, I thought you would be happy to see me imprisoned. It’s what you would have done.”

“Not here. Not with these people.”

“So what? Why do you care about me all of a sudden?”

“Not all of a sudden,” Azula murmured. “I can overrule your dad’s orders. I’m bringing you back to the Fire Nation with me.”

“What? No!” Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she was being backed into a corner with no way out.

“Why not? Why don’t you want to come back with me?!” Azula shouted.

“Why would you want me to?”

“Because you don’t belong here! You told me that you could change me–why can’t I do the same to you? Why can’t I bring you back to the Fire Nation and make you Y/N again, because that’s not who you are right now.”

“Oh yeah? Well who am I then?” Y/N taunted.

Azula completely ignored her question. Opting to cross her arms and roll her eyes. “You don’t have a choice. You’re coming back to the Fire Nation.”

“I won’t be your puppet anymore.”

“You think that.” Azula’s gold eyes bore into Y/N’s. “But at your lowest, I’ll be the only one that’s there, and you’ll come back.”

Y/N was seconds away from screaming. How dare Azula think that she would even stoop so low as to come crawling back into her good graces. Did she ever really know Y/N as deeply as she claimed? Because if she did she would know that it would never work on her.

Suddenly, a guard slammed the door open, breaking the reverie between the two of them. “Princess, there is a riot in the yard. We have to get you to safety.”

Y/N scoffed at the idea of someone Azula away from the fight to keep her safe. She would want to be right in the middle of it. But Y/N didn’t have time to think about it much more. She assumed that was her cue to leave.

---

Y/N shoved past the guard in the doorway, grabbing the ring of keys on his belt as she ran past. She slammed the door shut and locked it. Y/N felt the door shake as both Azula and the guard threw fire, trying to break it down, but Y/N knew that they would have a rough go at that. It was a prison after all. Everywhere was meant to keep angry firebenders locked in.

She took off in a dead sprint backtracking the way that she and Sokka came. She turned the corner and ran smack into someone. Y/N fell hard to the ground but immediately rolled to her feet, in a fighting stance.

A hand gripped the front of her shirt, his other hand poised over her face. “Oh, it’s you.”

Y/N pushed Zuko away. “Get off,” she growled.

Zuko rolled his eyes, “Come on, we have to go.” his voice was gruff.

Zuko and Y/N pushed their way through the rioters to get to where they had spotted Sokka through the crowd.

“How’d you get out, Y/N? I was just about to come and get you.” Sokka asked, shocked.

“I’ll tell you later, right now we need to get out of here. Fast!” Y/N looked around her and counted heads; they were all there, including Hakoda and Suki. Y/N didn’t know how long the cell could keep Azula contained. If she was as mad as Y/N thought she was, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

“We just need to grab the warden and get to the gondolas.” Sokka promised.

“How are we going to do that?” Zuko asked.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Sokka cringed.

While Zuko and Sokka argued over the plan to escape not being fully developed, Suki tugged on Y/N’s arm. She pointed up to the main tower; guards rushed across the balconies, but one person didn’t move, just stood watching over the mayhem happening in the yard.

“There he is,” Suki muttered.

“Let’s get him.” Y/N grinned.

---

Suki and Y/N ran, dodging and weaving between the prisoners and guards fighting. They scaled the tower using the balcony railings as handholds and footholds together, until they landed on the same level the warden was on.

Suki took on the first guard they encountered, ducking under his fire punch and tripping him. Y/N slid under another’s legs, and grabbed the only weapon the guards carried, a heavy baton meant to scare the prisoners into submission. She smashed it into his face as she rolled to a stand.

The warden made a run for it, but Y/N caught up to him, holding the baton against his neck. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

Suki came around the front of him and smiled at Y/N who was hovering over the man’s shoulder. “Of course he is, Y/N. You should see his face, he looks like you’ve got a sword held to his throat.”

“I wish it was a sword,” Y/N grumbled.

Suki quickly tied his hands and gagged his mouth. Y/N pushed him to the ground and the two girls stood over him. A satisfied expression crossed Suki’s face. “Sorry warden, you’re our prisoner now.”

---

Halfway to the gondola, more guards showed up to stop them. Everyone ducked as Zuko blocked the guards firebending. “Stop! Back up! We have the warden!”

Each and every one of the guards looked to one another to figure out how they were going to handle this type of situation. Slowly, as a collective, they backed away, allowing five of them to pass along with the warden who seemed to be screaming obscenities behind his gag. He began to struggle against his bindings and Hakoda, who was leading him.

Y/N hefted her baton and pushed the warden’s cheek. “We don’t have to let you walk. One swing and you’ll be out like a light.” That seemed to quiet him down.

Zuko started the gondola and then repeatedly kicked at the lever, breaking it in half so the guards had no way of stopping them once they started. He jumped from the platform and landed on the edge of the gondola; Sokka pulled him inside one of the windows.

It was slow moving but Y/N could feel the gondola climbing the cable, dragging them out of the Boiling Rock. It was surprisingly silent, like none of them could really believe it was happening, and so easily at that. Everyone shared a cautious look.

“Is that it?” Suki asked warily. “Are we really on our way?”

“Uh, who’s that?” Hakoda asked, pointing over Y/N’s shoulder back to the platform.

Y/N turned around and stuck her head out the window. When she caught sight of who Hakoda had seen, her whole body tensed up. “That would be what I was going to tell you about.”

“That’s a problem,” Zuko said, his head peeking out the window next to Y/N’s. “It’s Azula and Ty Lee.”

Suki joined Y/N at the window. “I’ve been waiting for this rematch.”

“Me too,” Zuko said.

Y/N couldn’t say she agreed; in fact she definitely disagreed. It felt her story was never-ending at this point. She would feel much better if she never had to see Azula again.

Azula smirked and Y/N could feel her eyes on her face. By the time that Y/N had climbed to the top of the gondola with the others, both girls had made it there. Ty Lee gunned for Suki and Y/N at one end of the gondola, while the boys took care of Azula at the other end.

Y/N immediately noticed something different about Ty Lee; her brow was furrowed at Y/N and her eyes narrowed. She was angry.

Y/N was so shook to her core at never seeing Ty Lee angry–ever–that she was almost chi-blocked in her left arm. Luckily, Suki wasn’t phased in the slightest and stepped in to block. Y/N quickly ducked out of the way to get her bearings.

“Why did you leave?” Ty Lee shouted over the wind whipping in their ears.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N blocked a hit from Ty Lee and kicked out, trying to trip the girl. She was much too agile and backflipped over Y/N’s leg like it was nothing.

“No explanation, not a word to me about anything!” Ty Lee took a moment to throw a savage punch at Y/N’s head. “What happened?”

Y/N ducked to the left, grabbed her arm and bent it behind Ty Lee’s back. “She asked me to kill someone!”

Ty Lee was like an eel-snake and slipped right out Y/N’s hands, chi-blocking her right arm along the way. Y/N’s arm went numb, pins and needles traveled down from her shoulder all the way to her wrist. Ty Lee chuffed at Y/N’s words and held up her hands, ready to jump right back into the fight. Suki squared up alongside Y/N, ready to finish things. But Y/N was so tired of fighting her friends. She stepped forward, but made no move to attack the other girl.

“I found a better way!” Y/N held her limp arm to her chest and she noticed a waver in Ty Lee’s normally steady hands. “I saw my chance at a life where I wasn’t fighting every second of every day!” She shouted. “Now, are you mad at me for leaving, or are you mad at yourself for not?”

A look of realization passed across Ty Lee’s face, just as she heard Suki shout. “Guys! I think they’re going to cut the line!”

Y/N’s eyes snapped from Ty Lee’s to the platform where she could see guards working on cutting the cable holding the gondola up.

“Then it’s time to leave,” Azula smirked and used her firebending to blast herself up on top of an incoming gondola. When Y/N looked back, Ty Lee was already jumping to the other gondola sparing a concerned look in Y/N’s direction.

---

Y/N crawled back into the gondola through the window, landing next to Suki on the floor. Her arm was just regaining part of its feeling as she made her way to the front of the gondola with the boys to watch the guards cut only thing still holding them in the sky.

“I hope this thing floats,” Hakoda said absently.

“Yeah, if we don’t die from the impact of it hitting the water,” Y/N couldn’t help but add.

“Wait, look!” Zuko exclaimed. He pointed out a dark figure flinging knives at the guards cutting the cable.

Mai! Y/N quickly leaned out the window to the other gondola, where Azula and Ty Lee were standing, hoping to gauge a reaction from them. She shared a worried look with Zuko. They both knew what it meant to cross Azula when it came to something she wanted.

---

Just then, the gondola shuddered to a stop on the far rim of the volcano and they all hopped out.

“If Azula’s here she must have brought an airship,” Zuko said. He walked up a large hill by the sea, looking for it, but Y/N was still stuck staring across the boiling lake.

Sokka grabbed her hand. “Come on, we have to go. Azula could be right on our tail.” He began tugging her in the direction the rest of the group had run and she let herself be pulled along because Y/N had seen all she needed to see.

“I don’t think she is,” Y/N said to Sokka moments later, as they boarded the airship.

“You don’t think what?” Sokka asked, confused as to what Y/N was talking about.

Y/N slid down the wall of the airship, all the adrenaline leaving her body at once. “I don’t think Azula’s going to be after us right away.”

Sokka sat beside her and quirked an eyebrow up. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pretty sure while I was still up there I saw Ty Lee chi-block her.”

Sokka’s eyes widened, recognizing how big of a deal that really was.

Y/N’s emotions crashed down on her like a hefty wave. There was so much to process, so much to mull over. She simultaneously wished she could take a hot bath and drink a hot cup of tea, hell, she would even settle for a bath in the river if nothing at the moment changed. But one thought dominated all the rest. Home. She dropped her head into her hands and stared at the floor between her legs.

“Spirits, you don’t know how happy I am to see you,” Y/N murmured.

“You’ve been with me for the past two days,” Sokka replied, his voice muffled into her hair.

Y/N snorted. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.” Suddenly, like it was the last thing he would ever do, Sokka tipped her head up and pulled her in for a bruising kiss.

It felt like home.

---

a/n: most of suki and Y/N’s time together at boiling rock isn’t mentioned to keep the wc down, but we can guess that they became fast friends while there. And yes, I’m really ramping up the sappiness in Y/N and Sokka’s relationship in preparation for a surprise coming in the near future!

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labtrinthine · 3 years

Text

Alt. Episode 5 Vignette (Shadow and Bone, Darklina)

Alina stares at the portrait for longer than is completely necessary, making the appropriate noises to Baghra as the women keeps rambling off her instructions. Alina’s not entirely sure what it is she’s feeling - disappointment, anger, betrayal, relief? - but she knows one thing above all others: she truly dislikes Baghra.

It’s not for the disdainful way the women treats her, like Alina is a silly, stupid girl incapable of forming her own thoughts and decisions. It’s not even because of the way the woman constantly hits her, belittles her progress, drugs her to find out things Alina would never speak aloud. It’s because of this, the way the older woman speaks so hideously of her own son. It’s because Alina knows the best judge of character is how a person treats someone in a weaker position, and Baghra has never been anything other than cold and cruel.

She cannot imagine that growing up in the days before the fold were good for Grisha. The Black General is responsible for most if not all of the tolerance Ravka shows its Grisha. It is through fear of him and what he would do that the others are left mostly alone. Alina briefly considers what it would mean, growing up without that kind of protection, with powers unique even to other Grisha, with a mother like Baghra.

She eventually follows the woman down the corridors, paying close attention to each twist and turn. And as soon as the woman takes off down another corridor, she heads back. She does not trust Baghra, does not like her, and she’s never once followed when she could lead. Headstrong, Mal had called her. Stubborn, Ana Kuya had told her.

Equal, Aleksander had said.

Not yet, Alina knows. She’s so young compared to him, younger even than she had first thought. She lacks his experience, his knowledge, but he’s always been willing to talk to her. Half-lies, half-truths, she sees now. But how does one go about disclosing that kind of information? How can she blame him for not trusting her with the truth when she doesn’t trust him at all and never has? She’s young, not stupid, and attraction aside, she knows that a man like the Black General would never want her just for herself.

Being the Sun Summoner had opened that doorway for her, but it was up to her to make herself worthy of it, of his trust, of his affection.

She lets herself back into the war room, and looks around with opened eyes. She wanders back to the map, and looks at it, really looks at it. ‘I’ve been fighting this war alone for so long,’ his voice echoes in her ears. How long? How long can a man be expected to fight before he turns to desperate measures? How long can he try diplomacy and logic before he turns to hatred? She runs a finger over the piece representing the Fold.

How long before he makes a mistake that costs him everything?

The door slams open, Aleksander stalking through it, shadows licking at his heels, his desperation and fear like sulfur against her tongue. This too, she must factor into her decision, this connection between them. She can feel him, this man whose mother claims him monster. He is no monster, Alina knows, just a man.

“Alina?” he calls, even as he rounds the corner and sees her there, watching him. “Alina,” he murmurs, coming to her, hands shaking, desperate as he touches her face.

“What has happened?” she asks him, even as he runs possessive hands down her arms, over and over. She willingly steps closer to him, placing a hand against his chest. “You are terrified,” she says softly, knowing there are guards again outside the room, knowing that exposing this side of him will lead to him getting defensive. He is but a man, she thinks again. She knows men. A monster she cannot handle, but a man? She’s been dealing with them all her life.

“Marie is dead,” he tells her. “Genya and her were attacked while..” he trails off, staring at her.

Sorrow, hits her like a Volcra to the chest. Marie was her friend, and now she was dead. She was dead because someone wanted Alina dead. On the tides of the sorrow is anger, no rage. She swallows back her tears. There will be time enough to cry for Marie, to mourn for her. “Do you have the culprit?” She asks.

“Yes,” he says.

Alina looks into her General’s eyes and sees death written in them. She nods. “Take me with you,” she tells him. “I would see the face of my would-be murderer, I would hear his words, his excuses.” She thinks on it for a moment, before she admits, “I would see his reaction when he realizes he’s failed.”

Aleksander stares at her, his eyes widened in shock, in awe. Alina stares at him in turn. He often has this look when he stares at her. She is not what he expected, what he planned for. ‘Equal’ she thinks again to herself. She must raise herself to his level, prove herself worthy. Equality is not handed out, it is fought for.

“Very well,” he says, and takes her hand in his as he turns back towards the doors.

Alina walks by his side, head high, grasping his hand just as tightly. Softly, she adds, “And when this is done, you and me are going to have a long, private conversation about your past, Aleksander Morozova.”

His hand clenches tight, spasming. “You - How do you - ?”

Alina is quiet, weighing her options. She knows what she says next will effect the way things goes, but.... “Baghra paid me a visit tonight,” she tells him as they walk by the guards, walk down the corridors to where his prisoner is kept. She says this knowing that she may very well be writing the older woman’s death warrant. “She was most insistent I leave before you could enslave me.”

His hand spasms again. “But here you are,” he replies, and Alina hears the question in the statement.

“Here I am,” she agrees.

She does not see the way Grisha they walk past stare at them, some in fear, some in hope. She does not see the way the two Oprichniki following behind them smile slightly to themselves.

#grishaverse #darklina #netflix series #shadow and bone #episode 5 divergence #vignette of a larger verse i may or may not get around to writing #power couple #not a monster #just a man #that was another thing that disappointed me #no one bothered to tell Alina that Marie died for her #fanfiction #labtrinthine writes

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maraudersandlily20 · 4 years

Text

Remus leaned over the table, his eyes studying the map intensely. He looked up and met James’ anxious gaze. “And you’re sure this is the place?”

The other boy nodded. “We’ve had spies keeping tabs on two locations. One, here,” his finger drifted over a marked up piece on the map. “This is where all the big wigs go, meetings are held, plans are made. But this one,” he moved his touch to the other marked spot, the one Remus had been studying. “This place is more like a prison or a holding space.”

“They bring people there, but a lot of them don’t come out,” Fabian said calmly, his arms folded tight across his chest. “They wouldn’t bring Sirius to a place where people would recognize him. He’s a pureblood. It’s defeats the whole purpose.”

“Voldemort may be vicious, but he’s also a master at manipulation. And if you don’t have willing minds, you have no one to manipulate. He needs funding, support, just like anyone does in a war.” Gideon added on from his position against the wall.

“So, it would make sense they would keep him here then.” Remus agreed, pondering for a moment. “It’s been over a week, Prongs. Do you think he’s still-”

“He’s in there,” James interrupted suddenly, not allowing Remus to finish his sentence. “He has to be.”

“Besides, Rem, it’ll give us an opportunity to get as many people out as we can,” Frank said, always the voice of reason. “Even if they have moved Sirius, which we think is highly doubtful, the blow we could deal them is too good to pass us.”

Remus nodded, feeling the worry settle into his stomach. “So, we leave at midnight?” They all agreed.

“Wouldn’t be a real Order mission without a little theatrics,” Gideon said with a smile.

Remus looked over at James and the two shared a moment of quiet determination. They had let Sirius slip away from them once and this was the only opportunity they had to get him back. They couldn’t fail. They would never forgive themselves if they failed.

The boys all tried to sleep, but weren’t too successful. Finally, the clock on the wall showed 11:45, which caused all of them to rise together, prepping themselves for what would probably be a battle. Remus slid into his boots, tying the knots firmly and patted his wand in his pocket. When everyone was ready, they gathered together in a circle.

“Remember,” Frank said, “This isn’t a battle, it’s a stealth mission. We want to get in and out as quickly and as quietly as possible with as many people as we can find. We have thirty minutes. So set your watches.” He looked over at Remus. “And if we don’t find Sirius in that time, we still have to leave. Do you understand?”

Remus had to nod, though he knew that would be the real struggle. If he didn’t find Sirius in the allotted time, could he really leave if there was a chance Sirius was there.

They all breathed together, trying to calm their nerves, before placing their hands on the shoulder of the person beside them. Frank raised his wand, closed his eyes, and the five of them were suddenly standing in a small building. It was the outpost the order had been using to keep tabs on the location. It was empty despite a few blankets and the remnants of some dinner. With careful steps, they left the building and made their way through the tall grass to the entrance of what had once been an old mine. When they reached the door, Frank whispered a spell and it swung open. He turned back to the team.

“Gideon, you’re on distraction. Fabian, James and I are on cell openings. Getting as many people out as we can. And Remus,” he met his gaze, his determination set there. “Bring our boy home.”

Remus nodded and watched as his friends took off in different directions, their footsteps barely making a sound against the old concrete floor. He bit his lip and sent out a call through his mind.

“Sirius,” he thought, his heart pounding. “Sirius, I’m coming.”

And then Remus did something he often swore he would never do. He allowed the tug inside of him, the dormant wolf that was always there, to come to surface. When he opened his eyes, he could smell scents much more clearer than before. There were familiar ones, like the Prewetts, Frank, and of course James that were mingled with the foreign scents of the new place.. But there was one familiar scent that caught Remus’ attention quickly, because the wolf recognized it so thoroughly. The scent of a canine mixed with the scent of a lover.

Sirius.

Remus set off jogging in the direction that the smell grew stronger, wand raised and ready for any attack he might face. He kept his steps quiet and carefully went around a series of corners. He heard voices talking with each other and he skidded to a halt, pushing himself against the wall, hoping to avoid being seen. He watched as two men on patrol walked through a nearby hallway, discussing some poor soul or another. And then they were gone and Remus was off once again.

He started passing numerous doors, cells, he assumed. Many were empty, smelling only of stone and sulfur. There were a few, however, that held prisoners. Remus knew, someone inside of him, that he was supposed to care, that he was supposed to want to free them. But all he could think of was Sirius.

The scent of him grew stronger with each step. Remus paused and walked with slow steps, listening for any noise that could be heard at either end of the hall. It was incredibly silent, as if the deatheaters were so confident in their abilities to keep captives that they hadn’t even considered putting too many guards with their prisoners. Their mistake.

Remus felt his heart beating wildly through his chest as the smell of Sirius hit him hard, coming directly from behind one metal door. It had to be him. It had to be Sirius.

With a deep breath, he lifted his wand and checked around him, making sure he was alone, before whispering “Alohomora” and hearing the lock click behind it. His fingers were trembling as he reached up and pushed the door opened, cringing as it let out a squeak.

When the door had fully opened, the sight it revealed made Remus was to vomit. Sirius was, in fact, in the room. He was in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but his undergarments and his arms were held up to the side of his body, confined there with chains. His body was littered with bruises and cut marks, making his skin look like it was multi-colored. Someone had done a real number on him, and he barely looked up at the sound of someone coming in.

“Couldn’t leave me be for too long, huh?” His voice called, raspy and coated in pain. “I thought we discussed that in order to make the pain worse, you had to give me time between each interrogation. That way it’s more potent.”

And Remus realized then that Sirius, even after a week held captive by some of the cruelest wizards in the world, simply would not break. No one would ever be able to kill the spirit and courage that exuded from him. He would always be the strongest person in the room.

“I’d heard that before, but honestly, I came here to understand why you missed dinner?”

Sirius’ head flew up in surprise at the sound of the familiar voice. He took in Remus, beautiful Remus wearing an old pair of jeans and a black sweater, his hair messy and his face tired. But it was Remus. Remus was there.

Remus stepped forward then, falling to his knees in front of his boyfriend. He placed a gentle hand on each side of his face and pressed his forehead against the other boy’s. “You can’t just keep missing dinner like this, Pads. It’s really not okay.”

A sob came from the figure Remus held. “I’m so sorry, Rem. I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again.”

Remus smiled sadly before standing and walking to the wall where one of the chains that held Sirius was anchored. He took a deep breath before whispering “incendio” and watching as the metal began to melt before clanging down the floor. He ran to the other side and did the same. Sirius let out a yelp of relief and he was able to lower his arms for the first time in days. Remus went to him and wrapped him in his arms and hauling him to his feet. He let him hold his boyfriend for a moment, breathing him in, allowing himself to feel the reassurance that Sirius was there, alive, and breathing.

“We should probably go,” Sirius whispered. Remus nodded and pulled back, looking down at the cuffs against Sirius’ skin. They had rubbed the skin beneath them raw, leaving deep gashes that were slowly being scabbed over. With a deep breath, he took one cuff in his hand and pulled it in two different directions, allowing strength to flow through him. The metal squealed for a moment until the metal broke apart and fell to the floor. Remus copied the movement on the other side, and then Sirius was free.

He could barely stand and for the first time in a week, he allowed the tears to come. Remus held him tightly against him and kissed his head softly.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He asked softly. Sirius nodded, hiccuping through the tears, and grasped onto Remus’ sweater tightly until his knuckles turned white. Remus, feeling like one part of himself had been returned, imagined the Prewett’s front door, the meeting place, and then took out his wand and apparated them out of there.

When the guards would come to the interrogation room after the announcement of over 15 prisoners being freed, they would find two chains melted off the wall and broken to pieces.

And Sirius Black was gone.

#my writing #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #angst #kinda #good angst though?#like the kind of angst that is satisfying?#Got this idea #like all other ideas I have lately #through ash #so shout out to her #i love you dweeb

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faerytale-au · 4 years

Text

A Darkness Lingers Pt.1

Word Count: 8,805 Fourth Prompt Place: During and After “Promises and Tokens” Rating: M TW: Mentions of Past Abuse Part 1 - Part 2 Cross posted to Ao3 here!

(During Prom&Tok)

“So your brother’s getting hitched, talk about a shocker.” Papyrus casually gave Undyne the side eye as they walked. Why everyone kept repeating that he didn’t fully understand. Sans could be devoted if he wanted to be, after all he had helped raise him since he was young, even back when their father was still around.

“I SUPPOSE TO THE UNOBSERVANT EYE IT WOULD BE QUITE THE SHOCK YES.” Undyne could always tell when Papyrus was being sarcastic.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who thinks that, you have to admit Sans doesn’t really do much unless he absolutely has to. I wouldn’t call this a necessity either.” Papyrus stopped in place to stare at her.

“IS THERE A REASON YOU’RE BRINGING THIS UP RIGHT NOW?” When she’d all but demanded him to walk with her to work with the excuse that they were heading the same direction he’d been expecting some friendly chatter.

Not a cross examination.

Undyne stopped beside him and folded her arms, her expression turning serious as she seemed to contemplate something. “Is the wedding even going to be legal?”

Papyrus was offended. “WHY OF COURSE IT WILL BE! WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING THAT?”

“It’s just well...Frisk is a mage.” Undyne stated plainly as she placed both her hands on her hips. Papyrus didn’t see what her point was, and so narrowed his sockets at her suspiciously. He knew she was uneasy with the thought of mages walking around, but last he was aware Undyne liked Frisk.

“THE ROYAL FAMILY AS I RECALL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MARRIAGES BETWEEN CLANS. THOSE ARE VERY MUCH STILL PERSONAL MATTERS AND DECISIONS LEFT TO THOSE ENGAGING IN THE BINDING CEREMONY.” Papyrus casually dismissed. But Undyne only seemed more reluctant about dropping the conversation as she frowned.

“That’s another thing, does she know what a binding ceremony even means Paps?” Ah, there was the crux of the matter, he could tell by the way her gaze skirted around him, but he was confused.

“I’D ASSUME SHE DOES, THE HUMANS MIMIC THE WHOLE PROCESS RATHER EFFICIENTLY IN THEIR OWN CEREMONIES.”

What was there to even know he wondered?

A binding ceremony meant exactly what it was called, the two participating became tied to each other usually until one or both parties fell down shortly before dusting. In the meantime their tokens they exchanged, powered through the upholding of their promises, would act like soft mood detectors and tracking beacons. They would be able to tell when one was in danger or had gone somewhere far away from the other.

But then again that was for Seelie.

Papyrus had no clue what rules would apply to his brother and Frisk, he didn’t even know if it would work the same for them.

He did know however so long as she stayed in the realm and remained a mage her lifespan was sure to endure as long as any other Seelie. However Mages and regular humans didn’t go through the falling down process when reaching the end.

For the briefest moment Papyrus felt a flicker of doubt and worry for his sibling.

What would it mean if Frisk was somehow killed or died before him? Most Seelie didn’t survive when their partner passed away, and there had been stories of the effects tokens could have on those that still lived.

He didn’t want to think about the implications a token from a powerful human soul could have.

So he didn’t.

But Undyne did have very good reasons to worry.

“AND IF SHE DOESN’T I’M SURE IT WILL BE EXPLAINED TO HER. ARE THERE ANY OTHER CONCERNS THAT ONLY INCREASE THE JOVIAL MOOD I AM IN?” Undyne didn’t want to voice it seeing how his expression went neutral, his sockets habitually going wide with an empty grin to match, just as Sans’s so often did when he was talking about a subject he was uncomfortable with.

Still it was a legitimate question that needed asking. “Yeah, last one Paps. Who’s going to bind them? Last I checked the job belonged to the clan elder, or to the oldest member and your dad is…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

Papyrus’s smile finally dropped completely. “AH, I WAS THINKING ABOUT THAT MYSELF. I AM AWARE I AM TECHNICALLY BY TRADITION TOO YOUNG TO KNOW ABOUT THE CLAN RITES, AND THAT SANS IS THE ELDEST BUT GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES I AM HOPING HER MAJESTY AND GERSON WILL BE KIND ENOUGH TO LET ME LEARN AT LEAST THIS ONE.”

“Is that why you’re heading to the castle with me?”

Papyrus forced his smile back on but it was so easy to tell for the other Seelie how fake it was. “ONE REASON YES.”

Undyne shifted in place awkwardly. She was never good with emotions when it came to someone other than Alphys but she was insightful enough to know when an invisible line had been crossed.

“Look, I’m sorry I brought up Ga--”

“IT’S FINE!” She jolted at how quickly he cut her off and Papyrus was quick to rub the back of his vertebra as he offered an apologetic smile. “IT’S NOT EXACTLY A GOOD THING TO MENTION HIS NAME, YOU KNOW THE POWER BEHIND SUCH THINGS.”

“...You mean the power for him behind such things.” She glowered.

Papyrus didn’t respond, simply stared at her, with all the patience many would have thought him incapable of. It was clear he wasn’t willing to continue the conversation. Her sigh of defeat was enough to make him silently grateful even as it irritated her.

“Sorry for the questioning. C’mon we’re going to be late.”

He smiled and went to follow, only to pause as a thick foreboding chill ran the length of his spine. Papyrus peered over his shoulder as the air around him became saturated with malevolent energy and the taste of sulfur.

If he focused long enough he swore he could see the minimalist movement out of his peripheral, the area usually reserved for wisps or other mischievous Fae that sought to cause havoc.

He was usually never bothered by such things.

But a clan member could always tell when their eldest was nearby, Seelie or Unseelie alike.

“PAPYRUS! ARE YOU COMING!?”

Gaster watched from behind the veil as Papyrus turned back around and sauntered off after Undyne. He could tell his magic was riled but the lanky skeleton kept it cleverly concealed as he chased after the blue fish Seelie.

It was almost impressive how his youngest’s magic control had developed he thought absently.

But then he lingered on what he’d heard.

So his oldest son was getting married? The possibility of such a thing never once crossed his mind, seeing how cold and distant Sans had become in the years following his departure, it was quite the surprise.

Someone made Sans happy, enough to break through his guarded detachment and a human no less. Oh what irony that was.

Gaster’s corrupted soul gave a sickening twist as a foul wave of contempt overcame him.

He supposed he wasn’t due an invite.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t by all rights allowed to meet the bride. He always knew his eldest had a soft spot for the other race that was simply his nature as it was all Seelie’s, but to go so far as to bind them to their family name?

What made this one so special?

Frisk wasn’t experienced when it came to cooking.

In her youth when she had to fend for herself she usually had a kind neighbor to help her, or if she was really lucky the town’s crops would already be just beginning to ripen and she’d pluck one or two fruits for a meal when she was hungry.

None of that required fire or pots.

So why it had been a good idea to Papyrus and her...fiancé...to let her make dinner she had no idea. She was even a bit worried she’d potentially end up burning the house down; how was she supposed to know when the meat was fully cooked, let alone magic meat too.

Her narrowed eyes flickered over to the cookbook Papyrus had set up for her.

It said to simmer the meat until browned...how did one simmer meat?

Magic maybe? Wasn’t that always the answer?

Frisk was so busy worrying and glaring at the food to notice as a thin shadow slipped from the kitchen doorway behind her, it’s shapeless form gliding across the floor to rest just behind her own feet.

It lingered still as could be while Frisk hummed and begun to look over seasonings.

Slowly the shadow darkened and grew upwards like a pillar of smoke, it’s ascent silent as the grave as it twisted and enlonged. It continued to grow until it was just tall enough it threatened to touch the ceiling and all the while Frisk was ignorant to its presence..

The sharp popping of the meat and a loud gasp from her was enough to cover a nauseous sound of rolling curd and dolloping phlegm, the crackle of raw magic, and the food’s smell of char as it burned was enough to mask a scent of coal and wood.

A face, white and round, cracked from the left corner of its mouth with a matching lightning bolt jagged like cut curving up from it’s right eye rolled out from the churning darkness to grin wide and maliciously at the human woman’s back.

So this was her?

Gaster tilted his head as he took in her appearance with an apathetic look. About average height, dressed simply in Seelie garb, but to his keen eye all together plain looking. He couldn’t see anything that would have coaxed his son’s attentions.

Nothing truly remarkable stood out about her that he could see. There were even faint scars dotting her arms if he looked close enough, a feature that normally would’ve been off putting among her kind he was sure, he could even see one or two trying to show from under the collar of her shirt.

Yet.

There had to be something he was missing.

A flare of brilliant magic circled his right socket as a monocle formed and his frown curved up into a smile both fascinated and intrigued. Right in the center of her being he could see a heart floating and radiating the aura of magic around her.

Her soul was the most vivid and bewitching shade of Red he’d ever seen, determination practically poured from her being in rivets. It made his hands spawn and itch. Even enclosed within her body as it was it gave off a sense of bewitching ambition and drive.

Was it truly a wonder his eldest had fallen for her then?

All Gaster could see...was fathomless potential.

Frisk mumbled to herself as she rushed over to the sink, her hands fumbling as she filled a cup and rushed back over before stilling as an icy shiver raced up her spine. She frowned. It felt as if she had eyes on her, someone watching her as she attempted to pour water over the smoking remains of her ruined dinner.

Gaster smirked.

Trying to keep calm she drew a shaky breath and tensed. Swallowing down her nerves she turned and froze, her body preparing for a sudden assault or unexpected visitor.

She blinked at the empty kitchen.

Frisk had been living in the Seelie realm for a while now, unexplained sensations or fluctuations of magic weren’t unusual or uncommon. But this felt off...as if whatever that was she had felt didn’t belong to the rest of reality around her.

Furrowing her brows one of her hands came up slowly to brush the air in front of her as if to feel something she couldn’t see before snapping it away to her chest. She started to breath heavy and glanced down at her palm.

A feeling, something magnetic had rebuffed her.

“Paps? Sans?” She waited, a clamminess overcoming her skin, but no one answered her. Mentally she started to count backwards from ten as she cast a wary glance around her, her eyes lingering in corners and doorways before finally she started to calm down.

Feeling reassured there wasn’t really anyone around she let out a sigh and nearly whimpered as she reluctantly turned back to the stove and saw the meat had turned solid as a brick and black.

She couldn’t even tell it had been meat anymore.

Looked like it was going to be takeout for dinner again, Papyrus wasn’t going to be too thrilled.

“WE’RE BACK!” Frisk flinched, talk about convenient timing.

Frisk smiled in relief as she called back, her eyes locked on the smoldering pan, and shivered as she swore silently to herself that she felt eyes on her again. Her hand clenched the cup she still held nervously as her heart verged on picking back up.

The feeling of familiar and warm arms encircling her waist relaxed her.

“wow, my favorite, charcoal.”

Her cheeks stung and the stiffness in her shoulders changed meaning at Sans’s teasing and the chaste kiss he pressed to her cheek. Her worry was instantly forgotten as she smiled at him in amusement. Her fiance had a habit of liking things just a bit overcooked.

A lot overcooked.

“Well, at least one of us will have a lunch for tomorrow.” She pouted.

Sans merely chuckled and slyly glanced over to the corner of the kitchen at the same moment as his brother walked in. Papyrus’s loud exclamation and Frisk’s apologetic stammering faded to the back of his mind as his eyelight flared.

Gaster and Sans stared at each other.

His hold on Frisk tightened.

“Sans?” He blinked and his father was gone.

Belatedly he took in the way he was standing, like a wall separating where Gaster had been from the rest of the room. His suddenly blurry gaze lingered on the empty corner with a hostile intent roaring through his bones.

When had he let go of Frisk?

...Why was Gaster showing up again?

Feeling unnerved he forced a grin and made sure to carefully control his tone as he turned with a shrug. “sup?”

“You okay?” Frisk drawled slowly, her eyes flickering from where he’d been facing and back to him. If he didn’t know better Sans would swear Frisk knew Gaster had been there too. Coming into her powers he knew she would start to be able to feel distortions just as they could, but he worried; Frisk wasn’t officially tied to the family yet.

Was Gaster so strong now that his human fiance, a simple mage, could sense him?

“fine, just wondering if we have enough ketchup to go with dinner.” Papyrus frowned.

“YOU NEED TO SEE A HEALER FOR THAT ATROCIOUS SENSE OF TASTE.” Sans inwardly sighed as Frisk giggled. He couldn’t help but to be thankful that his brother helped with the subject change. This wasn’t something that needed to be talked about right now, hopefully ever.

He watched as Papyrus stole a spoon and a new mixing bowl. He looked really determined to teach Frisk some skills in the kitchen and Sans wasn’t complaining, he always enjoyed a show.

Even if he was incapable of relaxing now.

(Post Prom&Tok)

Frisk blinked sleepily and let out a yawn, her heavy lids fluttering as she slowly sat up. She frowned as she looked down at herself to see her everyday clothing and cloak adorning her instead of the pajamas she’d worn to bed.

What?

She blinked, and then she was on her feet, Sans standing in front of her with his cloak billowing ominously in the wind whipping around the both of them. His sockets were void of light, and his posture was hunched, almost broken looking.

An echoing and child-like sob had her looking around to see no one in sight.

Was she dreaming?

Frisk didn’t know what to think as a low growl caught her attention. Confused, she looked behind her and froze.

A being of blackest night stood tall and imposing, their face horrifyingly cracked and grin maliciously wide. Eight hands floated around the creature, circling and moving with purpose.

She didn’t know how to explain it, but she could feel them staring at her, and it felt terrifyingly familiar. It didn’t take much for her to realize it was the same feeling she’d felt that one lazy afternoon in the kitchen.

Her blood began to race.

There was no doubt what she was looking at was an Unseelie.

“G U I L T Y.”

A stab of ice and terror raced through her at the word, Sans’s voice echoing around her and plunging her under a shroud of fear.

Guilty?

The next thing she knew it was an out of body experience. Sans and the Unseelie stared each other down and the scene darkened, turned to hues of grays and blues as a chuckle, low and fervent came from her husband.

It sounded nothing like him.

The Unseelie spoke, and his voice grated Frisk’s hearing like nails on a chalkboard.

“SuCh A dIsApPoInTmEnT...TRAITOR!”

She just barely caught the way Sans flinched but there was no missing how the air turned cold, how his smile impossibly grew but at the same time lost all hints of emotion.

It was like Sans became a shell, nothing but an empty vessel.

His voice was unusually quiet and subdued, “traitor...thought you hated jokes old man.”

Her heart skipped painfully in shock.

Old man? Was this...Sans’s father?

Her silent question was answered for her.

“YoU aRe No SoN oF MiNe…” With that something seemed to break, and the atmosphere instantly ran thick and suffocating.

Her husband’s smile dipped but quickly recovered and then--

Frisk watched as Sans charged, a blast of ice coating the ground as he propelled himself forward. His expression was haunting, a grin so wide with sockets to match. Her heart hammered as he brought a hand up, thick white phalanges coated in contrastingly beautiful frost and blue magic.

An animistic roaring filled her ears as she spun to see Sans’s father curling and shooting forward like smoke to meet him, the eight levitating hands bloating to gigantic proportions and surrounding him like a cruel halo.

Sans’s hand jabbed out in silent command and bones, both blue and white, formed to shoot forward; thick tails of ice and snow rending the air in their wake as they rushed passed her suddenly spawned body.

Frisk cried out as one came close to scraping her cheek but dodged out of the way in the nick of time and narrowly avoided being swept away with the attacks by a wide sweep of one colossal hand as it batted them away.

“What’s happening!?” She shouted in fear, her skin breaking into a cold sweat.

Frisk went ignored as the hand that had so easily dismissed her husband’s assault met Sans, his smile lifting in one corner before he vanished and reappeared above it, hand raised and then brought down in a furious snap that spawned two demonic looking heads.

Her eyes widened as their jaws unhinged and two jets of freezing azure light erupted, shooting out with deafening noise like thunder as they connected and shattered the levitating limb in a fashion like glass.

The Unseelie, let out a pain filled shriek.

Sans landed on one of the floating skulls, a light Frisk couldn’t make out from the distance between them flaring briefly in one socket as his cloak and clothing whipped violently around him. “heh, looks like you’re out of practice gaster, but what do i know? i never practice.”

Gaster looked up scornfully, something Frisk hadn’t noticed before around his wide socket blurring and glowing with an ominous aura as he grew in size and hissed nastily through his own demented smile.

“bUt Of CoUrSe, YoUr BrOtHeR wAs AlWaYs ThE PrOmIsInG oNe!”

Another sob, louder than the first drew Frisk’s gaze and it landed on a huddled child; a smaller skeleton bent over and tucked into himself with his hands covering his face. But there could be no mistake, not with the sharply red colored cloak around his shoulders, smaller but still as eye catching and attention seeking as it’s longer counterpart.

It was Papyrus, and Frisk’s heart ached.

Sans’s grin finally dropped.

Gaster whipped up and twirled into the sky like an arching bolt of smoke, his hands moving in front of his face in a circular formation as they begun to spin rapidly. A low whine turning sharp and high pitched snapped Frisk’s attention from where it rested on Papyrus to both of the combating fae.

“Stop it…” She didn’t know why but the words were leaving her mouth without her consent as a burning in her chest grew intense.

“Stop it!” She cried out just as Sans raised a hand and summoned another skull; this one bigger than the others with immense blue power rolling off of it in thick waves, causing thick icicles to form and instantly break into countless shards around it..

Dark and tainted cold light, pitched and subtly hued purple on it’s edges, burst forth from Gaster’s hands just as Sans pointed towards him, the gigantic skull unhinging it’s massive jaw and firing--

“STOP IT!” Frisk shouted till her voice cracked--

The world was engulfed in blinding light.

And then she was falling.

“Seems you did not like that little glimpse into my son’s past.”

She jolted as everything snapped into darkness, leaving her dazed and with a thick feeling of cotton in her mouth. Blinking, the area began to brighten as her eyes adjusted to reveal she was now looking at a stone wall.

From what she could tell she was in a cavern.

Swallowing nervously she took a step forward, yelping as a shape came from seemingly nowhere in front of her and forced her shockingly weakened legs to waver as she hurried to take a step back.

Frisk stared with her hands clutched to her chest, waiting for her heart to stop racing.

Was she still dreaming? It was difficult for her to focus on the thought, the issue slipping just out of reach every time she attempted to answer it. Why was it so hard to concentrate?

“Frightened? Not surprising for a human in the Unseelie realm.” She flinched at how close the voice sounded.

Twisting her head this way and that she couldn’t make out anything other than the abnormally dark spot in front of her. That feeling was back again, and it was just as present and unnerving as the first time she’d ever felt it.

“U-unseelie...realm?” Her voice came out shy and breathy, the air around her feeling chilly and cold. Now she understood what she felt; it was a feeling of being unsafe, so vulnerable. She was hyper aware of just how powerless she instantly was.

The voice, observant but yet somehow soothing in it’s tone spoke up, “Yes, you need not worry however. No one dares to enter my dwelling here.”

Frisk found no comfort in the mystery man’s words, instead she only hunched into herself as she tried to fight off the unending chill and frost threatening her skin. A moment of silence fell between them and it was if the entity knew she didn’t have the strength to respond.

“I forget how fragile your race is, allow me to adjust the space for you.”

There was no warning. The darkness just suddenly brightened and illuminated the space around her almost blindingly like someone had casually thrown a candle in her face, and warmth instantly replaced the abnormal glacial air that had had her teeth nearly rattling.

She didn’t even get the chance to adjust to the sudden flux in her surroundings and assault on her senses before the voice was back. “It’s bothersome how hard it is to read you. Usually I have no trouble in knowing what one needs or feels, but in this case it’s exceedingly difficult. Although I am enjoying it.”

Sucking in air through her nose she rubbed her hands over her eyes and focused on how clear the cavern was now, noticing with a start that the blacker than black spot still stood in front of her, the edges of it curling and coiling like thin tendrils.

Gradually it shifted and Frisk fisted her hands to try and fight off the wave of bizarre wrongness she felt as the top morphed into what she could see as shoulders before a face emerged, transforming into a taller and darkly elegant looking fae. The bizarre placement of a monocle over a wide socket disturbed her in just how menacing it made him look, but not as much as the cracks her eyes traced.

Right away she recognized him. “Are you...Gaster?”

He appeared satisfied as he smiled at her. “An accurate assumption.”

His gaze panned her form for a brief moment before looking back up at her confused expression. His monocle sparked with light ominously. “I would say it’s a pleasure to meet my daughter in law finally, but given the situation that would be a lie.”

A cold sting raced down her spine as he moved closer to her, his form so imposing and tall in comparison to her withdrawn statue it made her mouth go dry. He easily dwarfed her. “I always knew Sans had unusual tastes but a human bride no less. I see he still maintains his passive aggressive attitude.”

Frisk didn’t know how to take that but her heart gradually stopped racing as Gaster shifted a bit further from her, the oppressive feeling he radiated dulling with the small distance. It was enough to allow Frisk to gain her bearings, and one fact came slamming back down.

“You said we’re in the Unseelie realm!?”

The place Sans had vanished to for three years!? What was only three days to him!?

Frisk felt a wave of panic start to sink in.

How long had she been here!? Would anyone look for her? Did Seelie willingly send out search parties for vanishing mages? Did Sans and Papyrus know? What would Pap do--

Oh no.

Sans

What if he thought something had happened to her? Had thought she’d abandoned him?

“I-I need to get home!” Gaster raised a brow.

“Do you believe that a real possibility for you currently?” He sounded amused.

Frisk found sudden strength as she stood tall and faced Gaster down. No one was going to use her to hurt the ones she loved, especially the only one that had ever loved her when she’d needed it most, and Gaster wasn’t going to keep her here if she could help it.

He was surprised as Frisk attempted to look intimidating, her aura of magic spiking around her as small iridescent flames sparked in a bewitching halo to frame her body. Her emotional response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, in fact, he hadn’t even seen it coming.

Gaster was definitely enjoying this.

“What are you planning to do? In a one on one fight your chances of winning are low, I have centuries of experience next to you.” His words seemed to have the impact he desired as he watched her slowly wilt, her flames turning dim as the courage she found turned sour.

But then she perked up again, her flames blooming into raging infernos that wrapped along her arms to ball within her hands. It wasn’t hard for the scientist to imagine the flaring of her soul, to picture it brimming with her determination as she spoke with a tone commanding attention and confidence.

“It doesn’t mean I still shouldn’t try!”

Gaster shot her a disinterested look but all the same willed his hands into existence and watched her eyes go wide as they enlarged large enough that she could have easily fit through a hole in the center of one palm three times over.

Still she didn’t back down.

She was either a brave fool, or a desperate mouse wanting an out.

After a moment of Gaster trying and not so surprisingly failing to calculate the ramifications of the possible fallout if they fought he dismissed his hands with a blink. She looked confused as her flames vanished but he simply spoke as if the standoff hadn’t just happened between them.

“I have no desire to fight a battle I would easily win. Instead, tell me human, do you know what an End of an Era is?” Frisk frowned. She didn’t like how that question sounded, she didn’t like how much hearing ‘End of an Era’ made her skin crawl, and could only shake her head as he pressed the tips of his many fingers on his numerous hands together.

His one good socket narrowed as he spoke.

“Its when the Rulers lose their lives, the end of the current millennia, unlike normal Seelie and their dark counterparts their lifespans are shorter. An unfortunate drawback to being the anchor that holds the Realms very existences in place, to keep magic itself alive and flowing.” She tensed as he moved around her, his embodied darkness bending and flickering like excited vapor as he continued.

“At the Age’s end the realms temporarily vanish, and those fae, mages, all magical beings still alive are suspended in the Either until the previous ruler’s heir or another is selected to become the new anchor. In the meantime the Veil is what keeps your human world safe from the endless flow of magic until the reformation year is up.”

“Reformation year?” Gaster let his hand drop behind his back as he smiled. If he didn’t make her feel so uncomfortable Frisk could have seen the smile almost friendly, like a teacher to a student in a way. Why he was even speaking to her about this she didn’t know, but curiosity had her focusing on his words.

The derisive chuckle he let out quickly banished all temporary illusion of friendliness.

“You have a very interesting soul, Frisk.” Her hand instantly went to cover her chest.

“You have an interesting eye piece.” His sockets widened and she bit her lip. It felt so similar to when she’d first met Sans, she’d responded just as absent and truthfully when he’d commented on her eyes.

Was she...at ease...somehow?

Gaster stared silently at her. “...My monocle interests you…”

She looked hesitantly at him. “Is it how you were able to see me in the Seelie Realm?” He went quiet again and Frisk wondered what he was thinking as an emotion seemed to cross his face so quickly she would’ve thought she imagined it.

“...I see, so you knew I was watching did you?”

“I guessed…” She whispered.

Gaster was impressed.

Her heart began to race as he suddenly glided closer to her, close enough that she could see the tiny iridescent gems of rolling colors embedded in the monocle over his one working eyelight as it pulsed brightly.

“It takes a year of human time for the realms to reform and for the Either’s magical influence to settle in it’s new host, that’s why it’s called a reformation year.” He paused and seemed to contemplate Frisk’s befuddled expression before pulling back and cupping his bony chin.

He hadn’t expected Sans’s wife to be this intelligent. Gaster had been right to assume the amount of potential she had, and the soul she carried...Maybe there was something special about her after all.

“Are you sure you still want to know why I have this? Why I am able to see through the veil?” The way he tapped the eye piece, languid and slow made Frisk’s nerves shoot up. But she had asked, and despite everything she had always been too curious for her own good.

“Yes.”

Gaster’s smirk dropped and his sockets darkened.

“When fae and magical beings alike are suspended in the Either the Veil not only protects you humans but us as well. It puts us to sleep as many call it, though that’s far too simple a term and not as close to what it means, what actually happens to us.” His words faded out, went weak until silence swallowed them as he stared unseeing passed Frisk.

He looked haunted and beguiled.

She didn’t know what to make of that complicated expression but for some reason it hurt her to witness it. Gaster looked as if he’d seen things no other being ever had before. Frisk just didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing.

He blinked and refocused on her.

“The Veil coats us similar to a shield and blinds us as well. That’s what it’s supposed to do at least. The last occurrence, however, failed to protect me the way it should have.” Gaster watched as Frisk bit her lip and could easily tell how she automatically wanted to comfort him.

But he ignored it as flashbacks threatened to overcome his vision. Memories he didn’t have all but begging to drown him in their morose nonexistence. It always fascinated him how he could talk about them, but never truly live them, only feel their presence and the old ghostly burning of his torment as if he’d experienced it only seconds ago.

He took a carefully hidden breath and looked at her dully.

“I was awake, and the Either burned into my sockets and mind endlessly.”

Frisk felt an icy shiver run up her back as the unfathomable horror of his words struck her speechless.

He...had been tortured for a year…

Something about that statement resonated with her. It wasn’t the same thing that she’d gone through growing up, in fact it was worse but, she knew what it was like to feel hopeless. To feel as if the torment would never end and to sometimes silently beg to give just about anything to be free of it.

When she didn’t react Gaster simply shrugged. “A year of screaming with no one to hear would have broken a person, but I survived.”

That didn’t make what he’d gone through okay.

He didn’t give Frisk the chance to say it out loud though as he turned his back to her, the tenseness in his shoulders going lax as he stood straighter and let out a bored sigh.

“And when we woke up the first thing I did was shortcut to my lab where I took the Either, still filling and pouring from my sockets, and collected it in a flask. Astonishingly once it no longer clung to me but only to the cold and unfeeling glass in my hands it solidified, almost crystallized I would say, instantaneously.”

He turned to face Frisk again and this time there was a light in his sockets, something warm and full of curiosity that it shocked her to see in an Unseelie gaze.

“Of course I went completely blind in one eye and partially in the other. Though I began to notice how different the realm around me was. Where a pond or tree would rest all I’d have to do is blink and it would instead be nothing but cracked and brittle ground with an obsidian lantern in the tree’s stead. It was gradual at first but then became constant.”

He paused to give an annoyed roll of his eyelight. “And each time it would leave me with the worst of migraines! Even worse than my son’s ridiculous puns!”

How frustrated he sounded and the way a floating hand waved dismissively had Frisk struggling to not let out a giggle. Gaster looked so enthused it was hard for her to keep telling herself to be weary of him. His tone had gone fond and so eager with every sentence he spoke.

He suddenly seemed so normal talking about this.

“But then I had an idea, maybe I was glancing through the Veil, each vision was startlingly similar to what the Unseelie realm was described as in the texts, and this ability only manifested after the Either had affected me.” Gaster grinned sharply, his hands wringing together as he looked at Frisk with a sobering conviction that bordered madness.

She sobered.

“If the Either could take away my sight, why couldn’t it help grant me another?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this and she felt her stomach drop.

“The gems in your monocle, it’s the solidified Either?” He looked so proud at her answer that it did weird things to her chest. A sense of accomplishment, a feeling of satisfaction. Frisk had only felt that particular way once before, and it had been the only time her father had ever smiled at her.

Gaster...found himself wanting to be honest with her.

“...You’re more intelligent than I’ve given you credit for.” The feeling increased in Frisk’s chest.

“Excellent for a human, my son wasn’t completely clueless choosing a partner after all it seems.” And the feeling quickly changed to a mild offence as she frowned. Apparently Gaster was where Sans and Papyrus both got their mood ruining habits from.

“But yes, it turns out the gems when placed in a particular fashion can infuse objects. This eye piece not only allows me to peer easily through the Veil without repercussions but to choose when it happens. It offers me control.”

Frisk did not like the way his eyelight flared, the sheer malice and mania inside of it. But it didn’t scare her, if anything it made pity form a knot inside of her. She hesitated but found the strength to say what had been on her mind as he’d ranted and raved.

“It must be awful, being here alone?”

Gaster’s face for the briefest moment went lax. His built up excitement and sense of triumph shattered as if Frisk had taken a hammer to it and replaced the feeling with a cold sensation of apathy.

“I...can’t fully imagine what it’s like for you. You seem so…” Her words failed her but still she struggled to get her meaning across as Gaster leveled a detached stare so piercing it felt as if her very soul had been laid out in the open. “...like you’re meant to be around people, to create and discover and then share that with others.”

He slowly looked down at nothing and he didn’t know why he said what he did but found he didn’t regret it. For some reason it was bizarrely easy to confide in this particular human. “...It’s a similar feeling to being in the Either, only there’s no hope of it ending.”

Frisk’s response was instant.

“There’s always hope. Even if it feels impossible.”

Gaster looked sharply up at her.

“Such confidence when the evidence says otherwise. There has never been an Unseelie returning to their previous nature once banished and I stand firm on my belief even now. You humans are nothing but trouble, the very reason our monarchy and the magic in the world goes ignored and depleted.” Frisk flinched but stood resolute before him, squared her shoulders even as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“Beliefs can change…” Her mind flashed back to her parents, doubt and confusion trying to turn her voice hollow, but she pushed the vision down and said “People can change. If they are just willing too.”

Gaster turned to fully face her and his many hands vanished as his grin turned into a firm and curt line. He had never seen such fire in a being before, her determination shone so strongly it nearly emanated from the golden tone of her eyes turning them brighter.

He had never seen golden irises before in his many years of life, how was he just noticing them?

“Where does such hope come from? The conviction in your eyes?”

A smile, warmer than summer and brighter than the darkness he’d long become accustomed to slowly curved her lips as her thoughts instantly went to horrible jokes and a grin so expressive even in its perpetual existence. And her eyes softened as she thought on political rants and the smell of tomato sauce within loving arms.

“Your sons gave me that.”

His face crumbled and Frisk saw the way his already hollowed sockets emptied even further. Watched as his hands flickered in and out of reality as if he couldn’t concentrate enough to decide on summoning them or not.

Gaster looked pained and so remorseful that it felt as if it saturated the air itself.

She...wanted to help him.

“How did you end up here?”

Gaster didn’t speak and the air around them grew heavy and suffocating as his stature steadily grew dauntingly taller. Like a switch had been flipped his whole demeanor changed into hostile and violent, his monocle glaring white as he begun to approach her with corrupted intent.

Caught off guard Frisk took a step back and stumbled, her rear and hands stinging as she fell to the ground and continued to move backwards. Her mind raced to figure out what she’d done to cause Gaster to slowly corner her. Her blood was rushing loudly in her ears like a deafening roar and it took all her will not to cry out, only to continue in her retreat in a bid to keep distance between them.

Her heart was threatening to rupture in her chest.

Gaster’s voice was low but it was loud enough in the stillness engulfing them as he bent over her. “That is a story I don’t feel like telling.” it was laced with utter rancor and spite.

“Why don’t you ask that husband of yours?”

Frisk felt her lungs lock up as her back hit wall and tried to curl in on herself as he so cruelly leaned down and closer to her that the darkness of his form devoured the area and space around her. Like a vortex that consumed everything in it’s path.

Sans? Was it to do with what she’d seen earlier?

Her father in law gave an amused and mordacious leer.

“After all, you’re not even here.”

Her cry was cut short as the world went black and tilted, smoky darkness and the scent of something bitter flooding her senses and suffocating her. She tried to push back, tried to get away but there was no escaping.

It was the closet again--

Mom was home--

Shouting--

“frisk!”

She jolted upright, the piercing sob she let out loud and bloodcurdling right before she felt a pair of bony arms wrap around her.

For only the briefest second she struggled, the thought of Gaster’s enraged sockets and the sound of her mother’s voice sending her into a frenzy to escape, but quickly she relaxed as the smell of ketchup and the clothed ribs she was tucked against registered through the panicked haze.

She...she was in bed?

Blinking she tried to get her breathing under control as Sans rocked her.

“hey, it’s okay. shh was just a nightmare. i gotcha.” His words were so reassuring just as they always were when she had night terrors, but the feeling of asphyxiating darkness still clung to her skin like static.

It wasn’t just a nightmare.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not with how she clung to him and felt the sins and fears of her past rolling down the slope of her sweat soaked back. For now she was selfish, she only wanted Sans’s comfort.

She shut her eyes and tucked further into him as she relished the feeling of his phalanges running through her tangled hair and brushing away tears that had run down her cheeks. She grounded herself with how he began to hum a calming tune as he nuzzled her.

Gaster’s words echoed…ask your husband.

For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what that meant.

What was there she didn’t know about Sans? He never kept secrets...at least she didn’t think he had any to keep, he’d always been so open with her, said what was on his mind.

But then again she hadn’t known about Gaster.

G U I L T Y

She hadn’t known he could sound like that or look so...dangerous.

“Sorry.” Anxiety and curiosity made her hoarse reply come out a near whimper but her loving husband only chuckled lightly.

“nothing to apologize for, wasn’t really out. sleeping desserted me tonight.” Frisk weakly glanced over to his end table and snorted as she saw a half melted sundae sitting abandoned.

“Papyrus is going to get onto you for midnight snacking again.” She commented.

Sans gave a wink. “only if he finds out. going to turn me in?”

Frisk smiled and felt the last of her tension melt away. “Never.”

Tomorrow was another day and she’d ask him then, maybe with sleep she would have a clearer head for the upcoming conversation. There was not an ounce of doubt in her mind that it wasn’t going to be a sensitive subject for him.

And she was too haunted by her own demons tonight to try confronting his.

“Sans--we need to talk.” The words felt rough in her throat but she didn’t waver as Sans pulled up short of the door to turn and face her.

The look he gave her was one of mild confusion, he hadn’t heard her sound so uncertain since she was a child, and he let his hand drop from where it had risen halfway to the handle. He gave her his full attention as he widened his smile at her and forced his concern behind a wall of habitual patience as he responded. “sure, what’s up?”

“...Right now?” Frisk was a little taken aback at how quickly he relented. He was about to head off to work but instead he was delaying to make sure she was okay. Frisk forgot sometimes just how attentive and caring he was, how often he put her first before everything besides Paps.

It almost made her change her mind bringing the topic up in the first place. She really didn’t want to upset him. Not when he looked so ready to placate or fix whatever was bothering her.

He always did so much for her.

Sans was silent as he noticed her shuffle in place, his eyelights taking in how she shyly looked at the floor with hesitancy. Something was definitely wrong, maybe to do with her night terrors from last night?

He tried his best to give a lazy chuckle and added a shrug for good measure. “i have time. undyne isn’t going to say much.”

Frisk swallowed.

“It’s about Gaster.”

That was the last thing Sans expected to hear from her. His eyelights immediately went out and a chill permeated the air as all the light around them seemed to dim and fade out with how his aura flared and spiked.

Frisk tensed, her eyes going wide as she recalled Gaster and his suffocating darkness. Suddenly she was also recalling how Sans had looked in her dream and she wasn’t even thinking as she took several steps back.

Sans was quick to notice the retreat.

She never ran from him, Frisk never looked as if she might be at risk around him.

It hurt, it was a harsh slap from sanity.

Immediately he blinked his eyelights back into existence and the mood shifted, the light turning once more to its previous brightness as a drop of sweat ran the curve of his skull. His mind was racing and he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than his wife and how she cowed.

“i’m sorry frisk i--i didn’t mean to.” She quivered as he reached for her but she didn’t fight him as he embraced her. He swallowed down the magical saliva building in his nonexistent throat. “just...how do you know that name?”

Frisk’s tensed posture loosened at the remorse she heard in his voice, the fear. Sans appeared terrified, but rather from her knowing or from just who exactly Gaster was she couldn’t be sure.

“I met him.” Before she knew it Sans was holding her at arms length with his hands gripping her shoulders, not enough to hurt or bruise but firmly, as if she could slip through his grip and be lost within seconds.

His tone was hushed but stern, hard as iron and cold. “what do you mean you met him?”

She had to remind herself that this was her husband, he’d never hurt her and would be the last person who’d ever wish any ill will on her, that he loved her in order not to shrink under his aggravated gaze.

She’d never seen this side to him before. He was so...uncontrolled. “My nightmare…last night.”

Sans shook and gritted his teeth as he forced his hands under his cloak so that she couldn’t see the way his hands balled into tightly clenched fists. His sockets lidded in thought.

It had been years since Sans had even heard that name last and it angered him how now that he did it was from his own wife of all people. It was bad enough he’d seen him before they’d gotten married. He should’ve known that wouldn’t be the last time he saw him.

What was his old man up to?

“i don’t want you looking into this.” Frisk looked at him.

It sounded like he had just given her an order, not a request or even a soft plea, a command. And it made something harden in her chest, burn in rebellion. Out of the whole time she’d known him Sans had never made demands of her.

“What?” Sans leveled a look so empty and void of all his familiar softness it felt as if a stranger was standing in front of her.

“i’m serious. gaster is dangerous. stay away from him.”

She bit back the initial response that built up on the tip of her tongue. Why she had the sudden urge to fight him so fervently on the subject puzzled her, it was just a feeling; a boiling and simmering feeling of wrongness for her to listen and cut off all contact with the Unseelie.

Something was telling her there was another path she could take, a better one.

It couldn’t be wrong if her very soul cried for her to obey could it?

Unknowingly what she said struck her husband like a blow. “I want to help him.”

Sans...was outraged, frozen in shock.

Frisk didn’t know the implication behind her statement, how insulting it was to his role as Judge. In a way it sounded as if she thought there was a flaw behind what he’d done, as if there was hope for someone he’d deemed beyond any sort of salvation.

She wasn’t aware just how damning it sounded to throw her support behind a being who represented everything wrong and unnatural with the world and how it should be. By saying what she did Frisk might as well have just crushed a flower beneath her heel and called life itself disgusting.

But this was Frisk.

There were times he forgot just how pure she was. How determined and strong the woman he loved could be if she tried hard enough, of course she’d want to help someone if she could, that’s all she’d ever wanted as a child. Why wouldn’t she give that back tenfold as an adult?

He loved her, so much.

It was that fact alone that cooled him and made his voice come out weak instead of bitter. “you can’t.”

If his own dust and blood wasn’t enough what hope did she have? She was only going to end up hurt if she tried and Sans did not want that. He could already see the cogs turning in her head and he hated it.

He couldn’t think of a way to convince her.

Frisk didn’t believe him, she desperately wanted to after all as a fae he knew more about how his world worked, but she just couldn’t. Something in the way his shoulders slumped told her she couldn’t ignore this.

She let out a gasp of shock as he abruptly turned away and opened the door. He was going to leave? Just like that? They hadn’t even finished talking.

What was happening? “Sans--”

“frisk.”

He paused long enough to speak but didn’t even turn to look at her. “i have to go.”

Her heart felt like it broke as the door shut behind him. But she knew the pain was nothing compared to his, he’d sounded as if he’d been about to cry with how his voice had broken, she’d seen the way his shoulders had shook.

Frisk wondered if he even knew he’d reacted that way.

#frans #adult frans #prompt 4

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [11]

xi. the calm

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language, angst, allusions to smut, some sad things.

Summary: A fire takes out most of the food supply, prompting a need for hunting. While most of the hunting parties come back with no problems, Clarke and Finn never return to camp.

a/n: hello, happy show day!!!! I wanna know how we’re feeling about this chapter, so let’s chat after you’re finished!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You sit in your tree, legs dangling over the edge, watching the camp as it comes to life in the early morning hours. You’re lost in thought when you hear your name from the ground. Recognizing the voice, you ignore it, keeping your eyes out on the horizon.

Seconds later, a rock hits your knee. You toss a glare down to the ground. “Ow!”

She returns your glare with an eye roll. “That did not hurt.” You prepare yourself to ignore her again, when her voice reaches you, soft and pleading. “It’s been two days, please. Just come to the edge of camp with me, just for a few minutes.”

You start to shake your head, and she adds, “You’re all I have left.”

The words pull at your heart, like she knew they would, but you descend the tree anyways, taking your twin’s outstretched hand when you reach the bottom and allowing her to lead you to the edge of camp. She takes you just beyond the walls, to the top of a hill, and stops, gazing out to the woods.

Silence sits heavy between you, until she breaks it. “Did I do something?” You turn, head already shaking when she shrugs. “I thought we were doing better.”

“We were.” You shake your head, correct yourself. “We are.”

You’re silent for a minute, thinking. “It’s not you, Clarke. I promise.”

She nods her head, as if she was fully expecting that’s all she’d get from you. She accepts it nonetheless. The conversation ends when Bellamy approaches from behind. “Anything?”

You turn and meet his eyes, and you don’t miss the concern in them, directed at you, no doubt. You drop your eyes as Clarke answers him, “It's been two days. Maybe the bomb at the bridge scared them off for good.”

“You believe that?”

“No. They're coming.” You shudder at the thought, the impending war weighing heavily on you all.

“Jasper thinks he can cook up some more gunpowder, if he can get some sulfur.” Bellamy starts to walk away, and Clarke follows, pulling you with her. You listen in on the conversation silently. “And Raven says she can turn that into landmines. So be careful where you step.”

He turns and offers a smirk, and you notice his eyes stay locked on you. You shrink beneath his gaze. “What I really need is a thousand more of her tin can bombs that I can roll into their village and blow those Grounders to hell.” You see the glare Clarke gives him, and you hide a smile, having just been on the other end of the very same glare. “That's what they want to do to us.”

“Can't believe we survived a hundred years just so we could slaughter each other. There has to be another way.”

“Any word from the Ark?”

Clarke shakes her head, “Radio silence.”

“Finally ran out of air.”

“Maybe our mom was lucky being on the Exodus ship.” She squeezes your hand, “At least it was quick.” She lets the statement settle between you before she adds, “No one is coming down to save us.”

The word alone bounces around your head, echoing throughout the space. You all thought that if you could hold out until the Ark came down, until the Exodus ship landed with your mom and the Guard, then maybe you’d all be okay. Maybe you’d survive. Survival doesn’t seem as likely now.

In the camp behind you, the sound of yelling starts to grow, punctuated by screams of “Fire!”

You, Clarke, and Bellamy all exchange a worried look before you take off running towards the camp, pushing people out of your way to reach the growing flames. Bellamy spots Octavia, kneeled down and coughing, and stops to check on her, as you stand and watch the majority of the camp’s food source go up in flames. You almost want to laugh at the Universe’s cruel idea of a joke.

As everyone stands to watch, Murphy yells at Del, who is standing near the flames. “This is all your fault! We told you it was too much wood.”

He closes the space between them quickly, before landing a punch on Del’s jaw. You think of Wells, before running forward and shoving yourself between them. Del tries to swing and hit him, but misses, and makes contact with your cheekbone instead. You shove him backwards, away from Murphy, and yell, “Knock it off!”

Behind you, Bellamy has gotten a hold of Murphy, and mutters, “Save it for the Grounders.”

Octavia yells to her brother, “Well, now what the hell are we gonna do? That was all the food!”

The camp grows silent, watching as the food burns to ash, and you watch Clarke’s face fall. For the first time in days, you get a good look at her, and realize how awful she looks. There are bags under her eyes, and her shoulders are practically sagging from carrying the weight of the camp. Anxiety seems perpetually etched into her face, and you start to feel guilt for your absence. In keeping away and keeping her safe, you dropped all your leadership and responsibility onto her. You swear to yourself you’ll do better.

Later, after the fire is put out, you follow your sister over to Bellamy. He is kneeling in the ashes of the food supply, scowling at the remains. You are the first to speak, and you see a flash of surprise cross his face before the scowl returns. “Any idea what happened?”

“Murphy says that Del kept feeding the fire, mostly because Octavia told him it was a bad idea.”

Clarke sounds skeptical, “And we believe Murphy?”

“I do.”

“We have some wild onions and nuts in the dropship.” You shrug and add, “It's only enough to last us maybe one or two weeks. What's left here?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing. It all burned.”

“Then we have to hunt.” You and Bellamy turn towards her at the suggestion, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Anyone we can spare goes out.”

“With the whole Grounder army out there?”

Her voice is firm. “Look. We can't defend ourselves if we're starving.”

You watch the muscle in his jaw clench, and you know that he agrees with her, whether he wants to or not. He offers her a nod, before you all split off to gather who you can, and bring them to the dropship. When you get there, Bellamy is already briefing the hunters. “Each group takes someone with a gun, and they're for killing Grounders, not food. We don't have the ammo. Use the spears for hunting. Get what you can. Be back by nightfall. No one stays out after dark.”

You step over to the spears, checking them all to find the best for fishing. As you finally decide, you feel a hand touch your arm and then drop away. “Are you sure you’re okay to go?”

You glare, “I’m fine, Bellamy.”

You start to step around him, but he grabs your arm to stop you. You look down at his hand, and back up to his eyes. “It’s just...we’ve barely seen you for days.”

“I still showed up for my guard shifts.”

“I know.” He shakes his head, “That’s not what I meant. I just think that maybe you should stay in the camp for today.”

Your anger flares because you hate when he babies you. “I’m not Octavia. You can’t tell me when I’m allowed to leave the camp and when I’m not.”

He steps back, dropping your arm, and you know you’ve hurt him. I’m cursed I’m cursed I’m cursed. You repeat the mantra, reminding yourself, keeping you from apologizing. You look around him to the two other fishers. “I have to go. I’ll be back before sundown.”

He steps back and lets you go, and you follow the other two from the dropship and into the woods. You reach the river in no time, and after an hour of attempts, you spear your first fish with a triumphant smile. The afternoon sun shifts overhead and starts to sink below the trees, and you and the other two fishers decide to wrap it up early, weighed down with fish.

As soon as you arrive back to camp, you plop the fish down on Murphy’s table, and he raises a brow, impressed. You glance at the dropship and ask, “Is Clarke back yet?”

“You guys are the first ones back.”

“Thanks.” You leave and drop off your spear, deciding to wait for Clarke, so you can tell her all about your fishing success. You promise yourself you’ll still keep your distance, but you hope the news will ease the burden she carries, if only a little.

As hunting party after hunting party returns, some successful, some not, you feel your worry start to rise. Night falls and the moon rises, and you wait until it is high in the sky to allow yourself to truly feel alarm, because you know they should have been back hours ago.

You pass Murphy and make a beeline for Bellamy’s tent, telling yourself that you’re only going to him because he’s the other leader. That’s it. You barge into his tent, saying his name, ready to spill the news as soon as you confirm he’s in there. Instead, his name dies on your tongue as you make eye contact with him, and then...with Raven. You take in their naked bodies, covered in sweat, their breaths coming out in hard pants, and you mutter a quick, “sorry” before rushing from the tent.

You stand outside, debating what to do, because you still need to talk to him, but now anger is swimming in your blood. Because despite the fact that nothing happened with you and Bellamy, despite the fact that you had been distancing yourself from him (to keep him safe), you thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt something for you too.

A second later, Raven bursts from the tent, and she makes eye contact with you. An odd expression passes over her features, and she opens her mouth to say something, but the look you give her must stop her in her tracks. Instead, she repeats your earlier apology before heading towards the dropship.

You take a deep breath, box up your anger and put it away, before stepping into the tent with a hand over your eyes. You make a point of being extremely loud, and you stand near the entrance, eyes still covered, until he whispers, “You can open your eyes.”

You drop your hand and look at him, his gaze instantly dropping away from yours. You try to ignore the way his hair looks, wild and untamed, and the way his breath still pushes a little too hard past his lips. You get a flash of a thought, Bellamy beneath you, panting, and you blush before shoving it away. He clears his throat a little, and you remember your earlier mission. “Clarke still isn’t back.”

His eyes snap to yours, instantly worried, and he is already in action, leaving the tent as he asks, “What about Finn and Myles?”

You shake your head, but remember that he can’t see you. You jog to catch up and answer, “No.”

“We can’t spare many people, but we’ll gather a few of the others and go look for them. Monty and Raven have been working on walkie talkies all day, so hopefully they’ve got a few up and running.”

He bursts into the dropship, grabbing guns and passing them to you, and then moving deeper into the ship until he finds Raven, Octavia, and Monty. He nods and addresses them. “Good, you’re all here. Clarke, Finn, and Myles are still missing. We’re going to go look for them.”

He passes them guns and then turns to Monty. “Are any of those radios up and running?”

“Three.”

“Okay, we’ll split into groups, so we can cover more ground. But stay close, in case anyone needs help. Got it?”

Everyone nods, and he grabs the three radios that Monty hands him. “Raven and Octavia.” He passes them a radio, and turns to Monty, handing him one. “Are you good to go alone?”

Monty nods, and Bellamy pockets the last radio. “And you’re with me.” His eyes meet yours and you open your mouth to protest, but decide not to waste time. Instead, you nod in agreement. “Alright, let’s go.”

The woods around you seem impossibly dark, the kind of darkness that presses in on you, suffocating you. Despite this, you keep your space from Bellamy, who steals glances over at you every few minutes. The silence finally seems to get to him, because he starts to ramble. “I’m sorry you walked in on me and Raven. And I’m sorry in general. She was upset about Finn, and she wanted a distraction, and she was stripping before I could even-” He cuts himself off, realizing how flimsy his reasoning is, before starting again. “You pushed me away, and I-”

You cut him off this time, forcing a smile that you’re not even sure he can see in the dark. “You don’t owe me anything, Bellamy. It’s fine.”

He starts to respond, but Monty cuts him off over the radio. You let out a quiet sigh of relief. “I thought you said you were heading west. Where are you?”

Bellamy lifts the radio to his lips, “Just keep the moon to your left, and you'll find us.”

It’s silent for a minute before Monty asks, “Is anyone else hearing this signal?”

Raven answers, “Just keep your eyes open.”

“I think it's the same thing we heard in the black box.”

You can feel Bellamy’s frustration growing beside you. “Damn it, Monty, pay attention. Do you see anything? Report.”

The radio falls silent again, before Raven’s voice cuts through, quiet. “There's someone in the bushes.”

You and Bellamy tear through the trees towards them, reaching them as Octavia pulls back the bushes and mutters, “Myles?”

Raven leans forward, “Myles, what happened? Where are they? Clarke and Finn, where are they?”

“Grounders took them.”

You feel your breath leave your body in a whoosh, and you drop to your knees. You think of Clarke earlier that morning, holding your hand, and you berate yourself. Stupid stupid stupid!

Behind you, you hear Bellamy whisper, “We have to get him back to camp.”

Octavia’s head snaps up, “Bell, what about Clarke and Finn?”

His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. “I'm sorry.”

You hear your blood roaring in your ears as you take in his words. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You stand and spin towards him, buzzing with anger. Your voice is low and threatening. “I’m not leaving without Clarke.”

He tries to reason with you, “Myles will die if we leave him out here.”

You balk, “I don’t care!” You hear your voice rise, “I don’t care who might die in the process, as long as Clarke is safe.”

He tries to shush you, whispering your name. “There are Grounders out here.”

“Exactly! There are Grounders out here and I am not leaving my twin alone with them!” You shove him, pissed. “What if it was Octavia? You wouldn’t leave her behind! You made us march right into Grounder territory to save her!”

Behind you, you can hear Raven and Octavia begging you to quiet down. You spin and yell, “No!” And before they can stop you, you take off running, screaming Clarke’s name as you go. “Clarke! Clarke!”

Seconds later, something collides with your body, sending all the air from your lungs. A hand closes over your mouth, and you catch a brief glimpse of dark curls and freckles, before you start struggling and kicking, your yelling muffled behind his hand. “Let me go, Bellamy Blake! God damn it, you better let me go!”

You feel your hand start to reach for your knife, but he anticipates it, and wraps his legs around you, strong thighs pinning you in place. You scream and fight against him, until the fight starts to leave you slowly, turning into muffled sobs. Bellamy rocks you, comforting you as he keeps you pinned, stroking your hair until you start to quiet down. Only when the sobs stop do you realize he’s humming Clair de Lune, and you feel the tears start again.

You don’t know how long has passed before he leans down, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers, “I’m going to let you go now, okay?”

You nod against him, and he lowers his hand from your mouth. When he sees that you stay silent, he unlocks his legs, freeing you. You stay frozen in place, until you realize you are still in his arms, laying against him, and you feel awkwardness overtake you. You stand and he follows, picking up both of your forgotten guns. He slings them both over his shoulder and puts his hand on your lower back, guiding you back to Raven and Octavia.

When you get there, you avoid their eyes, embarrassed, before whispering. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

They say nothing, but Raven tells Bellamy, “We made a stretcher for Myles and got him loaded up, but we still can’t get a hold of Monty.”

“Damn it.” Bellamy lifts the radio and says, “Monty, we're heading home. You copy? Monty, can you hear me? Monty, Monty where the hell are you? Report.”

When Monty doesn’t answer, Bellamy sighs. “We can’t go after him now. Hopefully his radio just died and he’s on the way back to camp right now.”

He leans down and starts to lift the stretcher, and feeling useless, you grab the other pole to help. Raven and Octavia lift the other end, and you all take him back to camp in silence. As soon as you’re back, some of the other teenagers help carry Myles to the dropship. With Clarke gone, you and Octavia help him the best you can, removing the arrows and stitching him up. Once he’s asleep, you stumble out of the dropship in a daze, overcome with the realization that you might truly be alone in this world now.

Bellamy finds you after dropping off the radios and the guns, and he leads you to his tent, wordlessly. You don’t have the energy to fight him, and allow him to lead you inside and lay you into the bed he just used with Raven. You don’t have the energy to care.

He pulls a blanket over you and whispers, “We’ll find her, I promise.”

Exhausted, you nod your head, and then let sleep take you.

next chapter

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake x you #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake x y/n

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bi-bard · 4 years

Text

Invisible String- Dean Winchester

Title: Invisible String

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Requested: Nope but PLEASE SEND IN SOME REQUESTS!

Word Count: 2,279 words

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: (leads up to the end of season 3/beginning of season 4) No one knows how but Dean and (Y/n) always seem to meet each other. (Y/n) isn’t from a family of hunters yet they seem to bump into Dean in every town he moved to. Maybe there’s a reason for that... maybe it takes something terrible to bring that reason to light.

Author’s Note: Inspired by “Invisible String” by Taylor Swift

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

It all started our junior year of high school. I remembered it distinctly. I was the one with the highest grade and got told to work with the new kid on the next project.

The new kid. Dean Winchester.

Dean... didn’t think he should’ve had to do any of the work. He had been able to get others to do it for him before. I wasn’t having any of it. I snapped at him when I noticed him slacking.

It must have stuck with him. We ended up getting a good grade on the project. He tried to be kinder to me after that. He had been a kind of friend for a while.

Then, he was gone. Without a single word, gone.

I didn’t end up seeing Dean until the following summer. I had gone to visit my aunt in a state over. She lived on a lake and thought that it would be a great way to spend my summer before I had to apply for college and scholarships and all of that stuff.

He had been dropped off by a car and ended up on the shore next door. He barely recognized me in my bathing suit, which was far. I had cut my hair and started lifting weights in the hopes that I’d be able to defend myself one day.

The conversation last for hours. He was keeping an eye on his brother, Sam, while we were talking. It was nice to be able to catch up with him again. He just wouldn’t answer where he had gone off to during the school year.

He stayed at the house next door for another two weeks.

We were both sitting and talking on the shore when a loud and gruff voice yelled for Dean. I turned around to see a man- who I assumed was his dad- directing Sam into the car. Dean got up quickly.

I followed him, giving him a tight hug. It seemed to catch him off guard. It took him a moment to hug back but he seemed really happy to be getting a hug from someone. He left with a quiet goodbye and his head down.

I didn’t see him again until late into my junior year of college. I had given up any hope of seeing Dean again. Then, my roommate went missing. She went to a party and then never came back after that. I was terrified because I could’ve been next.

I knew something was off when Dean showed up, claiming to be an F.B.I agent. I called him out instantly. Dean was shocked but smiled at me anyways. I hugged him tightly, just needing some comfort.

“How are you holding up,” he asked, after sitting on my couch. I shrugged. “Your roommate wasn’t the first one.”

“What,” I asked.

“There were other disappearances around here,” he explained. “Their bodies were found torn up. We think we know what it is.”

“Do you mean ‘who’,” I tried to correct him. He shook his head. “Was it a wild animal?”

“No,” Dean sighed. “It was a vampire.”

“Okay,” I let out a sigh, trying not to get angry. “My roommate’s gone and you’re trying to be funny. I need you both to leave.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Leave,” I repeated. “It was nice seeing you.”

I should’ve listened to him. But when you lose someone so close to you, would you believe a man who runs in saying it was a vampire? Or would you think that someone was trying to make light of a really serious situation?

However; I knew I was wrong when I was almost attacked and Dean busted down my door. He had gotten tackled by the creature and I picked up the machete that Dean had dropped.

Dean had managed to shove the vampire so it landed on its back. Without hesitation, I lifted the machete up and brought it down to cut off the thing’s head. I flinched a little when the blood splashed before throwing the machete down.

“Are you okay,” Dean asked, touching my arm. I nodded, not looking away from the corpse. He hugged me tightly, hiding my face. “How did you know to decapitate it?”

“I thought it was a safe bet,” I mumbled. “Take out the head and the whole thing goes down.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “How about you go get in the shower and change? When you come back, it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

“O-okay,” I replied.

I went upstairs and did what Dean had told me too.

He was right. I came downstairs and everything was gone. The blood, the machete, the corpse... even Dean. It was almost like I had imagined the whole thing. The only indication that I had actually seen anything was the smell of cleaner and my door, which had been kicked in.

Then, there were another three years.

Now an active member of the working world, I had noticed something was off with a co-worker of mine. They went to the bathroom and I subtly checked out their cubicle. There was some yellow powder in the corner.

Also, there were a few people missing. I was scared it was going to be like what happened back home

Oh, and then a familiar-looking F.B.I agent showed up at the office. There was someone with him... holy shit, was that Sam? When did he get so tall? I almost chuckled when they asked to talk to me in an empty conference room.

“Small world,” I commented after the door had shut. Dean chuckled before sitting in the chair next to me. “Is that you, Sam?”

“Nice to see you again, (Y/n).”

“Damn, you’re tall,” I noted. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Well, have you seen anything strange,” Dean asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. He seemed shocked that I was so honest. “Besides the missing co-workers, there’s a guy about two cubicles over from me that has been acting different lately.”

“Did you find anything there?”

“Like...”

“Sulfur-”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “Sorry, I couldn’t figure out what it was but sulfur is a yellow powder, it makes sense. I found it by his desk.”

“Were there any nights he worked late,” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “About three weeks ago, I asked him if he was heading out but he said he had last-minute work to do. I thought it was weird but it wasn’t my place to question him.”

“Thank you,” Dean said before standing up. I stood up with him and hugged him.

“We keep meeting, Winchester,” I chuckled.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he joked in my ear before going to step back.

“Good luck,” I waved before going to head back to my desk.

It wasn’t another three years until I saw Dean after that, I saw him a few days later. I had been sitting in my living room, reading a book when someone knocked on my door. Dean stood there in his normal jeans, shirt, and jacket with a small grin on his face.

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your help,” he said. “We caught the demon because of you?”

“Sulfur equals demon,” I asked.

“Sulfur plus disappearances plus strange behavior does usually equal demon,” Dean replied. I nodded before chuckling. “I umm... you’re a natural at all of this.”

“What is ‘this,’“ I asked.

“My family... hunts... things,” he explained. “We hunt monsters.”

“So that’s why you were always moving?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “And then we kept meeting. And you killed that vampire and helped us with that demon... you are a natural hunter. I know I can’t ask you to abandon everything and join Sam and me but I figured I’d let you know that the option is there.”

“Can you teach me to actually hunt and not just get lucky about it,” I asked.

“Definitely.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it,” Dean asked. “You’re just gonna accept right away?”

“Either I accept now or we meet over another monster trying to kill me or people around me,” I replied. “I don’t want another multiple-year gap, Dean.”

“Oh.”

I smiled and looked down for a second. With a small moment of confidence, I leaned forward and kissed him softly. He moved closer to me and put a hand on my back and a hand on the door frame.

“Come on,” I mumbled after pulling away. “You can help me pack. I am not leaving with one set of clothes.”

“Okay,” he nodded, following me inside.

--Time Skip--

One year. That’s what I got with Dean. One year of hunting and staying in crappy motels and sometimes eating the crappy food that he somehow survived on. One year of being loved unconditionally and protecting each other.

I wouldn’t trade that year for anything.

The only thing I wanted to get rid of was the memory of him getting dragged to hell. It haunted me. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I was pretty much useless when it came to hunting after that.

I ended up going home. Sam had dropped me off. I never unpacked completely. I had suitcases sitting in my room, a bag full of books, and a backpack of toiletries and supplies. I just wanted to go back to normal.

I thought I had... for about four months... and then a man in a trench coat and suit showed up on my doorstep.

“Um... how can I help you,” I asked awkwardly. He looked confused.

“(Y/n),” he said.

“How do you know my name,” I went tense, ready to jump for one of the many weapons I had in my house.

“It’s me... Castiel,” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh my god... you don’t remember. They wiped your memory.”

“Who did? Who are you?”

“I’m Castiel, an angel,” he explained. “You’re (Y/n), an angel... a guardian angel specifically.”

“I’m calling the cops,” I sighed.

“No,” Castiel mumbled. Before I could react, he put two fingers to my forehead and we were in a warehouse or barn of some form. “Now, look.”

He pointed at the wall behind me before putting some distance between the two of us. I jumped at the lightning but caught sight of the wings in the shadow.

“Holy shit,” I put my hands over my mouth. “Okay, okay. Who am I supposed to be a guardian angel to?”

“Dean Winchester,” he answered.

“Well, I fucked that up,” I mumbled.

“I understand why,” Castiel said. “I wasn’t aware that they had wiped your memory. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why we kept meeting,” I said. “I was supposed to stay with him and protect him.”

“You couldn’t keep him from making that deal.”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

“We can fix this.”

“How?”

“I’ll teach you.”

--Time Skip--

“Stay here,” Cas directed me to the corner of a room. “You may overwhelm him. We need to approach this carefully.”

“Okay,” I nodded, practically shaking from nerves.

I watched the entire interaction closely. Dean looked scared and nervous and confused. I wanted to help him.

“So you just yanked me out of hell,” Dean asked.

“No,” Cas shook his head before looking at me. I took that as a signal to move forward. “I just taught (Y/n) how to do it.”

“What,” Dean looked at me in shock. I felt tears in my eyes as I looked at him. Another flash of lightning went off, showing Dean both mine and Cas’s wings. “Holy shit.”

“To be fair, I only knew after you were gone,” I explained. “Heaven apparently wiped my memory before shoving me at a vessel. I grew up thinking I was a human.”

“You pulled me out of hell?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s part of my job description.”

Dean ran over and hugged me. I felt myself breakdown. I was finally able to hug him again. Four months and he was back.

“I missed you so much,” I mumbled. “I’m so happy that you’re back.”

“I missed you too,” he said. “I... I love you.”

“I love you too,” I placed a hand in his hair.

“I’m guessing I should go,” we both looked over a Castiel.

“Wait,” I stepped away from Dean. “I’m still new to this. How am I supposed to know what to do?”

“I’ll be there to help you,” he promised. “Also, you should be able to use your grace to help him. You know what to do. You just have to do it.”

“Thank you,” I nodded. Cas nodded back at and in a flash, he was gone.

“Come on,” Dean grabbed my hand. I turned to look at him again. “Baby’s waiting outside.”

“One second,” I mumbled. He furrowed his eyebrows at me. “God, you’re clueless.”

I stepped over and kissed him softly. Dean smiled against my lips and wrapped his arms around my waist. I pulled away and smiled before kissing his forehead.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” I grabbed his hand and started walking. “Come on, I want to get back on the road.”

“So do I,” Dean replied before pretty much dragging me to the car. “Plus, Sam’s waiting for food in a motel and is probably losing his shit.”

“How did he look,” I asked. I hadn’t seen him since he dropped me off at home.

“He’s getting better.”

“He has an older brother to whip him back into shape,” I joked before jumping into the passenger seat. “Oh, Baby, I’ve missed you.”

“That’s exactly when my first reaction was.”

“I’m telling you... we’re connected by destiny.”

“And whoever’s calling the shots up there,” Dean chuckled before starting the car.

It was really nice to be home.

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#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

Shooting Stars

Written for the @bingokisses prompt “Deep Kiss” but taken in a different direction, here’s a little glimpse of our favorite angel and demon back in the early days of Creation. Also available on AO3.

The Starmakers swept across the void of space, trailing the fundamental elements of the universe behind them. Already, the depths of the firmament were a rainbow canvas of sulfur and hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen. Now they parted, swirling the elements into infant stars, blowing perfectly spherical bubbles to serve as incubators for each. Everything was precisely ordered, every line and curve exactly according to strict instruction.

At the edge of the nebula-to-be, a smaller figure skittered and fluttered, looking for a way to enter – a dark, unformed shape, sometimes a small dark ball, other times a long ribbon, always with a faint red glow seeping out here and there, hinting at future brilliance. He tried again, sidling into an unwatched corner, only to be immediately blocked by the blinding white light of another Guardian.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she said with a flare of winglight.

“Where am I supposed to be?” he countered, already looking for a way around.

“You know perfectly well,” the Guardian chided, pushing him gently back towards the safety of Heaven. “Unassigned angels are to wait until their tasks are ready.”

“But what am I supposed to do while I wait?”

“You aren’t supposed to do anything. That’s the point of waiting.”

“Don’t like it. All I do is sit and my mind gets all buzzy with too many thoughts and it’s boring. That’s one of my inventions, by the way, boredom. You see what happens when you leave us alone?” He darted around again, trying to slip past. “Much better to let us go help where we can, isn’t it?”

The Guardian’s light flickered slightly. “You can’t help. You don’t know how.”

“They can teach me! Can’t be that hard. And they’re not doing anything I can’t do, are they?”

Another uncertain flicker. “No. The Starmakers are far too busy to explain things to an interloper. It is best if you wait for your assigned task.” Then, in a softer voice, the Guardian suggested, “Perhaps you can meditate on the glories of Creation while you wait?”

“Nnnnh,” the angel groaned, turning as if to head back. “You know,” he said slowly, “wouldn’t it be easier to meditate on the glories from up close? So that I can properly contemplate them. See the details.” He flitted this way and that, form wavering almost hypnotically. “It wouldn’t be disruptive, just me sitting there. Wouldn’t be in the way at all. Surely there wouldn’t be anything wrong with just…a quick look around, would there?”

The Guardian considered this, thinking so hard the brilliant white light became quite dim indeed. Finally, with a sigh, her widest set of wings folded back. “You may look around, but touch nothing, and speak to no one.”

“You got it, boss.” And in a swirl of red-tinted darkness, the angel vanished into the depths of space.

The true majesty of a nebula could never be appreciated by mortal eyes. But to an angel – even a young, unassigned one – it glowed across seven dimensions, the subtle shades of blue and green giving way to wild blooms of gold and silver. A stellar cradle lay just ahead and he skimmed across it, trailing a wing tip just a bit to watch the colors swirl.

There – at the center – the newborn star, glowing a dark red just like him. He fluttered over to investigate, folding himself into an unobtrusive sphere, watching the way atoms collided until—

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He turned to find a pale white figure, dim, almost as misty and insubstantial as the nebula being created around them, flashing three pairs of wings in pretended authority. There wasn’t even a visible halo on this one.

“Neither should you.” He turned back to the star just in time to see a dark cool spot form on its surface. Amazing. “Have you seen this?”

“No, I most certainly have not! And I am meant to be here, I’m a Guardian.”

“You are?” The angel flitted down to hover in front of the other, hanging in the aether. “No you aren’t, you’re unassigned, same as me. I can tell.”

“Well.” The so-called Guardian flickered in embarrassment. “I am a Guardian, but the place I’m meant to guard hasn’t been Created yet. But I still have the, er, the authority to stop you.”

“Do you?” The angel stretched himself out, a long streamer of darkness looping lazily around the Guardian of Nowhere. “Stop me from what, though? Have I broken any rules? Have I damaged anything?”

“No, but – but that’s not the point.” Pale white wings parted enough to show two hands, nervously gesturing. “There are rules, and the rules say you’re not supposed to be here. If we went around making exceptions…”

“We might actually have fun once in a while?” He bent around to smile at the Guardian upside-down. “I invented fun, by the way, or I’m about to. It’s much better than boredom.”

“I don’t know what these words mean. You’re talking nonsense.” The Guardian folded hands and wings and tried to look stern. It was a complete failure. “Fine. What is fun? How does it work?”

“Hmmmm. I think…I run, and you try to catch me. And if you do, I’ll leave or whatever else you want. But you have to catch me.”

“I already caught you!”

“Did you?” And with a twist and a flick of his long tail, the angel was gone.

He skimmed low over an incubator bubble, causing the gas to boil and roil in his wake.

He zigzagged through a cluster of infant stars, sending them tumbling into new orbits, casting ripples of X-rays all around.

A dark cloud of dust loomed ahead and he shot through it, stretching it longer and longer into a column, before finally dropping out the bottom – or the top – turning around to find the white light of the Guardian right behind.

“Told you you’d never catch me!”

“I am going slow so I don’t upset anything, you – you scoundrel!”

“I like that. Scoundrel.” He ran a circle around the Guardian. “Bet I can make it all the way to that one on the end and back before you can. Ready? Go!” And off he shot, a dark comet hurtling recklessly through the perfectly ordered cosmos, one bright star unshakably on his tail.

Older stars sat here and there, setting off jets of gas where he brushed them, creating their own ripples through the blues and purples around them. A few of them looked ready to burst completely, but the angel didn’t have time to investigate now. He glanced back again and again and still the Guardian kept on his tail, zipping this way and that, trying to find some way to block him. But the angel just coiled and looped, slipping out of whatever trap the other tried to set. He laughed, and while he hadn’t invented laughter, he thought he might try to take credit anyway.

There, ahead, the last bright red ball of gas. The angel circled around it almost lazily – one, two, three times – but when he looked back there was no sign of the Guardian.

“Hello?” He pulled himself back into a smaller shape, searching with more care. “Are you still here?” The angel drifted back the way he’d come. The next incubator bubble had been stretched out by his motion, cloud upon cloud towering eternally into the distance. “I’ll go slower if you like, it’s only fun if—”

“Got you!” A dim white figure burst out from behind the young star within, crashing into the angel, tangling them both up in a flurry of wings and limbs, plummeting down, down deeper into space.

“That’s cheating, you bastard! We’re supposed to be racing!”

“You never said that. You said I had to catch you, and I did.” The Guardian wiggled, his whole form softer than the clouds of the nebula. “And now you’re in my clutches. You are in so much trouble.”

“Am I?” Once again, the angel elongated himself, becoming a ribbon of darkness, but this time the Guardian was ready for him, clutching tight, growing taller and taller to better grasp his prisoner. He was very strong, and in the end, they would up wrapped around each other, spinning through space, and now the Guardian was laughing just as hard as the angel.

“Fine, you got me. Fair cop.” The angel beat his wings one last time – mostly just for the show of it – then settled down in defeat. “What are you going to do to me now?”

“Hmm. This.”

It was a little blossom of warmth, just where the Guardian’s hand rested on the angel. A tiny spark of joy and peace and happiness and a few other emotions that the angel didn’t have names for yet, but would happily get to know better. Everything the Guardian was feeling in that moment, crystalized into a gem of emotion, just there at the edge of the angel’s being.

He pulled it in, pushed it down into the deepest depths of himself, hiding it in swirls of darkness where it would be safe no matter what. Then, shyly, he brushed the tip of a wing across one of the Guardian’s and formed a crystal of his own, filled with the awe he felt at the nebula forming around them, the exhilaration of the chase, and the strange fluttery emotion he had never suspected could exist before. The Guardian accepted it without a word.

Before the angel could think of another question, four brilliantly glowing shapes appeared around them. “What are you two doing here?”

Two were the pure white of Guardians; another the blue and green and gold of a Starmaker; and the last the brilliant violet light of the Archangel Gabriel. The angel quickly untangled himself, contracting to his simple dark shape, trying to look contrite. “I asked! The Guardian at the edge of the nebula said—”

“She had no authority to allow you in here! Look what you did!”

All behind them, the perfect uniformity of the nebula had been stretched and distorted. Some sections puffed into enormous billows; others stretched into pillars and columns; over there, a small black cloud stood out starkly against a brilliant red-white background; three different clusters of stars had been sent to spin around each other in entirely new formations, closer than ever intended.

“Oops,” the angel offered.

“What is your name?” Gabriel demanded.

The angel shrugged. “Don’t have one. Not assigned yet.” Somewhere deep inside, he had thoughts on that subject, but now was not the time to bring them up.

“Your supervisor will be informed, nonetheless. And as for you—" The Archangel turned to the Guardian beside him, who cowered back, shivering and flickering.

“Ugh,” the angel cut in quickly. “Can I leave before you start praising him? I don’t need to hear that.”

“Praising…?” Gabriel asked in confusion.

“Yes! This – this little bastard caught me. Saw what I was doing in the nebula, chased me out, and held me until you got here. Totally ruined my fun. Did I tell you about fun? I just invented it—”

“Enough. Is this true?”

“Ah.” The Guardian of Nowhere glanced around nervously. “Yes, that’s – generally what happened, I think. It was all so quick…”

“Fine. You—” Gabriel waved to the Starmaker. “Escort this troublemaker back to where he belongs. And figure out how long it will take to repair this damage.”

The angel looked once more at the Guardian of Nowhere, and flashed his wings in a friendly salute. He didn’t think the Guardian would respond, but no – there it was, a deliberate flutter, too quick for the others to notice. Then he was off, following the Starmaker back towards more familiar grounds.

Behind him, the Archangel’s faint voice: “Excellent work. What is your name?”

“Ah. Aziraphale, Guardian of…”

“You know,” the Starmaker said, resting a hand on his shadowy form, “I think I might like it as it is. Not as ordered as we’d wanted, but there is a beauty to it. Perhaps this, too, was part of the Plan.”

The angel wasn’t sure what he thought of that, but there was a more important question to consider: “Can I tell people I helped build it?”

“If you like.”

“Then yes.” He stroked the tiny crystal of happy emotions that glowed like a star hidden deep in the shadows of his chest. “Yes, I think it should stay exactly like this.”

#good omens fanfiction #asexual ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #aziraphale and crowley #starmaker crowley #well sort of #guardian angel aziraphale #angel crowley #pre-canon #aziraphale #crowley #my writing #ao3 link #kissesbingo

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copycaat · 4 years

Note

ignipotent - presiding over fire

Legend has it, Shisui used to say. Legend has it the Dragons live where the Naka springs from the ground in the mountains. He would sit Sasuke down with the rest of them around a low-burning oil lamp and tuck one of their cloaks around his shoulders when they pretended to ninja-camp in the backyard, and he would peer around at the team with a mischievous tilt to his mouth.

Legend, Kakashi would always think wryly to himself, has nothing to do with it.

When he was nine years old and a freshly blooded jounin and reeling after the loss of one Uchiha Obito and the acquisition of one of the most coveted dojutsu in the Land of Fire and the subsequent constant drain on his chakra that nearly and should have killed him, he was brought before a council of elders of the Uchiha Clan. He thinks, bearing all of that in mind, his total silence before them as they argued over what to do with him was justified. Minato had tried to come with him to the trial as a guardian, but he knew what to expect and he knew his sensei wouldn’t be able to handle the proceedings without major upset. Besides; Hatake Kakashi was an adult in the eyes of the law-- it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to bring a chaperone.

They were perfectly happy to discuss him as if he weren’t even there. Many argued for the removal of the eye-- and he thinks that one was the worst. It would be a mercy, in their view, to take away the last thing Obito had ever given him and the promises he’d made in exchange. He would have preferred death, and plenty of the eldest among them argued for that one as well. He expected it: the Hatake brat, a little monster from a family of pariahs? Proof that the sharingan could survive outside of the Uchiha bloodline, even with the only evidence being that it hadn’t killed Kakashi yet? It was unacceptable. He needed to be made an example of, to declare to the rest of the village that their abilities were not to be bought and sold and traded from corpses. This was an argument he understood.

Old clans have old ways, after all; the Hatake had secrets of their own. He did not want to die, but he understood that it was a distinct possibility that he might. Uchiha Fugaku, the future clan head himself argued that Kakashi be allowed to live on with it, though his voice was shouted down by dozens of others in that loud room. They deliberated for hours until Kakashi could barely keep his head up and his eyes-- his eye-- open, until an old crone of a woman that had been as quiet as he had stood, and a hush finally fell over the room. Her hair was thin and grey-white and she’d leaned heavily on her cane when she hobbled over to stand before him. He kept his eye fixed firmly on her feet until she thumped the cane against the ground meaningfully, and when he met her gaze her eyes were milky and sightless, but her voice was the rough burr of a field commander. “We will ask the dragons,” she said.

We will ask the dragons.

You see-- when Shisui would tell the story he always did it respectfully, with an air of bestowing knowledge of great importance on the youngest member of their little rag-tag group, reverent even when he would adapt great and exciting sweeping gestures and laugh joyfully at some parts of the tale. Uchiha Shisui was a true believer in the way most of the Uchiha were true believers: tales of gods were not things to be passed down and eventually forgotten. They were warnings as much as they were a living heritage, colorful and warm and alive and terrifying. Tales of massive scaled beasts that breathed fire into the sky and knew unfathomable things that had given the Uchiha the gift of Sight in exchange for their dedication were not tales at all; they were history. They were beings of wrath and honor and dignity and they were a lesson.

And so when the old woman suggested his case be taken to the dragons she was not met with scorn. Instead a thoughtful silence reigned until more than half of the room had agreed, and thus it was decided. Jounin of Konohagakure, Hatake Kakashi, aged nine, was to be taken to the dragons. Jounin of Konohagakure, Hatake Kakashi, aged nine, took this news about as well as one might expect.

Silently and without complaint, he let them set him up in a spare bedroom and spent the night in the compound under guard and he didn’t sleep a wink. He stared at the ceiling all night and he thought about the patrons of the Hatake and how they always seemed so lifeless when he read about them on paper-- the White Ones with their quiet, feral dignity, and Raijin with his penchant for mischief and destruction reduced only to strokes of ink. His father had only taken him into the shrine once when he was very young, and he’d showed him how to light the lanterns and leave offerings and he’d shown him where they’d kept the clan histories and secrets and when he’d went back to lock the place up after Hatake Sakumo’s death he’d sat in there for a very long time and read through histories that felt as cold and dead as the rock and the paper and his father and himself. He thought about the wild joy in the chase and the madness that sparked in him during a storm, and he knew: the Uchiha did not believe their gods are dead. It wasn’t all that difficult to wrap his mind around.

But he’d left his family’s shine untended for so long. He would get no help from his own patrons if he really was about to face his judgement.

They led him out in the pre-dawn light on a long trek along the river, upstream along a well-worn path. Mist clung to the slow-moving waters and swirled around their feet until it was burned away by the sun mid-morning, and by noon they reached the foot of a mountain inlaid with thousands of steps-- so high that the stairway disappeared into the clouds, and his armed guard stopped at the base of them and sent him the rest of the way alone.

One foot in front of the other, he climbed the steps. The constant strain on his chakra from Obito’s eye left him fatigued from what would have otherwise been considered light exercise, and every stair felt like a struggle. He climbed the stairs until the retinue he left behind looked like ants and he kept climbing, the stone path planted neatly next to the river that rushed and crushed on its way down. He followed the stairs all the way to a great plateau, and the air was thin and cold in his lungs and sweat clung to his forehead and left him shivering in the frigid breeze and the exertion left him burning with fever, and on the edge he saw the mouth of a cave and from the cave came the river, the water tumultuous and churning as it spit itself into a long waterfall.

A wash of hot air came from the mouth of the cave, and for a brief moment he considered turning around and walking back down the stairs and not looking back. He closed his eye and he steadied himself and pressed a fist to his rib cage like that might still his wildly beating heart, and then he walked forward. All the way to the mouth of the cave and straight onto the rapidly changing surface of the water, keeping his chakra leashed carefully and his steps light, following the river into the dark. A great cavern opened up before him and he came to a standstill on the water, peering into the dark with his one eye and finding that he could see nothing but knowing that there was something there with him anyway. The cave smelled like serpents, like sulfur, and the air was hot and there was a great heaving sound like a sigh, and he kept himself still even as a great red eye with three swirling tomoe flickered to life before him.

The red glow cast light on a great shifting mass of scales and whiskers and teeth and five-ten-fifteen-onehundred-onethousand eyes cracked open with the same lazy sort of judgement and they stared at him and they shifted in the dim red and he could pick out black and white and red but no other color. Hatake Kakashi stood still on the water with his shoulders straight and his hands steady and he watched a snout bloom from the mass and lower itself to watch him from twenty feet away-- the dragon’s teeth were as long as his own body, and its head was the size of a house.

Its mouth did not move but its voice still echoed loudly in the massive cavern. It said to him: Let us see. He averted his gaze from the end of its nose and lifted his hitai-ate and then lifted his chin once more, Obito’s eye burning in his skull when it showed him in perfect detail just how massive and how powerful the creature before him truly was. The air around him vibrated with the voice when it came again, this time saying: You are no Uchiha.

“No,” he’d agreed, because lying wouldn’t fly here and there was little else to be said. A creature like this would not care for a dead boy’s plea and the survivor’s promise. The head drifted closer to him and he was forced to crane his neck up further to keep his gaze on it.

Bold little thing, it had chuckled. We gave our gift of sight to the Uchiha because they agreed to abide by our laws, child. You, we have made no such bargain with.

Kakashi had grit his teeth but kept his shoulders relaxed, and instead of saying ‘not yet’ or ‘i would strike a bargain with you if that is what you desire’, he said, “I already hold agreements with others.” At the creature’s snort, he swallowed hard.

Agreements you have broken, have you not? To you, there is no pack. Its tone was considering instead of mocking, and he did not allow himself to flinch from the truth of it. You are already an oathbreaker, so what use do we have for a wretch like you?

It’s not a question he truly had an answer for-- after all, they were right. Hatake Kakashi had thrown his bonds to the wind and abandoned those he was supposed to care for: his father, first, and then Rin, to the cost of Obito’s life. Betraying Pack like that is the gravest of sins a Hatake can commit and he’d done it more than once, and the gods do not care for excuses and platitudes. But it had been Uchiha Obito that made him see the error of his ways, albeit a little too late to save his life. And Kakashi had sworn to him that he would live for the both of them and protect Rin, protect their family, so meeting his death in a flash of fire or teeth today was not an acceptable outcome. So he blinked slowly, his hand fisted tightly over his gut, and finally he replied, “you have no use for me at all.”

The stillness that lingered in the air then had raised the hairs on his arms like the moment before a lightning strike, and the great beast’s eyes had narrowed at him and a great, deafening snarl had ripped out of its throat and he had just enough time to think guess that’s the wrong answer before something struck him between the shoulder blades and lit his whole world up with bright white light and then left him once more in darkness.

He’d woken again out in the middle of the plateau feeling like his joints were locked in stone, limbs trembling, nose and ears bleeding. The air was frigid except for the great, hot gusts of air rolling out of the cave that made the mouth of the Naka river, and some sense told him he would not be welcome were he to go back inside. Kakashi had stood up, fallen back to his knees, and stood up again, and then made his way toward the steps on legs that trembled worse than a fawn’s. He sat heavily on the first stair at the top until his ragged breathing slowed, threw up off to the side until the only thing that came out of his mouth was stinging bile, and then he’d watched the sun set.

By the time he made it back down the stairs, staggering heavily, it was midnight. The only ones waiting for him were the ancient old woman and Uchiha Fugaku, who watched with unreadable faces as he made it all the way down the stairs and stood before them, and then fell straight onto his ass. The woman waited a moment, and then as she turned away she said, “he may keep the eye, then. It’s been decided,” and then limped off down the path into the dark. Fugaku had pulled him to his feet and caught him when he stumbled hard enough to crash face-first into his gut, and carefully steered him all the way back to his apartment without a word.

And if Shisui had a look of respect and wonder on his face whenever he spoke of the dragons to their little circle of murderers and a child, whenever Fugaku stood on the back porch and watched them he always had that same unreadable look he’d had that night, with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed, before he turned his back and headed inside.

#drabbles.#putting this under a readmore bc it's long as fuck #alternately titled kakashi has a crisis of faith all the time #netsurai #thank u to rob for helping me consider this a few weeks ago and also sending me the perfect prompt that gave me an excuse for writing it

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beccarooni · 4 years

Text

Armour

(A.N: Day 2 of thorbruce week! Prompt: Armour)

Thor had never been one to partake in magic. It was never his forte, his talent. No, his strength was in battle, in his hammer, in the lightning that crackled from his fingertips. That was what Odin had said, anyway. That was what he was permitted to be talented in. Save the magic and the tricks for Loki, save being quiet and reading and books by the fireside for your brother. They are not for you to partake in.

But, Frigga had always had different plans. She'd taught the swooping curve of the blade to Loki, where Odin had been content to let him calcify. And to Thor, she had shared the gift of magic.

Nothing too fancy, of course. And not to the degree Loki had mastered.

A few simple glamour spells, some light healing here and there. For when his lightning burned in his veins and singed his skin, so he could heal his flesh as fast as it was ruined.

And the glamour spells, the illusions, for where the healing couldn't cover. For when he needed to appear strong, to mask the wounds of battle and plaster on an appearance of effortless victory.

He was grateful for that skill. It made leaving Nivadellir much easier.

Rocket was still worried about him, of course. After all, he'd been dead for about a minute - according to them, at least. And Tree still looked at him strangely, like he'd been told a lie he couldn't quite believe, but didn't have the evidence to dispute either.

But, Stormbreaker was in his hand, and his burns were gone. To them, he was fine. A shining God, capable of taking on a dying star without leaving a scratch - the lone survivor of Asgard. Indestructible, immovable. To Thanos’s blade or the stinging heat of solar flares, he would stand strong.

At least, that’s what they thought.

He would've liked to keep up that facade for longer. For the Avengers, for Bruce, for everyone.

But he was not as skilled as Loki. The magic had to fade sometime.

He just wished he'd been alone when it did.

He'd first noticed it in the aftermath of Wakanda. In the Quinjet ride home, back to the compound, he'd spotted the first hole in his design. A small patch of skin just above his wrist, burned raw. He’d covered it as best he could, of course. Strapped on his arm-guard just that little bit tighter, gritting his teeth against the brutal scrape of singed skin against metal. No one had noticed that - he was grateful, for the shield that grief brought him. People piled off into corners, split from the group to recover in their own sanctuaries. Silence settled across the ship, and even the hum of the engines felt disrespectful. The technology was cold and unfeeling, without Stark. It didn’t have the decency to offer it’s minute long silence for the dead of the world. No, not the world. The universe.

The death of the universe, no matter how many remained.

Bruce had sat close to him, or rather, as close as he dared. Where Thor stood against the window, staring out onto a dust-covered evening, Bruce sat close by. Leaving a space beside him on the bench, a warm hand resting just above the window-pane, a guise of a strained muscle being left to rest.

Thor knew what it was - an invitation. An outstretched hand, as carefully laid out as any lab experiment, placed deliberately to let Thor know he wasn’t alone. That Bruce was here, and here for him no less.

He was no more worthy of the warmth those arms would bring than he was worthy of Mjolnir. And so he stayed, cold, and bruised, and alone.

The next wounds weren’t so easy to hide.

The Avengers - or what was left of them - had begun to walk from the jet to the Compound. A short walk, a small matter of meters that he should have been able to make without assistance. Everyone else had. Everyone else had taken the hands that had been offered to them, hadn’t suffered from the sin of pride that he had fallen victim to.

A vain, greedy, cruel boy. Unworthy of the loved ones he had betrayed.

He shut his eyes against the memory, and took a step forward.

It burned. Fire, from an injury that had smouldered hours ago, reignited against his torso. An incessant, pulsing pain that shot up his side, the molten tendrils seeping into his lungs, choking out what little oxygen he had left.

One hand flew to steady himself, and for a few terrifying moments, his world turned dark and fuzzy. He wondered if this was how it felt, if there had been a delayed reaction somehow, and he was going to disappear like the rest of them. Like Vision, like Sam, like Wanda. If his own life was to join the consequences of his most spectacular failing yet.

“Thor?”

A hand, soothing and cold, wrapped around his wrist. Another one laid against his neck, holding him carefully, as if he was made of porcelain.

“Thor, what’s happening? Are you ok?”

Bruce paused, his breath shaky and fragile against his ear.

“Come on, say something. How do I help you?”

It took him a few long seconds to force out the next few words through bloodied lips, but he got there.

“You don’t.”

Thor wrenched himself upright, trying to find the effort to offer a reassuring smile, but even that fell flat.

“I don’t need helping. I’m fine.”

"Fine." Bruce echoed, and Thor was taken aback somewhat by the fury in Bruce's eyes.

Not directed at him, at least, not entirely. Those hazel eyes were fixed on the sky, over Thor's shoulder, somewhere in the middle distance.

Although, he wouldn't blame him if it was. If Bruce had to pick a time to hate him, this would be the perfect opportunity. The death of half the universe rested in his shoulders, the blood of millions staining his axe purple, if Bruce wanted to hate him then he was fine with that, he was fine. He was fine-

"Thor, I'm sorry, but no you're not."

Bruce's fingers tightened around the collar of his armour, soft skin cool against his burns.

"Do you...you honestly think I don't get it by now? That somehow I'll believe you when you tell me you don't need helping? After everything? Or...or what, you think I just don't care enough to doubt you? Because I do, I care. And I'm not gonna see you destroy yourself over this. So...there."

The scientists chest rose and fell, puffs of air flaring from his nostrils as he tried to get his breath back after...that.

He looked away, wiping at his nose under the guise of removing some of the dirt of battle, and Thor began to feel something in him unwind.

A knot that he'd carefully tied, in the confines of a dying star. Threads and fibres that he’d knitted together, each memory serving to remind him painfully of the black hair and pale skin that he’d left behind in the wreckage of the Statesman.

Golden shimmers filled his vision, and for a moment, that was all he saw as the tight feeling in his chest morphed into something else, some feeling comprised of burning coals and choking sulfur that bloomed under his ribcage, choking the storm inside of him, and threatening to plunge him into darkness entirely.

Golden, like the stars Odin and Frigga had left behind in their wake. Like the walls of Asgard, tainted with the blood of an empire. Like the glove that had snapped half the universe to dust and ashes.

The last of the illusions faded, and Bruce’s grasp only got that much tighter.

“Thor…”

“Don’t.”

Thor’s shoulders tensed under his hold, his eyes screwing shut against the onslaught of a different kind of heat rapidly building behind them - the faint sting of the few tears that had escaped were enough to remind him of his place, his duty.

A statue. The Kings of Asgard are strong and brave. They do not shed tears.

“Don’t say anything, please. Just…”

At last, he felt his body begin to give in to his minds need for rest. His legs shook, and the armour across his back was an unwelcome strain against his bruised body.

“Just help me. Please.”

Bruce nodded, his expression unreadable. Faint green lines forced their way back under his skin, leaving him pallid and pale.

Your fault. You did this to him. This was your burden to bear but you revealed it to him, and now he suffers.

“Tell me how.” The scientist’s voice was gentle, now.

A quiet coaxing, trying to shift Thor towards movement, towards sorrow, anger - anything but this muted apathy, like the nerves that had lit up the skies had been crudely cut out, leaving behind a shell. The black backdrop of space, unlit by stars.

“How do I help you?”

***

It was 3 in the morning by the time Bruce had finished.

Thor had fallen asleep some time after that, in part to the stack of chamomile tea Bruce always kept in supply, but mostly thanks to exhaustion.

He ran a tired hand down his face, tapping a few more formulas onto his laptop, although the numbers were really starting to blur together at this point. Usually, he’d take this opportunity to clamber into bed with Thor. That’s what they’d done on the Statesman, anyway. The last fragile peace they’d shared together, limbs intertwined, eyes on the universe that stretched out in front of them and a foolish sense of hope fluttering in their chests.

Hulk hadn’t seen fit to show him what had happened to the Asgardians. He’d locked that memory far away, along with himself, resigning to the back of Bruce’s mind, leaving him alone with the eerie feeling of a loud mind gone quiet. But he knew it was bad.

It just hadn’t been revealed how bad until the battle had calmed. Until he was able to see past the storm clouding Thor’s eyes, to look into them and see...nothing.

There was never nothing in Thor’s eyes. There was always a spark, an ocean, a raincloud, something for him to latch onto and never want to let go.

And it had only gotten worse from there. Worse, Thor shied away from his touch. Worse, Thor stood alone on the plane ride back, staring out of the window with an expression etched on his face that Bruce couldn’t even fathom.

Bruce had seen a lot of pain in his life. His own, Hulk’s, the people that he’d hurt and others that he’d tried to save. He thought by now he’d be used to dealing with it, with the tears and the anguish that came from a loss like this.

But, then again, there hadn’t been a loss like this. A sickening unification, uniting the planets in tragedy, stretching across the outreaches of space.

Bruce had thought he’d known pain, but the sound of Thor’s choked sobbing as he removed his armour - piece by piece, as gently as he could, whispering again and again that it’ll be over soon, I promise, you’re doing so well, just a few more pieces and then we’re done, I swear.

The muffled whimpers as Bruce had tried to manoeuvre the now half-asleep demigod into the softest t-shirt he could find, each flinch and wince of pain when a tender spot of skin had brushed against the bedsheets.

That had certainly disproved his theory.

He glanced down at the sleeping figure beside him, huffing a soft sigh as he allowed his fingers to trace the shorn patterns of Thor’s hair.

The full force of a dying star. At least that’s what Rocket had said.

The concentrated heat of a supernova, the roaring storm before the deathly quiet of a black hole. That was what Thor had subjected himself to. All for an axe that lay abandoned in the corner of the room, the faint smell of cleaning liquid clinging to it from a half-measured attempt to wipe the Titan’s blood away.

Thor had looked at the future, looked at the burning ball of gas, at the bruised skin and the pain it would take just to get through it, and decided that it was worth it, for an axe.

Or, the worse option, Thor hadn’t looked at the future at all. He hadn’t considered surviving - he’d just done it anyway.

Bruce felt his throat tighten, and let his hand drop to the side of Thor’s face, still feeling a semblance of the unnatural heat leeching the cold from his fingertips.

“You’re an idiot, y’know that?” He murmured, rubbing his thumb dutifully against the sharp line of Thor’s jaw.

Still caught in the throes of sleep, Thor muttered some kind of half-response, lost between where half of his face was pressed into the pillow.

“M’not.” The demigod shifted, pushing his face closer towards Bruce, chasing the cool warmth of his hand against his skin.

“You are. And when you’re more awake, we’re talking about all of this.”

Thor made a noise of protest, one blue eye cracking open, still somehow managing to shine through the dark with an eerie glow of leftover lightning.

“But not now?”

“No, not now.” Bruce shut the lid of his laptop, shifting his legs under what thin sheets Thor had been able to stand, moving to wrap his arms around his thunder god’s shoulders.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“You’re not gonna leave?”

“No. Not again.” He felt the broad shoulders begin to shake under his arms, as his nose met the freshly washed hair that still managed to retain a faint smell of smouldering.

“I’m never leaving you again.”

#thorbruceweek2019 #thorbruce #thor #bruce banner #post infinity war #angst #thunderscience #gammahammer #thorbruce week 2019

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loridrabbles · 5 years

Text

Rally | Platonic 501st x Reader

Warning(s): Graphic depictions of violence and death.

(Y/n) stood in front of thousands of people at a rally her and a small group of activists had started. It began small, but people walking by kept joining in the masses to listen to what she had to say. The crowd was growing so big, police began peppering in the crowds.

She spent a lot of time with the 501st, 212th, and 104th. She often asked them about rights given to them by the Republic or what would happen to them after the war, but they all gave the same amswers: "I don't know," or "I don't think we have any." She even spoke to Padmé about her grievances and was told that as of the moment, they don't have any rights and after the war, they may even be sent back to Kamino since they are property of their government. (Y/n) was furious.

"Where is their social security?" The crowd cheered as she shouted.

"Where is their healtcare? Where are their stipends? Where are their fundamental human rights?"

"The clones did not start this war! That's we are fighting for! The clones did not start this war! That's we are fighting for!" The crowd chanted as she lowered her megaphone to tale a breath, a bead of sweat dripping from her brow. After a moment of cheering and jeering, she brought it to her mouth again.

"Did you know, soldiers accused of crimes and put on trial were not even appointed attorneys?"

"Down with the system!" A few people shouted.

"These men are slaves to the Republic! They are being forced to fight in a war they don't very well understand! They are being forced to live a life they didn't choose! Do you know what happens if they refuse to fight? They're executed!"

"Put an end to slavery! No more clones! Put an end to slavery! No more clones!" The crowd chanted again. The chanting was starting to turn, as policemen pulled out their riot shields. People who agreed with (y/n) were getting assaulted for their beliefs and vice versa.

"How many men have to die for us? For us! We should be fighting the war not them! Its not their responsibility!" She switched to a mocking tone. "But (y/n). The death of the clone troopers has no effect on the population of the Republic."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see policemen dressed in riot gear and droids moving towards her through the crowd.

"Who gave you the right!" She shouted, making the crowd scream and cheer and riot.

"That's enough." A policeman grabbed her arms and put them behind her back. "The crowd is getting out of control. You are not under arrest, but there are people here who want to hurt you. Admiral Kak would like to speak with you. Come with me."

(Y/n) sat in front of a desk inside the Republic base on Coruscant. The building was massive and housed nearly eight hundred thousand clones. The Admirals office was drab. The uniform grey of the rest or the base, and his desk, empty. Time ticked by, and she pulled out her communicator to message Fives. After two of them had the most riveting conversations about clone rights. After waiting quite a while, a burly man stepped into the room. Medium tan skin, grey and white hair gently slicked back, a trim beard and a mustache.

"Miss (y/n)." He said, sitting in front of her. "That was quite a performance you put on out there." He leaned forward and pulled the top of a cylindrical canister up and open. "Cigarette?"

"Please." She took one, put it in her mouth for him to light, then leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, puffing on the cigarette.

"Of course, you can understand why I'm upset with how things happened and what you did."

"I can imagine. I opened Pandora's box to people who have never even considered the lives of them fighting for us."

"I'm sure they have. But they realize the clones are an asset to them an to us."

"Did you know that just last month, twenty thousand men died taking over an outpost on T'bak. As I'm sure you know, that planet produces nearly 80% of the Republic's tobacco." She blew a puff of smoke on his direction. "What's your favorite blend, Admiral

I'm sure you could have a platoon lay down their lives and have a bark expedited right to your office."

The admiral stood up and put his cigarette in the ash tray, then pressed a button on his desk.

"Let's go for a ride."

She got in the back of his small speeder as he told the driver where to take them. They flew down and down to the lower level until they reached the doors to a massive warehouse guarded by at least twenty guards and (y/n) was sure they were surrounded by snipers.

"I want to show you something. I want to show you that those clones you call friends are expendable tools of war. He entered an access code and the doors opened.

Inside were huge floor to ceiling cages that looked like they were meant to house animals spanned either side of the room. Inside of them were thousands of clones, some older, some young, some were even children. They stood in nothing but their black leggings, some with shoes some without. They were packed into the damp, dirty, cages so tight they could barely move their arms from their sides. They were all silent. Some of them in the front had their hand up against the cage, their fingers intertwined I'm the chain links. She looked around, walking slowly down the dimly lit corridor, looking them in their barren, glossy eyes.

"I know you." She said, walking closer to one side of the cage, linking in her fingers. "Commander Colt."

"Its CC-3734 now." He grumbled weakly as he brought his hand up to brush her fingers. It was clear he hadn't been given food or water in days.

"You're going to kill them." She said solemnly.

"They are no longer useful to us or underperformers. Kamino will give us 1 new clone for every 5 we dispose of. There are one hundred thousand here."

"There's children." She spat, her voice trembling.

"Their numbers don't look promising."'

"T-this is wrong. This is murder. You can't do this.

"I'm not. But you will." He said. "Five of them get to live. You get to choose which five. You can look at their records. Review their accomplishments and who they served under, their ranks and overall performance."

"No!" She shouted, turning to face him after scanning their empty faces again. "I'm not going to be responsible for their deaths. I'm not!" She stormed for the door, stopping in her tracks when he spoke.

"Then they all die." He said.

"Its not my fault. It's your choice. Not mine!" She shouted her last words. She yanked the door to the speeder open and sat inside, crossing her arms. "Take me back."

The 501st chartered in their bunker, almost ready for lights out. The door sliding open grabbed their attention and they all turned to watch (y/n) stumble in, her face red and eyes stinging with tears.

"What's wrong ad'ika?" Fives said walking to her, putting a hand on her back. "What happened with the Admiral?"

Rex, Kix, Hardcase, Jesse, and Echo listened in as she spoke.

"It was horrible." She said through her sobs. "He took me to a warehouse filled with cages full of thousands of clones. He said he was going to kill them all."

"What?" Rex asked, infuriated, almost shouting.

"Colt was there. And children. They were so young." She sobbed with her hands to her face, Fives' arms around her. "He said 5 could live, but I had to pick who. I couldn't do it. I couldn't."

No one knew what to say. They didn't know whether to be furious or sad, or whether they could do something or not. No one spoke. The only sound filling the room was (y/n)'s sobs muffled by Fives' shoulder. Her communicator rang. Jesse answered it and up popped the Admiral.

"Have you decided yet, little (y/n)?" He asked.

"No." She spats wiping her tears.

"Time is ticking." He said, watching her as she approached his hologram, her fists balled at her side.

"I won't do it, you sick bastard!" Her voice was seething.

"I know. I knew you never would. I already took care of things, my darling." His voice was soft, but rough and could comfort a dying man while making him hate him for watching him take his last breath with such indifference.

The hologram transitioned to a wide screen, showcasing the cages lined up in the secret warehouse. Everyone in a different cage recieved a different fate.

In one cage, flames still trickled out of throwers on the wall and floor. Some had tried to climb the cages to escape the flames, but died in their efforts, frozen in a statue halfway up the wall.

The next cage, blaster marks were prevalent on the walls, hot wounds still burning on the lifeless bodies as they lay on the ground.

The next had wires dangling from the ceiling and several attached to the metal links of the cages. Wires still crackles with electricity.

(Y/n)'s heart jumped to her throat and her stomach sank, then turned over making her want to vomit. Her shoulders went flush and she got lightheaded as she tried to sputter out her words.

"You-you killed them." She whispered, the words cracking in the back of her throat.

"Do remember, (y/n), that platoon of young cadets who visited the 501st just a short while ago? Do you remember that little boy with the red hair who said he wanted to be just like Captain Rex one day and you told him he could do anything if he put his mind to it?" The Admiral asked her. "If only you could have saved him. I bet you didn't even look at the list did you?"

The screen changed to that little cadet, rope tight around his neck, his face still contorted in a scream and tear stains leaving tan streaks down his face where soot and sulfur was washed away.

She felt faint and stumbled to a table where she braced herself up with her arms. Her breaths were shaky as she focused on staying awake.

"If you had chosen the five, they would have all lived. Stop trying to make a difference. Stop trying to be important. Stop trying to be some renegade pathing the way for a new clone rights movement. You accomplish nothing with your foolishness. Stupid girl." He spat, evil dripping from his tongue. With that, he hung up.

(Y/n)'s sobs turned to screams, as she dropped to her knees, trembling on the floor.

"Its not your fault." Rex said, kneeling down to put a hand on her shoulder. "He's just playing games. He would have killed them all anyway."

"You don't know that." She cried.

"Yes I do. I know." He said putting his arm around her shoulders, resting his chin on her head. "He would have found any way could to turn this on you. It's not your fault." He plased with her. "None of us think its your fault."

#clone trooper echo #star wars fanfiction #swtcw #captain rex #the clone wars imagine #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars #501st #clone trooper x reader #clone trooper fives #arc troopers #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives

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seelaa26 · 4 years

Text

6. I Warned Myself

“Do you remember when you said to not tell anybody? ‘Cause if you do, I’ll be the first to put my hands around your throat. I warned myself that I shouldn’t play with fire but I can tell that I’ll do it one more time”

As usual, I always arrived at the lab about ten minutes before my shift started so I had time to leave my things in the locker and go to the break room to make me a coffee, and if I was not alone, socialize with my colleagues. Sara was usually the first one to arrive, so we met in the break room, but this time, it was Catherine who was there.

-¡Hey, Cath! –I greeted with a smile as I walked toward the coffee machine to make myself one- Coffee?

-¡Hey Laura! –She greeted back a few seconds later- No. Thank you.

Catherine was sitting in one of the chairs and with her phone she was trying to call someone but apparently that person didn’t pick up the phone which led her straight to the voicemail.

-Are you okay? –I asked without knowing how she was going to take the question- Can I help you with something?

-Don’t worry, it’s just.. –she blew and put her hands in her head- Lindsey had a ballet performance today and I couldn’t make it in time, so the teacher called her father and now he’s with Linds and I don’t know.. I’m not calm knowing the mess Eddie is.

-Why don’t you take the night off then?

-I can’t, it’s Nicky’s night off and we’d be two people short –She breathed and tried to calm herself- Besides, we’ve got a 445A in a business building.

-What? A bomb?!

-Yes –She nodded before looking at her phone again for the last time- Sara and Grissom are already at the crime scene so we should be probably get going.

We picked up our field kit and we both climbed into the SUV that Catherine was driving. Apparently, the crime scene wasn’t far from the lab but still, we had to cross busy streets.

-You know, this is my first case with bombs.

-Yeah? You like them?

-No, I hate them –I explained myself- Besides leaving the scene in a mess, everything’s burned and in a thousand pieces. It’s a lot of work and usually I don’t mind it, but I just hate everything that goes BOOM.

Suddenly, a car coming from our left almost collided with us. Catherine stopped on the side of the road since we were both scared and with our hearts beating way too fast.

-Are you okay? –She asked putting her hand in my arm- I’m so sorry Laura. I just, I didn’t saw the red light and kept driving..

-Cath, Cath.. –I did the same and held her hands to calm her down- It’s okay. Nothing happened so don’t waste time thinking about it. Do you want me to drive from here?

She nodded so we switched places and a few minutes later we arrived at the crime scene. We met up with Brass in the front of what used to be the doors to the building. He filled us in.

-We’re all clear to go in, but here’s what we got. Couple of head wounds. Elderly guy had his arm torn off. The only fatality so far is Jake Richards, a security guard. Body’s still inside.

We turned our flashlights on as we walked through the lobby. Grissom and Sara were kneeling down besides the body. We made our way toward them and put our kits down as we looked.

-How big you think this bomb was? –Brass asked.

-It’s not the size of the bomb –Sara answered- It’s the overpressure in the air around it.

-The Van Gogh Effect in stereo, both ears –Grissom pointed his flashlight at the dead man’s head- A perfectly symmetrical amputation. Means he was looking directly at the bomb when it went off.

-Smell the sulfur? –Catherine sniffed and took a small sample scraping of the black stuff on the body - Light this, please.

-Gunpowder –I concluded when the black powder on the knife exploded- Well, we know the propellant.

-The dirty little secret of bombs is how easy they are to make and use –Grissom stood up- Our murder weapon’s here someplace in a thousand pieces. We have to find it and put it back together again.

-Bombs explode. Weird thing is their components survive the explosion. If we can piece together this bomb, we’re closer to finding who did this.

Using a magnetic device, I started gathering the minute pieces of metal in the debris. Sara and Catherine started bagging other pieces of metal and Warrick took photos of the whole crime scene. A few hours later, we returned to the lab and Catherine, Sara and I looked at all the bomb pieces we gathered spread out on the table in front of us.

-So all of this stuff is from a five-meter radius of the point of origin? –Sara asked surprised.

-Yep –I nodded- Graphic explanation of why I hate bombs.

-How could the victim possibly be in one piece?

-Vacuum effect –Catherine explained- The air is being pushed out so fast when the bomb detonates there’s a calm at the center.

-Did you figure out what this “FP” stands for? –Sara picked up a gear piece.

-I ran it through the ATF’s bomb database but no profile.

-So our bomber’s a newbie. Does he fit Grissom’s wack job from the bomb site? Dominic, the security guard?

-It’s too soon to tell.

Apparently, a security guard from the building in which the bomb had exploded had approached Grissom to offer his help. He was a fan of bombs. Speak of the devil.. Grissom walked into the room carrying something.

-I found something interesting –he showed it to us- Looks like a balance wheel from a clock. Bomb was time-delayed. This is a piece of a timing device.

-What about the orange stuff? –Sara asked.

-Heat of the explosion must have melted whatever it is all around the wheel. What’s orange and melts?

-I would have to investigate that –she answered with a smile.

-Hey, guys –Nick walked into the room and looked at Grissom- Can I steal you for a minute?

-I thought this was your day off.

-We’re kind of busy here, Nick.

-Yeah, I know and I’m sorry, but I don’t think this can wait.

Grissom and Nick left together, Catherine joined them a few minutes later and neither of them returned. Obviously something had happened and sooner or later we would know. Meanwhile, Sara and I discovered that the piece that Grissom had found belonged to a snoozewell and we discovered which one was, so we called Brass to track the sales of the specific snoozewell. It didn’t take long for Brass to appear in the lab with one of his ironic one-liners.

-Don’t you love the smell of sulfur in the afternoon? –he asked leaning against the door frame- You might want to take a tour of Dominic Kretzker’s house. I tracked down the sale of SnoozeWell clocks. 926 credit card purchases in the last three months in Clark County; 7 to Dominic Kretzker.

-This guy either has serious problems getting up early or he is the person we are looking for –I mumbled as I approached Brass- You comin’ Sara?

-No, I’m going to stay here and help Warrick with the “FP” initials.

We headed to Grissom’s office and once we informed him, we set out to visit our suspect. Brass told me how intense he was, but I didn’t check it until I saw that he was waiting for us on his porch. He had a police scanner and that’s how he knew we were coming.

-What can I do for you guys?

-Dominic.. this is the type of device that was used to set off the Hansen bomb –Grissom showed him a picture- We have proof that you purchased the same make of clock. Want to show us that clock of yours?

-Okey Dokey –he said with a welcoming smile- Come on in.

We walked into the room. Dominic walked over to the table where there was a file box filled with stuff on the floor. He put the box on the table and picked up the alarm clock. He gave it to Grissom.

-The timing device is still intact.

-Yeah, ‘cause I haven’t made the bomb yet.

-Look what I found, sulfur –Brass handed us the piece he found with globs of melted orange on it- Is this from the Hansen bomb?

-Sure is.

-You keep your key piece of evidence that could nail you? –I asked surprised.

-That’s sentimental. Historical. I collect souvenirs.. that’s my building, you know. I mean.. that was my place of employment –he started to get nervous- If I had anything to hide, I’d hide it.

-Well, maybe so but you’re under arrest.

Brass cuffed him and put him in the car.

-I can’t tell whether he’s brilliant or..nuts –Grissom said to me as we watched them get into the car.

-Yeah, me either but I’ll tell you one thing; I like him, he says “Okey Dokey”.

***

Back at the lab, Grissom and Brass interrogated Dominic, while I went to see Sara and Warrick, to check how they were doing with the initials. On my way, I was stopped by Catherine.

-Hey Laura, can I talk to you for a second?

-Yeah, sure –we stood to one side of the hallway to not block the way- Everything okay? Have you been able to talk to your daughter?

-Yes, Eddie finally picked up the phone. Lindsey has a ballet class in a few hours and she wants mom to take her so.. she’s not mad. Thanks for asking –Catherine gave me a warm smile- Look, a prostitute has been found dead by strangulation in her home and someone from the team was with her last night.

All my systems automatically thought of one person. Showing up at work on a day off and wanting to speak to Grissom urgently.. Warning signs. Just as quickly as I knew it was him, that quickly I was disappointed. Nick and I didn’t meet because he already had plans with a friend when he really had a date with a prostitute. He lied to me and that’s what hurt.

-Nick –I guessed and Catherine nodded as a confirmation.

-Ecklie, the day shift supervisor, is assigned to the case but they will pass it on to me. I wanted to talk to you because I may need help.

-Count me in, but why me? –Catherine didn’t answer, she just looked at me- Because I’m the rookie, right?

-We need everyone working the bomb case.. –She explained and then suddenly, she greeted someone with her hand and headed that way- Oh, hey, Conrad, Grissom’s at interrogation but I need to speak with you.. about Nick Stokes.

Ecklie seemed like he wanted to talk, but since he didn’t know me he looked askance at me indicating that he wasn’t going to talk if there was someone unknown there. I took the step and introduced myself.

-Let me guess, about his involvement with a dead hooker?

-Come one, the hooker was a person. Her name was Kristy Hopkins.

-I realize that, thank you but his prints were all over Kristy Hopkins’s house. Let’s see wine glass, bedside table, bed frame..

Ecklie was giving us a visual image when Nick appeared on the scene. He stopped as soon as he saw that we were talking with Ecklie. We exchanged a look and after taking a deep breath, he approached.

-Nick, I don’t think you guys should be talking –Catherine advised.

-It’s no big deal. What’s up, Ecklie?

-I need a DNA sample from you, Nick. We found a condom, used.

-I assume you’re trying to prove Kristy Hopkins and I were sexually active last night. My DNA will match, no warrant necessary. I have something else for you –Nick handed Ecklie a piece of paper with writing on it- A license plate number. Vehicle belongs to Jack Willman. Had a fight with Kristy outside the Orpheus last night around midnight.

-Well, I’ll look into it but come one.. your fingerprints, your DNA.. that’s what’s going into evidence. I don’t want to believe a CSI could commit murder. Hell, I don’t even want to believe that a CSI could sleep with a hooker.

-You know what? –Ecklie’s way of talking pissed me off, so I had to say something- Nick’s private life..

-Is no longer private –he interrupted me- I’m sorry if you guys don’t like where the evidence is pointing but show me otherwise. In the meantime, I have a protocol to follow.

-Look, I’m going to get O’Riley to track down this Jack guy for questioning, but I am out on a limb for you here, Nick –Catherine said, and then she and Ecklie left together.

Nick put his hands on his waist and turned to look at me. His gaze was saddened and concerned. Mine was hurt and pissed off.

-Can we talk? –he asked me as my phone rang.

-Gotta go –I read the urgent message from Brass- There’s been a second bomb.

***

We made a quick little briefing after visiting the second crime scene, because it was raining, we collected the most important things and returned. Sara discovered that the orange stuff was actually orange polyester from a jacket. I ran a search looking for disgruntled employees in The Hansen Building and I found Norman Stirling, a former manager. Warrick investigated the initials and found out that they were made by an electric etcher. The manufacturer said that this etcher was only used for training purposes and Las Vegas School District was the one who bought it and Stirling’s son goes there. Last by not least, the second bomb was not remote, so Dominic was ruled out as a suspect because he was in custody. Grissom let him free to go with an advice; “Next time try not to be quite so trusting. You don’t need to be a hero”.

While Brass was in charge of finding and bringing both the father and the son for interrogation, I received a message from Catherine telling me to meet her at the DNA Lab. When I arrived, she was already there.

-How you doing, Greg? –I greeted him.

-Worried about Nick –he answered me and then looked at Catherine- It’s not your case, much as I want to help, no can do.

-That’s my case for the next twelve hours. Ask the Sheriff.

-I would never doubt your word –Greg opened the freezer and took out the envelope. He removed the slide and put it under the microscope- Nick’s little soldiers, all yours.

-Thanks Greg –Catherine looked through the scope and indicated me to look too- When did you say this sample was frozen?

-10.15 AM, why?

-What do you see, Laura?

-These guys are all heads, no tails –I answered.

-Kristy’s time of death was 6.00 AM. It takes about seven hours for bacteria to eat away at the tails..

-.. Placing the time of ejaculation at 2.00 AM –I finished.

-It doesn’t disprove Nick’s presence at the time of the homicide.

-You could be a little more supportive –I told Greg and then realized something- Do we have the murder weapon?

-No, we don’t –Catherine denied with her head- She was strangled. If Jack killed her, it had to be something of convenience. I’ll go to the crime scene and have a look around.

-Catherine –I stopped her and gain her attention- What happens if we don’t solve this in twelve hours?

-They are going to arrest Nick –She answered honestly- If Nick’s arrested, it’s not going to matter that he’s cleared later. It’s automatic dismissal.

***

Catherine left to find the murder weapon and with the bombs case we were waiting for the father and son, I took advantage of the break to make a coffee. I really needed the caffeine. I put the phone on the table and went to the coffee maker. I leaned against the table while I waited but then I heard someone enter the room and close the door. I knew exactly who it was.

-Can we talk now? –I didn’t ever bother turning around- I’d like to explain.

-You don’t owe me an explanation.

-I know, but I want to –he made a small pause- Look, I don’t want you to think that I lied to you because I didn’t.

-What do you want me to think then? –I poured the coffee and turned to look at him- Nick, the fact that you slept with a hooker and she appeared dead hours later.. I’m confused, because I was starting to know you and that doesn’t sound like the person I thought you were.

-I wasn’t her client and I’ve never used that kind of services.. –he breathed and gave a step closer- I knew Kristy because of this job, I helped her a couple times before and..

-Helped her? –I interrupted her- Nick, are you aware of what you’re saying?

-I know, you listen, please –he gave me puppy eyes and I couldn’t resist them even though I tried- What I told you yesterday was the truth, I met this friend of mine and we watched the game then, when we were leaving the place, I ran into her then I drove her home and.. well, you know what happened. We had this chemistry, you know?

-Yeah, I know.

I nodded slightly and kept my gaze steady to make him understand that my answer referred to what I had begun to feel for him. Luckily or not, I could tell that he understood, but I couldn’t read further.

-I’ve been wrong about a lot of people in my life and I’ve played their game, but that has helped me learn to know when someone is double-edged.. and you’re not –Nick raised his head and looked at me surprised- I never thought you killed her. I know you didn’t. You don’t have to worry about my thoughts of you, they haven’t changed. I doubted, yes but I still think you’re good person, not a killer.

I smiled at him and for a moment I could see relief in his eyes. Then I got up to leave, but when I was at the door, he spoke.

-Thank you, I really needed to hear that.

***

Catherine sent me a message saying that she had found the murder weapon. She compared the cord from the curtains with the markings found round Kristy’s neck and it was match. Now, all we needed to do was look for fingerprints or a piece of evidence that indicated that Nick didn’t kill her.

-Hey Cath, that was fast! –I met her at reception.

-Yeah, everything for Nicky –The clock from reception chimed, she looked around at the sound and checked it. She realized how late it was- Lindsey. The ballet class.

-Catherine, go. C’mon.

-I..I have to examine the murder weapon. Nick’s case is running out of time.

-I’ll do it right now, don’t worry –She looked again at the clock- Go.

-If you have any doubt, call me! –She said while she was leaving- I owe you one.

-No, you don’t!

I walked down the hallway with the evidence bag in my hand, ready to apply everything I had learned, when Grissom crossed my path.

-I was about to page you –he said- Norman Stirling and his son are at the interrogation room. I was wondering, since you’ve been with us for a few months, if you wanted to do your first interrogation.

Dilemma. Grissom had just offered me to conduct my first interrogation and I really felt prepared to do it but then I looked at the bag in my hands, and I couldn’t. Proving Nick’s innocence was more important than taking another step in my career. So, I had to refuse. Running against the clock, I looked for fingerprints on the cord, but there weren’t any. Then, I had an idea.

-Kristy Hopkins was strangled with this sash –I dropped the cord out onto the table in front of Greg- It’s fingerprint-free, but the force of the pull would have scratched off epithelials from the killer’s hands, right?

-Abraded, yeah.

-And you can extract DNA from epithelials?

-If they’re fresh enough- Greg took a swab from the cord and put the sample under the microscope- Epithelials are affirmative. I’m just going to need something to compare to.

-I read on the file case that Jack Willman has a prior for sexual assault, so his DNA is on file.

***

Nick was pacing the floor when I walked in the break room. When he saw me, he stopped and bit his lip. He was very nervous.

-Where’s Catherine?

-She had to leave, but don’t worry, I examined the murder weapon.

Nick nodded and tried to calm himself down. I was surprised.

-What? You’re not worried that the rookie examined the piece that can send you to jail? –I joked.

-No, I trust you.

Nick was playing with his hands and even though he was almost going to have a breakdown, those words came out naturally and calm. He was telling the truth. He trusted me and knowing that just made me grow my feelings for him.

-Jack Willman killed her.

Nick sighed and smiled as he walked towards me to give me a hug.

-Thank you.

His arms around squeezed me a fraction tighter and we both breathed more slowly. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around my body. The world around me melted away as I squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end.

-Hey.. I’m just doing my job.. Besides, if they’d send you to jail I wouldn’t have my promised dinner.

-Laura –Grissom’s head popped out- The kid confessed everything. He put another bomb at Summit High School, we are going now to deactivate it. Though you wanted to come.

-Right behind you –I nodded.

-By the way, about that dinner.. –Nick made a pause- Anytime.

I smiled at him and followed Grissom. When we arrived, Grissom stopped the car and we ran out with the other officers. The students were running out of the school. As the last of them leave, Dominic exited the building carrying the package. He had the bomb in his hands.

-Dominic, stop! –I yelled- Stop right there. Put it down!

-No, it’s all right –he smiled- Everyone’s safe.

-No, no, no –Grissom yelled back- Drop it. It’s active!

Suddenly, Dominic stopped smiling and from his face I could tell he heard the clock timer ticking. Dominic looked down at the package in his hands. As we watched, the bomb exploded and we were thrown back by the impact of the explosion. Grissom checked on me a few seconds later, when we were able to sat up. Dominic gave his life for the students. He was the hero he always wanted to be.

#csi #csi las vegas #gil grissom #catherine willows #sara sidle #warrick brown #nick stokes #george eads #fanfic #csi fic

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