#also to anyone who’s seen this already: I have fixed up Jim’s hands a good deal in this version 😂

[excavatinglizard]

Who are you?

A little bit of Beyond Jim identity crisis for you on this fine day

#excavatinglizardsart #Star Trek #Star Trek fanart #Jim kirk #Star Trek beyond #illustration #digital painting #fanart #sadly the fact that I felt the urge to paint this likely means a good ol’ art block is coming #also to anyone who’s seen this already: I have fixed up Jim’s hands a good deal in this version 😂 #blue <3

[wpdarlingpan]

I have a suggestion! What about pan or jerome valeska kiddnaping the reader/oc? Ik its pretty basic, but maybe pan kidnapps her to obress Emma and Jerome kiddnapps her because he is fond of her appearance yk? Maybe a little bit yandere style.

Thank u I hope you like my suggestions!

Thanks for my first suggestion! I hope it’s good :)

Please let me know if there is something I should fix for later suggestions. Be it my writing style, or if you’d prefer me to make an OC for the story.

Also TW with just a mention of how Greenwood is charged with Rape and Murder. It’s only the mention and will not be brought up further.

Now on with the story.

Background information: Y/N is the daughter of Jim Gordon and Barbara. She isn’t associated with Barbra since she went slightly crazy. She considers Lee like her mom. Her dad is very over protective since he’s seen the dark side of Gotham. She is 18 years old and somewhat shy/innocent from being protected by her dad.

“Bye dad! Love you!” Y/N yelled out as she approached the front door of their apartment. She was hoping to leave before her dad could give her the talk she always got before leaving the house but luck wasn’t on her side. She also felt the teeniest bit of guilt for rushing out so quickly as she and her dad had a good relationship and she knew he was just trying to protect her.

“Wait.” He spoke coming down the hallway into the room. He knew she didn’t like the fact she had to go over rules before she left the house but he’d been even more nervous since there was a breakout at Arkham.

“Yes?” Y/N questioned.

“Got your phone?”

“Yep.”

“Charged?”

“100%.”

“House key?”

“Definitely.”

“Emergency money?”

“Right in my pocket.”

“Pepper spray?”

“Yep and with the safety on so I don’t accidentally spray myself... again.” She spoke while looking down sheepishly.

“All right love you kiddo. Remember what I said about those people who broke out yesterday.”

Jim spoke while lightly kissing the side of her head and let her go to school.

“I remember. Also love you Always and forever dad. Don’t forget you have a date with Lee later!” Y/N reminded before closing the door to make her way to the Gotham High school. Her dad had bought her a car so she would be more safe getting to and from school as he didn’t trust city busses or taxis. She didn’t mind though it was nice and she was able to play some music while she drove.

Once she arrived at the school she saw the cheerleaders loading onto the bus. She was a photographer for the yearbook and it was one of their first football games for the year so they send her to photograph for the team. She was way to shy to actually try out for it. Once double checking if her car was locked she put the keys in her pocket and made her way to the bus with her camera looped around her neck.

She got on first as the rest of the cheerleads were talking outside the bus with the coach. Y/N sat in the very back with her feet up next to her as a sign of ‘do not sit by me’ she was rather short so it was comfortable as well. She then pulled out her phone and began to text her dad that she was safely on the bus. He replied with a quick ‘ok’ and ‘be safe’ then she started to play a game on her phone as the cheerleaders began to load onto the bus. Once everyone was on the bus they drove away from the school at the cheerleaders were practice their cheers. The. Whole. Ride. It was beginning to get on her nerves as she preferred the peace and quiet but she knew that being on a bus with cheerleaders would be anything but. She grabbed one side of her headphones and began to play music. She lightly tapped her fingers to it and looked out the window.

They drove for about 20 more mins before they were stopped. A red truck had pulled in front of them and people approached the truck. She spotted guns in their hands. She quickly dialed her dads phone and begged for him to pick up.

“Y/N? What is it?” He could tell by her erratic breathing that something was wrong.

“There are people with guns on the bus! They just shot the driver. We are on (random Gotham street) please hurry!”

“I’m on my way! Try and stay on the line.” She said a quiet okay she a boy with red hair entered the bus. Jim quickly ordered police officers to make their way towards the scene.

“I want you all to know... this was a very difficult decision for us.” The boy spoke as he waved around his guns as if it was a toy. Y/N had already ducked down in her seat after a different person had handcuffed them to the seats. She wanted to stay out of of the seemingly ringleaders point of view as she watching her phone continue to hold the call with her dad and her headphone was in on low in order for him not to hear the phone. She still listened from her other ear to be aware.

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.

In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He spoke while putting the gun to one of the girls heads. He walked towards the back of the bus as he continued his speech. She heard him coming and quickly tucked her phone into her pocket along with the headphones.

“Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He had reached the back to the bus and was about to turn around when he saw her tucked into the seat. She was very small and if he didn’t know this was a high school bus he would have thought she was a kid. She looked up at him with terrified doe eyes and he looked at her with a smile. He liked her. The innocence in her eyes that made him swoon. She clearly wasn’t like his whore of a mother. She would make a good partner.

“And who might you be.” He spoke while he used his charm. He lifted her chin up lightly with his unoccupied hand as the gun still rested in the other. She scooted as far away as she could with the handcuffs keeping her in place.

“Y-Y/N.” She stuttered out in fear. She was trying to hide not stand out. He moved her hand away from the start of the handcuffs and brought up his gun to which she began squirming at as it was raised.

“Shh, just going to get these off.” He attempted to comfort but it was honestly more frighting what was he going to do.

He shot the handcuffs and the bullet got lodged into the seat as she was detached from the seat but still had the cuffs around her wrist.

“You’ll be coming with me Doll.” He spoke while tugging her up from the seat as the cheerleaders continued to cry at the situation.

“No!” She attempted to struggle but she was too small to get away. But he held onto her. He tugged her out of the bus before giving her to Aaron. Since he didn’t trust Greenwood with his girl. Not like he trusted Aaron any more but he wasn’t charged for rape.

Aaron obeyed and tightly held her as Jerome put back on his crazy face and went back onto the bus.

“Give me an "O"!” He shouted to make fun of them.

“I said, give me a "O".” He shot the roof of the bus making the cry harder.

“O!” The cried out through their tears.

“ Give me an "N".” He spoke again with enthusiasm

“N!”

“Give me another "O"!”

“O!”

“What does that spell?” He questioned while greenwood handed him a hose that would spray gasoline out from the truck they had stolen.

"Oh, no!"

He walked up and down the isles of the bus and sprayed each and everyone one of them with gasoline while they all screamed in fear.

He finished and walked out of the bus and grabbed a lighter from his pocket.

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome said as he attempted to make the lighter work. The flame wouldn’t appear and Y/N continued to struggle in Aaron’s arms but for the man it was nothing. Dobkins was bouncing in his place with anticipation.

But it never lit.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jerome spoke harshly. He was making a fool out of himself in front of his girl.

“Anyone got a light?” He requested from the group of cheerleaders. Y/N was questioning if he really expected them to give him one since he was trying to kill them. He walked off after they all cried out a ‘No’ and winked at Y/N as she looked at him making her glance away hoping for her dad to hurry.

“I do. I got...” Dobkins replied while reaching into his own pocket to grab a lighter.

As Dobkins went to hand Jerome the lighter sirens sounded and police pulled onto the scene. She began struggling more as Aaron held her with one hand and shot with the other with little to no aim.

She saw as her dad got out of the car and quickly held up his gun. His heart stopped as he saw his daughter in the hands of one of the Maniax.

“Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Jerome smugly told the crew. He glanced at his doll to see her struggling still while eyeing one of the officers.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim quickly yelled in fear one something hitting his daughter or the bus.

“Dad!” She yelled out as she attempted to kick Aaron but did little to no damage.

Jeromes eyes widened with surprise. Jim Gordon had a daughter? This would be two birds with one stone. He smirked as Jim looked panicked.

“Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started. And pass me my girl.” Jerome demanded. Y/N was shoved towards Jerome who caught her with a arm wrapped around her waist. He spotted her phone in her pocket and tossed it onto the pavement so they couldn’t be tracked nor could she call.

The officers had ducked behind their cars as Jerome shot at them.

“We're gonna blow this barbecue stand, huh Doll?” He told her as he tugged her towards the truck as her dad tried to follow before he was shot at again.

Greenwood sat on the outside holding onto the bus with the hose.

“Light 'em up!” Jerome spoke as he turned around and made a round motion with his arm to Dobkins who struggled with a lighter as well.

Jerome laughed manically as he got into the truck with her on his lap to which she blushed making him smirk and they began to drive off leaving Dobkins with the police.

Soon they were out of view and Jim quickly drove the bus away from the flames that had fought when the lighter was dropped. He needed to get his daughter back.

Y/N had a blind fold put on her as they left the scene to head back to Galivants building. Once they arrived Jerome picked her up bridal style and carried her into the building. He was stopped by the man himself as he headed to his room.

“And whose this?” He questioned quite poshly. She couldn’t recognize the voice but it seemed familiar.

“My girl.” He replied looking Galivant in the eye with a murderous look, daring him to say she couldn’t stay.

“Fine. But she stays in your room. Wouldn’t suggest having her out here with Greenwood.” He spoke before walking away to his office. Jerome laughed at even the thought of letting Greenwood anywhere near her. He brought her into his room and sat her on the bed. He quickly locked the door with a key to which he placed in his pocket before removing the blindfold.

Y/N blinked to adjust to the light and when she did she quickly scrambled back on the bed, away from the boy in front of her.

“Oh Y/N your never getting away from me. Not now, not ever.” He spoke before laughing crazily making her whimper and her eyes water. She curled up in a ball in an attempt to shield herself away from the boy.

“Well Doll, welcome to your new home. By the way, the names Jerome. Jerome Valeska.”

Y/N began to shake, her dad had told her about his interview. She should have for the hint from the fact of his unsettling laughter.

She was utterly screwed.

Let me know if you’d like a quick part 2

Also, please suggest things to write 😁

#jerome valeska #gotham #story prompt #oneshots #jerome valeska x reader #jim gordon #male yandere #love at first sight #writing

[sofia-not-sophie]

Let’s Try That Again

(Ao3 Link^)

This is literally catharsis for Tales of Arcadia that I wrote at 1am yesterday. Spoilers for rott. Text under the cut.

Tagging: @the-named-anon @mistythegenderqueermess @beetlebugdash

lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist also see the link in my pinned post for all of my taglists 

Toby was. Toby was dead. Actually gone.

The kronisfere rolled out in front of him and suddenly Jim understood. He could make it all right.

“I know what I can do. I can fix this.” Jim picked up the kronisfere and set it on a level patch of ground and rubble.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find Claire standing there.

“Jim, what are you doing?”

“Fixing this. Don’t worry, I have a plan, I’ll be back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She leaned in and kissed him.

They pulled apart and he turned back to the kronisfere. Jim raised Excalibur and brought it down. The sphere broke and the stone was all that remained. Jim took it and put it back in the amulet. There was a flash of blue and green light and then he was back in time by a few minutes.

He dove for the taco truck as it whizzed past, Toby at the wheel. he knew he had to time it just right. Toby activated the anti-magic ray and Jim waited. He heard the titan start to crumble. He was then shoving Toby out of the truck to where he knew the rubble would miss.

He heard the truck start to cave in and hoped that he could make the next jump in time. The space was getting tighter, smaller, but then the light flashed again and he was back in Greenland.

Strickler had just taken off with the weapon after the ice titan.

Jim jumped after him, knocking him out of the air, and took the weapon and threw it at the titan seconds before detonation.

“Go back to the castle.” Jim told Strickler.

“Young Atlas?”

“Just go. And don’t try to be noble again. Or mention this.”

Jim only had a few seconds to try and figure out if there was anyone else he could save. He had no idea exactly how Nomura died, there was no way he could wing it with only a few minutes to try. Besides, she was with Draal now.

And going much farther back could mess up time. he wished he could save Draal or Vendel or Aja and Krel’s parents, or anyone else who died.

But that would mess up time too much.

They already learned not to mess with time back in the old days of Camelot.

He let the stone return him the instant he left.

He was immediately wrapped in a tight hug by none other than Toby.

“Thank you.” He heard Toby whisper.

“What was that about?” Claire asked, you got all sad for a second and then destroyed the kronisfere.

“Nothing. Everything’s okay now.”

*Nine months later*

Jim stood in a suit next to Strickler, he had been told numerous time to call him Walt, but old habits die hard.

The wedding march began to play and he looked to see his mother at the other end of the aisle. She looked beautiful in her simple white dress, but she also looked happier than he had ever seen her.

The ceremony was beautiful and Jim fought hard not to cry, but eventually the emotions were too much. Just a two years ago he never would have imagined this being how his Junior year ended.

He supposed it was better than Sophomore year though.

The town had rebuilt, better than before. The heartstone had come back to life, and some of the trolls from New Jersey had returned to recreate the old Trollmarket. There were regular wormholes going back and forth from Akiridion-5, which was good because Coach was absolutely addicted to seeing his new grandchildren, who had moved to A-5 with Steve and Aja.

The reception felt like the first time Jim had breathed in months. The stresses of Junior year were over, there weren’t any more magic threats.

Jim was just a normal teen, well at least as normal as any other teen in Arcadia was. Sure he still had the rouge gnomes and helped with the troll justice system, but he hadn’t missed more than ten days of school. He had a girlfriend and a best friend. And two amazing father figures. And mom he would do anything for.

His friends all were partying together and Jim let himself get lost in the music, dancing with the others.

He was left to go home alone that late that night after the post-sunset wedding. His mom and Strickler, no, Walt, couldn’t exactly take a traditional honeymoon, so they went to go camping in the national park. The changeling babies would be staying with other families around town for the week so he didn’t have to help care for them.

He would have a week alone, well not alone exactly, he and Claire had a date set the day after the next and he and Toby planned a guys night together, and Toby would spend the night later that week.

His mom was uncomfortable leaving him alone at first, but Jim reminded her he knew how to defend himself, and also he was the cook of the house, so he wouldn’t starve.

It was mid June so the sun rose early and with the late night wedding it was already morning.

“Good morning Arcadia Oaks!” Said the radio announcer, “If you’re still in bed you are missing the most beautiful sunrise…”

#Trollhunters #trollhunters rott #trollhunters rise of the titans #rise of the titans spoilers #Appie spoils #appie is a writer! #tales of arcadia spoilers #jim lake jr #toby domzalski #claire nuñez #jlaire #barbara lake #walter strickler #stricklake #tales of Arcadia #steve palchuk #aja tarron #rise of the titans

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Freak of Nature.”

A continuation from yesterday. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope you enjoy the setup for some other stories I am planning on doing :)

Have a good day!

Breaking News

The Galaxy is left stunned after the events of late yesterday evening, when a single armed shooter appeared from the crowd and fired on UNSC leader and cultural icon Admiral Vir during a routine press conference given at UNSC headquarters Fort Harmony on the eastern Mericandian coast. Reports describe the event as happening midway through Admiral Vir’s address as the single, hooded female pushed through the crowd and drew a handgun on the Admiral firing once before fleeing into the crowd. She was apprehended by armed security agents only moments later as she tried to flee the scene. On scene witnesses report that an accompanying marine tackled Admiral Vir to the ground just as the shot was fired.

 In a statement made early this morning by Admiral Vir  he reports that, “Thanks to the brave actions of Corporal Angel Ramirez I am alive and unharmed.” Corporal Angel Ramirez is a decorated veteren of the UNSC deep space division and served his first tour aboard the UNSC Enterprise on its maiden voyage. Since then he has served under Admiral Vir on both the UNSC Harbinger and most recently the Omen distinguishing himself in combat during the Burg war and the Kree engagement. Our sources report that Corporal Ramirez was once an up and coming champion in the Mericandian winter Olympic ice skating team before joining the marines. 

Reports say that the corporal came out of surgery early this morning and is in stable but critical condition. 

The only question remains is who would attempt an assasination on such a beloved cultural icon. More on that with our crime reporter Jim Shaw.

Thank you, Emily, early this morning we received reports from Fort harmony officials that the name and identity of the shooter is 37 year old Adrea Halen member of a traditionalist leaning moderate group the Hunt Party, who have condemned Admiral Vir in the past for his support of legalizing extrial relationships. President Hunt, leader of the hunt Party and CEO of Hunt Metals said in a statement today. “Our party had nothing to do with Ms. Halen’s actions, while we disagree with Admiral Vir on some fundamentals of government, we would never attempt to silence him through violence. At the end of the day Admiral Vir has done far more good than he has bad and no man deserves to die due to his political views. What Ms halen has done is condemnable, and the party does not support her actions.”

Further comment was withheld until a later date. As of yet police have been unable to determine if she acted alone or with the assistance of the group. Police chief Henry Winzer added in his statement today, “Ms. Halen has not, as of yet, divulged her motives behind the shooting, however based on preliminary evidence of the scene it seems as if these were the actions of a woman acting alone. Detectives have been unable to find any correspondence between her and a third party and even her husband had been out of the country for the past few months.”

Her motive remains, as of yet, unknown. There is evidence of a radicalized political view since she did attempt and target Admiral Vir, and some of her personal social media content has been leaked to the public reporting her dissatisfaction with going the GA and her open disgust for extrial activities especially in regards her oldest son who was in a relationship with a Finnari before moving to Noctropolis. We have since been unable to contact him.

In the past Admiral Vir has been known as a great political proponent in favor of extrial relationships, and a non isolationist view having once said that, “Cooperation and companionship with the GA will be the bedrock of human expansion into space.” With the popularity of Admiral Vir as a cultural Icon, it can be said that his political views have been influential on the younger upcoming generations of today, while the older populace still remains wary of political involvement with extraterrestrial life. In oth-

Adam shut off the TV sinking back into one of the stiff plastic chairs that adorned the hospital waiting room. His eyes felt grainy and dry, and his head ached dully behind his eyes. Off in the corner of the room much of Ramirez’s family lay asleep on the plastic chairs including his father and otters who had arrived late last night. They had fallen asleep after a nurse ventured in a few hours to go to let them know that he was stable and alive. Adam himself had not been able to sleep thinking about his friend, replaying the moment over and over in his head wondering if there was something he could have done to prevent all of this from happening. But the more he thought the more he realized that it was probably unlikely. He might have been able to dive out of the way himself before the shot was fired, but Ramirez was already in motion before that.

He couldn’t have seen it coming, no one could have, and no one did.

Ramirez had just been the fastest.

He sunk back into his chair miserably and stared at the wall. There were no windows in this room, the guard detail had insisted upon it incase someone else tried for his life. It all seemed so strange to him. Why would anyone want to kill him? 

He knew the answer though, as much as he wanted to think he was just some nobody, he wasn’t anymore. He was… a political figure, someone who could influence what happened in the galaxy and there were plenty of people who weren’t bound to agree with him on a lot of things.

He just wondered why he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.

His implant buzzed, and he looked down to see that his mother was calling. Whoopse, she wasn’t going to be happy that she was just hearing about this over the news, but he knew he needed to talk to her. He stood and made his way into the hallway, where a protection detail eyed him hawkishly.

Closing the door behind him, so as not to disturb its sleeping occupants, he answered the call, speaking out loud as the implants in his throat and ear picked up the sound, “Hey, mom.” 

“Adam! Adam are you alright! I just saw the news.”

“Yeah, yea I’m ok.” He took a deep breath, “Sorry I didn’t call. It’s just been kinda hectic.”

“And you’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I mean, I feel like shit but no bullet wounds….” he trailed off 

There was silence for a moment, ‘I’m so sorry sweetheart, how is Ramirez?”

“Doctor’s haven’t given us all the details yet, but he's at least alive and survived surgery.”

“Thank goodness…. We owe that boy.”

“I know, mom…. I know.”

Just then he heard voices off down the hall and turned to see Dr. kill and Dr Katie approaching from the wings.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, Ok?”

“Ok.” 

She let him go and he hung up as the two doctors approached.

“How is he!”

They motioned him into the room and he followed just as Ramirez’s family members were waking up.

Adam hovered near the door not entirely sure if he was supposed to be there. Ramirez’s mother sat up, “Is h ok!”

Dr. Kati and Dr Krill glanced at Adam. Adam realized with Dr. patient confidentiality, and it being family, he probably wasn’t supposed to be here. He went to step outside, but Ramirez’s abuela waved him back.

Ramirez an Dr Katie nodded.

The little alien stepped forward towards the family, “I have both good and bad news.”

The group waited with bated breath.

“THe good news is that your son made it through surgery. He is stable and recovering in the ICU.” he glanced over at Katie, “The bullet went in through his back, through his right kidney and perforated some of his lower bowl. We were able to fix the tears but the kidney…. Was not salvageable.”

The family glanced back and forth between each other, “That…. That’s not so bad though. He has two….”

Krill shifted slightly, “Well that is the remarkable thing and also the bad news but…. Your son only had one kidney. We wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for our imaging, but it seems he has lived with this defect his entire life without complication.”

Dr. Katie Cut in just then, “Since he was born with the defect, his body compensated. The kidney that was destroyed was much larger than average…” She trailed off 

The family members looked between each other, “So…. So what does this mean.”

“We have him on dialysis right now, and he is going to need a kidney transplant.” Dr. Katie folded her hands, “There are a few options, there is always the possibility of getting him a donor kidney or equally possible and more…. Advisable would be to have a kidney grown for him using his own stem cells, that way we can grow him one like the one he lost considering there is no way for us to give him two. If he were to get a donor kidney, he would have to undergo chronic gene therapy to avoid medications that would leave him immunocompromised. However in that case he would need to be medically discharged. If we were to grow him a new kidney, he would be able to return to his post without being discharged, but the cost is…. Admittedly much higher.”

The family glanced between each other their faces pulled into grimaces.

Adam knew their financial situation. He had heard stories about Ramirez growing up and knew enough to know that his family had never been well off. They had been close, his childhood had been excellent, but they had never been rich. Affording either of those options was going to be a stretch.

“Well we will have to talk about-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

The entire room turned to look at him.

“You-”

“I said I will pay for it. With the settlement for the court case, I can pay for it. He saved my life this is the least I can do, Please…”

His pleading was so plaintive that the family could hardly say no. He did have a point as well. Instead, he received an enthusiastic hug from Ramirez’s younger sister who clasped her arms around him and nearly snapped him in half with her strength. She was an olympic boxer after all, so he wasn’t surprised.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” She repeated.

Dr. Katie looked at him with a pointed expression, but she didn’t need to ask. He intended to pay for every last cent of Ramirez’s treatment even if he had to fight his abuela for it. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d win against her, but he would damn sure try if it meant doing something fo his friend.

He owed him after all.

And even if he didn’t Ramirez was his best friend. This wasn’t about owing him, this was about doing anything for someone he cared about.

Dr. Krill shifted in his place, “We will get the equipment ready and start later this week. I…. would be honored to perform the operation. I will be upfront with you and say that I am the universe's foremost surgeon, but I would also be the first Alien to perform a transplant”

“I of course, you saved his life last night-”

They seemed almost in shock. Everything was being paid for and the universe most renowned surgeon was practically begging to do it.

The only way this could have been better is if their son hadn’t been shot in the first place.

***

The steady beeping of the machine echoed around the room. Adam sat with one ankle crossed over a knee looking down at his implant and absently reading through that day’s news report as a soft whirring came from the machine just to his right. He wasn’ technically supposed to be here, but the doctors had made an exception for him and the family. On the other side of that a glass tube was busy growing an extra kidney. There was security outside the door and a doctor came in every few minutes to check on the kidney, and the man to which the kidney belonged.

Adam scrolled dow.

There was a shifting just to his side, and with relief Adam looked up to find Ramirez stirring. The man tried to open his eyes but squinted against the light and groaned raising one IV tethered hand to block the light.

Adam leaned over resting a hand on his arm, “Hey you’re finally awake.”

Ramirez cracked an eye at him and groaned.

“Come on ya freak wake up.”

Ramirez closed his eyes again, “Why…. When I wake up do I have to see your ugly ass.

Adam snorted, “How sweet, freak.”

“Freak, have you looked at yourself lately.”

“At least I was born with all my kidneys.”

Ramirez opened his eyes and frowned, “What?”

Adam smiled slightly, “Turns out your dumbass has lived his entire life with only one kidney. Congratulations, you are a freak of nature.”

“No shit, really? I had no idea.”

“We know, anyway the bullet sort of ruined it, so you have to get a new one. He pointed across the room to the glass tube and its slowly growing kidney which was no bigger than a jellybean right at that moment.”

Ramirez looked and frowned, “Ew, gross… wait who's paying for that,because I don’t think the military covers transplants.”

“It's taken care of.”

“By who.”

“By someone.”

“Someone who.”

“Someone who would rather remain unnamed.”

Ramirez looked at him,”It’s you isn't it.”

Adam sighed, “You saved my life, so shut up and let me buy you a new kidney. I owe you that much at least.”

“Fne, fine.”

There was a pause between them.

“I….. thank you, for saving my-”

“Dude don’t get all sappy and shit on me ok. You would have done it for me.” Adam went quiet still wishing to thank his friend but knowing Ramirez would never accept i.

Ramirez shifted to look at him, “So, you know why they tried to kill you?”

Adam shrugged, “Not really, the lady who did it has some political affiliations who don't tend to agree with me, but that connection doesn't seem to fit completely. Either that or she blames me for making her son an extrial in which case….. That hardly makes sense either.” he shrugged, “Either way she isn’t talking, and now I can’t go anywhere without five to six bodyguards spilling out my ass.”

Ramirez snorted, eyes closing, breathing deeply.

“You feeling ok.”

“Yeah…. I’m alright, just tired.”

“Then go back to sleep ya big idiot. Maybe if you’re a good boy santa will leave a kidney under your pillow.”

Ramirez let off a weak huff, “Didn’t know santa was a black market organ dealer.”

“He is this christmas, now shut up and go to sleep.” Ramirez didn’t argue with him beyond that point, and fell back asleep just as a nurse ws coming to check on him.

Adam was relieved. 

Ramirez was, hopefully, going to be ok.

Though what remained were far more questions than there were answers. 

[lovelyirony]

@ironmanspussy​ here we are, directly inspired by your wonderful texpost! 

King Rhodes needed a partner to rule. It was ancient law, something he hadn’t really desired to follow. But unfortunately, the lawyers are assholes and want to create a monopoly of power that he just simply hasn’t the time to dismantle if he’s to follow his ten-year policy plan.

His partner should be well-mannered, aware of high society dress codes as well as how to navigate regular, everyday wear, and be calm in times of crisis.

So begins the search.

“You’re not going to find someone you like like that,” his advisor, Carol says, laughing. “I guarantee it.”

“We’ll see,” Rhodes decides.

Oh, they saw.

They saw a lot.

Almost every single candidate is bad. Or just off, in some way.

“Rogers seemed like a nice fit,” Carol says, tapping on her clipboard.

"He was nice, not for me. A bit too much.”

“What, muscle?”

“You could say that’s a factor. He’s also just a little too take-charge-of-everything.”

“Mm, that could pose a problem later. Well, the candidates who most matched your requirements are all out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re a very particular kind of guy, Jim. So here are the rest.”

“Send in the clowns,” Rhodes says, waving his hand in dismissal and drawing the other one to his forehead to signal a headache about to come on.

“You just sent Barnes out,” Danvers reminds him, grinning.

“Asshole.”

“I’m still getting paid!” Carol sing-songs.

-

It’s almost better. Almost. Prince Clint Barton is an impossibly good marksman, and...that’s about it. His leadership style is far different from the Rhodes kingdom needs and he admits that he almost showed up in jeans.

Well, at least there’s honesty. Rhodes could find that forgivable.

But the jeans. Good god.

-

Bruce Banner is a total sweetheart, but his constitution is quite poor and again with the fashion choices. He shows up in a very nice outfit and has a nice wit about him.

They talk at length, and Carol swears that it will go well and perhaps there will actually be a wedding by June, all things said and considered.

This is until Rhodes leads Dr. Banner out to the gardens to meet Thor, their part-time warrior and full-time gardener.

Thor is completely gone on the scientist-ruler, and there it is.

“This is supposed to be your matchmaking,” Carol reminds him, scowling. “It was going well.”

“Once he met Thor anyways, it would have been all over. You know Thor’s type. The scientists that could ruin the earth if they truly had the thought to.”

“I suppose you’re right. Next person, then. She looks promising, Empress Romanov?”

-

Natasha Romanov is a terrifying figure. Very, very terrifying.

That being said, she has excellent taste in fashion and promised to send Rhodes some reviews, but “unfortunately has her heart spoken for.”

(It’s not very unfortunate. Rhodes feared for his life.)

-

He’s about to lose it, to be completely honest. Is there seriously no one out there?

“Your last candidate, at least for this month, is Tony Stark. High-profile inventor.”

“Not royalty?”

“Essentially, he is. Dad helped create weapons, he followed with protection and medical detail. He usually doesn’t agree to meet, so you’ll have to ask him why.”

“Refuse to meet royalty?”

“People.”

-

Tony Stark did, in fact, refuse to meet people. In general, people were not his strong suit and he saw no point to marriage.

“If you marry well, you get more access to resources for your reacting thing,” Pepper says.

“My reactor. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“And I’ve forgotten it a million and one. But if you meet Rhodes, he’s probably your best chance of not marrying a total shit royal.”

“And why is that?”

“Searching online for your answer is free, I am not. Your bill will be sent to your inbox.”

Tony stares after Pepper. She’s too damn capable.

He sighs to himself.

He does need more funding for his projects. His father cut him off completely and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, Tony’s not going to charge obscene prices just to keep himself afloat.

So...marrying a royal. Not the best plan in the world, especially given Tony’s track record with people. Sure, he can play the part. But he just...won’t.

-

This is why Tony’s about five minutes late, cursing up a blue streak at a guard that has followed him into the hall because due to his appearance he thinks he needs to have a “check-in” with the people at the front desk for appointments, and in general? The day has been bad.

Also, Pepper forced him into “nice” clothes. While Tony can and has worn his nice clothing before, he does not like the ones that Pepper chose because they are uncomfortable, stiff, and absolutely a bit too long.

So he trips on the carpet.

“Motherfucker!”

Rhodes’ head pops away from his conversation with the chef regarding the dinner menu.

Here is a man with probably the most intricately embroidered robes he’s ever seen on, hair that looks like it was probably not even styled, just brushed through, and had about the entirety of the guard behind him asking him about an appointment time.

Obviously, he’s the most attractive man Rhodes has ever seen in his life.

“And who are you?” he asks.

“Tony. Stark. Mechanic and inventor. Um, you talked to Pepper about me? I think I’m in your circle of potential candidates for ruling. It’s totally fine if you kick me out, I kind of scuffed your carpet.”

“We need new carpet anyway,” Carol says. “We’ll disregard your entrance for now, Stark.”

“Tony, please.”

“Tony,” Carol says slowly, smiling. “You will be walking around the gardens with King Rhodes, pausing for dinner.”

“Cool.”

Rhodes has to stop from laughing. Cool. He’s already a fan of this.

Carol leans over to him, whispering in his ear.

“I thought you wanted someone who had a cool head, not someone like that.”

“Well, I can be wrong every once in a while.”

“Or more.”

“Every once in a while,” Rhodes reiterates. “Besides, I have a good feeling about this.”

“Hm.”

-

Walking through a garden with a stranger is not as smooth as one would expect. Rhodes isn’t exactly well-versed in asking people what their plans are for the future, and if they are amenable to perhaps marriage.

“What do you do for fun?” Tony asks.

He’s sort of taken aback at the question.

“Pardon me?”

“What do you do for fun?” he repeats. “Like, do you cook? Sew? Duel with your rivals? What do you do for fun?”

Well. He has to think for a moment.

“I go on runs.”

“That is not fun. Don’t tell me that that’s what’s fun for you.”

“What, can’t run?”

“I don’t run, there’s a difference. I’ll run when something’s chasing me.”

“And yet you won’t have training, like I will.”

“Did you forget my trade, Your Imminence?” Tony asks, voice mocking him.

It’s honestly refreshing. Rhodes doesn’t like it when people are so serious around him, so afraid to disappoint.

“An inventor? You’re going to invent a way to run better?”

“To fly, honey. Honestly...”

-

After that, it’s a dead-set decision from Rhodes.

He offers his hand in marriage, as well as the crown. Tony blinks.

“You haven’t even seen me take a turn in the ballroom.”

“It’s either going to be wildly entertaining or surprising, and I can’t wait for either.”

-

Tony enters his own room, in a panic.

This has to go well. He has to dress to impress.

“Pepper, he’s holding a party for our engagement. I have to dress nicely.”

“You know how to do that, I don’t know why you’re telling me that.”

“There are so many factors. Do you know anyone who can embroider his family crest on any shoes? What colors I’m meant to do? Oh my god, we have to fuse the colors together. This is going to be a disgrace. I’ll be exiled to be a hermit in the forest who relies on bark for sustenance, and this--”

“Can you. Potentially, maybe, chill? It’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but right now I’m imagining having to go to war because I didn’t wear the right color of red, so...”

“You are literally the worst person alive.”

“False, we both know Justin Hammer and out of the two of us, I think you’d want to date me more.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Just practical, Pep. Just practical. Now help me shade match Rhodey’s red.”

“He’s Rhodey now?”

“In my head? Yes. I don’t like Rhodes, I absolutely will not call him Jim until we both hit seventy years old.”

“Better let him know that.”

-

Rhodes gets a text from Tony.

so a.) your new nickname from me is rhodey. don’t question it, honeybear. Anyways, would you say your royal family color is closer to garnet-red or blood-red?

Rhodey blinks. He likes the nickname. It’s different. He has to show the text to Carol.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“Let me google it.”

She analyzes the results, frowning.

“I’m thinking blood-red.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Why does he want to know the color?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

we’ve decided it matches closer to blood-red, Tones. Why do you ask?

Tony blinks. Other nickname. Interesting. He likes it.

my outfit choice relies heavily on this.

He leaves it at that, grinning as he puts his phone away.

Rhodey is laughing. He’s excited to see his husband-to-be.

-

Tony knows he looks damned good. The whole outfit is incredible. Red with gold stitching throughout, and he got his hair to cooperate to be artfully messy instead of just messy.

“I’m surprised at you, you clean up well,” Pepper teases. “You ready to go and make your debut?”

“As ready as ever,” Tony says, fixing the chain around his neck. The gold glints off the lights, and he knows he’s about to be the best dressed person in the room, with perhaps the exception of Rhodey.

He knows that most people are surprised that he’s the one that King Rhodes has decided to marry. He’s not known for being a particularly polite royal. In fact, he has told multiple members of royalty to “get fucked or get out of my way” when they want him to build something that he refuses to build.

So he’s not exactly the perfect choice. But his outfit is still the best in the room.

“Hi gorgeous,” Rhodey says, smiling. “You look incredible.”

“Well I do know how to make an entrance, after all,” Tony says. “You’ll find out this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Well then, I’m in for treats all my life,” Rhodey says. “How are you tonight, Tones?”

“Doing well, finished up working on one of the cars for Thor today.”

“Wait, you’re the one who’s refinishing it? He hasn’t been able to shut up about it for weeks! I was the one who used to look at it.”

“You like fixing up cars?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

-

From there, conversation flows. They understand each other well, laugh at the same jokes, and agree on cake flavors.

It’s not love, not yet. But they’re getting there.

-

It is officially love when Tony steals Rhodey from his royal duties to get a cheeseburger.

“Sometimes it’s good to get out of the throne, don’t you think?” Tony says, grinning over his sunglasses.

“For a cheeseburger? Can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that.”

“That’s because you’re all fancy and posh, I bet you don’t even know the f-word,” Tony says.

“Fuck you,” Rhodey jokes.

Tony gasps. “The king knows a curse word? Oh my lord! What...shame you bring to your family!”

Rhodey laughs, and it’s in this moment that he realizes that spending the rest of his days with Tony is potentially the best possible option in the world.

“I’m so glad we’re getting married,” he says. Tony stills.

“You...you are?”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me, I think,” Rhodey says, taking a sip of water as if he hasn’t just said the sweetest thing Tony’s ever heard. “And I hope that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I mean I don’t know, the AC/DC reunion tour was pretty sick...” Tony says, grinning. “I’m kidding. Rhodey, I think we’re gonna be a good team. And I’m glad that I get to be with you.”

-

Their wedding is the talk of the year. Literally no one can shut up about it, but maybe that’s because Tony accidentally showed up late because he was inventing and had wild hair and maybe a stray grease-stain on his forehead.

Rhodey just grinned.

“You better not be late to the reception.”

“I’ll try my best. You know how I am.”

They kiss, and Rhodey sends him into a deep dip. Tony laughs into the kiss, and it becomes one of the most well-known photographs of the year.

-

Sure, Rhodey didn’t exactly get all of the qualifications that he wanted out of his ruling partner. Tony is absolutely not calm in times of crisis, and stress-bought novelty socks.

He more than once told a difficult business partner to “absolutely get fucked up on a Thursday, see if I give a singular shit when my husband is ten times better than you,” and also has a certain unawareness of some of his public outfit choices. (Hello sweatpants with holes in them and a striped hoodie.)

But Tony makes the best coffee ever, always gets Rhodey flowers from the supermarket, and is perhaps the most compassionate man he’s ever met.

So not a bad trade-off.

They lay in bed together, Rhodey looking over his obscenely trashy detective novels with his reading glasses, and Tony battling Pepper in a word search competition online.

“I love you,” Tony says out of nowhere, smiling. He presses a kiss to Rhodey’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Rhodey responds, patting Tony’s thigh.

He makes a squawk of outrage as Rhodey’s head turns from his book, grinning.

“You better give me a kiss to make up for that,” Tony demands. Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Of course, drama queen.”

“Drama queen? I was told by the love of my life that I was ‘okay’ after one year of marriage? And I am supposed to be unaffected? Absolutely unacceptable, I think I will fling myself into a pit in the ocean, and--”

Rhodey cuts him off with a kiss.

“Or not. Not could definitely work.”

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #not the exact direction i was going in #but hey! u do what u gotta do #rhodey #tony stark #ironhusbands #pepper potts #natasha romanov #carol danvers #tony does Not care about his appearance rlly #like he knows how to dress but like. also overthinks it

[rawmeanderson]

pretty please ― thursday.

ft. Kevin Hayes.

plot: with Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy all gone from New York and the new season about to start, everyone gets together for a long weekend. warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of anxiety/depression. word count: 4.9k notes: this is a slight AU I suppose, in the sense that the pandemic doesn’t exist here bc escapism, y’know? basically, this takes place in August 2020, where there was no pause and the season ended normally. also, this is kind of forgetting the fact that Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy didn’t live together during the last season they were all together in New York but whatever. Y/N is also plus sized!! title is from Pretty Please by Dua Lipa. there’s also more notes at the end!

Rain was hitting the windshield, the sky gloomy and grey as leaves on the trees outside the car. At least the weather was playing into your mood.

“Last time I checked, this was the only rain we’re supposed to get all weekend thankfully,” Sophie said from the driver’s seat as she adjusted the speed of the wiper blades. When she glances at you, you force a slight smile, nodding in acknowledgement. She looks like she wants to say something else but doesn’t, and you turn your head to look out the window.

The dread and disinterest swimming in your stomach, the car ride that seemed to go on endlessly reminded you of all the times your mother had driven you to your dad’s during the summers. You’d sat in the passenger seat then just like you are now, anxious, irritated, and on the verge of begging her to turn around.

You hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, knowing it was meant to be a last hurrah of sorts. Thursday to Sunday at a lake with friends sounded great in theory, but the changes that would be happening in the weeks that followed were what scared you. The finality of it all.

“I’m glad you decided to come, Y/N,” Sophie told you, and you could feel her glance at you again. She had been your roommate for almost 10 years now, since the start of college, and she knew you were doing your best not to spiral. 

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, opting to nod like you had earlier as your gaze drifted to your lap. Running your tongue along your teeth, you tried to think of something to say that would ease the tension in the vehicle. Un-crossing your legs, you shift in your seat slightly as you hear Sophie exhale a quiet sigh through her nose.

She knows your feelings aren’t personal, that you’re not blaming her for moving on with her life, but your general sadness about all of it weighed on her either way. She was right there, but that didn’t stop the preemptive pangs of loneliness that hit your stomach.

In the last two years, every person you’d spent most of your time with had left New York, until Sophie was the last one. And in two weeks, you’d be the only one left, leaving you feeling as grey and sad as the weather outside.

After chewing on the inside of your cheek for a while, you pick a piece of invisible lint off the fabric of your shorts. You’d meant to buy new ones before the trip since most of your pants cut into your waist anymore, fueling your self-consciousness. “I’ll...I’m sure I’ll feel a little better once we’re there and I’ve been able to take a nap,” you tell her, trying your best to sound optimistic about it. Blaming your bad mood and distantness on being tired, classic.

Sophie glanced at you and nodded, accepting what you’d said despite knowing you as well as she does.

It would’ve been hard to argue about it, considering you’d both been up before 5am to make this 4 hour drive. You’d left the city around 6, the car packed with the bags for the weekend, plus a good number of totes of Sophie’s stuff for Jimmy to take back to Buffalo with him. There was still about an hour left in the drive, and the iced coffee you’d chugged at the start of the drive had done nothing but make your heart race soar as you fidgeted in your seat.

Sophie had always been the early bird, with the two of you poised to be some of the first people to arrive at the lake. Jimmy and one of his buddies had gotten there last night, with everyone else slated to show up in the early afternoon. The only reason you’d agreed to leave so early was because Sophie promised to let you nap as long as you wanted once you got there. You were grateful that would allow you to avoid people for a while.

For what was left of the drive, Sophie didn’t speak, letting you sit there in your tired sadness as music hummed through the speakers.

When you parked at the massive cabin overlooking a lake that stretched as far as you could see, it was still raining. The sky was just as grey, and it gnawed at you, the perfect cinematic backdrop for what felt like the beginning of the end.

Your mood was sour, and as you unfastened your seatbelt to exit the car, you felt goosebumps rise along your skin even though it was warm out despite the rain. The same worry you’d had the whole drive was still swirling through your head, that your mood and your emotions would put a damper on the trip. You hoped that a nap would help calm those fears.

Jimmy was already on his way out to greet you and Sophie, his smile fixed on your roommate as you open the back door to grab your bag. He approaches with a grin as you’re already making your way toward the cabin. 

“Take any room you want,” he tells you, like he already knows that you’re going for a nap. You salute him in acknowledgement, deciding to greet him better later as he continues on to greet his girlfriend.

Your shirt is covered in raindrops by the time you get inside, glancing around curiously. There’s a couple of people hanging out on the sofas that you don’t recognize, but they wave to you either way then go back to their conversation.

After wandering down the hall, you nudge open a door and decide that the room is good enough. There’s a window looking out over the lake, and even as grouchy and sad as you’re feeling, you know it’ll be a gorgeous view when it’s not so gloomy outside. You close the door behind you and unceremoniously drop your bag on the floor while kicking off your shoes. Collapsing into the middle of the bed, you sigh, running on auto pilot as you pull the blankets over yourself. 

Shifting around slightly, you’re aware of how the shorts are cutting into your waist and your bra is pinching somewhere, but you’re too settled to do anything about it as you stare up at the wood paneled ceiling. The sound of the rain hitting the roof is soothing, and you let out a breath that seemed to have been held since the moment you got in the car.

Your eyes trace the woodgrain, remembering when Sophie told you about Jimmy’s roommates shortly after she got with him, that they were funny, cool guys that she knew you’d get along with. You’d partied with them first, but it turned into movie nights, casual dinners, enjoying the group of newfound friends that you saw several times a week. With how often you ended up hanging out late or bar hopping in their area, the guest room had practically been designated as yours.

Then Kevin was traded to Winnipeg. Then Jimmy was traded to Buffalo. Then Brady was traded to Carolina. Your found family in the city had practically dissolved within a year, and now Sophie was two weeks away from moving to Buffalo.

You knew there was little choice in the matter for anyone really, that it wasn’t their fault, that it was just how worked, but it still hurt, remembering you’d be the last one of the group in New York. You had other friends that you saw every so often, but it didn’t stop how lonely it all made you feel. Being sad about it made you feel selfish, so you buried it behind frequent naps and iced coffee.

Your internal monologue continued until tears stung in your eyes, and you blinked them away, turning on your side as you willed yourself to get some rest.

By the time you woke up, it was mid-afternoon, and you stayed curled up on your side for a moment. Sun was streaming in through the window as you took a deep breath. You could hear people outside, along with splashing from the lake, and when you rolled over, you saw somebody zip past in a jet ski. After a taking a few minutes to scroll through your phone, you finally get up, stretching as you smooth your hair down.

You came out of your room and found Jimmy and Sophie in the kitchen. Yawning as you approached, Sophie smiled.

“Good nap?” she asked knowingly, and you nodded once you were close enough to hug her.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said, arms wrapped around her. She hugged back tightly, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades before you pulled away. 

You felt better. The nap and the better weather helped kick the sadness out of you. You hated this part, feeling better and realizing how cynical you’d been earlier.

“Good to see you, Slim Jim,” you told Jimmy, hugging him quickly as well. You were happy to see him, deciding to focus on enjoying and savoring the long weekend with everyone instead of being miserable with sadness. Leaning back against the edge of the counter, feeling content, you smile. “Who all showed up when I was out?” 

“Uh, some friends of mine, Derek and Amy, showed up, Kev too, and he brought a friend,” he said, glancing down at the water like he couldn’t even remember who was there. “Brady’s about an hour or so out.”

The three of you chat for a while, catching up since it had been awhile since you’d seen Jimmy. He introduces you to the friends of his that were splitting the cabin for the weekend when they come through, and a moment later, you promise to catch up more later, deciding to head outside for a bit.

Outside, the sun beats down on you but you lift your chin to greet the warmth as you walk. It felt particularly good after the heavy rain of the drive in, the humidity from it clinging to the air still.

Making your way to the dock, someone you hadn’t met is standing there, football in hand. Kevin’s on the back of a jet ski with someone else driving, and it didn’t surprise you at all to see him jump off for the football when the man on the dock through it. No surprise, he missed the ball and landed in the water with a splash, and was already laughing when he resurfaced a moment later.

That’s when he spots you, hand shooting up in a wave with a wide smile. “Heyo!” he yells, already swimming toward the dock. You could hear the excitement in his voice, and nervousness pangs in your stomach.

You had only seen him once since he’d been traded a year and a half ago, when he’d been in town for a game and you hadn’t even realized it. Sophie had invited you out, and there he was, happy as ever to see you. You were grateful that the bar had been loud and that Brady had been occupying most of Kevin’s attention. After a drink and a half and a quick conversation with Sophie, you’d taken off, managing to avoid Kevin other than the hug he’d given you as a greeting.

Since Jimmy and Sophie were together and Brady had Gracia, you and Kevin had been the odd couple out, paired together during group activities. It worked out at least, considering the two of you got along great.u seldom hung out once  When all three of the guys lived together, the two of you always seemed to be the last two up, chatting or finishing a movie even after the others had gone to bed.

It had felt so natural to hook up with Kevin the handful of times it had happened in the months leading up to when he was traded. Each time had been when you were both the last two awake, lingering on the sofa, usually at least a little drunk. It had always been casual, and you told yourself the only reason it happened (and kept happening) were out of convenience. You’d certainly never seemed like his type, considering almost every girl you’d ever seen him talk to at a bar had the same slender build and the confidence that came with it.

You snapped yourself out of the thoughts, and tug at the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, feeling like it’s clinging to all the wrong parts of your body. Kevin’s eyes are on you still as he climbed the ladder to meet you on the dock, making you feel even more aware of yourself. He paused to grab a towel off the rail, rubbing it over his hair, then settling it over his shoulders. His swim shorts hung low on his hips and you force yourself to meet his eye, happy to see that he was smiling widely at you as he approached.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, sounding as sincere as you could ever imagine. It felt like his smile had grown, and it made it impossible for you not to mirror the expression right back to him. “I’d hug you, but in case you didn’t notice, I was just in the lake.” You had forgotten how deep his voice was, and you tell yourself that it’s the sun that’s making you feel hot all over.

“I’m good with a rain check,” you responded, nodding at him. From the golden tone of his skin, you can tell he’s been outside a lot this summer. He looked great, as always, and you hadn’t expected anything less. 

“Good by me,” he told you with a laugh, bringing a hand out to ruffle your hair in lieu of a hug. You laugh with him, not quick enough to stop him. “How’s life been? Man, I feel like I haven’t seen or heard from you in forever.” You don’t let yourself think about his tone, how he almost sounds a little sad about it.

You shrug quickly in response to his question, still grinning. “Things are okay. Nothing’s really been going on, I guess. I miss you guys though.” Your hand comes up to shield the sun from your eyes, tilting your head up to see him better. He’s so tall that looking at him heads on would have you staring at the bit of hair that covers his chest, at how broad his shoulders are, and you were worried that you’d never stop if you started. “What about you? How’s Philly?” 

“I miss New York, but damn, Philly’s been great, I can’t even lie about it,” he admitted with a bit of a laugh. It was good to know that he’s happy, and you can feel it radiating off of him. “It’s a good city, and a good group of dudes. And this guy, over here,” he paused, voice a little louder as he motions behind him to the guy who’d thrown the football, “is Nolan. We lived together this year.”

Nolan looked at the two of you, holding up a hand to wave before turning his attention back to talking to one of Jimmy’s friends that’s floating in an inner-tube close to the dock. You were both silent for a moment then before whoever was on the jet ski yelled Kevin’s name, waving for him to come back out.

“You should come swim,” Kevin told you, motioning to whoever it was that he’d be there in a minute. 

Your eyebrows rose and you were quick to shake your head, even before self-consciousness dug its claws into you. “Nah, not right now at least,” you said, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “I just came down to say hey, I’m actually going to go chill on the deck and read for a while, I think.”

For a short second, Kevin looked a little disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He instead nodded, smiling again already as his hand came up to your shoulder. “Yeah, gotcha.” It’s hard to ignore how large his hand is on you, the way he squeezes just slightly, his thumb brushing against your collarbone. “We’ll catch up more later.”

“Yeah, of course,” you told him, doing your best not to lean into his hand. Thankfully, he stepped away before your willpower went out, and you watched as he damn near sprinted back to the edge of the dock, jumping into the water in an effort to splash a friend.

You stopped in the cabin to grab your iPad, and on your way out to the back deck, a girl who introduced herself as Amy put a margarita in your hand and hugged you like she’d known you for years. It was a damn good margarita too, you realized as you settled on a lounge chair, stretching your legs out in front of you.

The rest of the afternoon ticks by easily. The margarita is rather strong, relaxing you into the chair as you read for the next hour and a half until Brady showed up. You’d been able to hear laughter and the occasional shouting from the water every so often, Kevin’s voice usually the loudest. Brady, Sophie, and Jimmy joined you on the deck a while later, and the four of you take the time to catch up a little more and figure out how to spend the next few days.

The sun had just stating to set when pizza arrived for dinner. The air is still warm, and someone was already working on starting a bonfire. Sophie was to your right at the picnic table, a little tipsy as she munched on some garlic bread.

Across the table, Brady was talking about his upcoming nuptials. Gracia hadn’t been able to make it for the trip, but you were glad he’d decided to come. Next to him, Kevin interjected with a dumb comment at one point, making Jimmy snicker.

“By the way, Kev, do you need a plus one? Have you been seeing anybody?” Brady asked, turning his head to look at him rather pointedly. It takes everything you have not to snicker a bit, lifting a slice a pizza to your mouth. 

“Naah, I’m not seeing anyone,” Kevin responded, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m sure I could find someone to go with, but I haven’t really dated much since Y/N.”

You freeze when he says your name, your mouth already half open to take a bite. What the fuck is he talking about? 

“We never dated,” you said, the words more sharp than you’d meant them to be. Your eyebrows have practically shot up, and you look away from him as an awkward silence hangs over the table for a beat until Sophie exhales a laugh.

Jimmy really came to the rescue by changing the subject, and your cheeks were burning by the time you met Kevin’s eye again. He actually looked a little amused, but rather than making you feel relieved, it makes heat curl down your spine. 

By the time it was completely dark, part of the group had settled on the sofa and chairs in the living room to watch a movie, while others decided to go on late ride on the lake. It was still plenty warm out, and you’d really hit a stride in the book you’d been working on, so you ended up back in the same chair you’d spent most afternoon in. The line of string lights gives the deck a nice glow to it, and you can hear the buzz of the TV in the living room.

The sliding glass door opens then closes, at you look up to see Kevin walking towards you.

“Is the movie no good?” you asked, tilting your head as you look at him. He had a beer in one hand and a hard cider in the other that he offered to you. The fact that he recognized your favorite brand in the fridge made you smile as you thanked him quietly for it.

“Movie’s fine, just thought I’d come see if you wanted to go for a walk or go hang by the water,” he responded, shrugging as he took a sip from the beer still in his hand.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You shrugged back at him, flashing a grin as you got to your feet. Leaving your iPad on the seat for the time being, you follow him to the stairs, then down the trail to the dock.

“How are things in New York?” Kevin asked after a moment’s silence, and you glance up at him with a skeptical look.

“I thought we talked about this earlier,” you counter, taking a sip of your drink. He scoffed, shrugging beside you as the pair of you started down the dock.

“Yeah, I guess we did, really, how are things?” Kevin’s voice was lower this time, making your back straighten when he looked at you again. “How are you?”

You weren’t expecting such a direct question, and you’re grateful to deflect it for even a moment longer as you take the time kick off your shoes and sit on the edge of the dock. An answer still hasn’t found you, so you take a drink instead of speaking. Kevin watched you all the while as he sat next to you, making self-awareness prickle at the base of your neck.

“Life’s fucking weird right now,” you admit finally, looking at the reflection of the moon on the water. “And it actually kind of fucking sucks too.” Kevin doesn’t respond right away, but when you took a deep breath, his elbow nudged yours lightly.

“You’ll get through it,” he assured you, with such sureness in his voice that you looked at him with a warm smile.

“I know I will. It’s just hard, but I’m dramatic, so of course it feels like the end of an era or something.” Your shoulders rise then fall in a shrug, still looking at him. “And then I feel selfish for even feeling that way to begin with. I know it wasn’t your choice to leave, or Brady’s, or Jimmy’s. I’m trying not to let myself be too sad about it.” You were surprised that your voice remained even as you spoke.

The words hang in the air and Kevin nodded, bring a hand up to touch the back of your shoulder. You feel warm all over as his fingers splay over your upper back, and you find yourself biting the edge of your tongue when tears sting in your eyes. 

“I was sad about leaving too. I knew I’d miss the guys, that I’d miss you, but that’s what makes trips like these nice, getting to catch up and just hang out for a few days,” he said finally, his hand still on your shoulder when he met your eye. “I’m honestly surprised you’re not following Sophie to Buffalo.”

Your nose scrunched at the thought and you shook your head, exhaling a quick laugh. “I honestly thought about it, but I know she’s excited to be moving in with him, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to always keep me company or something,” you explained, peeling at the edge of the label on your bottle with your thumbnail. You weren’t sad enough about being alone in New York to justify moving upstate, you knew that much.

“Philly’s not far from New York, y’know. You can always come hang with me and Nolan, and I know there’s a few other guys on the team you’d have a good time with,” Kevin offered, taking a long swig of his beer as his hand finally fell from your shoulder. “Or I could visit you. We could go to that one bakery you like so much, watch movie or TV all day, just kind of chill.”

A wide smile spread across your face. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, taking the chance to nudge him with your elbow. Kevin nodded, still grinning as he nudged you right back. It felt good to be talking to him, to have him close enough to smell his cologne for the first time in a year and a half.

There was another pause, and you both took a drink, the sound of frogs and crickets hanging around you.

“Sorry for putting you on the spot like that at dinner. It was meant to be a joke,” he said finally, taking another drink to finish off the bottle. You glance up at him and it almost looked like he was blushing a bit over it.

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, but Kev, you know we never dated,” you told him, laughing as you finish off your own drink.

“We kind of did!” he responded, laughing with you. “We went out plenty of times!”

“Dude, texting me ‘hey, are you hungry?’ at 11pm, then going to a 24 hour diner does not count as a date.” You snorted, shaking your head. When he caught your eye, he was smiling almost bashfully.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded, holding your gaze. “The next time we go on a date, I’ll make sure you’re aware of it, deal?”

Your response is to laugh again, nodding and looking away this time. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re back on the sofa in their old apartment at 2am. A chill ran down you and you exhaled a breathe, watching the way the water rippled as a breeze swept through.

“I’m really did miss you,” Kevin told you, and from the corner of your eye, you know he was watching you again. Nervousness plucked along the back of your neck, and you kept your eyes on the water. “Like, way more than I miss Jimmy and Brady, honestly.” You don’t fully believe him, but either way, the sentiment makes your heart ache. 

With your jaw clenched, you exhaled a breath as your eyes burned with the threat of tears. “I missed you most too,” you assured him, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“Good.” He paused, tilting his head up to look at the stars for a moment. “Can we watch season two of Fleabag sometime this weekend?” Kevin looked at you a second later and blinked as you laughed.

“Yeah, of course. That’s an oddly specific request,” you said, letting your eyes move over the lines of his face as he shrugged.

“I haven’t watched it yet, I was waiting until I could watch it with you.” His words made you blink, and your throat swelled, hating this rush of emotions now that you’d felt happier for most of the day. You didn’t really know what to say, so you just nodded again, suddenly feeling the urge to lean into him to bury your face in his neck comfortably.

A few months before he had been traded, you’d started the first season at 1:30am after a night of drinking. Brady had been at Gracia’s, and Jimmy and Sophie hadn’t even made it through the first episode. Considering the season consisted of six 25 minute episodes, it was easy for you and Kevin to stay up and watch the entire first season, curled up together on the couch.

You and Kevin had spent the following half hour making out like teenagers until he absolutely begged you to come to bed with him. Feeling heat beside your thighs, you now wish you had said yes, just to have that extra memory.

The two of you spend the next several minutes in silence, sitting side by side on the dock in the dark. You can hear music playing from the cabin behind you and the murmur of voices surrounding the fire pit that was a dozen feet away. Your heart was racing as you fidgeted after a while, trying to ignore the feelings for him that you had buried when he was traded that were now bubble at the surface.

Eventually, Kevin mentioned going up to the house for more drinks, and you agreed, getting to your feet with a sigh. You looked up at him briefly, then toward the house behind you.

“Before we head up, can I cash in my rain check for that hug from earlier?” he asked, running a hand over his hair as he watched you.

“Yeah, of course,” you responded, smiling widely as you walked into the arms he held open for you. 

You let out a breathe as he hugged you tightly, your face pressed into his chest. He smelled as good as he always did, and warmth of his hand rubbing over your back had you relaxing into him. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt when he kissed the side of your head once, then a second time. 

“It’s gonna be a good weekend, yeah?” he murmured, the words muffled against your hair. It took everything you had not to shiver against him, and you nodded, happy to keep yourself nuzzled securely against him for a while longer. 

A FEW MORE NOTES: Well, this fic feels a lot more emotional than I’m used to writing, and it’s one of those things that I really like where I’m heading with this, but I worry about it seeming whiny or wishy-washy, but here it is anyway. How typical of me to vanish for months, then show up with a new story when everyone’s been waiting for Bring You Back to Me’s next chapter 😂 I love whoever of you are still reading at this point, and I hope you enjoy this fic. I loved the first part, but I’m so not used to writing anymore and that, paired with my ever present self-doubt, I’m like “is this fic good at all??? let’s fucking see!!!” and here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️

FRIDAY

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes fic #kevin hayes imagine #hockey imagine #forever terrible at tagging these whoops #pretty please

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - Killahead, Part 2 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  5,258

Warnings: B A T T L E 

A/N:  HAPPY HOLIDAYS KIDS!!!!!  also, i swear to god this was written a month ago, before aaron confirmed the skulls and wizards thing

Taglist:  @furblrwurblr @rainningdoom @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458 @sitherin-mxschief @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip @dolphincommander @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @justarandomhoman @tales-of-hisirdoux​ @blixeon​​ @yagirlcheesely​

It was about as surreal as you thought it would be.

As a child you were trained to fight; to stab, to slice, to claw, and to bleed.  You were taught that humans were the root of all evil and that the Gumm-Gumms would one day take what was theirs.  Now you were fighting with the humans, the evil, the oppressors, against what had been your home, your people.

And it was going surprisingly well.  It turns out having insider knowledge is very helpful on the battlefield.  You were able to block everything they threw at you, to dodge and weave through their attacks and land some pretty good hits of your own.  Douxie had your back, of course, blue light striking down as many opponents as it could take.  In return, you took out anything that even threatened to get too close.

It was going well.  But it didn’t last.

“WHERE IS THE WITCH SPY?”

“Oh no.”

“(Y/N), stay behind me,” Douxie’s voice was a dull hum against the roar around you, and of course, the screaming troll in front of you.

“JOIN YOUR BROTHERS AGAINST THIS PATHETIC ARMY!!”

“Oh god.”

Douxie noticed the fact that you weren’t even close to listening to him and took action, moving in front of you, striking any Gumm-Gumm soldier who even looked your way.

“RETURN HOME (Y/N) (L/N)!”

So, that was it.  That was what had kept you in the dark as a traitor for at least a hundred years.  The very sentence that made you avoid Britain with all your strength.  The thing that drove a wedge between you and the man you now loved.

Four words were all it took.

“(Y/N)??  (Y/N), love, please, answer me!”

You jerked your head, snapping back to reality.  No matter what events were relevant to your personal history, there was still a battle going on.  You had to keep fighting.  You struck down another few Gumm-Gumms just as Douxie used some of Archie’s fire to dispose of another, another few.

“Ha, I've always hated those twits!”

“Valid!” you cried as you ducked under an opponent’s strike.  You took out their knees, rising again, just in time to see Morgana descend from a sky wormhole.  Just what you needed.

“Night has already fallen.”

“Oh, really?  Couldn’t tell.”

Douxie rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, but you could see the grin on his face.  That boy loved you and all of your shenanigans.  You were shaken from your thoughts, however, when Morgana started firing spells into the crowd, yeeting her magic around with reckless abandon.  

“Morgana’s returned!  She’s enemy number one!”

“Go!” Jim yelled, “We’ll hold the bridge!”

“Hisirdoux, with me!  I-You!” oh no, he was talking to you, “I take you in as my apprentice, spare your life from the sword, and this is how you-”

“Master, they didn’t have a choice!”  Douxie grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from Merlin’s wrath, “It was a matter of survival!”

“Survival!  What-”

“Please, Master, let them help.  If we leave them here, any of the nights might try to attack them!”

“And why should that matter!  They are a traitor, are they not?  Death on the battlefield is more merciful than anything they might receive after the battle is won.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them,”  Douxie’s voice was calm, but you could hear the anger behind it, “(Y/N) has proved their loyalty to me hundreds of times. They’re more than capable and I trust them with my life.”

You broke from your reverie, eyes painted with concern.  How could he trust you so easily?  Why did he, even after everything that had happened?  This shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you.  He did love you, after all, and yet, you still found yourself surprised by this revelation.  You couldn’t help the hesitant smile that crept onto your face as you squeezed his hand slightly.  He really did love you, didn’t he?

Merlin grumbled something, probably regretting that binding spell right about now, before motioning for you to follow him.

You cast a wave back to the kids, a silent wish for their luck, before you ran after Merlin, your hand still entwined with Douxie’s.  He didn’t let go until you reached a small group of ruins, at which point you, your wizard and the old man stood, backs facing each other, all of you peered out into the darkness.  Archie flew above you, dragon eyes finding nothing out of the ordinary.  Not yet, anyway.  You kept your sword out in front of you, and you could tell that Douxie was doing the same with his brace.  You had no idea what Merlin was doing, but you never did, so that wasn’t a big deal.

“I feel dark magic.”

“It means she’s close.”

You and the familiar both gasped as something ran through the trees.  A chill made its way into the woods, surrounding you and raising goosebumps on your skin.  You felt your heart begin to race as strange echoes continued to ring out through the air.  They soon morphed from a collection of noises into a laugh- Morgana’s.

“An old man, a foolish boy, and a traitor; lost as always.”

Your small group moved slightly, scanning the forest for any sign of the sorceress.  You could feel her presence, but there was nothing there.

“Do you dare run… or face my vengeance?”

Oh.  There she was.

“Um, is there a third option?”  Archie asked, sounding much too calm for the situation at hand.  You couldn’t blame him though, you would have done the same.  But you weren’t doing the same.  You were looking over your shoulder just as a collection of roots shot out at you.  Thanks to your little turn, you had an advantage, cutting the offending plant parts before they could get to you.  Douxie and Merlin, however, were not so lucky.  The latter was pulled to the ground and stabbed through the shoulder with a particularly sharp root.  He barked out an order for Hisirdoux to run, which he could not do because of the roots clinging to his shoulders.  You used your sword on what you could, and a blast of green energy from Merlin took out the rest.  A little anticlimactic if you ask me.

Despite your escape, Morgana cackled, even as Douxie fired spell after spell at her with little success.  While he made his attempt, you helped Merlin to a standing position, a task that became easier when Douxie rejoined you at the old wizard’s other side.

“Merlin, you’re injured!  Badly…  (Y/N), is there anything-”

“Hisirdoux, if I should fall this day…”

Merlin handed his former apprentice a scroll, one which was covered with notes and instructions about building a tomb, and the heart of Avalon.  Your brows furrowed as you read over Douxie’s shoulder.  That wasn’t ominous at all.

“Why are you giving us this?”

“Foreseeing the future means preparing for the worst of it,” he glared at you for a moment, and you wondered what exactly he could see.  He clearly hadn’t seen your act of treason coming, but there were other things that made you wonder.  Your thoughts were interrupted by more ominous Merlin content, “That includes your wounded friend.”

“Jim?  What about him?”

“The corruption in his heart has no cure.  When he returns to the future, it will overtake him.”

Oh.  Oh.  

Oh no.

You’d had your suspicions, but hearing it from the master wizard himself brought it to another level of reality.  There was no cure.  There was no solution.  You were going to go home, and you were going to kill Douxie.  Or you’d try to, at the very least.  Maybe, now that Douxie was a master wizard himself, he could do you both a kindness and kill you where you stood.  

…

Yeah, no.  He wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon, but a witch could dream!  You feel his hand on your back, a gesture meant to comfort you that only made you sick.  How he still cared about you, even after all of this would confuse you for years to come.  For now, though, you just accepted it.  There wasn’t time for much else with an evil sorceress on the prowl.

“No, no there must be some other way!  I made a promise to them, to Claire, to get them home alive, all of them!”

“Yet, to save time itself, you all must return home, even if it means James Lake will be no more.”

That wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought.  While a distance stemming from your past had momentarily sprung up between you and the kids, the gap between you had since closed.  You loved those little monsters like they were your siblings, and you’d do anything for them.  The thought that Jim would have to die, to make another sacrifice when he’d already given up so much, was just another thing that killed you inside.

“And there’s no other solution?” you tried to keep quiet despite the rage that boiled inside you, not at anyone in particular, but at the situation as a whole, “There’s no way to fix this that doesn’t get Jim killed?”

Merlin shook his head, but you didn’t need that confirmation.  You already knew the answer.

“Such is the burden of a wizard,” the old one spoke as your small group made its way deeper into the night, “To make the hard choices mortals cannot,” he grunted, slouching forward slightly, reminding you that you should really take a look at that stab wound at some point.  Merlin, however, paid no real mind to this, instead, continuing his little monologue, “Now it is yours to bear.”

You looked away from your wizard companions to see a giant skull, lodged between a rock and… well, another rock.  Some may call it a canyon, you called it fucking ominous and terrifying.  The skull was lit from within, orange light seeping through the space where eyes had once stared out into the world.  You wondered, for a moment, how these old bones had ended up here, and how they had stayed.  What was the last thing this being saw?  Was it the sky above, or the ground below?  What could kill something as large as this?  You didn’t ask your questions.  It didn’t seem like the right time.  

And really, it wasn’t time for anything other than nerves and anxiety.  Without a word, you followed Merlin across the rocks until he stood in front of the skull, on top of an odd sort of contraption.  You stood a few steps behind, safely off the weird cage thing.

“Morgana, reveal thyself!”

Before you could question the logistics of giving yourselves away, a portal, ringed with gold and made of shadows appeared, releasing the queen of the apocalypse onto another rock.  Yep, that sure was an evil sorceress.  Just what you needed at this time of night.

“Look what has wandered into my web,” nice starting point.  Threatening, but not over the top.  You cast your sarcastic thoughts aside for the moment, as valid as they were, preparing yourself instead, for a fight.

“These are dark powers you medal with, Morgana.  Who granted them?  Who resurrected you from death?”

“Wizards beyond your ken,” ah shit.  Just as you suspected.  ‘Wizards beyond your ken,’ was mysterious witch for ‘The Arcane Order.’

And then she was gone again.  Dope.

“So, uh… we should head into the big skull of doom?” you asked, eyebrows knit together in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Yep, let’s go.”  You and Douxie nodded at each other before helping Merlin scale the rocks and get into the skull, asking Archie to stand watch for a moment, just to secure his safety.  He agreed only once you’d promised to call him if things got rough.  

Inside of the first skull, you found a second, slightly smaller skull.  What the hell was it with magic dudes and skulls, huh?  Morgana had this as her lair, the Arcane Order’s ship was a skull, Douxie had his whole vibe and Merlin kept skulls in his office.  Shit, even you kept bones around, though you were a doctor and arguably had the best excuse.  Your thoughts ran wild as you examined the space around you, but they were interrupted by the reappearance of your least favourite murder-witch.

“Morgana!”

The two wizards prepared for battle, but you hesitated.  Something was wrong here.  Morgana was crying, no-sobbing.  You recognized this, whatever this was.  You’d seen it in yourself back in the 1300s.  Yep, something was wrong alright, and judging by this, someone was probably dead.

“It’s your fault!” She cried, “You’re the reason Arthur is gone!” 

Oh, so you were right.  That didn’t really explain how Arthur’s blood was on your hands though.

“What?”

“Gone?”

“Uh, guys?  It kinda sounds like the King is dead.”

Your companions had no time to respond as Morgana rose through the air, seeking misplaced revenge instead of proper justice.  She fired a spell at the three of you, which Douxie ran to shield you from.  Merlin joined him a second later, limping towards the younger wizard with your help.  The second he stood on his own, your magic joined theirs.

“She’s too powerful!  We have no choice but to seal her away!”

“I know.  I’ll try to buy some ti-”

Douxie was cut off when Merlin knocked you both clear across the room and out of the way of another spell, one which left the old wizard in chains.

You felt the impact that Douxie suffered and you were sure he felt yours.  Nevertheless, the two of you pulled yourselves up just as Morgana started on another speech.

“Oh, shame!  Little Douxie finally gets his staff, just in time to die with it!” 

She aimed her next attack at him, but you interfered, knocking her away with a shield made of your magic.  

“And you!  Traitorous little wretch!”  you weren’t exactly sure which treason she was talking about or who she learned it from.  You’d betrayed a lot of people over the years, she’d have to be more specific, “Why do you still fight alongside them?!”

You knocked away another attack before answering, “The shorter one is cute!”  With that, you went on the offensive, landing a kick to Morgana’s stomach and striking her again with the butt of your sword.  Your small victory didn’t last long though, as she struck back, the impact slamming you into the opposite wall and probably cracking a few of your ribs.  You’d have to apologize to Douxie for that one.

Morgana scoffed at you, looking down at your crumpled figure as you struggled to stand, “Only a fool would fight for love!” 

Her voice may have contained a little more rage than was necessary, and she may have been projecting a little bit, but she didn’t have time to say anything else.  Douxie handed a few hits with his staff, using surprise to his advantage, and holding up surprisingly well despite the pain you both were in.  Morgana turned her taunting onto Douxie, mocking him as they fought.

“You can’t even wield it!” you winced as she landed a hit, “You should stick to your usual tricks.”

You bit your lip as she struck him in the face- twice.  This really wasn’t a great day for either of you, was it?

“Use the power of your staff!  Make it your own!”

“Please, Douxie.”  Your voice was quiet, and there was almost no way he heard it.  Hell, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but in the next second, his staff turned into a fucking guitar so that was probably it if you had to guess.  Or maybe it was the next second when he avenged you by smacking Morgana in the face with said guitar, sending her flying across the room.  You knew that as a doctor you shouldn’t hope for someone to crack a rib, but this was an exception you were willing to make.

“What?!”

“BABE!  THAT WAS HOT!!” you yelled, too shocked to say much else.

“Bleeding balroths!  This is nuclear!” your wizard said, spinning the staff around.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that as you pulled yourself up from the ground.  Of all the things Douxie had ever said and done in his life, that had to be the Douxie-est.

“Did you just strike me with a-a lute?!”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh.  No, uh-uh.  Spellcaster guitar, darling.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the fuck he just said, but you were 110% there for it.  He played a lil’ riff on his staff, and you had a very brief mental debate on whether or not that took the throne for the Douxie-est thing he’d ever done.

“Needs tuning though.”  He continued to play the riff for a solid minute, and you weren’t sure what was funnier.  The fact that this was, in fact, something that was happening, or how Done Merlin looked with literally everything at that moment.  It was both.  Both was good.

“I meant make it your own weapon!”

Douxie finished playing just in time to shield himself from another of Morgana’s attacks, “Well, this is technically an “axe!”  

“You are a huge geek!”

“And you love it!” your wizard yelled, playing again while running from Morgana, looking for an opening while avoiding a volley of spells.  He was right.  You did love it.  That’s why you were going to help at the next opportunity, your (and technically his) poor ribs be damned.  

“Hisirdoux!  This is no time for dreadful music!”

“Dreadful?”

“Absolutely infernal.”

“I mean, I thought it was good!”  you yelled, launching your own round of spells at Morgana, making it harder for her to land a hit on Douxie.

“No worries, this is just the opening track!”

“What do you hope to do?  Blow out our eardrums?”

“Well, pardon me if this rock is too freakin’ awesome for your medieval sensibilities!”    You had no idea how he did it, but he managed to land on one of the light fixtures (of all things) while you weren’t looking.  You couldn’t really see him from where you were, but you were almost certain that he was doing the sign of horns and sticking out his tongue.

“Enough of your noise!”  Morgana cried, blasting you to the side quickly before returning to her real fight.  You were lucky that this blast was not as strong as her first.  You were able to roll out of it without causing any real damage, a benefit to both you and Douxie.  Speaking of, your wizard found himself locked in a Harry Potter-style duel, two magics facing off against one another in a single stream.  It was not looking too good for your boi though.  He seemed to notice this, and jumped from the light and returned to physical combat on the ground.  Unfortunately, that did not end well either, and you bit back a cry as Douxie was thrown through the room.  Yeah, things were looking rough.  Time to call in the cat calvary. 

You swore you were only gone for a moment, but in that time, Douxie managed to get himself pinned against a wall.

“Do not fret, Merlin.  You’ll find a new apprentice to replace him.  Are people not dispensable, after all?”

“Ok, go, go now!”  you whispered to Archie, your tone intense, which was fair considering the situation.  The familiar did as told and flew at the witch, sending her fling off balance and keeping her away from Douxie.  Arch did a quick loop near Merlin, tossing the wizard his staff before circling around to land on Douxie’s shoulder.  Merlin and Morgana began their fight as you ran to your wizard and his familiar.

“Nice work my dudes, you think you can keep it up?”

“Probably!  Arch, light me!”  you liked the sound of that. You liked the sight of it even more as blue flames encircled Morgana, trapping her, and allowing Douxie and Archie to make their final attack, keeping the sorceress in place.

“Hurry, I can’t hold her that long!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” you said, voice quiet as you threw your own spell at the witch from below.  Hopefully, that would make things a little easier.  It did.  Douxie was grateful.  

“You have lost yourself, Morgana!  Bound to dark magic.  I have no choice but to seal you away!  Sigilia infractum!”

It seemed to work for a second, but then, for like, the third (?) time in that battle you were blasted back, Douxie fell with you and hit the ground harder.  

“Man, this sucks,” you whispered as you pulled yourselves up, going to Merlin’s aid.

“Master!”

“She’s too powerful,” he groaned, “You have to finish this, together.”

“We can do that… we can do that!  Let’s go!”

You and Douxie moved in sync, matching each other’s movements exactly.  Using his staff, Douxie’s blue magic replaced Merlin’s green while yours froze the witch again, keeping her from attacking you.

“Sigilia infractum causera!”

Finally, the blast from the spell did not hurt you, instead, it did as it was supposed to, trapping Morgana.  You let your own spell ease up, instead, lending whatever strength you could to Douxie, God knows he would need it.

“I will destroy you all!  No matter what it takes, no matter where you go, I will end all that you love until you feel my agony!”

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to threaten that!  Come up with something original, then we’ll talk.”

The witch roared and threw a spell in your direction, but it disappeared into a shadow edged with purple.

“Hey!  Hands off my teachers!”

Oh, Claire!  Claire had found you somehow, that was good.

“I swear on all your lives, I shall rise again!”

“Already seen it,” the girl cried, throwing some much-deserved sass Morgana's way, “You don’t win.  See you in 900 years!”

And with that, the spell was complete.  Claire opened another portal, dragging Morgana into it.  With that big historical event over, your adrenaline failed you and you staggered forward.  That was pretty convenient considering it let you catch Douxie, who was doing much worse than you were.  You noticed his eyes rolling back slightly, which was a cause for some alarm.

“Hey, heyheyheyheyhey, stay with us, you nerd, don’t pass out on me,” you weren’t sure you could handle the stress if he did.

“Douxie!  Are you okay?!”  Archie and Claire moved in, the former knocking Douxie back and licking his face relentlessly.

“Ugh!  That’s-that’s disgusting!”

You and Claire both laughed at this, glad that at least this part of the fight was finally over.  Douxie stole a glance at you and wondered if he had somehow died during the battle.  How else could there be an angel before him?

“Well,” he turned his gaze from your smile to Claire with only minor difficulties, “I think we just saved history.”

You sat back, all fears forgotten for now in a moment of relief and elation as you watched your boyfriend give the girl a high-five.

“And you took down a ninth-level sorceress.”

“Damn right,” you giggled, which was new, but not unwelcome.  You turned to Douxie, “Sharp work, samurai.”  Your friends rolled their eyes at your antics, though they did it out of love.

The excitement calmed for a moment, allowing Archie to speak, “Merlin would be proud.”

“Yeah, if he wasn’t out cold.”

“I mean, it’s not a great look for him, but full transparency?  I could probably take a three-hundred-year nap right now.”

Douxie laughed, but he wrapped a hand around yours and whispered, “Please don’t.”

You squeezed his hand, a silent promise that you would not answer your problems with sleep.  Not today, anyway.  To be completely honest, the problem immediately at hand could be solved rather quickly, by you, at least.

“Anyway, Merlin’s still been stabbed, so I’ll just-”

Fortunately, this was just a stab wound.  No magic, no tricks, no possession, just medicine.  That was what you knew, it was what you could deal with.  It was over too quickly.  Was that a thing you could say?  Could you wish for medical treatment to last longer?  Was that something you could do?  Not to mention that he was your boyfriend’s surrogate dad, which just made things complicated.  Either way, it was over too fast.  You returned to Camelot, mourned the dead, said your goodbyes, and that was it.  Time was up.  You had to go home.

Home.  What even was home now?  You knew the answer.  Home was Douxie.  Wherever he was, you wanted to be.  He made you feel safe, feel loved, feel every good thing that humans are supposed to feel, but-  To save the world, to save his life, you would have to leave him.  There was no other choice, either you stayed in the past and everyone died, or you went back to the future and risked his life by staying with him.  You had to go.  As soon as you got back, you’d have to run.  You didn’t know where, to-to Spain, or Japan, or Cuba, Vietnam, Egypt, France, somewhere, anywhere, just to keep him safe.  You didn’t want to do it.  You just wanted to stay by his side, forever, if possible.  But that was the thing.  It wasn’t possible.  And that broke your heart.

And if possible, these gosh darn kids were going to break you even more.

“Everybody, ready yourselves.  We don’t have much time.  I’ll dial us in for when we left.”

“But what’s gonna happen when we get there?  The danger we escaped, it’ll be waiting for us.  And Jim’s still hurt.”

You bit your lip as you and Douxie approached Jim and Claire. You really didn’t want to be the one who had to say this.  You didn’t want to be around when she heard the news.  Shit, you didn’t even want it to be news.  You just wanted your kids to be happy, and to not kill your boyfriend, and to live for once.  Maybe fate just didn’t like you.

“Claire, about that…  Jim is-”

“Ready to face the inevitable,” Jim held out a hand to stop you.

“Jim, are you sure?” Douxie asked while you maintained your silence.  You were pretty sure if you said anything you’d lose your composure. 

“Jim?”  Oh God, and now Claire was going to find out how screwed you still were.  This was gonna suck.

“Claire, the shard in-  There is no cure.  That’s what Merlin told me earlier.”

You winced at the horror on the young girl’s face.  She didn’t deserve this.  Neither of them did.

“That’s crazy!  We can find something!  I’ll learn a spell, we can stay here!”

“If we don’t all go back right now, the future won’t exist.  What kind of hero would I be if I sacrificed everyone else?  Not to be ironic, but we’re out of time.”

“No!  Douxie, (Y/N), tell him!  We can fix this!  You can fix this!”

You brought your hand up to hide your eyes from the sorceress.  She was right, you should have been able to fix this, and tears wouldn’t solve anything.  Your only solution was running away, and Jim-  oh God, Jim.  See, it was things like this that made you start drinking in the twenties.

“I’m sorry, Claire.  He’s right.  We must go back now, but when we do, we’ll find a way to reverse this,”  he stole a glance back at you, and your distraught state only drove him further.  He had to do this, to fix things when you got home.  He owed all of you that much, “I promised I would return you home, and I am, but the portal can only stay open for a few moments.  This is our one shot.  Trust me.”

A moment later, he joined you at the base of the ship before taking your hand and leading you onto it.

“We’ll fix this,” he promised, his voice low so only you could hear, “Together.  We’ll go home to the future, and we’ll fix this, and then-” your eyes met his as he paused, “And then, maybe, we could start our future.”

Despite the tears that threatened to fall, you smiled ever so slightly, “We’ll build a new one if we have to.”

It wasn’t until his lips met yours that you started crying.  It wasn’t his fault it was just- fuck you would miss this.  You smiled again as you pulled apart, though the tears hadn’t stopped.  It was for his sake, really.  Under normal circumstances, you might pretend that everything was fine, but for just one second, you wanted to believe it.

“I love you,”  your voice shook, and you hated it.

“I love you, too,”  his voice was strong, yet tired.  And you loved it.

You pushed a small smile onto your face, trying to cast the illusion that you were okay, and that everything was okay, and that no one would die when you returned.  Your attempts were quickly halted by a sting on your cheek.  That came from him, you realized, as you noticed a thin cut that ran across his cheekbone.  You ran your thumb over it, his skin patching together and healing under your hand.  At least you could still do that one thing.  Sure, you were a traitorous assassin, but by god could you heal a small cut.

Douxie smiled, his grin seeming more natural than yours.  He kissed you one last time before letting you go and taking the time map.  You watched him, not saying a word as he said something under his breath and activated the map and the heart.  A beam of light lit the night sky green, going on for a moment until it formed a portal.  You could almost see your time on the other side. That was it.  That was how you would get back to the future.  Yay.

It was weird.  You’d known Douxie for so long, and hated him for most of that time, but now?  Now you were dreading going back to your time, going back to general safety because it meant that he would die.  It was just odd to think that there was a time where you would have wished for this, for a chance to kill him and avoid the blame.  If you wished for anything now, it would be another way out.

You followed Douxie onto Merlin’s airship and walked past him, standing as far away as you could.  You didn’t know what would happen when you crossed that barrier.  You might try to murder him instantly, you might be able to control yourself, you might be able to fight off your curse entirely.  The point is, you didn’t know, and distance was the best solution.  So, you stood alone and stared off into the night as the ship moved off towards the portal until Steve’s ramblings returned your attention to your friends.

“Man, Camelot was crazy!  Why don’t they ever talk about that in the history books?”

Douxie gave the blond kid a pat on the shoulder, and you watched as Steve headed towards the front of the ship where Jim and Claire stood.  The girl was looking back towards you, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.  Her boyfriend was doomed, and there was nothing you could do about it.  And you would have done anything.  For those kids, you’d give your own life in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t an option.  Not now, not yet.  Douxie, however, met her eyes, though only for a moment.  You didn’t have to hear him to know what he was thinking.

“My burden to bear.”

And with those final words, the world turned green, and you were gone.

#hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #almost a thousand years #aaty #angst #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux

[kendallroydefender]

Welcome to Hawkins Hell (Hopper x reader) Part 4.

He wasn’t here. He always came a little earlier to pick you up and eat something. But he wasn’t here and your shift was over in five minutes. That could only mean two things: either he forgot it or something had happened. You really hoped it was just the first but you had the feeling that it was the latter. "Where’s the Chief?“ Tim, your coworker asked. You shrugged "He has to work today.“ you answered trying to play it off, hoping he couldn’t sense your panic "How are you coming home?“ He asked now and your heart sank. Your bicycle was at home. "I don’t know, Walk i guess.“ you stated while wiping the counter, thinking about walking home at night with this thing still out there made chills run down your body "Walk?“ Charlotte asked as she came back after grabbing the empty plates off a table "I’ll drive you.“ she answered "Okay, thank you.“ you felt relieved for her offer but your mind was still on Hopper.

"So tell me everything. And I know that you said that there isn’t anything and I really don’t want to annoy you but I just want you to know that your secrets are safe with me.“ Charlotte stated once she were driving down the roads of Hawkins. And in that moment you really wanted to talk to someone, the whole situation, your feelings for the Chief, were getting more and more confusing and since you couldn’t talk to her about the lab situation you could talk to her about your crush. Also you really did trust her, knowing that she only ever gossiped about unimportant stuff. She had become a really good friend in the months of working at Pollys Diner "Okay i might like him.“ she smirked "I knew it.“ she held her fist up in victory "But like that’s about it. There’s not much more to tell you really." She hummed "You know Mrs. Green right?“ you furrowed your brows "The woman that always comes on Wednesdays having a Roastbeef sandwich?“ you asked her "At exactly 1pm. Yes, you know she loves to tell us the newest gossip." You didn’t liked where this was going "She told me that she saw the Chief's car parked infront of your building the whole night..." you huffed, so Jim was right they were already talking. "Yes he was there, but he slept on the couch.“ Charlotte slammed the breaks "WHAT?“ she looked at you like you were insane "ouch was what that for?“ you asked rubbing your head where it had bumped on the window "Why was he sleeping on the fucking couch?“ you rolled your eyes "We just talked. I happend to be with him when they found Will..“ "Oh.“ She just said knowing the talk about what happened to his daughter "Yeah.“ You exhaled, she stopped outside your place "But y/n? I still stand by what I told you before, I think he likes you too." You gave her a small smile "And I’m never wrong about these things.“ you hugged her "Thank you." She hugged you back "And may i add you two are so cute together. The way you always glance at each other urgh I want someone to look at me like that too! You should pay Robert to work extra slow on getting your car fixed!“ you rolled your eyes but laughed at her. Wishing her a good night before getting out of her car.

Inside you immediately went to your phone and dialed his number "Come on Hopper... Please pick up...“ nothing. "Shit.“ combing your hand through your hair you started pacing. What should you do? Your car was still at the Garage, driving to his trailer in the middle of the night on your bike was also not an option and calling the police also wasn’t going to work - since he haven’t told him what he was about to do. You should have gone with him, you could have called in sick and go with him. There was no other thing to do than to wait for the next day. But there was also no way that you could fall asleep now, trying occupy your mind you turned on the tv. You tried calling him again after some time but at some point you must have fallen asleep because when you woke up again it was morning already. You opened your eyes, confused for a second on why you were on your couch, the tv still on before the memories rushed back. Before there was time to panic there was a knock on the door. You rushed to the door, pulling it open being met with Hopper "Jim.“ you breathed out before wrapping your arms tight around his neck, his arms went around you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your chest as he was standing there, alive and not injured from what you could tell "Are you okay?“ you asked pulling away from him letting your hands rest on his biceps, not wanting to give up all the contact yet and he seemed to think the same cause his arms were still wrapped around you. "I am. And I am sorry for not picking you up yesterday.“ you waved him off, before you heard someone enter the building "Let’s go inside then you can explain why you stood me up like josh did in my first year of college.“ you shot him a wink to let him know that you were joking. You went into the kitchen to make some coffee, him following you "How did you get home?“ he asked and hoped that someone drove you "Charlotte drove me.“ You answered and made your way over to the couch, he nodded relived and sat down next to you. "So... my intuition was right.“ you gasped "It- it’s fake?“ you asked to wich he nodded "I found out yesterday after I dropped you off, then I went into the Lab and found some kind of liquid but before anything else could happen they knocked me out.“ he took a sip before he continued "I woke up this morning, in my trailer. They tried to make me believe that i had a hangover not knowing that i calmed the drinking down because of y-“ he went silent before clearing his throat "Anyway I found a hidden mic at my place.“ your eyes widened "You think-" "That they bugged your place too? No they also didn’t do it with Joyce.“ It was silent for a few moments before you spoke up "I‘m just glad nothing happened to you I was worried out of my mind.“ he put his mug down before laying his hand on yours that was resting on your thigh, you turned your hand and laced your fingers with his "I didn’t wanted to worry you, I would have picked you up or at least called if-" you squeezed his hand "I know Hop.“ you smiled at each other. "When do you have to work today?“ Hopper asked you adverting his gaze onto your hands that are still laying on your thigh intertwined. "Two till eight.“ You mumble eyes still on his face, he nodded looking at the clock. It was only twelve. "Wanna get something to eat?“ he decided to ask you "What?“ "Breakfast? I know this cafe close to your place.“ he smiled at you and you nodded.

You stepped inside the cafe after he held the door open for you and suddenly a lot of eyes were looking your way. You unconsciously took a step closer to Hopper who was looking for a table. After you sat down infront of him a waitress appeared, who after taking your order started to whisper with two of the girls that also worked there, glancing in your direction every few seconds. You looked at your hands. "Hey you alright?“ Hopper asked "Yeah just.. just not used to this kind of attention..“ he furrowed his brows, before you could answer your order came and you mumbled a thank you to the waitress. He looked around, eyes turning away. "Let them talk.“ he shrugged "But doesn’t it bother you? I don’t want them to talk bad about you.“ he laughed "Sweetheart they’ve said worse things about me. Trust me.“ after that you relaxed a little and it was actually really nice but soon enough you had to work. The waitress put the bill on the table and you reached out for it but Hopper was faster and you started to argue with him but it was useless he wouldn’t let you pay.

"I‘ll see you at eight?“ he asked as he parked in front of the Diner, "Yep.“ "Okay.“ he mumbled as you kissed his cheek. Walking towards the entrance you turn around before opening the door, smiling and waving at him. Entering the diner a dopey smile still on your face Charlotte catches your eyes from behind the counter smiling at you knowingly. She followed you into the back "Any news?“ she asks in a sing song voice "Nah, but we had breakfast before coming here. It was nice.“ "That’s what got you so giddy.“ you sighted "Char I’m really into him. Like it’s so bad.“ she shrugged "It’s not that bad. You haven’t dated anyone in forever. I think you should make a move.“ your eyes widened at her words "No, no I can’t- what if he doesn’t like me like that?!“ Charlotte rolled her eyes "I already told you he likes you!“

"But what if you’re wrong.“ she pointed a finger at you "I am not. I got you right didn’t i?“ "I really-" you were interrupted by another voice "I don’t want to disturb your little chat but we have customers.“ one of the other waitresses appeared in the door.

Your shift seemed to drag on for days but soon enough the blazer was seen trough the glass front of the diner and the man that had occupied your mind the whole afternoon stepped out. The door opened and your eyes met his, you both smiled at the same time and he came to the counter where you were standing "Hey again.“ he said low "Hi.“ you smiled at him "What can I get you?“ he ordered a cheeseburger. "Oh hey Chief.“ Mandy, the other woman that worked today said to him "Aren’t you tired of being used as a chauffeur?“ She sneered and you huffed, Mandy never liked you for some reason. Jim frowned "No why would I? Driving around the prettiest girl in Hawkins, i should feel honored she let me been seen with her.“ he answered and Charlotte elbowed you before mouthing a "see?“ to wich you rolled your eyes but still blushed while the butterflies went crazy in your stomach. "The prettiest girl in Hawkins.“ his words played in your mind on repeat. Mandy didn’t said anything anymore, excusing herself to bring fries to a couple that sat near the door. You and Jim just smiled at each other again for a second before you went to get his order.

"And Chief any news on the aliens?“ you heard Charlotte ask and couldn’t help but chuckle. When you came back with the burger they were still talking but your brain was fogged you chewed on your lip when you heard your name being said "Huh?“ you said looking up.

"Ready to go?“ Hopper had asked You.

"When is your car going to be done?“ Your face fell a little at his question as you looked out of the window of his car. "Tired of being my chauffeur?“ you tried to joke but he didn’t laughed "Don’t listen to her. I don’t mind driving you. Actually I like it, spending time with you that is.“ you smiled at him "I like spending time with you too.“

"Good then maybe we should continue with it once you got your car back.“ the car drive was almost over "Yeah I would like that.“ you tried to hide the smile that was about to appear on your face, but failed.

While you cooked dinner, you thought about everything that happened today. Not only did Hopper called you beautiful, went to a cafe with you but you also found out that the body of Will Byers was fake and they hid a microphone in Hoppers trailer. What was going on in Hawkins? Sitting down to eat your food you couldn’t help but miss him. It was stupid really, you saw him almost the whole day yet you couldn’t wait to see him again tomorrow. And the fact that he told you that he liked spending time with you and would like to see you regularly wasn’t helping to forget about your feelings for him. Maybe Charlotte was right, your last relationship was years ago and what was holding you back? He clearly didn’t disliked you. But did he liked you the way you liked him?

While you ate your pasta Jim was on his way home. He didn’t noticed much about the town he drove trough as his mind wandered back to the morning and how he woke up after being knocked out, how we was at Joyce’s house, with you on his mind the whole time, he felt like shit for standing you up. The moment he saw you he immediately felt better, more at ease. He really hoped you two really wouldn’t stop seeing each other once your car was repaired.

Taglist: @cinnamon-mapple

#hopper imagine #hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #stranger things imagine

[seeaddywrite]

not a place, but a feeling

a/n: written for alex manes appreciation week 2020, day 1. i used the theme ‘home can be a person,’ but took a lot of liberties, whoops? thanks as always to @soberqueerinthewild for catching all of my repetition, wacky tenses, & holding my hand through the last 5k words of this fic, haha.

warnings: starts with forlex, but this is very clearly a malex fic & forrest does not end up particularly happy. angst with a happy ending, as per usual. 8k+ wordcount.

                                                                  ________

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Alex mutters to himself, turning the key in his SUV’s ignition for the third time and hoping for a miracle. The engine wheezes, sputters a few times, and finally settles into a high-pitched whine that sets Alex’s teeth on edge. Apparently, the ‘check engine’ light on his dash that morning had been more urgent than he’d expected -- and now, he’s stuck somewhere between Jim Valenti’s old hunting cabin and town. Fantastic. He’d already been running late to meet Forrest thanks to taking way too long to pick an outfit for their first official date, and now he’s over half an hour late.

As if it read his mind, Alex’s phone starts to ring, Forrest’s name flashing across the display. Groaning, Alex accepts the call and tries to crank the engine one more time. The attempt results in a screech and an alarming puff of smoke emerging from beneath the hood. With a bitten-off curse, Alex yanks the key from the ignition and throws the car door open, hastily putting a safe distance between himself and the smoking vehicle. Logic tells him that the smoke isn’t necessarily a precursor to an explosion, or even a fire, but years of military training and instinct are impossible to ignore.

“Hello? Hello? Alex, are you there?”

Alex glances from the still-smoking SUV to the phone in his palm, the source of the tinny-sounding voice calling his name. Frustrated with himself, he smacks a hand against his face and answers, hoping Forrest hasn’t already hung up on him. “Hey, yeah, I’m here. Sorry -- my car doesn’t want to start, and I guess I cranked it one too many times, because the engine just started smoking.”

For a moment, the only thing Alex hears on the other end of the line is blaring music. “I should probably not be relieved that your car blew up, huh?” Forrest asks, a self-deprecating laugh clear even through the pounding bass in the background. “I was starting to think you were standing me up.”

“What? Why would you think that?” Alex asks, putting the call on speaker so he could pull up Guerin’s contact information and start a new text while he listens. There’s no one else he could call at this hour, and he needs to be able to get to base on Monday, one way or the other. Michael would probably be able to fix the SUV, and even if he couldn’t do it overnight, he’d at least get Alex a loaner car for a few days while he did. And, after that, Alex wouldn’t have to worry about something like this happening again anytime soon; he could trust that Michael would actually fix the problem entirely, unlike any other mechanics in Roswell -- or in general, honestly.

My car gave up on me halfway to town. Any chance of some help?

It only occurs to Alex after the message has gone through that he should probably be a little more apprehensive about texting Guerin out of nowhere, but he’s really not. The two of them make a hell of a team, and after spending so much time together unravelling the mysteries of Nora and Tripp, and everything that came after, Alex is more confident than ever that Michael will always be part of his life -- even if it’s not in the way he’d initially hoped it would be. They’re family, whether or not they’re sleeping together, and Alex doesn’t doubt that anymore.

“Well, you weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of going to Planet 7,” Forrest is saying, answering Alex’s question about why he would stand him up, and Alex feels guilty for not giving him his full attention. “And I kind of pressured you into it. I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

It’s a fair assumption, Alex supposes. He hadn’t been thrilled with the suggestion of going to Roswell’s only gay bar, even after finding the courage to push his father’s hateful words and judgements out of his mind for long enough to pull Forrest into a kiss in the middle of the Wild Pony. But he’s not the kind of guy to agree to something he really doesn’t want to do for a date, and he’d assumed Forrest would know that -- like Guerin would have. But Forrest is different from Michael; he has no reason to take Alex at his word, lacks the intimate knowledge of who Alex is that Michael has somehow managed to collect through ten years of hook-ups, break ups, and hurt feelings. And that’s not Forrest’s fault -- so Alex needs to learn to communicate better, somehow, if this has any chance of working out.

“I’m still planning on coming,” he promises, looking out at the darkened horizon, visible only because of the moonlight. “Seriously, I would’ve been there already if it weren’t for the fact that my car decided that tonight was the night it was giving up on me. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

There’s an audible smile in Forrest’s voice as he responds, and Alex feels vaguely proud of himself for managing to put it there, despite everything. “Okay, awesome. Want me to come get you? It’s late, so I doubt anyone’s going to be able to tow you before morning. And trust me, you don’t need to rough it in the desert overnight to prove what a badass you are. I already know.”

Alex laughs, and opens his mouth to retort -- but his phone dings, signalling an incoming barrage of messages, and Alex opens them with a swipe of his thumb, once again distracted from the phone conversation.

Let me guess. You decided to ignore your check engine light again.

Or was it an oil change you put off for six months?

You realize routine maintenance isn’t actually a suggestion, right? You either get it done, or you end up stranded in the middle of the desert begging for a ride.

On my way now with the tow now. Can you give me anything more specific than halfway to town, or am I supposed to just drive and hope for the best?

Alex snaps a picture of the nearest mile marker with the flash on, and sends it to Guerin with a quick, I plead the 5th. See you soon.

“Hello? Alex! Alex, are you --”

Alex winces guiltily and puts the phone hurriedly back to his ear. “Sorry, sorry, I’m still here. What were you saying?”

Again, all Alex hears for a long moment is the thudding of the bass from whatever stupid pop song the DJ is playing, and he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. He already basically missed their date, and now he’s only half paying attention while Forrest is kind and understanding about it. Alex doesn’t deserve his patience.

“I was asking you where you are. I’ll come get you, and we can still get in a few hours of shitty music and half-off beer,” Forrest reiterates patiently, though Alex can tell he’s starting to reach the end of his reserves of understanding. And, considering the circumstances, Alex doesn’t blame him.

“No, don’t worry about it! That’s pretty far out of your way. I already have a tow truck coming, so I’ll just have them give me a ride into town, and I’ll meet you like we planned.” Alex pauses, reflecting on his words and wondering when, exactly, he’d decided to avoid using Michael’s name… and why. It’s not like Forrest didn’t already know that the two of them were good friends. It’s not like it meant anything, that Alex called Michael to help -- his car broke down, and Michael is a mechanic. None of that added up to anything that he needed to lie to Forrest about.

And yet.

“You found a garage open at this hour in Roswell?” Forrest asked incredulously. “I can’t even get fast food past eight, so you’re going to have to share some of your black market contacts.”

The expectation of a laugh is pretty obvious, so Alex manages a slightly strained chuckle. “Uh, well, I can probably hook you up with a burger at the Crashdown after hours, but that’s about it,” he retorts, even though Liz is long-gone, and the chances of after-hours snacks at the diner are a lot lower without her. “I just called Guerin, tonight. He pretty much runs Sanders’ garage these days, and lives out back, so it’s no big deal for him to come get me.”

Alex opts to ignore the fact that he knows Michael doesn’t usually drop whatever he’s doing to rescue stranded motorists who aren’t smart enough to get their vehicle to a garage when the ‘check engine’ light comes on when he’s not working. That’s just what friends do for each other, and Alex would do the same, if their positions were reversed.

“Oh.” Alex doesn’t know Forrest well enough to read the emotion in the short syllable, but he’s not naive enough to think he sounds pleased. “You two must be pretty good friends if he’s giving up his Friday night plans to come pick you up, huh?”

It seems like a loaded question, so Alex just says, “We’ve known each other a long time,” in response, and glances up as a set of slowing headlights wash over him. Sanders’ tow truck pulls off to the side of the road in front of Alex’s SUV, and Michael waves from the window, familiar curls bouncing from the motion. Alex waves back with a grin.

“He’s pulling up now, actually, so I’m going to get off of here. I’ll give you a call and let you know when I’m five minutes out, if you still want to try to spend some time together tonight?”

Alex watches as Michael hops out of the truck and starts toward him with the usual swagger in his stride. It’s hard to tell what he was doing before he got Alex’s text, because he’s wearing the same ragged jeans and worn jacket that Alex has seen him in a hundred times, but there’s enough volume in his curls to suggest he put some effort into his hair. A date with Maria, maybe? Or hanging out with Isobel, who loved to make fun of his hair if he didn’t put the effort in?

“Yeah, okay,” Forrest says, recapturing Alex’s attention for a minute. “I’ll stay and have a few drinks, and I’ll see you when you get here. Tell Michael I said ‘hey.’”

“Will do,” Alex says, and ends the call just as Michael reaches him, hand extended for the keys.

“So?” he asks, and despite the darkness, Alex knows exactly what the teasing expression on Michael’s face looks like. It’s always the same -- a furrowed brow, a mischievous glint in his eyes, even as he manages to keep his lips from turning up in a too-obvious smile. It’s a look that never ceases to make Alex’s heartbeat speed up, even now, when they’ve moved past any real chance of romantic reconciliation. “Which one was it? Check engine light or skipped oil change?”

Alex rolls his eyes, but tosses his keys into Michael’s open palm. “Look, it’s not my fault that the check engine light comes on when you need an oil change -- who wouldn’t assume that’s the problem and keep driving?” They’ve had this argument before; Alex always takes his car to Michael when something goes wrong, and Michael always has to point out that Alex sucks at taking care of an engine. At this point, Alex would almost be disappointed if the mocking stopped.

Michael shakes his head in faux disappointment and disappears to pop the hood, leaving Alex to follow behind and watch. Another wave of smoke wafts into the night sky when the hood opens, and Michael sends Alex a disbelieving look over his shoulder. “Seriously? How many times did you try to start it when it made the grinding noise? A hundred? This would’ve taken me two minutes to fix if you hadn’t kept pushing it.” He’s pulled a flashlight from somewhere and is shining the beam down into the guts of the SUV, staring at what, to Alex, looks like a bunch of hoses, wires, and smoke.

“Sorry,” Alex says sheepishly. “Don’t worry about it tonight if it’s going to take a while -- I’m sure you had plans. We can just tow it back to town and worry about it again on Monday, during actual working hours.”

There’s a clank and a thud, and another plume of smoke curls up from the engine. Michael groans, and straightens up to slam the hood closed. “Yeah, okay, I give up. Let’s just get it on the truck and I’ll figure out what you did to it when I can actually see what I’m doing.” They both take a few steps back, and Michael turns, looking down the silent road for a minute before glancing back at Alex. “I’m going to cheat, since there’s no one else around. You can just get in the truck if you want. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Michael doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s staring intensely at the SUV. After a moment, with a slide of gravel and the squeal of tires, the SUV moves up the ramp on its own. There’s a thud as the connections fasten under the guidance of Michael’s metaphysical hands, and a few minutes later, they’re on their way back into Roswell.

For once, the silence between them isn’t loaded with things they should have said. Alex is reclined in the seat, relaxed and comfortable with someone he trusts driving -- but the ease of the atmosphere evaporates quickly when Michael asks, “So where am I dropping you? Do you need a ride back out to your place?”

It shouldn’t be this hard to tell Michael that he’s meeting Forrest. They haven’t been together in a long time, if they ever really even were -- and Michael has Maria. It’s not like he’s going to be upset. But the words feel stuck in Alex’s throat as he opens his mouth to answer, and his stomach squirms unpleasantly. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m actually … meeting someone. At Planet 7.” His eyes are locked on the road straight ahead, but Alex can’t help himself; he glances at Michael through his periphery to check for a reaction.

Michael’s shoulders have lost their comfortable slouch, and his spine is rigid. He obviously still cares about who Alex is spending his time with -- but Alex isn’t going to apologize. They’re both moving on, and they need to remember that.

“Yeah,” Michael says finally. “I kind of guessed. You’re pretty dressed up for a night of snacks in front of the TV.”

Alex glances down at himself, taking in the dark-wash jeans and button-up shirt he’d selected for the occasion. “I guess so,” he agrees, sighing. “Uh, what were you doing with your night, before you were rudely interrupted by my smoking engine?” It’s not the most graceful subject change, but Alex doesn’t really care as long as they’re away from the topic of Forrest.

Michael snorts. “Trust me, I was relieved you called -- it’s my night to babysit Max and make sure he doesn’t take off after Liz. Towing a car is way more exciting than watching him boohoo into his beer.”

“I’m surprised you’re not glued to Maria’s side, since she just got out of the hospital.” Alex had only been trying to keep the conversation moving steadily away from his own date that night; he doesn’t expect Michael to go rigid in response. He blinks, turning in the passenger seat to get a better look at Michael’s expression, but he’s gone blank.

“Maria and I are over.” The answer, when it comes, is terse and definitely over-simplified, but Alex knows better than to ask for details. If Michael wanted to share, he would have already, and while friends might have license to pry into each other’s personal life, Alex doesn’t want Michael doing the same in return, so he stays quiet aside from a soft, “I’m sorry.”

The drive loses the easy sense of camaraderie after that. Alex spends the next twenty minutes into town fighting with a small, cruel voice in the back of his head that keeps whispering celebratory words about Michael’s break-up. They’re friends now. Friends don’t think like that, but even after a decade of separation, it’s hard not to think of Michael as more than a friend. Alex hopes that he just needs some practice; otherwise, none of this is going to end well.

Planet 7 isn’t exactly in the middle of town, but Michael finds it without any direction. Alex slides out of the passenger seat when he sees Forrest coming toward them, smiling, and glances back at Michael. “Thanks for the help, Guerin,” he says earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

Michael nods, his expression still tense, though Alex thinks that’s less about his break-up and more about Forrest, now. “No problem. If you need a ride home, just let me know.”

Forrest has reached them by this point; one of his arms falls over Alex’s shoulders, and Alex only startles for a moment before relaxing again when he realizes who’s touching him. Michael’s eyes narrow slightly, but not enough to be noticeable to someone who isn’t really looking.

“That won’t be necessary,” Forrest tells Michael pleasantly, though he’s standing closer than he ever has before when they aren’t joined at the mouth. Alex sighs inwardly -- this is what he’d been trying to avoid. He doesn’t want Forrest thinking he needs to compete with Michael. Competition and jealousy in a relationship never ends well, and Alex wants one good thing in his life. Surely that’s not too much to ask? “I’ll make sure he gets home in one piece. Thanks for bringing him though, Alien Dude!”

Michael nods at Forrest, then glances back at Alex, an unreadable expression in his dark gaze. “I’ll call you tomorrow about the SUV,” he promises. “It might take me a couple of hours, but I’ll get it up and running for you by Monday. You need to be on base by six, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Guerin -- I owe you one.” Really, he’s lost track of who’s one-upping who when it comes to favors, but Alex isn’t interested in keeping score, and he doesn’t think Michael cares much, either.

Michael nods at them one more time, his eyes lingering on Alex’s face for long enough to make him start to squirm, and then he’s gone, disappearing in a plume of exhaust and the groan of overworked machinery, leaving Alex and Forrest staring after his his taillights and Alex feeling strangely bereft.

“All right,” Forrest says, his voice twice as cheerful as it had been only a moment ago. “Let’s get the night started, shall we? You missed out on Happy Hour, but I scored you a feather boa anyway.”

Alex laughs, letting the teasing ease him back from thinking about Michael and into focusing on Forrest and their plans. This is the path he’d chosen, the person he’d chosen. He’s never going to give up on being a part of Michael’s life, and he’ll protect the aliens and their secret with everything he has in him to make up for what his family did to theirs. But Michael can be his family without being his lover, and Alex needs to stop confusing the two before he winds up heartbroken and alone all over again.

Sometimes, love just isn’t enough. Cosmic doesn’t mean much without commitment, without trust, and there are too many complicated feelings between Alex and Michael to make a go of it. So he smiles, leans into Forrest’s side, and allows himself to be led into Planet 7 with a warm arm draped over his shoulders.

*******

Despite the anxiety leading up to their first few dates, being with Forrest turns out to be surprisingly easy. He’s smart and funny, quick with a witty comment or self-deprecating joke, and never pushes Alex further than he’s willing to be pushed. He understands Alex’s service background and love of writing, even if music isn’t his preferred medium, and encourages Alex to dress and act in a way that makes him feel true to himself. Alex smiles a lot around him, and laughs, and starting their relationship feels like sliding into an old, worn jacket -- soft and comfortable, without any real friction.

“So, basically, you’re bored,” Maria summarizes, after Alex finishes telling her about how smoothly things are going. They’re in the Wild Pony just after opening, Maria in her usual position behind the bar, Alex sitting on a stool opposite. She’s only been back to work for a few weeks after her stint in the hospital, but there’s no sign of weakness in the way she runs her business -- or the way she’s looking at him now.

“What? No! That’s not what I mean,” Alex argues, shaking his head quickly. “I said things are comfortable between us. That doesn’t mean I’m bored!”

Maria raised an eyebrow, her brightly-painted fingernails tapping against the bar. She’s dressed fairly conservatively tonigh in a flannel shirt and a pair of form-fitting jeans, but her nails are painted in pastels, a minor homage to her usual style. “Sweetie, you’ve been dating for what, two weeks? Relationships that new aren’t supposed to be easy, and definitely not comfortable. Two weeks in is like the honeymoon! You’re supposed to want to spend every waking moment together, to have to fight to keep your hands off of each other -- and instead of telling me about how hot he makes you, you’re comparing him to an old coat.” Skepticism drips from her words, and Alex crosses his arms over his chest and stares back at her in return annoyance.

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, and winces inwardly at the defensive tone.

While it’s true that Alex hasn’t exactly had to fight to keep his hands off of Forrest, he hasn’t been fully honest about them agreeing to take their sexual relationship slowly. Alex isn’t a prude, and it’s not that Forrest isn’t exactly his type. He’s just been unsure about taking that next step. Every time their dates end up at Forrest’s place -- and it’s honestly just a coincidence that Forrest has never stayed at Alex’s. It’s just always worked out that way; Alex isn’t trying to keep him out of his personal space -- and their goodbye turns into a little more than kiss, there’s always something holding Alex back from letting the moment continue. Forrest is great about it, and smiles when Alex pulls away, but after four dates and four attempts at moving onto second base, Alex can tell he’s starting to get frustrated.

Honestly, so is Alex. He doesn’t know why he’s so reticent to sleep with his boyfriend. Forrest has always been embarrassingly up front about finding Alex sexy, and he’s never so much as blinked at the realities of Alex’s amputation or scars -- but even so, Alex can’t do it. He’s just not ready.

But he’ll be damned if he admits any of that to Maria. Alex has no desire to know how she’d read into that information whatsoever.

“Uh-huh, right. Slow.” Maria pours a shot of whiskey into two glasses and slides one across the bartop to him, eyebrows raised in challenge, and Alex makes a face, but clinks his shot glass against Maria’s and knocks it back. “Okay, great. Are you drunk enough to tell me the truth now, or --”

“Whoa, shots before the sun goes down? And here I thought I was the town drunk.”

When Alex turns, he finds himself face-to-face with a smirking Michael Guerin. He’s wearing his usual jeans and open-collared shirt, black cowboy hat tipped forward on his head, and he’s obviously trying to act nonchalant. But Alex knows that he’s been avoiding Maria ever since she broke up with him -- Maria had been complaining about it half an hour ago. With that in mind, he looks at Michael again, and sees the tense lines around his eyes and the sharp edges of his smile.

“I think I’ve got a ways to go before I’m even tipsy,” Alex retorts, shaking his head in bemusement. “But you’re welcome to join us and see how many shots it takes.” In the weeks since their last meeting, it’s gotten easier to be around Michael without worrying about saying or doing the wrong thing. They’ve relaxed back into their usual banter, supported by genuine care for each other, and Alex isn’t spending every second of every interaction analyzing microexpressions anymore. It’s a nice change, and he’s planning on doing whatever he can to make sure it sticks around this time.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could,” Michael groans, and gestures over one shoulder with his thumb. Alex follows the movement and finds Isobel and Max Evans settling into a table at the back of the bar. Isobel’s perfectly-lined eyes are rolling in what can only be exasperation, and Max just looks miserable. There are bags beneath his eyes, and his hair and beard have seen better days, while Isobel is her usual immaculate self in floral dress with a flowing skirt and an updo. “Iz decided she’s had enough of Max’s moping and wants to get him laid.”

The disbelieving noise that escapes from Alex’s throat really isn’t a reflection on Max’s looks -- he has no doubt that, if his heart were in it, the defacto leader of Michael’s little family could find someone to take home with him. But the guy is clearly miserable and heartbroken over Liz’s departure, still. There’s no way Isobel’s going to convince him to pick anyone up tonight, no matter how many beautiful women she parades past the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Michael says, shaking his head. “I told her she’s crazy. Max has been pining over Liz for longer than he’s known how to speak in complete sentences. There’s no way he’s moving on that easy -- but you know how Isobel is.” He shrugs, a what can you do? sort of gesture, and Alex is stopped from answering by Maria clearing her throat pointedly from behind the bar.

Michael glances her way, his shoulders tensing for a second, but his smile is only slightly strained. “‘Sup, Deluca?” he asks. “I need three of whatever you’ve got on tap.” The interaction is wholly impersonal, and Alex almost winces for Maria, who definitely didn’t miss the cool tone in Michael’s voice as he spoke to her. Obviously, he’s still upset about the break-up, or at least holding onto some hard feelings. It’s not like Alex can blame him either, as much as he wants to be able to take Maria’s side, or at least understand her perspective. But Alex knows what it’s like to love Michael Guerin, and he knows what it’s like to lose him, and he can’t understand why Maria would put herself through that if she didn’t have to. She hasn’t really explained herself, either, to Michael or to Alex, so it’s almost impossible to empathize.

“You should come hang out,” Michael invites, when Maria turns away to get his drinks. “There’s already a crowd, so she’s going to be too busy to chat soon.” He’s right; the Pony has filled up while Maria grilled him on Forrest, and there’s already a line forming at the bar. For now, the second bartender has it covered, but it won’t be long before Maria will have to devote her full attention to running drinks. “You get company, I have someone to buffer and maybe stop me from killing one of my siblings . . . it’s a win-win situation, really.”

Alex chuckles, and nods his easy agreement. He’s not entirely sure how he feels about Max Evans after what he did to Flint -- it’s not like he hadn’t had a good reason to want the man dead, considering what he’d done, but despite all of his sins, Flint is still Alex’s brother. But it’s hard to look at the guy moping in a bar full of people and see a cold-blooded killer, and Alex wants to like Max. Plus, Isobel is always good for a laugh and at least one ridiculous story, and Alex never needs much of an excuse to spend time with Michael. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “But I’m telling you, if Max starts crying into his cup, I’m out of there.”

“Deal,” Michael agrees with a laugh. He heads back to the table with Isobel and Max, his body language getting looser the further he gets from Maria. Alex wonders if he realizes how much more relaxed he seems as he rejoins Max and Isobel -- before Max’s death, that was the last word he would have used to describe Michael in his presence, but now, it’s like something has clicked between them, and Guerin is clearly most comfortable with his family.

Alex tries not to hope that extends to him.

“He’s still giving you the cold shoulder, huh?” Alex asks, once Michael is out of earshot. He’ll go join them in a minute, after he has a chance to say goodbye to Maria and try, one more time, to figure out why she’d ended a relationship that seemed to make her genuinely happy.

Sighing, Maria nods. “Guess so. I was hoping that it’d get better, once he finally started coming back to the Pony, but --” she waves a hand in Guerin’s vague direction, the golden bangles on her wrist clacking together. “I get a ‘hey, how are you?’ and a ‘I’ll take a beer, please,’ and that’s about it. He doesn’t even try to get out of paying anymore, and I never thought I’d be bummed about that.” Her nose wrinkles, and Maria hunches forward over her elbows on the bar, looking run down. “I miss him, you know?”

Alex knows. Intimately. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have broken up with him?” he suggests leadingly, hoping that he’ll get a reason without having to ask, explicitly, why Maria had ended things. The suggestion sends a brief shock of something through his chest, but Alex doesn’t let himself stop to analyze it.

Maria rolls her eyes, but there’s a lingering sadness in them that Alex could pick up from across town. He knows Maria too well to fall for the act she’s putting on, and they both know it. “I had to,” she says finally, the words slow enough that Alex can tell she’s thinking it through even as she answers. “I didn’t want to, but—“ The sentence hangs in the air between them, but Maria doesn’t finish; instead, she shrugs. “I didn’t doubt that he loved me, you know. That wasn’t it— I know he thinks it was. But when you went missing, he just... didn’t think. Didn’t stop to ask for help, or wonder what he was walking into. He just started off on this crusade to get you back, all on his own.”

Alex opens his mouth, ready to tell her that Michael would have done the same for her, and that kind of recklessness probably isn’t a healthy, positive trait in a stable relationship, but Maria silences him with a look.

“Every time I called, every time I needed him— it wasn’t like that. He was always there, he always showed up for me— I’m not complaining! But Michael never jumped without looking, without thinking first, when it came to me. He was never desperate, or past reason, you know? He always managed to keep his secrets, or protect his family while he was saving me. But he didn’t do that when it came to you. Michael thought you were in real, mortal danger, and his first instinct was to do whatever was necessary to save you, and screw whoever else it might hurt.”

What the hell is he supposed to say to that? He sees where Maria is going with her explanation, now, and he’s not proud of the small, smug feeling hiding beneath the incredulity growing under his breastbone. “Maria, that’s not --”

“And,” Maria interrupts, raising her voice as if determined to be heard, whether Alex wants to listen or not. “As stupid as it sounds, considering the sci-fi horror movie our lives have become, I want someone to be that desperate at the thought of losing me.” Maria laughs, then, a short, self-deprecating sound. “I don’t want to play second-fiddle to the one great love of his life, Alex. As much as I love him, as much as I believe he loves me, dating isn’t fair for either of us.”

Alex stares at her, his lips parted as he flounders for the right words. He’s torn between trying to convince her that she’s wrong, that he and Michael are doing well at being friends and that it’s enough, and telling her that maybe she’s right, that it was never going to work out, and he wants her to be happy.

“That’s not— he’s not—“ Alex can’t argue, really. He knows, deep down, in the same part of his subconscious that knows the sky is blue and the grass is green, that Michael would do anything for him, and Alex would do the same in return. Even when they couldn’t look at each other without wanting to scream or cry, they’d always done their best to protect one another, and Alex doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. He’d promised Michael, once, that he’d keep him safe from his family, from the government, and Alex isn’t going to go back on his word on the off-chance that Michael and Maria might manage to work things out.

“Look, Maria,” he says finally. “Helena asked him to build a weapon of mass destruction.” The words feel the words like they’re being torn from his throat, but Alex perseveres. “And he did it. If she’d wanted him to build a bomb that could kill everyone in town, or more— he really might have done it, no matter who got hurt, just like you said.” Another full shot glass appears in front of him when he pauses, and Alex throws it back without a second thought, hoping the liquor will ease the ache caused by reliving everything that’s gone wrong with Guerin. “And how am I supposed to live with that? Knowing what he might do? What I could do, if our roles got reversed?”

The question is as good as admitting that Alex still has feelings for Michael, and he knows it. Hiding things, especially feelings, from Maria DeLuca has always been all but impossible, and this time, she’d barely had to give him a nudge before he spilled his guts. Damn it. How is he supposed to go over and drink with Michael and his family now?

“See? The fact that you didn’t even try to deny it is pretty telling, Alex,” Maria says, her lips quirked at the corners. “Instead, you immediately jump to how dangerous the lengths you’d go to for each other are. And yeah, maybe it’s a bad idea for you to be together -- I don’t know. That’s for you two to figure out.” Soft hands tighten around his. “But I had to make a choice for myself, too, and now I’m sure I made the right one.”

The noises of the bar and growing crowd around them fill the silence until Alex squeezes Maria’s hands and moves to pull back to say goodbye, before Guerin comes back to ask what’s taking so long -- the last thing either of them need is for Michael to overhear this conversation. But Maria’s grip tightens instead of releasing, and when Alex glances up at her, eyebrow raised in question, she’s staring at him with a strange intensity that tells him he really, really doesn’t want to hear whatever she’s about to say next.

“Don’t you think that Forrest should have a chance to make that choice?” she asks, and Alex yanks his hands free as he slides down from the barstool, more than ready to tell Maria to have a good night and leave. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Alex, but dating him is no different than Michael dating me. And--”

“And what, Maria?” Alex demands sharply. “You want me to tell you that I’m not sure about Forrest? You want me to admit there are times when we’re together that I have to remind myself that he’s not Michael, and I can’t expect him to know stupid things like the fact that I never remember to get a freaking oil change? Yeah, okay! I’ve been in love with Michael since I was seventeen. I can’t just flip a switch and stop feeling that way, even if it’s the right thing to do!”

Flustered at the sudden deluge of feeling and irritated by Maria’s pushing, Alex barely registers when Maria’s gaze jerks to one side and widens. “Alex -”

But he’s been holding back for weeks, months, years of watching Michael with other people and trying to open himself up to dating, too, and Alex isn’t ready to stop talking now that he’s started. So he ploughs forward, ignoring her interruption. “But you can’t compare yourself with Forrest, either -- it’s not the same. We’re dating! It’s fun, but he’s not in love with me. It’s not --”

“Alex!”

“Oh, no, don’t interrupt him on my account.”

Fuck. Like he was free-falling from a plane without the guarantee of a parachute, Alex’s stomach sinks and flips.

Forrest.

Alex spins around to find the guy he’s supposed to be dating standing less than a foot away, back and to Alex’s right, just a little in front of the crowd that now stretches from the entrance to the bar itself. Horror and guilt bloom in his stomach, making him feel nauseous. Alex struggles to make his mouth form words, his mind spinning as he tries to put together an explanation for whatever Forrest had just heard -- and what had he heard? How long has he been standing there? Alex honestly has no fucking clue, and the horrified, apologetic expression on Maria’s face suggests that she doesn’t, either. “I --” Alex shakes his head and forces a smile on his face. He can only hope it doesn’t look too fake. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” he says, biting his lower lip.

Both of Forrest’s eyebrows lift high enough that they disappear into his hairline. “Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty obvious,” he drawls, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Alex’s heartbeat speeds as the uncomfortable moment stretches between them, and for once, he’s grateful when someone drops a quarter in the jukebox and starts blaring an old country song at top volume. It cuts through the awkwardness a little, at least. “I came to meet a couple of friends who wanted to talk about plans to expand Open Mic night -- so, imagine my surprise when I came over here and heard the guy I’m dating talking about still being in love with his ex.”

Alex grips the edge of the bar, hard, and looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he says quietly, the words barely audible over the din of the bar. “Can we maybe go somewhere to talk about this? I know I owe you an explanation, and I didn’t mean to --”

But Forrest shakes his head before he can even finish the sentence, lips thin and eyes hard. “Look,” he says, and the timbre of his voice matches the look in his eyes. “We haven’t been dating long, and you really don’t owe me an explanation. I’ve known you have history with Guerin since we met at the barn, and it’s not like I haven’t had plenty of clues since then that you’re not over him.” He runs fingers through his vibrantly blue hair, looking away from Alex while his jaw clenches and unclenches. When his gaze meets Alex’s again, the anger is still obvious, but this time, resignation is, too. “I mean, come on. You called him to come pick you up for our first date, when I could have come to get you just as easily after the car died. And last week, when you were talking to Liz in the car? You should have seen the way your face lit up when you started telling her about how he’s thinking about going to college or whatever. And that song -- fuck. How did I miss that the song was about him?”

Forrest paces in a small circuit around the barstools in their immediate area, and Alex remains silent, unable to say or do anything to defend himself or correct Forrest -- because everything he’s said is true. Alex may not have realized it, and he’d truly gone into this relationship with the best of intentions, but he’d never really wanted Forrest. He’d liked the way he felt with Forrest, enjoyed being flirted with and pushed out of the comfort zone he’d hidden within for so long, and Alex had mistaken liking Forrest’s company for romantic feelings. And all the while, he’d been trying to push away real romantic feelings for Guerin, like he’d been doing for the last decade of his life.

God, he’s such an asshole.

“So. Here it is. I’m going to go home, get drunk, and hate you for a while. You’re going to leave me alone. And then, in a few months when I can look at you without wanting to either yell or cry, we’re going to be friends. Because there aren’t enough gay guys in Roswell, and I think we could both use a friend who gets it.”

It’s such a Forrest way of breaking up with Alex that he almost laughs. It didn’t seem like anything could ruffle Forrest’s feathers -- it had been one of the things that drew Alex to him from the start. That constant calm, the feeling that no matter how chaotic and out of control Alex got, Forrest would be steady. But a desire for control, or something easy, isn’t a good enough reason to be with someone, not when Alex has always thrived in high-pressure situations, has always sought out the adrenaline rush. Maybe it’s a side effect of his ruined childhood, but Alex has always preferred the chaos of his time with Michael to anything else.

Alex swallows, his smile small and a little sad when he nods at Forrest. “Okay. I can do that. But seriously, I really am sorry. I really thought that I could move on, and I wanted to try with you because you always made me feel so brave.”

Forrest sucks in a breath, shakes his head again, and disappears into the crowd, headed toward the exit.

Alex doesn’t go after him.

******

It takes Michael about twenty minutes to find him after Alex leaves the Wild Pony. He’d considered sticking around and drinking until the shame and guilt melted away into an alcoholic haze, but ultimately, Alex has enough problems without adding alcoholism to the list. So he’d said goodnight to a still-apologetic Maria, avoided the stares and whispers that came from being dumped very publicly in a small, gossip-mongering town, and slipped out into the street.

He walks home, thankful for the house he bought that’s only a mile or so from the Wild Pony and the fact that he’s able to walk for a mile without the pinching and aching his old prosthetic had caused. He’ll be sore tomorrow, probably, but it’s worth the night air and the chance to clear his head. The confrontation with Forrest had been so public that Alex is feeling more embarrassed than guilty, at this point, but he knows that when that dies down, he’ll be angry with himself for hurting someone that way. No, Forrest hadn’t been in love with him, but that didn’t excuse the way Alex had treated him -- and he’s going to have to deal with that, somehow.

“You know, I’m pretty sure normal people don’t walk down abandoned alleys at this hour,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and instead of jumping at the unexpected presence, Alex lets go of the tension he hadn’t known he was carrying. Michael Guerin’s voice has always meant security, to Alex, even when it wasn’t guaranteed.

“Good thing neither of us are normal people,” Alex shoots back, stopping to wait for Michael to catch up. When they’re shoulder to shoulder, he starts forward again, falling into step with Guerin without even thinking about it. “I thought you’d still be at the Pony-- it’s awfully early, if you’re trying to keep that town drunk title.”

Michael huffs a laugh. “What do you mean? They ended the night with a floor show, so I figured the bar was closing.” He should probably be offended by the joke, Alex thinks, or at the very least embarrassed that Michael most likely overheard everything Forrest said, but he’s not. Instead, he’s just glad that Michael cared enough to chase after him, even now.

They walk in silence for a while longer before they arrive at the fence around Alex’s yard. He opens it with his key and gestures Michael inside -- he’s come this far, after all, and he isn’t trying to make an excuse to leave. Alex kills the security system and leads the way into the kitchen, kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket as he goes. “You want coffee?” he asks, heading straight for the coffee pot that’s served him well for the last several years.

Michael shrugs. “Sure, if you’re making it anyway.” He leans against the wall of cabinets a foot or so away from where Alex is measuring out coffee grounds, one foot propped casually behind him, arms hanging loose at his sides, and Alex can feel the weight of his stare as he flips the power switch on the coffee pot. But neither of them say anything, and the anticipation of the moment when someone finally breaks is enough to make Alex’s pulse speed up.

“So, are we going to talk about this, or --?” Unsurprisingly, Guerin is the first one to give in and speak.

Alex turns to face him properly, fidgeting with the bottom of his henley as he does. “Do you want to?”

It’s a fair question. Every time Alex has tried to talk to Guerin about their relationship, about the chance of moving forward, Michael’s been the one to say ‘no,’ or to walk away, and Alex doesn’t know if he’s brave enough to try again without some reassurance that this time will be different. He doesn’t mind fighting for Michael, doesn’t mind protecting him and loving him from a distance, if that’s what he needs, but there’s a limit to the number of times he can put himself on the line and be vulnerable only to have it thrown back in his face.

There’s a beat of silence, but ultimately, Michael nods. “Last time we talked about this, I couldn’t unravel what your father did to my mother from you and me,” he says quietly, his grease-stained fingers drumming idly on his own arms. “And I needed to know if I could find something -- someone -- who didn’t have the same power over me that you always have. Being with you has always made me feel like I’m in free fall, and I couldn’t be sure there wasn’t about to be a fiery crash landing.”

It hurts more than Alex expected, to hear that, but he knows he’s given Michael reason to worry. “Yeah,” he sighs, flipping the coffee pot off when the light comes on, signalling that it’s done brewing. “Is that still how you feel now?” If the answer is ‘yes,’ Alex doesn’t know where this conversation will lead, but he needs to know either way.

“Alex, I’m pretty sure I’m always going to feel out of control when I’m around you,” Michael says bluntly, taking a step forward, his gaze intent on Alex’s face. “You and me, we’ve never been easy, and my bet is that if we try this, we’re going to have to put some effort in to make it work -- but my mom never got the chance to be with Tripp. She had a lot more reasons than I do to be afraid, or to run in the other direction, and she didn’t, because she knew that love was worth it.”

Reading Tripp’s journal had been an emotional experience for all involved, but Alex wonders if he missed Michael having this revelation that day. He’d been caught up in his own thoughts, his own regrets for himself and his father, and the people they might have been if Tripp survived, so he supposes it’s possible.

“I don’t want to spend any more time wondering if we can be happy together,” Michael continues, suddenly close enough that Alex can feel his breath against his face. As usual, his mere proximity makes Alex’s cheeks feel warm and his stomach feel tight. He couldn’t speak now, even if he wanted to interrupt. “I don’t want to wake up every day for the rest of my life with the same hollow feeling in my gut when I realize you’re not in bed beside me. I don’t want to watch you date anymore assholes who make you smile, and I -- fuck, I want to be able to remind you to get your damn car serviced so you don’t end up stranded on the side of the road!”

Alex’s laugh is a little wet, and he’s reaching out to touch Michael’s stubbled cheek before his mind registers the action. He’s utterly overwhelmed with Michael’s admission, blown away by the honesty and the affection and the care, and God, he wants. He aches for Michael in that moment like he’d spent the better part of a decade aching for him in another part of the world, homesick for a person who wasn’t his anymore, and Alex wants to reclaim that home now more than ever.

Michael swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively, and continues, “I still can’t look away, Alex. And it hasn’t been our time, but now -- now I think it could be. If you still want to try this with me.”

This time, Alex’s laugh is incredulous. “I thought you heard what Forrest said at the bar,” he says, his expression impossibly fond as he looks back at Michael. “I’m in love with you. And I’m done running.”

The impulse to do it again will come back, he knows. Alex’s spent his entire adult life running, in some way or another, and that’s not going to vanish overnight because he has Michael. But he wants to stay, now. He wants to make a home with the man in front of him, wants to tie their lives together in every conceivable way and spend the rest of his days protecting Michael and making him happy. And that’s a pretty solid foundation on which to build.

Michael’s smile is wide and earnest in a way Alex has so rarely seen, and he drinks it in, promising himself that he’s going to take every opportunity to make Michael smile that way in the future.

And then, without overthinking, without worrying about what happens next, Alex closes the remaining distance between their bodies and seals their lips together in a hard, affirming kiss. Michael’s arms close around him, and Alex allows himself to melt into the warm, strong chest in front of him, content in the knowledge that Michael won’t let him fall.

For the first time since he went to war at eighteen, Alex Manes is officially home.

#alexweek2020 #alexappreciation2020 #my fic #malex fic #not a place but a feeling

[and-they-were-crewmates]

Room For Three | Deleted Scenes

Hi friends! Have you read my fic Room For Three? If not, and you’re looking for Holden/Amos/Naomi fic, go check that out first, because it’s better than this.

The following are a few deleted scenes from Chapter 20. These scenes did not actually occur in the universe of the fic. They were deleted in part because they weren’t relevant to anything, so they added too much superfluous bulk to an already superfluous and bulky fic, and in part because I wasn’t very confident with my characterization of Camina’s family or the way I communicated their dialect. I do love the idea of giving Drummer some closure with Naomi, though I don’t think that Room For Three is the place to explore that concept. That being said, this was a fun little scene, so I’d like to share!

Very mildly NSFW text below. This is from a rated E fic, but is not explicitly sexual. CW recreational drug use (marijuana)

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” said Naomi into her hand terminal. The small window in the corner reflected her own image, alone in the room while Jim either finished up his therapy or got started on his way to lunch with Fred, and Amos journeyed to pick up food for the two of them. The larger window, the focus of her attention, showed Drummer’s full face and half of another woman’s, whose shoulder acted as a pillow for Camina’s tilted head. Her friend looked more at peace than Naomi had ever seen her. 

“Nah, we insist. Whole crew will be happy to meet The Naomi Nagata. Plus, your Earther boys obviously need a lesson in family. Double date.” 

“Is it still called a double date if there’s nine people at the table?” 

“Nonuple date, then. Come. Josep good cook, Bertold good advice, Oksana good to look at,” she said. The body next to her stuck out an elbow in playful defense, and a loving giggle filled the speaker. “Good in bed, too,” Camina added to appease her, and they both laughed together. 

“Alright, alright. I guess I’d rather get polyam lessons from you lot than from Jim’s eight parents.” 

“Soyá. One Holden is more than enough for me.” Naomi didn’t say it, but she agreed. The Holden family was a lot to handle. She knew there might be a discussion with them in her future, in which she and Amos would undoubtedly have to stand under their mild-mannered scrutiny and well-meant condescension, but she hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“Be nice to him tonight,” Naomi implored,  Camina rolled her eyes. 

“To ta ge im, bosmang. I will try. No promises ‘bout Serge though. Discriminate, im does.”

“Ah, pashang fong, ‘Mina,” a man’s voice bellowed, the pejorative softened by his loving tone. His head appeared on Naomi’s device, upside down at the top of the frame. “Mi behave, promise.” They all three laughed together, a contagious sound that put a smile on Naomi’s face. 

Camina’s family was as affectionate as it was functional, and any jealousy was squandered as soon as it sprouted through open networks of communication. They didn’t all sleep in the same bed, or all have sex at the same time, or spend every waking hour together, the six of them, but they loved each other equally just the same. They didn’t all keep score of their ‘wins’ and ‘losses’— surely Michio didn’t feel left out if Oksana got milkshakes with Josep one day, and Drummer didn’t pout if Serge chose to shower with Bertold instead of her. They found a balance together, where everyone was included, even in the moments when they weren’t. They’d be good role models. 

“Alright, we’ll be there,” Naomi said, excitement written on her face. When the phone call was over, she turned her attention to the door. Amos was taking longer than anticipated. She supposed she’d have to find some way to occupy herself until he returned. 

***

Josep’s cooking was so spicy that it felt like a targeted attack. Holden was the only one who seemed to notice— which only furthered his suspicions that it was a deliberate poisoning— though he knew he was just wimpier than anyone else in the room. Otherwise, Holden, Naomi, and Amos were welcomed warmly into Drummer’s home like members of the family. 

They each had their own unique flavor of advice, ranging from categorically unhelpful to actually something to think about, spoken in different degrees of broken English or part-English part-Belter. Holden appreciated the great effort they went to to be understood by him. They probably had very little use for pure English in their day-to-day lives, and the grammar of Lang Belta was very different, more efficient. It made some of their translations a little hard for Holden to process, but if they could make the effort, so could he. 

“Da pashang gut?” Serge asked. In the time it took Holden to decide if he was comfortable answering whether they had good sex, Amos and Naomi had already given their yesses. “Gut. The rest figure itself out.” 

“That’s terrible advice,” interjected Michio. 

“Work for me an’ Josep this morning,” he shrugged. “Take too long in shower. Mi angry. Join him in shower, mi na so angry.” Michio rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not about sex,” she said. “You can have good sex and no love for each other.”

“Like in Camina dream about Holden,” Serge contributed. Holden didn’t know what to do with that information. Naomi seemed to like it. 

“I’ve had that dream,” Amos added. Holden elbowed him. 

“Sure, like that,” dismissed Michio. “It’s not about sex; it’s about trust. You trust your family will never hurt you on purpose?” she asked. The three of them nodded. “You forgive your family when they make a mistake?” she asked. They nodded. “Then you can forgive your family for anything.” That was pretty solid advice, but nothing Holden didn’t already know. They were good at forgiving each other. Had practice. 

“How do you keep everything…” Holden searched for the word, “...equal?”

“Equal? Who cares equal?” replied Bertold. “Not equal. Camina in charge. Like Naomi for you.”

“Naomi’s not—” Holden said, then backed down. It was true enough. 

“Ya. No need for equal.” 

“Is there ever jealousy? Like, if you spend more time with one person than another.” A couple of them, including Amos, looked at him like that was the stupidest question ever asked.

“That’s baby shit, kopeng,” Bertold said. “Need comfort, ask Oksana. Need tough love, ask Camina. Need fix problem, ask Michio. Need laugh, ask Josep. Need blow job, ask Serge.” 

“Hey,” Serge defended. “I’m funny, too.” 

“Ya, baby,” Bertold consoled. “I just simplify for explain. Different for others, or depend on the day. Point is, na equal. Need comfort four time, tough love one, then go Oksana four time, Camina one. ‘Mina no cry ‘bout it. Because adult. Knows mi love im the same.” Drummer smiled at him. Holden had never seen Drummer smile as bright or as often as he had that night. “End of day, eat dinner as family, go bed happy.” 

“Huh,” said Holden. “That… makes a lot of sense, thank you.”

“Try not to think so hard, Jimmy,” said Drummer. “Have some cake. Not so spicy.”

“Gee, thanks.”

***

The third or fourth time it was passed to her, Naomi took another long, luxurious puff off of Drummer’s vaporizer. She tried to pass it behind her to Jim (whose lap she didn’t think she’d been sitting in when Camina first pulled out the device) but he declined as always. Naomi presumed the captain was afraid of what slutty business he might get up to under the influence of high-grade synthetic cannabis in a room full of incredibly hot people. She couldn’t blame him, but it wouldn’t stop her from having a good time. Amos also clearly had no such reservations. 

“So,” he said between two smaller puffs (Earthers with their puff, puff, pass bullshit), “what’s the sex like?” 

“Amos, you can’t just ask people that,” Jim scolded. In rebuttal, Amos took his second puff and blew it in Jim’s face. Soberly, Naomi might’ve been on Jim’s side of that argument, but she was high and curious. Amos looked at Serge, who seemed the most likely to answer the question rather than flip him off. 

“All six of you screw together, or is it a Noah’s Ark kinda deal?” Amos asked. Serge shrugged. 

“Sometimes all six, sometimes three, sometimes two,” he said. 

“Maybe sometimes nine,” added Josep lewdly, eyeing the three guests. Amos smiled salaciously, while scattered laughter filled the room. Camina cleared her throat and shook her head. 

“What did I say?” she chided. 

“Dinner, not orgy,” Josep said. 

“Don’t see why it can’t be both,” said Amos. Jim elbowed him. 

As her Earther lovers mingled with her Belter friends, new and old, Naomi felt a sense of wholeness. Her worlds were colliding— this time in a harmonious way, not an explosive one. She didn’t know if it was the THC in her lungs or the love in her life, but she was on top of the world. 

Michio was teaching Amos and Jim an old Belter card game when Naomi was overcome with a powerful urge to speak privately with Camina. Several faces quirked suggestively as she pulled her friend from the mass of cuddling bodies on the living room floor. Apparently Amos wasn’t the only one with preconceived notions about their friendship. She ignored them and guided Camina into the next room, which only happened to be the bedroom. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, Camina,” she said once they were in another room. Camina hummed and nodded, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a small smile. The weed seemed to unburden her considerably, though a deeper happiness radiated from her even before they’d smoked. Her hair was down, and it felt to Naomi like a metaphor. 

“Don’t think I ever have been,” she said. Naomi took her hand and squeezed it, beaming with pride. Camina’s expression soured almost imperceptibly; her smile was still present, though it spoke of an old, tired sadness, or perhaps just a more reluctant version of joy. “Spent a long time wanting something I could not have.” She looked Naomi up and down, and the message was heard loud and clear. That bitter-sweet smile. The harbinger of closure. 

“Ended up with something better, no?” 

“Think so,” Camina answered. Her eyes widened as she asked, and there was a youthfulness in her face that Naomi hadn’t seen before, like a child seeking approval. Naomi didn’t think Camina needed her approval, but she gave it readily. 

“I know so. Oksana looks at you like you painted the stars in the sky. You deserve that.” 

“Same way Jimmy looks at you.”  

“Same way Amos looks at my boobs,” Naomi countered. They both laughed. “You deserve to be happy, Camina Drummer. Are you?” 

“Ya, Naomi Nagata. Have everything I ever wanted, and more. Could not have imagined having something this good until it happened.”  

“I know what you mean,” Naomi said wistfully, thinking of Amos and Jim. 

“You happy, too?” Camina asked. 

“Ya,” answered Naomi, easily and honestly. Have everything I ever wanted, and more. “Mi xush.” Naomi pressed her forehead to Camina’s, and they shared their happiness together for a moment. 

“Gut.” 

“So... what’s this dream you had about Jim?” 

“Oh hush.” 

***

“You think they’re fooling around?” Amos asked the group of people whose names he didn’t know. Holden elbowed him for the third time that night. “Bug, at some point, you’re gonna have to realize jabbing me in the ribs ain’t gonna stop me from sayin’ shit.” 

“What will?” Holden asked. Amos didn’t answer, just pointed his eyes down at Holden’s crotch, and figured he got the message when he received yet another nudge to his side. He laughed,  took his turn in the card game, and hit the vape when it came around again. 

“Could I ask you something, big man?” asked the guy with the triangle tattoos beside his eyes. Amos shrugged his permission. The guy took a second to say anything else, like he was trying to word his question. He whispered something to the man at his side. 

“Ah,” the second man said, “wants to know if you have Earther cock.” Amos didn’t know what that meant. “You know, like…” he gave an inscrutable gesture, like jerking off, but not quite. “No skin.” 

“Josep,” came a scolding female voice. Amos didn’t mind. 

“Oh. Yeah, I’m circumcised.” The two men, one of whom must’ve been Josep, not that Amos would retain that information, seemed fascinated by that. He was about to ask if they wanted to see it when Naomi and her girlfriend came back. Another time, then. 

#my ficlet #my fic #deleted scene

[pidayforpi]

Alistair Boorswan walked down the street, past the lamp posts, avoiding illuminated areas.

Beak’s down. Hands in pockets.

Everyone knew him. Everyone knew he’s having a bad day. Everyone knew why he’s having a bad day.

It’s all on the news: The famous film director experienced his first project cancellation.

He who once walked proudly under the limelight, he who once strode with his head up...Gone in a single day, in a single fire.

He’s the first to make a reboot of the legendary Darkwing Duck. Now he’s the first to have the egg broken before it hatched.

To make it worse, he’s the first to ever seek funding from McDuck Enterprises. Now he’s the first to be refused sequential funding from Scrooge McDuck himself.

To make it even worse, he’s the first to allow a child to lead a film production. Now he’s the first to have his film production destroyed by a child.

Once the reigning king in the sector, now a joke in the industry.

If it wasn’t for the “mask” around his eyes, everyone could see the swan had been crying himself to sleep every night since.

Alistair pushed open the café door, the motion ringing the bell hanging from the door frame. It was awfully quiet in the café. Nice. Alistair didn’t want more attention. He’d had enough fun talking to the paparazzis.

“The usual?” Asked the barista. The owl behind the counters questioned his patron as he put away his book.

Alistair nodded. “No decaf this time, Franklin.”

The owl barista signed. “You ain’t gonna be up next morning, sonny. Don’t be a night owl like me.”

“Day and night seem the same to me, anyway.” Alistair said as he picked his usual seat: Next to the glass wall, observing the streets. “I would rather stay up all night and sleep all day. I don’t have to deal with anyone this way.”

Even without looking at his face, Franklin could see his customer’s devastated expression. Shrugging, the barista started brewing Alistair’s favourite espresso.

“Whatever suits you, buddy.”

———————————————————————————————

The bell rang again as the coffee machine rumbled.

Franklin raised an eyebrow as he fixed the beverage, but didn’t look back. If someone wanted him dead, he would be dead no matter he noticed or not.

Alistair also didn’t notice. His eyes were so fixated on the street at night, his ears so focused on the sounds of the city, he didn’t realise he was no longer the only customer in the shop.

Let alone that customer was someone he didn’t want to meet.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

No response. Except for the sound of something metallic being dragged against the wooden floor.

It wasn’t the first time someone weird entered the shop. The shopkeeper had seen it all. But from the reflection on the silver coffee machine, the late night customer was someone he knew. Someone everybody knew. 
The duck sat in front of Alistair, dropping his huge chainsaw onto the floor with a thud. It was half the height of the duck, not to mention its spiked tip was stained with blood. The intruder took off his oversized fedora, and tossed it to his side. His feathers were ruffled and unkempt, as if he had just been in a fight. An odour of pungent sewage water could be smelled from his body. A crazed, blue-green colour could be seen from his double-layered irises. If it wasn’t late at night (and the blood-stained chainsaw), Franklin would had kindly asked him to leave the shop.

It wasn’t until the duck placed his order that Alistair noticed his new, unwanted coffee mate.

“A cup of cappuccino, boss.” Ordered the customer in his hoarse, sickly voice.

Franklin replied with a nod, hands still focused on fixing his last order.

“Roger, Mister Starling.”

Alistair snapped out of his ponder when he heard the name he had feared for a month.

He shifted his focused from the streets to the pale reflection on the glass window.

He’s right there.

Just when he thought fate had taken everything away from him, someone’s there to take his life as well.

Alistair felt his body move on its own, standing up and reaching for the exit. It was almost like a reflex arc. He didn’t have to know for sure the danger in front of him. He’s making a run subconsciously.

Of course, his unwanted guest wouldn’t let the host leave before being at least greeted.

“Sit down, swan.”

With just a command, Alistair was frozen in place. The chainsaw was not even touched, yet he obeyed the order as if his legs were being amputated.

He instinctively looked at his opponent, and he regretted that very moment. When his frightened eyes met the killer’s powerful gaze, the calendar on the wall shifted back to a month ago.

In a burning studio, a wide-eyed Alistair stared at the charged cannon. When it fired, he would be a goner. He knew the “props” cannons were real - He saw the kid ordered them, directly from the laboratory. Those particles weren’t just special effects. They were real, lethal electricity. One shot, and his fast beating heart would stop. It truly was a miracle Drake Mallard survived the attacks.

Alistair had never been more scared in his life. Nowhere to escape in the fire. Nowhere to hide in the rubbles. Running away was futile: There’s no way he could outrun a lightning bolt. He ruined Jim’s career, and Jim was going to ruin his life.

“Jim Starling never cuts!” was what Alistair heard when he rushed to the recording camera. Yes. The legendary actor never allowed any failure. Not by himself. Not by others.

Jim failed to eliminate him the first time, he’s probably finishing the job now.

Franklin took a peek at his back to ensure his patron’s head was still on his neck, and hurried with both orders. The only thing he could do to avoid a murder was to facilitate the conversation between the two artists.

On the other hand, Alistair sat down meekly, hands on his laps, legs hanging straight down. Opposite of him, Jim got himself comfortable on the chair as if on a throne: One hand on the table, another supporting his tilted head. He sat cross-legged, his right leg hanging lazily on his left one.  The only thing left to complete his criminal mastermind persona was his signature grin, which showed his sharp, menacing fangs.

But Jim right now was wearing a frown instead.

Alistair wasn’t more comfortable, though. He started fidgeting his fingers, his hand movements speeding up for each second Jim remained silent.

It didn’t take long for the awkward silence to break, thankfully.

“An espresso for you, and a cappuccino for you, good sirs. Enjoy.”

Franklin emerged from behind his counter, delivering the beverages to the two fowls. After his last orders for the night were complete, he returned to his reading, yet keeping an eye on his clients.

Rich aroma soon filled the seats. Jim was the first to take a sip at his cappuccino. Foam covered the tip of his beak when he put down the cup. Alistair dared not to mention it, let alone laugh at it, no matter how silly it looked. He used to be a smug person, saying out what was in his heart without filter. But not when his life was at stake.

Alistair didn’t touch his beverage for half a minute. His hands were still holding themselves tight, his eyes fixated on the duck in front of him.

“Drink it, don’t be shy.” Jim reminded (or ordered, in Alistair’s ears). “I ain’t paying for your cup.” Followed by another sip of his cappuccino.

Alistair slowly held out his shaking hand, putting a finger through the middle of the cup handle, pulled his drink closer to himself and paused. However fragrant the coffee was, Alistair couldn’t afford to let himself get blinded. God knows if he put down the mug after a sip, a chainsaw wouldn’t appear at his neck?

He predicted Jim would be impatient with his hesitation and yell at him. But he was just taking his time, waiting for his partner to get comfortable.

Eventually, Alistair pulled the mug close to his beak, and drank. A rather large portion of his espresso, mainly because he didn’t want to put down the mug. He wouldn’t want to know how he would die.

But he felt no pain. No sensation at all, except for the scalding hotness in his throat...

Alistair literally spat out the liquid back into the mug, choking and holding his burnt throat in pain. Jim, on the other hand, burst into laughter, holding his abdomen while laughing loudly in his dry voice. Hearing his mockery, another hot feeling emerged from his cheeks and ears, which were red with embarrassment.

If a passerby saw that scene, they would probably think it was a carefree reunion of two old friends.

Jim grabbed a glass of iced water from the counter, which Franklin had already prepared after seeing Alistair about to drain the freshly-brewed, steaming hot coffee. Jim pushed the glass of water towards Alistair, who immediately gulped down the whole glass and laid back in relief.

Alistair really did let his guard down for a moment, before again realising who was in front of him when the person spoke.

“Feeling better, Alistair?” Jim tried to comfort, showing a kind smile. No one called Alistair by his first name, not even Jim when they first met. Always “Mr Boorswan” or “Director Boorswan”. Alistair looked up and into those eyes, this time in confusion instead of fear.

“W-what do you...want from me?” Alistair finally spoke. “If you want my life, just...d-drag me out into a dark alley and chop off my head. No need for crocodile tears.”

Alistair lowered his voice, visibly sulking. “You know I can’t defend myself...I won’t defend myself.”

It was Jim’s turn to stay silent.

“I know why you are here. I ruined your only comeback chance. I let that brat destroy the movie. I couldn’t get that geezer to support the production. I...didn’t cast you as the main character. Your main character.” Alistair continued, each sentence making him remember what happened just a month ago.

“So you are here to take revenge on me. This classy British director who knows nothing about children’s TV shows. Who only loves disgusting, gritty psychological thrillers. Who...”

Alistair paused. Then again, Jim probably already knew the truth.

“...who broke his own neck, ruining his own career, dethroning himself from his own industry.”

He felt his heart getting sour. He was just a centimetre from crying.

“I have nothing more to lose.”

“If you want me dead, just do it. No one will be sad for me. I’m just everyone’s laughing stock now.”

He could feel the black feathers around his eyes got wet. The street lights outside the window blurred.

Jim let go of his cup, looking down at his feet. If it wasn’t for the tears, Alistair could see Jim’s eyes were filled with sadness as well.

“Forgiveness.”

Jim uttered.

“I want your forgiveness.”

——————————————————————————————

The store returned to silence, the rumbling of vehicles could be faintly heard across the window.

Franklin took advantage of the silence to interrupt.

“Want me to leave, misters?”

“No, it’s fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Jim replied to the barista. If Franklin left, Alistair probably wouldn’t want to be alone with Jim.

Franklin nodded, before focusing himself into reading again, silently listening to the conversation of the two.

Jim turned to face the surprised swan.

“I’m here to apologise, Alistair.”

Of all things, apologising was not one of the reasons Alistair thought Jim was here for him.

“You aren’t the one to ruin the movie. I am.”

Jim put down his originally crossed legs, both hands on the table.

“I was selfish, arrogant, rude...I thought I was and would be the only Darkwing in the world. The one and only Darkwing...the hero on the TV screen in the past, the memory in the heart of those then children in the present.”

“When I knew Darkwing was about to return - from a child, no less - I was excited. Too excited. I was blinded by past fame and former glory, that the excitement channelled into wrath when I knew I was being ‘replaced’. In fact, there wasn’t a thing called ‘replaced’. Darkwing Duck is a character. Anyone can play him. Just because I was the first to have the honour doesn’t mean I have to be the only one. I was just being a grumpy old man on the outside, a spoiled brat in the inside.”

Jim looked up from the table to  meet Alistair’s blue eyes, making a sad, regretful smile.

“Not to mention that was your movie in the first place. Your artwork. You have the choice to let anyone past on and receive the torch. You have the right to make Darkwing the person you imagine to be. I should have just stayed in the auditorium and cheered for you.”

“An artist’s integrity really is sacred and inviolable, eh?”

Jim quoted the motto Alistair had lived by, the motto that had brought him to the top of the industry, that had given him the fame he once had.

“I shouldn’t have acted on my own. I shouldn’t have barged into the studio. Hell, I shouldn’t even have met you in the office the first day. You would have done better if you didn’t have me in your life.”

Alistair had been blinking rapidly to hold back tears, but  now it was too much for him to bear. Alistair never thought that Jim would say sorry to him. Alistair never expected anyone would say sorry to him. But now, it’s as if someone was there to take the blame with him, standing up for him in front of the crowd. Someone was there to share the pain. Someone was there to be with him.

“I’m sorry, Alistair.”

Jim could see the swan sniffing and whimpering, his eyes twinkling with tears. Just after he said his apology, Alistair burst into tears. Teardrops ran from his mask to his cheeks, dropping onto the now warm espresso. Wails echoed throughout the coffee shop, cries filled the café. Alistair wiped the tears with his purple scarf, but a long accumulated cumulus would had to rain for a while.

Jim moved to the opposite bench, and gave the weeping swan a hug. Jim never knew how to comfort someone - He never would nor had to. Awkward it might be, he really wanted to do something for Alistair.

Surprisingly, Alistair hugged back. He couldn’t care more, whether the duck had any plans in mind, or just wanted to literally stab him in the back. He had been crying alone for so many nights, it felt like a blessing to have someone willing to lend a hand.

At least for one night, Alistair wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep.

———————————————————————————————

“Okay, I’m good now.”

Alistair sniffed and rubbed his eyes one last time, before gently pushing Jim away. Jim pulled his cup from across the table, and pushed Alistair’s mug towards him. He emptied half of the cup in a single gulp, before returning to his rude self.

Alistair looked at the his mug, seeing his reflection on the liquid surface. He looked even more pathetic after crying, but his heart felt lighter.

Just when he was about to finish his drink, a strong, choking smell replaced the coffee aroma, making Alistair scrunched his face up.

Jim put down his cup to see Alistair staring at him while holding his nose. He stared back with a puzzled expression. “What? Coffee’s gone sour?”

Alistair shook his head, still holding his nose and breath. He pointed at the filthy duck in front of him with his other hand, and managed to whisper without using up much air. “You...stink.”

Jim blinked for a few seconds, and sniffed his body like a stray dog. He then retaliated, shrugging. “Then are you lending me your cologne, pretty boy? It doesn’t seem like you have used it for a month, anyway.”

“And your hair.” Jim continued, pointing at the swan’s supposedly groomed hair. “You look even worse than that Dorkwing boy. Don’t tell me the greatest director of all time can’t even afford a comb?”

“You were saying?” Alistair pointed back at the duck’s feathered whiskers. “You look like you haven’t taken a shower in a month. Don’t tell me the mightiest crime lord of all time can’t even afford a bath?”

Jim sat back, arms crossed. “Yes, I haven’t. Deal with it. It doesn’t seem like you have, either.”

“I...” Alistair paused mid-sentence, not wanting to admit the fact that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. It had been a month, and he already looked as though he was stranded on a deserted island for a year.

Jim sighed, putting a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Listen, you are one of the most talented persons I have met. From the papers to the TV, I have learnt a lot about you. Even my team knows you, Alistair! Some people may mock you for your failure, but many more are sad about it.”

Alistair looked up from the ground, turning to face Jim’s warm smile.

“A lot of people desperately waited for ‘Darkwing: First Darkness’, and despaired when it got cancelled. After all, who wouldn’t like a childhood reminiscence, brought to them by the one and only Alistair Boorswan? You don’t know how many people are sorry for you, how many people are cheering you on, waiting for you to come back.”

“McDuck won’t fund the movie? Glomgold and Waddles will! One wants to beat McDuck, while the other wants to get onto the red carpet. Find that Mallard kid - He is more than willing to cosplay. You’ve got the script done, the movie will be done in a jiffy. Make Darkwing a thing. Make your dream a thing. We are all artists, and artists got to do what they think is art.”

Jim picked up his fedora, rubbing its scratched brim edges. “I won’t be able to join you on set this time, but reserve a seat for me at the premiere. Five seats, to be exact. I’m sure my boys would beg to see it.”

The duck suddenly put his oversized hat onto Alistair’s head, covering his eyes. Alistair protested a bit, before struggling to get the accessory off. He held the worn-out fedora tightly with both hands, about to return it to its owner before being declined.

“Keep it. Consider it a parting gift. For now, at least. We will surely meet again, Alistair.” Jim winked at the swan, who put on the hat after a nod.

“Before then, don’t go dying, m’kay? I’m waiting to kidnap you at the prize-giving ceremony, so don’t prepare too long a speech. Alright?” Jim held out his cup towards Alistair, signalling a “cheers”.

Alistair took a silent deep breath to suppress his surging emotions, and held out his own mug, bumping the duck’s cup.

“Alright. I promise.”

———————————————————————————————

“They’re on the house, celebs.”

Franklin confirmed when Alistair was about to take out his wallet.

“That’s for your patronage.” The owl barista motioned to Alistair with his book, and then shifted to Jim. “And that’s for not making my shop a crime scene.”

Jim snickered, and picked up his chainsaw from the floor. “Thanks, boss.”

“Thank you, pal.” Alistair smiled at Franklin, waving goodbye with his new red fedora before being stopped.

“One thing in return, director.” Alistair looked over his shoulder to face his old friend.

“Make that six seats, capiche?”

———————————————————

(I don’t really have much to say but I want to say something)

-I lost track of when I started writing this. I finished it on July 7, and coincidentally, the local TV broadcasted “The Duck Knight Returns!” (DT17 S02E16) on July 5.

-Also I couldn’t think of an interesting title.

-I really want to see more of Alistair Boorswan (or at least, Jim Starling, please?) in Season 3. I really like Alistair he’s so cute okay?

-sorry edgar wright

(I blame @sheepmouse for my sudden surge of interest in Alistair Boorswan/Jim Starling.)

#alistair boorswan #jim starling #negaduck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #the duck knight returns #story #short story #storyteller

[thepeacetea]

Broken Angels Ch. 2

Hi everyone! First off, I want to say thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged this story. I never thought that it would get that big of a response. Thank you!  Now I tried to tag everyone who asked and if i missed you, I am sorry. Just send me a message and I’ll get you in the next chapter. Anyways, I tried my best with this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy! (The bold lettering is French) Again, if you have questions, comments, or suggestions please let me know. Peace!

There were few things that take Jim Gordon by surprise anymore. After being a cop for thirty years, chief commissioner for ten of them, he had seen it all. Villains come and go, heroes rise and fall, comrades fall in service, dirty cops, political corruption, nearly dying multiple times, his daughter nearly being killed by the Joker. You name it, he’s seen it. So the sight of a tiny girl running through the streets of Gotham wasn’t something he would’ve taken much notice in, he shouldn’t have, really. But the fact that this tiny girl was effectively shoving aside people twice, if not three times her weight as if they were nothing, did. Angry shouts followed the girl, but she was either ignoring them, or she couldn’t hear them. When she came in contact with him, the force behind her shove nearly sent him into the wall. But he caught a glimpse of her face. She looked . . . panicked. He could barely make out the tears before she was gone. Bolting straight into traffic.

The angered shouts instantly turned panicked when the crowd saw the truck fly around a blind corner, heading straight for the girl.

“KID, LOOK OUT!”

At the exact moment that was shouted, the driver slammed on the breaks in a desperate attempt to stop. The sound a squealing breaks filled the air just as the girl looked up and froze. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as everyone realized that the truck wouldn’t stop in time. Allowing them time to  mentally prepare themselves to witness the crash.

Gordon wasn’t aware when he had started moving. He honestly didn’t. All he knew was that he was running faster then he had ever ran in his life. For him, it was as if the world was moving in slow motion. He could clearly make out the second the driver’s face shifted when they knew they couldn’t stop. He saw, heart twisting in panic, as the girl’s body stiffened, bracing for impact. How her eyes, blown and filled with panic, stayed fixed on the truck. Gordon swore he felt his heart stop the moment he tackled her, the truck clipping them, sending them both spinning. Turning their bodies mid-fall, Gordon took the brunt of it before they rolled to a stop.

Ears ringing and heart in his throat, Gordon slowly uncurled himself from the girl. Scanning the streets, he was thankful to find all traffic had stopped, though burning rubber penetrated the air. Ugly, black tire tracks lead to the truck that had stopped about fifteen-twenty feet from where the had been standing. Turning his attention back to the girl, Gordon found her still curled in a defensive ball, shaking.

“Miss, its ok. You’re alright. Your safe.” Gordon said, trying to keep his voice as low and calming as possible.

When he didn’t get a response, he tried again. This time, gently laying his hand on her shoulder to shake her. Still no response. By now, the crowds had gathered, all with phones out, presumable recording, and Gordon’s concern had spiked. Slowly rolling her, the first thing Gordon took notice of was the rapidly rising hand print displayed on her right cheek, accompanied by a busted lip. Next was her eyes. Big, blue, and completely dilated with panic. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what was going on. Finally, and most concerning was her breathing. The pattern was sporadic, coming in short bursts, and much to fast.

“Miss, listen. I need you to calm down. Your hyperventilating. I need you to take slow, deep breaths. Do you understand?” Gordon said, trying desperately to get the girl to focus on him.

“Je . . . Je . . . n-n-ne peut pas respirer. Je ne peux pas respirer!” She manage to choke out, tears steaming down her face as her hands flew to her throat, grasping at her necklace.

Gordon hadn’t spoken French since high school. Even back then he was never good at it. And this girl kept repeating that same phrase over and over. The crowd wasn’t helping, the noise they were making only seemed to drive the already panicked girl deeper into her panic attack.

“Give the girl some space! Anyone who doesn’t know how to speak French I need you quiet! You’re only making her panic attack worse!” Gordon shouted, his patience snapping at the crowd before turning on his comm. “This is Gordon. I need a crew down here with a medical team stat. Minor was almost hit by a car. Suspected abuse on the minor. I also need a French translator.” He barked, turning his attention back to the girl, trying desperately to remember what little French he learned.

“C’est bon, c’est bon.” It was the only thing he could remember.

The girl seemed to snap out of whatever world she had locked herself in when he whispered those words. Her eyes cleared a little, showing understanding. Suddenly, Gordon found his arms full as she launched herself at him. She was even smaller then he had first thought. This kid weight almost nothing. Small arms anchored themselves around him as she buried her face into his shirt. Her body jerking violently with sobs. Streams of broken French spilled out in-between the tears, but it was so choppy that Gordon had no hopes of understanding. The girl felt like she was breaking apart. Like she could shatter at any minute. So Gordon did the only thing he could. He held her, slowly rocking her as he stroked her hair. Continuing to whisper that one phrase over and over.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It felt like hours, but he knew it could have only been minutes until he heard the familiar wails of sirens. Soon two crews were pushing the crowds back and clearing a path for the medics.

“Commissioner, what happened?”

Looking up, Gordon found the familiar face of Montgomery Hill.  At the sound of the new voice, the girl tried to grow smaller as the grip on his jacket tightened.

“I’ll explain later. Do you have the translator?”

“I’m right here.”

Turning in the direction of the voice, Gordon saw a young man, twenty-four if he had to guess, push his way through the thickening crowd. The guy was tall, well built, messy brown hair that was windswept, and mismatching eyes.

“Commissioner, this is Mark Spencer. He works at the airport, we pulled him from the security team.” Hill explain, waving the medics over to assess the girl.

But as they tried to puller her away from Gordon, she let one of the most desperate screams Gordon had ever heard. One that began nagging at his mind. He had heard it somewhere before. He knew he had.  The sudden commotion caused the crowds to press in again as the medic pulled his hands away.

“Spencer.” Growled Hill, spurring the young translator into action.

“Miss, it’s ok. They’re medics. They just want to make sure your ok. That your not hurt. It’s ok. They’re not going to hurt you.”

The girl just stiffened at his words, but she stopped screaming. Gordon caught Spencer’s eyes.

“Ask her name. Introduce yourself. You need to get her to calm down.” Gordon instructed, his hand still running through the girls hair.

“Miss, I’m Mark Spencer. I work at Gotham International Airport as a translator. Can I know your name?”

“M - Ma - Mar - inette”

“Marinette. That’s a very pretty name. Can you tell me your last name?”

“. . .Du - Dupain-Ch - Cheng.”

“Ok, that’s good. Where are you from Marinette?”

“P-P-Paris. My . . . my class is h-here on a s-sch- school t-t-trip.”

“Paris. Wow, you’re a long way from home. Alright, Marinette. We need you to let the medic’s look at you. We need to make sure your alright. They are not going to hurt you, I promise. Me and you friend are going to be right there with you alright. But I need you to let go, ok.”

Gordon watched as the two of them talked, almost wincing at how broken the girl, Marinette, sounded. She was silent for a few moments, just staring at Spencer before she slowly loosened her grip on Gordon. Both Gordon and Spencer gave her encouraging smiles as she let the medics look her over.

As Spencer translated for them, Gordon studied the girl. Now that he could see her, he could only curse silently at the person who had put her in that state. The entire right side of her face was swollen, the hand print still very visible. Her bottom lip was busted, if was from the slap or from him tackling her, he couldn’t tell. But it was Her eyes that worried him, they were still dilated, the blue only appeared in a small ring around her pupil. Their eyes met for a moment. As sharp baby blue collided with cloudy bluebells, Gordon felt a jolt run through him. He had seen those eyes before.He didn’t know how or when, but at some point in time he had looked into those eyes.The longer he studied her, the more sure he became.

As she offered him one of the saddest smiles he had ever seen, Gordon swore he was going to find out what happened to her. Catching Hill’s eye, Gordon knew he wasn’t alone in that thought. Whoever was behind this was going to have a lot to answer for.

Turning his attention back to the crowds, Gordon let out an exhausted sigh. This was going to be a long day.

@mystery-5-5   @captainmac6  @you-will-never-know-how-I-think  @mochinek0 @sonif50 @zalladane @thebananathatwrites @schrodingers25 @kuroko26 @miraculousbelladonna @souleaterlicestein @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @ijustwannabecanadian @ellerahs @ranger-paladinikoe @xxmadamjinxx @derpingrainbow @sassy-spocko @vixen-uchiha @mooshoon

#mairbat #daminette #batfam #marinette #damian wayne #jason todd #jim gordon #big brother jason #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #marinettes class #ml salt #angst with a happy ending #fanfic

[gunmetalarchived]

winner takes it all; pt 1 | a discord thread with @epiitaphs + @consultingsister

ALEX

It had been 48 hours since she had last closed her eyes, and they stung with exhaustion. Alex couldn’t tear them away from the door though, knowing what was coming. She was about to watch her life fall apart, for the third time.

It would play out something similar to the events of two days earlier. He would be hauled in, bag over his head and hands bound together with multiple zip ties. They only managed to catch her because her weakness was known. They were monitoring Sams home, watching for any trace of the prize they were after, Sam still had the alarming bruise on the left side of his face where he had been knocked unconscious. They were tied up and transported to the government black site, to here. Where she had no real choice but to sign away her life in the hopes it might keep her family safe too. She had turned out Sams rational protest at the sordid series of events to state Mycroft dead in the eye. She knew a predator when she locked eyes with one. This wasn’t a rescue attempt, it was a death sentence. But once she could live with. 

From the other side of the mirrored glass, she watched that door unblinking. She could have been in that room, she could have taken him in herself. Yet she knew for certain if there wasn’t a bulletproof layer between them then Sebastian would kill her. He still might, given the chance. He still saw the red flags throughout his time with Moriarty as little romantic hints. He had no objectivity, although he had no reason to either. Why fear the man when killing you would be such a heavenly way to die?

She had told Sam to go home, promised she wouldn’t be far behind. He had the destruction to pick up after their flat had been raised by swat teams. He didn’t need to watch what was about to happen, he deserved more than that. Seeing a cornered caged animal was horrifying in itself but when it was someone you knew? Someone you cared about? This was something Alex needed to bare alone.

Or with whoever opened the door she had her back to.

SHERLOCK

Perhaps it was because he didn’t believe that he had ended up in hell. It had more filing cabinets than he imagined. More interrogation rooms. At least Mycroft was happy. Although he didn’t smile much, he walked around with a self-satisfied air. Mycroft Holmes was not a bad man but he was perhaps petty. For example, he didn’t need to haul Alex Moran and Doctor Prescott from their home in the middle of the night. It as just because he could. Sherlock had handed over the keys to the kingdom and Mycroft was happy enough pretending to be the King. No Jim, Morland getting old; a black hole was forming and Sherlock had intended to get as many people to safety as he could before the end. Only, watching Alex give nothing for six hours didn’t exactly feel like safety. Mycroft taking more than he needed because he could wasn’t what he wanted. Maybe he was the clever one, he certainly got everything he wanted. 

Sherlock was tired. He thought he might sleep more when he was dead. In the hours since Alex had agreed to everything Sherlock had done nothing but stare at a laptop screen, read through documents and guess at where to find Sebastian Moran. At least this one, he considered, would be satisfying. 

For a moment, he stood in the hallway, one door to his left (soon, they would bring in Sebastian, shine a spotlight on his face and demand from him) and to his right, the safety of the observation room. Maybe he could sit and sleep for the next twenty-minutes. Only, when he opened the door the feeling of lightning shot through him, energising him. That bastard. How could Mycroft not tell him; how could he allow him, after all their planning, to just walk in on her again. 

It was panic that tightening around his throat. He could hardly close the door and walk away now. He didn’t want to either. “Alex?” His voice was hoarse, unused for days, only to give an address for Seb. “Alex, I didn’t-- I had no idea--”

ALEX

She expected.... well, she didn't know that what she had expected. But certainly not a man who had called her, who she had watched die. She had seen it, seem him plummet to his death through the scope. That definitely wasn't a trick, nor was the voicemail that sounded so genuine. It had been two months of complete silence. She had watched her back, watched her brothers back, watched Sam struggle from afar all hoping beyond hope that there would be a chance of it being a mistake. Except as she stared into those big green eyes she felt nothing but pure rage. How dare he?

He said her name like he hadn't said much in years. Almost six years exactly. He had held her through the night and known it was going to be goodbye. And she had buried the person that loved him since then. Years of dodging direct contact, of trying to stay just out of sight to save face. And now he stood right in front of her, defying all logic.

She moved across the room to him as fast as physically possible, but instead of reaching out to pull him close, her balled fist connected with his jaw in a strong right hook. Her lips curled up in s snarl, half out of breath just from trying not to strangle him them and there. " Code. Fucking. Zero" was all she could manage through gritted teeth, grey eyes glaring at him with unbridled fury.

SHERLOCK

He saw it coming. Passionate was how he might describe Alex Moran. Psychotic would probably be more accurate. And he could already hear Celia saying you enjoyed her touching you too much. Only she wasn't talking to him now. Or he wasn't talking to her. He guess there was a difference. He couldn't really do anything to stop her but he didn't try. He braced himself for the pain and fell backwards, holding his jaw with a small whine. "I know-- I know." 

Sherlock rarely cried but shame crashed over him like a wave. Anger too. Why was Mycroft doing this to him? Punishment for picking Alex over Cee, maybe? He let the force of her punch carry him to the floor and he stayed there. "I am dead. I am dead. Alex you were not-- I wasn't-- I have no excuse, I was not supposed to even be in the country but that-- I needed you to--- move on." 

But she had moved on, she would go home to Sam after all this and that was exactly what he wanted. "What can I say," he was begging, "what can I do? I am so so sorry, this is not what I wanted."

ALEX

She stood there in ill fitting borrowed clothes, the t shirt she has slept in still underneath. Her hair was wild and falling out of its messy hun by now, a hot mess if she had ever looked one. She pulled back her leg to aim a kick at him on the floor, and stopped. Her shoulders heaved with heavy breaths. This was a conversation they needed to have, another time she could kick the life out of him for scaring her like that. But right now? Right now she had enough to think about. 

Alex stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. It was hardly proud, but it was something. She couldn’t look at him right now. “Keep your eyes up, if you want your brother in one piece. I’m sure as hell not saving his life.”

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but the connection to his jaw was enough to know even in her sleep deprived state this was real. Just... one thing at a time. Get home to Sam. He needed her right now. She didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed back on the door just... waiting. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

He had been the one to pick up the pieces last time. It was some kind of poetic irony he was going to get to see the creature she was so afraid of. And yet she also meant alive, or as alive as they could be. Maybe she’d be able to see his face one day without that long black coat whipping around his legs as he—

Too soon.

SHERLOCK

Sherlock didn't get up from the floor. Exhaustion was likely taking over. He had gone longer periods of time without sleep (once he conducted an experiment which included shots of adrenaline and energy drinks) but this was a different sort of tired. One knee bent, the other leg stretched out, he almost wished she would keep hitting her. Likelihood was, she had no idea what he had done, what he had agreed to before the fall, or she would have kept going.

She is mistaken into thinking he has fallen into the same trap with her. 

"I couldn't care any less about how many pieces my brother is in. I hope he tears him to shreds. Mycroft was never any good at field work; he likely won't even go in." Sherlock didn't care much for violence either way; no need for it but it never really scared him. He had also never understood Alex's fear of her brother, although he could never decide if thats because he was sure his siblings could and may kill him and had accepted it, or was sure they could not. 

They had both turned their back on him with relative ease this past month. He wondered if he had also been wrong about Alex. The punch meant so little, he hardly registered it as a mark against her. He deserved it of course, the man who would never lie to her, back from the dead. 

"Why are you? Surely Prescott will be anxious to be home with you; will seeing Sebastian help?"

ALEX

He didn’t move from his pathetic heap, and after a few silent breaths, Alex extended an arm. She wasn’t looking at him, but it was a truce. A middle ground. Because she didn’t want him dead, she just didn’t know what to feel. It was too much in the last 48 hours, the last two months. The place where her heart had been was filled with an empty numbness when she wasn’t in Sams arms. She had watched the world collapse around her too many times to have faith in anything or anyone else. Even Sherlock.

He spoke like he really meant it, like he wanted Mycroft dead. That could be arranged. No, no that was the point of all this. It was a real fresh start. Her eyes were still glued to the door as she waited for his hand. 

“Help? Nothing will help.” Why was she here? Sam did want her home, and there was no need for her to watch the consequences of her betrayal. There was never going to be a way to erase that look from her baron, knowing he would end her life given the chance. It was a totally different thing to accept it, actually seeing it meant sleepless nights and burying her heart behind a wall of steel and barbed wire. She didn’t know what the real answer was. “Why are you?”

She parroted it back at him, an old trick for deflecting he would read through in seconds.

SHERLOCK

For a moment he doesn't want to take her hand in fear that he will pass right through her. It was a fear he had since he was little, they he had died and no one, not even him had noticed. Since learning the truth from Cee, he thought he might know where this fear had come from. Still, it was silly to imagine he was a ghost. When he reached out, her hand was as solid as it ever was. 

"He ruined my life." 

It wasn't fair to give Seb all the credit on that one. Moriarty had a hand in it, his father, both his siblings. Alex to some degree but he would never think like that. He stands next to her, almost shoulder to shoulder. "I brought him in. I want to see the look on his face when he realises he has lost."

ALEX

She had pulled him to his feet before she could bite back her anger again. “Don’t. Don’t fucking talk about him like that.”

She still wouldn’t give him the benefit of her gaze. Especially not now. Sebastian had his fair share of the destruction but it wasn’t fair for him to take the blame when her hands were soaked in blood. Alex was far from innocent, and choice didn’t matter. At least she was aware of what was going on, Sebastian had all of that stripped from him. James Moriarty had found an addict and just changed the drugs for power and adoration. Same as Sherlock switched his high from heroin to danger.

She visibly flinched as Sherlock mentioned his role in all this. But she didn’t have the words to wound him, there was no victory here. No winners, only survival.

“I remember when you used to care about people. What is life without love? Where’s your fucking compassion now?” It was said in a quiet voice, hollow, empty. Exhausted and hoarse. She sounded like a shell of a person as well as looking like one. “At least he stayed sober.”

SHERLOCK

"You're a hypocrite, Moran. You can speak about my brother however you like, a man who does what he does for the good of the British public. Your brother is a murderer and a thief. Your whole family is. Do not pretend your causes were righteous; the Moran luck has run simply run out."

He had never spoken to her like this. He doubted he had spoken to anyone like this. But to hear his words, his preaching of love and forgiveness thrown back at him, the jab about his inability to stay sober, it was too much. Everything he had lost, everything he would continue to lose because of her and her family. She would gain, she couldn't see it now but she would gain as he fell further and further down a path he had been avoiding since he was seventeen. The one person, maybe the two if you counted Celia, who could save him would hate him and that was the end of it. 

"I have no compassion for men from good families and good homes who knowingly caused others pain for his own self-serving desires. The world is full of them, Sebastian is no different."

ALEX

She launched at him before she knew what she was doing, the one concession being that her forearm was pressed against his chest and not his throat. She slammed him against the glass, the flicker of pain showing in her face as her shoulder took the impact. But she glared at him, grey eyes boring into his soul now. If he still had one.

“Funny. I don’t remember you minding much when I was fucking you. Or was getting your dick wet worth putting that aside? Is that where your line is?”

She had never claimed to be anything other than a monster, he was the one looking for a chance to play saviour. He needed this as an ego boost. All that talk about caring clearly meant nothing.

“Men like you? Silver spoon up your arse and all. Where’s the good in getting high and playing dead?”

At least she was here. At least she was going to watch as her brother exploded. She slammed him again, bristling with hate now. He had no idea what it meant to lose everything, and there was a pain in her eyes he would never have seen there before. Living through hell justified anything in the name of getting out alive.

SHERLOCK

He hardly reacts. Pain shoots through his, his lower back makes contact with the border of the fake mirror but the pain feels distant from him. To die at her hand, is that the way he wanted to go?

"It was never about the sex, you know that." His fierce tone has softened; not kind, just tired. "I know what I am. I have never pretended to be a good person, I am an addict, a spoilt rich boy. I try everyday to make decisions that will benefit others. Most days I fail. But we continue on. You cannot say the same for your family. Defend them if you have to, it's your nature to do so, but do not expect me to pity your brother, or your cousins, when they are in the hell they themselves created." 

Even now, with her body weight pressed against him, he cannot lump her in with the rest of them. He knows he should. The logical side of brain says there is no difference. "I doubt Mycroft will let you kill me, he would be at risk of losing you to a prison cell if he did."

ALEX

“Neither did I.” She spat it back at him, wondering whether his cheek would come up in a nice bruise. This was so different from falling apart in his arms the last time they had been those close. It was funny to think that Alex really thought that night might be the closest she had come to death. Now she was a living breathing corpse. No passport, no records, no state and no identity. But she had a deal, a deal that could keep the few people she cared about from knowing the indefinite hell of being trapped in the same four walls with no escape. None of them knew the true extent of human cruelty. Now they might not have to.

Her hands moved from across him to his throat, but before she could apply any pressure, the door opened. The door she had been so laser focused on. In a split second she shoved him out the way, and watched as the hooded figure was bolted down to the table. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, her whole body wound so tight it was visibly stiff. Her jaw was clenched, her full attention on the person who could only be her brother. Sherlock was going to get what he wanted, he was going to see them both fall apart because he could. Because she had made every single bad choice in her life to protect the person she was loyal to above everyone, and yet he would cut her off as it was convenient.

Maybe she should have been relieved no one could find August or Bash. Maybe it was a mercy.

SHERLOCK

As she reached for his throat he thought both of how wonderful it might be to not have to live the life he had backed himself into and, with quite a different feeling, how she had once trusted him with the knowledge that she liked a hand around her throat. Nothing even close to worry occurred to him. He closed his eyes and hoped for it. 

Before she could finish him, or as was more likely, someone came in to stop her finishing him. The sound or the door opening and close came through a radio he couldn't see, although he assumed there must be a button somewhere so they could communicate. 

He stepped back from her, although instead of watching Seb, he watched her, the back of her head. Mycroft followed Seb in and Sherlock recognised the happiness in his brother's walk. Finally. The folder full of documents hit the metal table with a sharp slap and Sherlock attempted to melt into the shadows behind Alex.

SEBASTIAN

Sebastian was having a rough couple of weeks, to be honest. Alex had left - finally - having apparently decided he wasn't three steps away from an overdose at any given moment. It'd been nice. And maybe he'd started spiraling a little bit, but then Rich had found him and offered him a job. And that was nice - something to do. Except it'd been a week of that - weird as the situation was - and now he'd found himself grabbed, hooded, and transported somewhere. 

To be honest, he'd wondered when this might happen. He wondered on the ride over, after they got him more or less immobilized, whether this was the result of the information Moriarty had told him a little before he'd died. If so, he was going to get free and kill a few people. If they let him. Sebastian wondered if they'd be stupid enough to let him go after this. The proper response was death or wasting away in some hole somewhere, but guilty consciences might get in the way. 

He struggled as they unloaded him, figuring he might as well be the biggest annoyance possible before they killed him, stopped struggling when they finally put a pistol to his head to walk him down the hall. They should have done that from the start. And maybe the first few bruises should have gotten him to behave, but he didn't have anything to lose. 

They dragged him into a room, yanking his arms forward to cuff him to the table. He sat, sprawling as much as someone handcuffed to a bar on the table could. He couldn't see properly beyond the weave of the bag, but he could hear the slap of a folder on the table, feel the puff of air on his hands. "So who is it I'm speaking to? Don't want to run the risk of ruining a pretty face, is it?" They couldn't see the grin behind the hood, but it was there, despite the blood and bruises. "I'm handcuffed, how much do you think I could do? I appreciate the caution a little, obviously. Feeds the ego to think you're afraid."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

The victory was hollow but he would take it. After the years that he had put up with the whole Moran families antics, it had become personal and he would enjoy this. It wasn’t just the Moran’s either. It was Sherlock choosing Alex, it was Celia choosing Morland. The fragile ecosystem his mother had left with him had fallen apart. Only now he felt like he had it back again. Maybe not quote as complete as before, but he was back on top. 

He strolled into the integration room, closing the door firmly behind him, pulling at his tie. He glanced up, just for a moment into the mirror, imagining Alex standing behind it. That little bitch imagined she had called the shots on this one; he wondered is Sherlock had told her yet that they had been in control since the beginning. Mycroft moved past Seb, reaching up in the corner of the room to yank out the wires that lead to the security camera. What the British Government didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. After all, he had done much worse than his in the name of national security and they had thanked him for it. 

His movements were slow, controlled and then, pausing for a moment in front of Seb, he slammed the other man’s head down hard against the table. It was a rush, he’ll admit that. He understood the pull of violence, he was just a better man than Sebastian Moran. He knew when to say no. He doesn’t hold his head down, instead moving away as quickly as before. 

Sherlock, despite himself, moved forward and, with more caution than Mycroft was showing, slowly reached out towards Alex. “Don’t… my brother is a bully who’s never got to act on it before, he wants you to react, he wants to know he’s getting to you both.”

ALEX

The voice on the speaker system, though tinny and filled with statics, cut to her core. It was the first time she had heard him on over a week, since she had left him to hopefully restart his life. There had been a small chance he would still relapse, but with a crushed phone and no friends it would be difficult. At least harder. Alex had put off leaving as long as physically possible. Even worse, she had excused the insults hurled at her in the name of grief and pain. She had sat outside the locked door that allowed him to cry, to feel something for the first time in years outside of pride. She was as loyal as a dog, and had been treated like one. Maybe that was why she was always so keen to jump to his defence. 

Her brother made jokes like he couldn’t be intimidated, rule 101 of getting under your interrogators skin. She didn’t really register she was holding her breath, but the audible smirk in his time had her on edge. She had been there once. Maybe she couldn’t watch this.  For a moment the nausea was too much, yet right as she was about to look away and focus on Mycroft, he seemed to move to the corner of the room. 

Alex moved closer to the glass to get a better look. “What the fuck is he-“ And there, right as he placed his hand on the bags she knew that look. She had seen it too many times in her nightmares. Right as they pressed the knife to her skin, right as the carved along her rib cage with the branding she would bare for life. The sign of someone enjoying pain in others. 

“NO.” It was guttural, almost like a scream but low and animalistic. But their booth was soundproofed. None of it would carry through to the interrogation room itself. She hovered, wondering how many bodies she would have to leave in the hall to get into that room. If Mycroft had turned the cameras off, he didn’t want to be disturbed. “He’s a person, not a fucking pressure point. If he kills him, I swear to god-“

SEBASTIAN

The door shut, trapping him and whoever this was in the room together. He had to imagine it was a Holmes. Wouldn't that make sense? In fact, he rather hoped it was - that'd make the experience better. A regular interrogator wouldn't have the same attachment to the situation and that'd just be tiring. Something was happening over further from the corner. He couldn't quite tell what, but footsteps approached once more and he decided to concentrate more on that. 

Which turned into concentrating on just how hard his face had hit the metal table - definitely metal, the way his nose ached and dripped blood onto the hood and down over his mouth. He grunted at the impact, unable to cushion himself in any way, given that his wrists were currently attached to the table. He sat back up slowly. Must have turned the cameras off, then. Oh well. Seb didn't want a rescue anyway. He felt a little bad about abandoning Rich, but he was resourceful enough to find someone else for protection. If Seb died here, that was better than a box of a cell deep underground. 

He hacked a little to clear his throat. "That wasn't much of a defense. Didn't your mother teach you violence wasn't the answer?" Sure, Sebastian's probably had, even if he'd clearly ended up ignoring such advice. "Very big of you to attack a man who's tied down. I can't even see your face. Makes me think you're too much of a coward to kill me. Not even interested in having the option on the table?"

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

"He won't," Sherlock assured her, quite confident in that, "but he won't make this easy for either of you." His arm remained stretched out, only inches away from her arm, having there.

Mycroft continues his silent vigil around the table. Suit jacket off, neatly hung over the back of the other chair, he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. It wasn't just Seb he saw in that chair. It was all of them; every Moran, every criminal, every terrorist who cannot think further than their own bank account. At least the terrorists believed in something. His mind moved in a similar direction as her brothers; he had no time for men who made a sport of violence. They all had it within them; the spark that causes bar fights after too many beers. Intelligence sorted the men from the boys. Only he wasn't in the mood to be an Oxford man today. Moran would suffer and in that moment, he may have time to think about all the people that suffered because of him. 

"I imagine it's the same sort of feeling when you shoot a man from a hundred meters through a telescope," Mycroft said finally, his tone steady. "Skins not really in the game but it's still satisfying."

ALEX

“No.” It was quieter this time. Soft and barely audible. Spoken as you would a prayer. Maybe that was the true meaning, the true weight to her words. She wanted to take it back. They sounds suck like honey in her throat, on her tongue, knowing whatever was about to happen she had technically agreed to. On paper. None of this was supposed to be happening. She didn’t pull her eyes from the bag, now stained with what alex would assume was the blood of a gushing nose. She could hear all of it, crackling over the sound system and yet she was doomed to watch.

It was sitting in a cell listening to AJs screams all over again. It was beating her fists bloody against a door, handcuffs cutting away at her wrists in the struggle to make them stop...

This was all achingly familiar. Even the way he took his time to roll up his sleeves, the careful folds as to keep his image clean. It certainly wasn’t his shirt. “He’s enjoying it Sherlock. Look at him. Look at your brother and tell me that’s fair.”

She glared back to him for a second, trying not to let the desperation show. She still had her pride, but not for long.

SEBASTIAN

Not much in the way of conversation, then. Sebastian was patient, but he was patient mostly on rooftops or on hillsides. Times like these, a lack of engagement grated on him. Couldn't let it show, though. Maybe that was the one nice thing about having a bag on his head. Still, he'd rather have it off. For all that he was seemingly relaxed, the back of his mind was still very aware of the time he'd been here, the time he might have left, the fact he couldn't see the man's hands. 

"Satisfaction of a job well done, maybe." Was this the same? He didn't think so. "You are gloating. The job's not done yet, and that's still what you're doing. Sure," he gestured vaguely, the handcuffs clattering as he did, "you've got me here. Well done. You're not finished, though. I am still very much your problem for the foreseeable future. I've got all day - do you?" Sebastian might not talk much most of the time, but when he had a captive audience and time to kill, he could get going well enough. 

"Now if I wanted to gloat, I'd tell you that the satisfaction comes from the seconds before the bullet makes impact. You watch them through that scope and it's up to you to decide whether they live or die - or for me, at least. I'm good enough not to miss. And then once you've pulled the trigger you've got a few seconds where the bullet's flying through the air and you really are God. Only you know what's about to happen, and with complete inevitability, it does." He shook his head, wincing a little at the motion. "It's not comparable, this and that. The satisfaction isn't that they know who did it - I don't have to stand in front of my target and tell them it was me. If you don't gloat at me, I'll never know who was responsible - that's where your satisfaction comes from - the knowing. Your skin's more in the game than you want it to be, I think."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

Sherlock clears his throat, lowers his hand. "Mycroft... my brother believes that Moriarty was, likely indirectly, involved in the attack that cause Bridget... Mycroft's wife... she's not been the same since. Your brother is linked to... a part of the organisation that got our neice killed, that destroyed his wife, that had got some of Mycroft's best agents killed. This isn't just fair in his eyes, it's just." Never make decisions until you have all the facts. Even then, have an exit plan. Begrudgingly, Sherlock had always followed that advice, even though it came from his father. 

Mycroft, through the one-way-glass reached forward and pulled the bag from Seb's head, only holding the corners with finger and thumb, then folding it neatly in his hands. He was careful to stand away from the man. He might hate the hitman but he was more than a little aware of his abilities. "For you? I have all week. And you can take that as a compliment, Moran. I have been aching to have you in that chair. But not before I knew I had you. And I do have you."

He smiled, surely satisfied. "I have removed all walls between us. We can be open and honest now. Moriarty is dead. Your cousin August is protecting my little sister, your cousin Sebastian is serving time at her majesty's leisure and your sister-- well, she recognised a losing side what she saw one."

ALEX

“He’s not in his right mind. You know that. I fucking told you, the night he tried to...” This wasn’t right. Her brother was rattling on with some speech about playing god, when none of it mattered. “You put him in there. You found him, let him in the room with Mycroft, How could you?”

The deck was stacked against her from the start and she was only just starting to realise it. Her head snapped back to the scene in front of them at the mention of August- that was new information too. Mycroft had used the words untraceable less than 24 hours ago when she had asked where on earth her family was. And Bash? In prison? All those demands seemed futile now.

“This is a fucking game to him and- a-and...” and what? She moved to the door, grasping at the handle and forcing it down. And down again. Yet the door wouldn’t move.

This whole thing had been a set up from the start. And her body was full of panic as she scrambled to fill in the blanks.

SEBASTIAN

There went the bag. Finally. He blinked a little in the new light, gave Mycroft a charming smile that was perhaps made less charming by the amount of blood on his face. He'd have to worry about flashbacks later though - and anyway, it was his blood, which was better. He wasn't planning on biting Mycroft, though the temptation was certainly there. "Oh, I do, Mr. Holmes. A whole week just for little old me? You shouldn't have." That gave him something of a timeline, though he was doing his best not to construct one that could be taken away. 

A grin. "Have you? I'm very flattered, to be honest. It's very nice to meet you, I'll say. On this end of a scope, of course." Whether or not that was true didn't matter. "You do have me, Mr Holmes, very good observation." His tone as patronizing as could be, though it shifted for the next part. "All tied up, too. You can get closer - I won't bite. Unless you're into that." He looked around the room briefly. "Do you really have me, though? I'd have thought you'd look less tense if that was the case."

Smug bastard. Sebastian would very much like to throttle him, and would absolutely have tried if given the opportunity. "Honest? Don't lie so soon, it'll destroy the rapport you're building. I think we both know honesty only has a small foothold here." And openness? It depended on the information, which - interesting. A cold smile across the table at Mycroft. "She did leave suddenly - I had wondered a little. She did always hate the man. I suppose then it was only a matter of time before the rat jumped ship." August was safe, then. Bash might die. Alex would die if they ever crossed paths. "So did she give me up or did she cling to the notion that I might care about her survival enough to thank her for holding out? I'd love to know just how much to thank her when I see her next."

SHERLOCK & MYCROFT

Sherlock took a step back from Alex again, his back against the wall, his face full of something like grief, or regret but he didn't excuse Seb. He couldn't. They had gone too far, done too much. "I hunted him down because you asked for his pardon. It's the only reason he is in here." That was cruel, but he wasn't going to take the blame fully for this. 

Mycroft considered that, if he wasn't holding all the cards, that Seb's calm would frustrate him. If he really needed something from the hitman, if he was desperate.... but it wasn't like that anymore. Sure, Seb likely had enough information about Jim's web to fill a library but would good was it now? The whole thing was being picked apart, mostly by other criminals looking for their slice of the pie before the party was over. The job wasn't over, he wasn't about to retire anytime soon but this would at least mark the end of the Moran's being a thorn in his side. 

"Not something I could say for sure, Moran. Why don't you ask her yourself?" With obvious glee, Myc moves across to the mirror and presses on the button by the side. The room behind the screen lights up. Sherlock, seeing where his brother was heading had backed away into the shadows but he would not be hidden. Mycroft smiled between Alex and Seb. "A nice family reunion, I'm so glad I could witness this. Why don't you tell him what you've done for him Alex? I'm sure he will be ever so grateful."

#epiitaphs #consultingsister #( v: post fall MI6 ) #discord thread 010 | winner takes it all #YES I NAMED IT AFTER AN ABBA SONG #AM I WRONG #torture tw #panic attack tw

[harrypotterthehufflepuff]

Fool

This was requested by: @oingo223

Request: If you want to, could you write a Fred Weasly imagine based off of the song "Fool for Love" by Lord Huron.  Also I love your writing and appreciate what you do!  And if you don't want to write this that is totally okay, and if you do then thank you so much!

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This was Amazing to do! I used the lyrics as dialogue .I hope it turned out as you wanted. I decided to write the reader as in first person and then explain what happened to Fred. And I hope that’s okay even though I’m pretty sure that’s not really how it works BUT WHATEVER, just enjoyyy <3

I highlited the parts where I’m using the lyrics.

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Warnings: swearing, blood, fighting.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word Count: 2.2 k

If you’d like to request something please head over to my other blog, https://ronaldandremuslover.tumblr.com/ and I’ll try and fix it for you !

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Once again, my phone had blown up by tumblr sending me countless of notifications that there has been an error. I hope by reposting this it will work. I also got a message from someone who said that they could not read below the keep Reading, which is obviously unfortunate. Gahh, I hope this will make it work. Thank you.

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'It's going to be alright. Everything is going to turn out splendid', Fred thought to himself. He shook his head in an attempt to get his hair out of his eyes. He stood on the same mountain you had shared your very first kiss and it was very windy all the way up at the top of the mountain. It didn't help that it was winter either. It was supposed to snow today.

I've got this. I know she's gonna be my wife.

A very soft pop came from behind him. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

The world had stopped spinning around you and you landed gracefully on the spot. Tall, crispy grass that reached up to your knees were swaying around you in the wind that made the waves of the ocean forceful. The smell of saltwater was evident and sand underneath your feet was sneaking into your sandals. 

Only a couple of feet away you noticed the same red hair that you had so many times played with your hands. So many times you had smelled the wonderful smell of freshness. He was grinning, as per usual. But he did look rather nervous.

"Hello, Fred." Drawing nearer to him, you noticed he was wearing, what you remembered as, his most formal shirt. 

"Hi, lovely." 

You had already gotten a bad feeling from this. Your current boyfriend wasn't that happy with you seeing your ex. And Fred knew that the pet name 'lovely' was your favourite.

Rascal.  

You pushed your hair behind your ear in an attempt to stop it getting in your face. The ocean beneath you was a deep blue and was glittering in the sunlight, making it appear as small crystals were floating around the surface. 

It was very beautiful.

He was looking at you with those big, beautiful eyes that had once been the reason that you became attracted to him. But you were not allowed to think like that anymore. That wasn't fair to Jim, who had loved and cherished you for almost a year now. No, that wasn't fair.

"You said that you wanted to talk, Fred." The ocean was loud and the wind didn't help with making your voice distinct.

His smile got even bigger, it almost looked painful. "Yeah, I did say that." 

The way that he reached into his pocket made your breath catch. 

The way he got pulled out a small rectangular box made your hands shake.

The way he got down to one knee made your eyes shine with tears.

"Y/N, I know, believe me when I say that I know, that things have not been easy. But I also know that we, you and I, together, can make things a little bit easier," 

His eyes had also started to shine and had even gotten red,

"Because that's us. We always find a way to make things easier. Together. Together we make things better. We belong together, Y/N. And I know that you know that just as much as I do," 

He opened the small box in his hand. Inside was a ring with a small, white diamond. It was glittering in the sunlight and you could tell that Fred was shaking by the way that the ring was bouncing.

"So, therefore I ask you to become my wife. Will you marry me, Y/N?"

At this point, your cheeks were wet with tears and your vision blurry. Your hands were clapped over your mouth as if it would drench out the sobs that were escaping. 

Was this it? Was this the moment where you got engaged? Do you even love Fred anymore? Didn't you make it clear that if he walked through that door in your apartment, that you two were over? 

Your hands fell from your face, shaking. "Fred- I- This is- What?" 

"I'm asking you to marry me. To live with me." His voice was strained from trying to keep back his tears.

This was not it. This was not the moment where you got engaged. You do not love Fred anymore. You had made it more than clear that of he stormed off, he could not come running back to you.

No, this wasn't fair to anyone.

"No." The word rolled off your tongue as it had been the easiest decision in your life.

He looked dumbfounded, lost, heartbroken. It was like you could hear everything crumbling inside of him. 

But he just stood up straight and looked at you through his eyelashes that were clumped together by tears, "No?" 

"No." You echoed. "My answer is no, Fred. This, (you waved your arms at him) Is ridiculous! What were you thinking?"

Your sudden outburst had taken him by such surprise that he stumbled backwards a few steps. 

"I was thinking that we belong together. We always have!" The way he tried to keep his voice calm and collected made your temper rise. Everything was not calm and nothing had ever been more out of control.

What was happening?

"You know that I'm already in a relationship!" You cried, your hands curled up into fists.

Fred snorted and crossed his arms tightly around his chest, "You mean that sad excuse for a man? Big Jim?"

"At least he hasn't walked out on me! He hasn't left me in the middle of a room, crying to the point where my eyes stung!" 

He went silent.

Your remark had affected him because now he was letting his tears flow down his pale, freckled cheeks. 

At one point in your life, you had once laid in be with him and been trying to count all of them. 

At one point.

At last, Fred said, "You know, I bet he's not so tough."

"Oh yeah?" You said, growling.

"Yeah, I hear he's this massive ol' chap with big muscles and everything, but I've also heard people talking about him, not very nice words. He seems to have a lot of ladies 'round town that wooes whenever he's around, eh?"

You scowled at him, "Jealous?" 

Fred laughed, but not the usual sweet and charming laughter. This was the annoyed and fake one. "Y/N, you're a smart girl. You know you don't love him."

His voice had now moved on from the annoyed tone to a quiet and pleading one. 

It broke your heart.

"Fred, please. This is not right. I need to go." 

He made a go to grab your hand but you quickly recoiled. It wouldn't do you any good to make physical contact with him. It would only bring back memories. Memories of you caressing his cheek or him hugging you from behind...

Stop!

"Tell me you don't love me." He said, "Look into my eyes and say to me, 'Fred, I don't love you anymore."

You couldn't. You couldn't tell him that. It wasn't okay to lie. 

Instead, you backed away and just as you were about to turn around to apparate, you gave him one last apologetic, watery smile.

~ ~ ~ ~

Fred knew that Jim worked in a very popular bar. That's why he had precisely chosen this bar to have a drink- or not.

He opened the doors and stepped inside. It was incredibly warm and people were seated close together. Mostly men were seated around the bar. And the women who walked around seemed to work at the place. 

Fred glanced around the bar in hopes of seeing an incredibly tall man. He had never seen Jim in person before, but when a man got out from a door that led to somewhere behind the bar and even had to duck as he got out from the door, Fred knew that that was the man he was looking for.

He puffed out his chest and pulled back his shoulders and headed towards the overgrown man. 

Once he had pushed enough people out of the way to get to the front of the bar he managed to get a good look at the man. He looked like a nice guy despite his height and uncommonly broad chest.

Dammit.

"What'd you fancy?" 

Fred had been too busy inspecting him that he hadn't even noticed that he had asked him a question.

But instead of telling him what drink he'd fancy, he simply said, "I come for to find Big Jim, well, here I am and I guess you’re him."

Jim looked around, clearly confused. He looked back at Fred, his dark brown eyes looked almost like black. "Yeah, I'm him. Now would you like a drink or not?" 

The red-headed man just grinned at him, mockingly. "I see how you got your name, you're tall as hell and broad as a train."

Jim, who had looked rather calm, had started to get an impatient look on his face. His nostrils flaring, "Yeah, right." He said as he had been told that many times before, "If you don't want a drink the get out. I don't have time for this shi-"

"Have you spoken to Y/N today?" Fred interrupted.

Jim's face turned blank for a split second but was quickly replaced with a doubtful expression. "D'you know her?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, only her name. Yes, I do know her."

"Do I know you?" 

"No, you haven't slept with me." 

The tall man standing behind the bar had let go of the glass he had been holding. He stared at Fred as though he had just said something unforgivable. "Who are you, you red-headed knob?"

Fred leaned onto the bar to get closer to him, "I'm Fred. Nice to meet you, Big Jim."

"Hold it, you're Fred? Y/N's..."

"Y/N's ex-boyfriend, yeah." He smirked at him as if daring him to lay a hand on him. "You know after all the talk I've heard, I expected you to be more... buff. You know... A little bit... good looking." 

The barman was about to say something when Fred continued, "After all, they say you’re a hard-worn man." He narrowed his eyes at him, hoping to provoke something within him, "The baddest guy in the whole wide land."

But Jim merely blinked at him. "I don't have time for you shit. Piss off." 

Jim was much taller than him. He towered over him to the point where Fred had to tilt his head to properly look at him. But he wasn't backing down. Not now.

The second Fred had stepped into this crowded bar, he knew what he was going to do. He still did. And he was determined to fulfil his duty. And so he jumped over the bar when Jim had turned around. The sound had clearly made Big Jim turn to face Fred. And when he did, Fred struck. He punched him square in the face. 

"Well, I'm not afraid to fight, let's step outside and I'll show you why."

Fred goaded hastily before Jim would hit him back and jumped over the bar and ran for the door. He heard Jim run behind him, he could feel him breathing down his neck. 

As soon as he had flung the door open with his entire body, a big hand had gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him backwards. He was spun around to face the man he had just punched. A black bruise was already forming around his eye.

Ha-ha.

For a hot second, Fred's vision blackened and his nose became incredibly hot. But after seconds of realizing what had happened, he had regained his balance and had only just stumbled backwards. 

He was not going to fall. 

"You know, you don't hit half bad," Jim said, his voice steady but his eyes flashing over every part of Fred's body as if he was looking for potential places to punch and kick, "Oh, but I'm gonna lay you to ground tonight." 

Before Fred had blinked Jim was running towards him, his hand ready strike him in the gut. 

He landed on his back, the snow melting and seeping in through the jacket and plaided shirt. He couldn't help but whimper as the afterpain hit him. Jim was just as strong as he looked, if not stronger.

The broad-chested man snorted and smirked down at him on the ground, "Pretty pathetic, aren't you?" He said before giving a last kick to his stomach again.

"Just wait until I catch my breath!" Fred gasped as Jim staggered over triumphantly to the door, "Gonna send you on to an early death..." 

Bollocks.

He only noticed that his nose was bleeding when he spotted a red liquid in the pearly white snow. He defeatedly rolled over onto his back, relieving the pain in his stomach. 

It felt as if his body was turning against him. But,' No, I’m not afraid to die, I’m just mad I left Big Jim alive'  was all he could think. He had failed.

He stared into the endless sky and wondered when everything had turned to absolute dragon dung. 

If he could turn back time to change his decision to leave you alone in the dark room, he would in an instant. But he can't. It was too late.

He closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh, 

'I really don’t know where I’m goin' He thought to himself.

Nice one, Freddie.

'I know I should have never looked back, Shit, why can't I ever just do the right thing?' The thought occurred to him.

I was born to lose 'cause I’m a fool for love, that's just me, he thought.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter fanfiction #request #fool for love #:) <3

[goldandbluesmiles]

Joker’s Killer

Chapter 1: What do we do now?

Summary: In the end, it’s not Batman that kills the Joker. It’s Bruce Wayne.

May 29, 1:19: Bruce Wayne walked into Arkham undetected by any security cameras or guards

May 29, 1:25: Bruce Wayne entered Joker's cell.

May 29, 1:35: A guard realized that the hysterical laughter and gurgling from the clown's cell weren't just for show.

May 29, 1:37: Bruce Wayne was found standing over Joker's body with a steel bar in his hand, Joker's head bashed in.

XXX

Note: This is an A/B/O fic though the only tropes that are focused on are the protective omega parent and bonding.

TW: Non-consensual bonding (It’s an a/b/o fic)

Ao3

Chapter 2

xxx

No No No

Please Don't

"Little Birdie. You won't get away this time,"

Pain. Blood. Laughter. Hysterical cackling.

"Come on! Come on Little Birdie. Your turn. Take a bite!"

No NO NO NONONONO

Pain. So much pain. Painpainpainpain.

Jason tumbled home, assaulted by his memories and barely keeping himself upright. How he got from the cafe to his safehouse without someone stopping him was a mystery but one that he was grateful for.

Once he got inside, Roy was there, helping him up and calming him down.

"Jesus Jay! What the fuck happened?"

And really, Jason couldn't blame for the shock in his tone. He had gone out to have a late lunch with Bruce and while they still had their disagreements, the two omegas rarely had any problems outside of their vigilante personas. And even those were small, resolved within an hour.

Jason should not be coming back from lunch this out of it, barely reeling in his scent of distress.

"Jason! Come on talk to me! Don't make me call the Bat,"

Jason took a shuddering breath at that and tried to talk, tried to get something around the clog out of his throat.

"He asked- the bite-he-he"

"And you told him about the bite?" murmured Roy, gently leading him to the couch

Jason nodded.

"Jason," said the alpha, voice low and soothing, "What did Bruce do?"

Jason tried to answer but dissolved into sobs just thinking of the blank look the older omega had gotten.

"He left, Roy! He just left," whimpered Jason, "I told him what that thing did to me and he just got up and left. Didn't even say anything! Why would he do that, Roy? How could he just leave?!"

Roy's arms tightened around him.

"He said, he promised- He's my dad, he's supposed to-supposed to- take care of me! He just left me there, Roy!"

Jason could smell he anger starting to come off of the alpha. Anyone else, Jason would be getting ready for a fight but this was different. Roy was the one alpha who's scent didn't make him run. Even Dick had to reign himself in around Jason, but not Roy. Roy was the one alpha Jason knew would never hurt him, knew his anger was for him and not at him.

"We're going to fix this. Remember the plan. Next time he comes out we'll kill him and you'll be free," said Roy and Jason sunk low into the promise, let the words wash over him and calm him down. They had a plan, they would fix this.

"And screw the Bat," added Roy

Yeah, screw the Bat.

xxx

Bruce didn't come back for dinner. Alfred was not particularly worried.

The only time the man felt compelled to come home was when Damian was there and the young boy was spending the weekend with his eldest brother. Timothy was also with his friends. With the house empty of any children and Bruce having been banned from the cave by Alred for a forced 'vacation of vigilantism' it wasn't a surprise that the Master had opted to stay out a little longer, maybe gallivanting around the city with Selina Kyle.

Good for them. They needed some time together. She was a good influenced on him.

He got the call at 6:38 PM.

"Hi, Alfred. It's Jim. I'm so sorry about this. If I had been told right away I would have called much earlier-"

"Commissioner, if you could please get to the point," said Alfred, dread rising in him

The man on the other end of the line took a deep breath.

"Bruce Wayne had been arrested for the murder of Jack Napier, otherwise known as Joker,"

xxx

Dick and Damian were the last to arrive at the manor.

"He really did it?" Dick asked Alfred as Cass whisked their little brother away

"So it would seem," said Alfred

"This has to be a mistake!" Damian yelled from the other room, "Father wouldn't do that! Batman doesn't kill!"

"Except it wasn't Batman that did it," said Stephanie, sounding almost regretful.

Dick decided to intervene before the whole thing blew up in everybody's faces.

"Look, guys," he said stepping into the room, "As far as Jim's told us and Barabra has confirmed, Bruce was found standing over Joker's body and there was no one else there,"

"So he really did it?" murmured Tim from where he was curled up with Cass.

"Where's Todd?" said Damian, swiftly directing his anger and confusion elsewhere, "I thought he would be here singing and dancing out of happiness,"

Dick looked over to Alfred who just shrugged.

"Master Bruce was supposed to meet Master Jason for lunch. I held off from informing him. I thought it might be a good idea to figure this out first,"

"Father was meeting him for lunch," said Damian, "Well obviously something happened!"

Dick sighed, "Damian-"

"Uh guys," said Stephanie, "Leslie says to turn on the TV,"

The TV in the room was turned on and the first thing that popped up was-

Billionaire Murders Joker in cold Blood

Click

"Bruce Wayne-"

Click

"The Joker had been-"

Click

"Arkham inmate-"

Click

"Shit," muttered Damian. No one scolded him about his language.

"What do we do?" murmured Tim

Dick took a deep breath. It was time to take charge. He could freak out later.

"Everyone chooses someone to call fro the league before we blow up with calls, then Alfred and I will talk to Jim. I'm gonna ask Barbara to go meet Bruce and I'm going to talk to Jason myself. He was the last one of us that talked to Bruce and considering everything, there is no way that's just a coincidence,"

As everyone started to disperse, Dick held Damian back.

"What?" said Damian

"I know this is scary and confusing-"

"Master Jason!"

Dick stopped and looked up to see Jason standing in the doorway. The first thing that registered was the smell. He reeked of an Omega in distress. The second thing Dick noticed was how dishevelled he looked. Hair sticking up, red nose, puffy unfocused eyes.

"Jason wait up!" someone called from behind Jason and Dick straightened as Roy came into view.

"I tried to get him to call first," said Roy, "But he got really worked up and Dick-"

"It's my fault," said Jason

"What?"

"Jay we talked about this-"

"No!" said Jason, starting to tremble in Roy's arms, "It's all my fault, my fault, all my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault,"

Dick quickly moved toward his younger brother as Roy and Jason slid to the ground.

"Jay I'm gonna touch you," said Dick and when Jason nodded Dick carefully curled into the side Roy wasn't on.

"What do you mean it's all your fault?" asked Dick

"I told him," said Jason, "I told him about the bite. Joker's bite,"

Dick froze. He heard a soft gasp from where the rest of his siblings had also gathered back in the room.

"Jason," whispered Dick, devastation colouring his voice, "Jason, are you saying..."

Jason whimpered and tucked his head against Roy's chest.

"Jason," and that was Damian coming closer to them, "Jason can I sit with you?"

Damian kept his voice soft and low, almost childlike compared to his usual gruff and formal way of talking. When Jason sought out the voice, Dick realized what his little brother was doing. While the teenage omega wasn't a pup anymore he was still young enough to elicit a reaction from his oldest omega brother.

"Dami?" said Jason, eyes coming into focus for the first as he looked at his little brother

"I want to sit with you but the floor isn't very comfortable," said Damian, "Maybe we could move to the couch and maybe get some blankets to get warm?"

Jason blinked a few times and then nodded, making a small motion with his hands. Damian nodded and carefully tucked himself against Jason's front. As soon as Jason calmed down, the rest of the family leaped into action. This part they were all very good at. In less than five minutes the carpeted floor had been turned into a small nest with Jason in the middle and everybody else cuddling around him.

"Tell them," murmured Roy once everyone had settled down

Slowly, ever so slowly, Jason started telling the story of what had happened last time Joker had been apprehended. How Joker had taken him alone, and how the alpha had bitten him and then forced him to bite back.

"It was awful," muttered Jason, "He kept hitting me and hitting me and I didn't want to but there were other people in the room and I just-"

He choked off with a sob and Damian gently nuzzled his cheek.

"He made me bite him and bond. He made me-"

Jason stopped, crying too hard to continue.

"It's okay," said Tim, "It's okay,"

Jason just cried harder.

Dick knew the story from there. Bruce and he had dropped off Joker at Arkham. They had tried to get Jason back at the cave but Artemis and Roy had already been there and while none of the bats particularly liked their explosive way of doing things, they had to admit the Outlaws had Jason's back.

So they had let him go and then Jason had called them, saying he was fine but needed some time. That was three weeks ago and while they had stayed in communication via text, none of them had seen him.

Until Bruce today.

"I wasn't gonna tell Bruce," said Jason, once his sobs quieted down, "I wasn't gonna tell him but he saw the mark and he started teasing me about it and I just...snapped, telling him about the Joker-I still can't believe no one heard us and he got this weird look and then he just walked away and I was mad and hurt and dizzy and I-I should've-should've gon' af'er him. I should-"

Jason dissolves into sobs again and Dick could only rub his arm.

What else is he supposed to do?

xxx

It's late when he finally called Barbara.

"I don't know how to say it so I'm just gonna come out with it," said Barbara, "He did it, Dick. There's no other way around it. He used his training to get around the security system and he seems pretty out of it like he's on autopilot. Almost catatonic but he most definitely did it,"

Dick sighed, "Thanks Barbara,"

"Dick," she said quietly, "Do you need me to come over?"

Dick shook his head, looking to where Roy and Kori were sitting together at the other end of the cave, having left Jason to the rest of the family.

"No, I'm good," said Dick, "Your dad's gonna need you. We also need someone to deal with Wayne Enterprises and the Press and it's not gonna be us with the mental space everyone is in now. Coordinate with Lucius?"

"Yeah," said Barbara, "I'll get on it. Take care of yourself, Dick,"

"You too," said Dick and then hung up after a quick goodbye.

"So?" asked Roy as he went to sit near them

"He did it," murmured Dick, "He did it. God!"

It was only when Kori put her arms around him that he realized how badly he was shaking.

"Hush, Dick," said Kori as she pulled him close. Roy moved to his other side and gently started rubbing his back.

"We were going to kill him," Roy said after a while, "Me and Artemis. We had a plan. Next time Joker broke out, we would make sure he died, severe the bond. Artemis wanted to break into Arkham to do it but we decided it would be too much exposure,"

"But then Jason went to meet Bruce and..."

"He probably thought it was a sex mark," said Dick

Dick remembered when he had first started having sex. He had come down many times with a 'temporary' bite mark and Bruce had teased him every time he had seen it. Still did it sometimes.

"That makes sense," said Roy, "And then Jason told him the truth and he snapped,"

"Maybe he went into that state you speak of," said Kori, "When an Omega is protecting their pup,"

"Maybe," said Dick, too tired to even think of the logistics. Thank God for Alfred otherwise, he would still be up there comforting his siblings. It'll probably be his job to do it in the days, weeks, maybe even months to come but for now, he just need a minute, a little time to breathe, he needed-

He needed Bruce. Bruce would know what to do.

Except Bruce wasn't there.

"What are you going to do?" Roy asked in a soft voice

He didn't know. He had no idea what he was going to do.

And then finally, Dick let himself cry as Roy and Kori pulled him close.

#Jason Todd #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #roy harper #dick grayson #hurt #joke is an ass

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Eighteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

The Unlived Life

It was a scorching day, her sixteenth of being an unwilling part of their camp. 

It had been dry for the past few days, but today the sun had decided to make things even more unbearable. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

Primarily, today being the day that all the O’Driscoll groups would reunite.

She’d gathered from Peter and overhearing other conversations that Colm’s boys would break off into smaller groups, killing and looting as they went, and then regroup sometime later to see how business was going. It seemed chaotic to her, quite frankly, but Colm wasn’t a man who cared much for order. As long as he was still their leader, they made money, and they feared him then he didn’t care.

It was nearing noon, now, the sun at it’s highest, so they were taking a break amongst the cover of trees, but even the shade didn’t make it any easier. She felt uncomfortable, irritated, like she could barely breathe it was so stifling.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone since she’d awoken. Peter was napping, the heat too much to bear for the Irish boy, and Zach was as silent as ever. That was good, she knew she’d just snap at Peter if he began one of his long conversations and she didn’t want to do that, he was growing on her.

She could feel the shirt sticking to her skin, beads of sweat sliding down her back and neck. The feel of every one sent a new wave of irritation through her.

And she found herself staring at Colm, watching him sat amongst his men, chuckling at a story one of them was telling, sipping from his flask. She knew she was in a dangerous mood, a prickling sensation running up and down her spine, her mind telling her that lashing out would soothe some of her irritation.

She was going to kill him today. After she’d confirmed Thomas was dead. She didn’t know how exactly yet but she was going to.

She’d barely slept, which wasn’t helping matters. Her unfinished plan had gone round and round in her mind, trying to think of how she could grab a gun from a nearby man, or lunge at Colm and grab the knife on his belt, stab him before he could even react. Would they kill her? Most likely. It was a price she was convincing herself she was willing to pay, though. People would be safe with Colm dead, Arthur would be safe. If he already believed she was dead, or had even let the thought cross his mind, then, she was also trying to convince herself, it wouldn’t be too great a blow.

No matter what, today she was going to get the closure she’d been wanting for over ten years, and not just for Thomas’s death.

Colm chuckled again, raising his flask to his lips, and the casual normality of it just suddenly tipped her over the edge.

“Why didn’t you come to us?”

The man speaking broke off at the interruption and the group fell silent, their heads turning to where she sat with her back against a tree, smiles and laughter pausing. Their eyes then slid to their leader. Colm swallowed his mouthful, squinting slightly as he regarded her, propping an elbow on his knee.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Me and my mother.” She held his gaze. “You must’ve known where we were. You knew Nicholas was my mother’s brother. You could have blackmailed him, got money, come for us.” She didn’t stop the faintly disgusted look that crossed her features. “Reunited us, as you seem so desperate to do now.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you. I don’t blame you. When a man gets older, he realises he needs his family, though. Back then...” A smile pulled at his lips. “Nah, I wanted to leave ya be. I knew you’d be fine, you and your Ma. Least I could do.”

She hated him. She hated him, she hated him, she hated him. Hated that fond look on his face, how he sounded so gracious, like he’d done them the ultimate of favours. She wanted to hurt him.

“The least you could have done was loan my father the money he needed to keep us going.”

Colm scratched his cheek, his brow dipping slightly, like he was trying to figure out what was happening. “He didn’t want to be indebted to me.”

“He asked you so he must not have cared too much.”

“Yeah, but it killed him to do it.” He was smiling but there was a hardness to his eyes. “He wanted so much to make it all work out, the ‘good life’, and he didn’t.”

“He did. It was just one bad winter.”

“One bad winter gets families killed.”

“That’s why they turn to others and ask for help.” Her words were as sharp as knives but they did nothing to cut through the growing tension in the air.

Colm looked at her, his jaw moving slightly. Then, he laughed. “We just both like to argue, don’t we?”

It was a chance for her to stop, but Ada wasn’t going to back down, even though she could feel Zach’s eyes boring into her and her own voice was screaming at her in her head to stop.

“You like to argue. You like to deflect and laugh and think you’re smarter than everyone else but you’re not. You’re a cheap thief and a poor leader who cares for nobody and nothing and when you die nobody will care or remember you and not one tear will be shed in sorrow.”

Silence. A couple of the men shifted uncomfortably, some eyes on the ground.

Colm’s were fixed on her, expressionless now.

“Is that so.” The icy tone should have been enough to stop her.

“Yes,” came her instant reply.

His leg was bouncing up and down now. “If any of my men had said that I’d have killed ‘em.”

“Because you know it’s true.”

Him standing and taking measured steps closer should have been enough to stop her. “Because it’s insolence.”

She didn’t realise she’d met his unspoken challenge by also standing herself until she was on her feet. 

“’Insolence’,” she scoffed, her eyes shifting to the men who were now all staring at her incredulously. “You’re all replaceable to him. If, no, when you die for him, he’ll just recruit another in your place. You mean nothing to him. Why pledge your life to and fight for a man like that? He didn’t even help his own brother, didn’t even come to his funeral, didn’t even care about him—”

She broke off with a choke as Colm grabbed her by the throat, his face inches from hers. In her peripheral vision she saw Zach had stood but he did nothing. Her hand gripped at Colm’s arm as he pressed her back against the tree, his fingers tightening, staring at her.

“You got the big family fuckin’ mouth, girl,” he murmured lowly. “We just don’t know when to shut up, do we?”

Both hands on his arm now, she sank her nails into his skin, his shirt sleeves rolled up but he didn’t even wince. Gasping in small breaths, her lip curled as she managed to breathe out, “Why are you... keeping me here?”

“You want to see your brother, don’t you?”

She could just about breathe, and her heart was pounding as her natural instincts to fight surged through her, but she kept as still as possible, managing to speak once more. 

“This isn’t about... me, is it...” she gasped. “... You want... to get one over on Dutch... as usual. Well... I’m sorry to disappoint you... but he does not care about me.”

That made Colm smile, though his grip didn’t loosen. “No, he doesn’t. But Arthur Morgan cares about you, and Dutch cares about Arthur. Anythin’ that hurts Dutch in some way is a fuckin’ gift to me. If Arthur Morgan’s out there thinkin’ you’re dead? Fuckin’ wonderful.” He licked his lips as he tilted his head and paused for a few moments. “... He may have been your daddy but he was my brother. I knew and loved him a lot longer, so you watch your fuckin’ mouth, you don’t know shit.”

Tears were starting to sting at her eyes and it wasn’t just from his hold. “Why... didn’t you help him, then? Help us?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he took dirty money. Just like his daughter, too much pride.”

He squeezed harder for a moment, before shoving her away, releasing her. She gasped in long, harsh breaths as her back collided with the tree, her hand darting up to massage her throat. Her eyes were still fixed on him, though, and she watched him walk away without another look at her, returning to his seat and sitting with a sigh.

“Carry on, Jim, before we were so fuckin’ rudely interrupted.” He didn’t even glance up at her, and the man, Jim, immediately continued his story.

Ada could already feel a headache forming from the lack of oxygen, and she coughed, her throat faintly sore.

“Hey, you okay?”

Peter was suddenly at her side, he must’ve awoken at some point, his voice quiet, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she rasped slightly, continuing to massage her neck.

“I’ll get ye some water.”

She met Zach’s gaze as Peter darted away. He sat back down as he held her eyes for a moment longer before looking at the ground. She’d seen a flicker of something in them but hadn’t known what it was from the man who barely showed any emotions. Part of her thought she should be embarrassed, maybe, cowed or wounded, but she actually felt... relieved. She could provoke him. She could wound him in some way. She didn’t fully believe what he’d said, but she believed that he thought he loved his brother.

But had she got the closure she wanted?

... Not yet.

Like it had never happened, they continued on shortly after, and, sat back in her place in the wagon with Peter, he told her rather unhelpfully that small bruises had formed around her throat. Every swallow came with a slight ache but it was the least of her concerns. The men were becoming louder, more energised, excitement growing in the air; she knew they were drawing near to the regroup.

She knew they were drawing near when the wagon turned off of the main road, jostling her, Peter and the cargo.

She knew they were drawing near when she started to hear more voices.

She knew they were there when the men riding behind the wagon urged their horses into canters, moving ahead out of view as they called out.

She’d imagined her heart would be pounding, that she’d be sweating, wanting to be sick, but instead, she felt calm, almost unnervingly so. The truth was going to be revealed in a matter of minutes. The wagon came to a halt as a cheer went up. Voices talked over each other, growing into a loud hubbub as Peter jumped out of the wagon. As always, he held a hand out to help her out and she took it, dropping down onto the grass.

“Ada!”

Lifting her head, she found Colm beckoning her over, stood by his horse with Zach and two other men. Glancing at Peter, he smiled lightly, before she looked away and headed over to Colm. Her fingers flexed slightly as she moved closer, her eyes fixed on him. 

Just a matter of minutes.

“Come here, darlin’.” It was really like earlier hadn’t happened at all, with his smile and his arm going around her shoulders.

She allowed it without reaction, moving with him as he headed into the camp, Zach following at a short distance behind them. As he greeted men as they walked, she surveyed the area. It was in another clearing and sprawling, wagons dotted around, several groups of horses, different fire pits, men sat around, waving and calling out to each other. She had no idea there were so many of them, they were like a small army, and they called out their greetings to Colm like he was a king, swiftly filling him in on business they’d conducted, telling him they’d catch up with him later. He just nodded, smiled, and said a few words in reply, his arm remaining around her.

She looked at each man as they passed them, searching their features, but Thomas was dead so what was the point?

“Colm!” A man with thinning blonde hair approached, a hand on his belt.

“Dorian.” His arm left her as he reached a hand out, accepting Dorian’s hand and shaking it.

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Just fine, just fine,” Colm said as he released his hand. “The boys all come back with ya?”

“Yeah, George is helpin’ them with the Court wagon.”

“All right, come find me later, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” Dorian then glanced at Ada, looking her up and down. “... This your niece?”

“Yes, she is.” The arm was back around her shoulders but she gave no reaction again, looking at Dorian who was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ada.”

She hated the familiarity of it. Dorian didn’t seem offended as she said nothing, just looked at Colm and tipped his hat. “I’ll see you later.”

“All right.” Then, he was moving them onward, coughing. “C’mon, then.”

His arm dropped, hand patting her back, and she glanced at him, her jaw clenching. She hated his smile. Hated the delight in his eyes. Matter of minutes. She followed a step or so behind him, inhaling a breath. He was heading towards a crammed wagon, various men unloading crates, sacks and metal boxes from it.

“Thomas, m’boy,” Colm called to one of the men, his smile widening as he heard Ada stop behind him.

A tall man, slightly taller than Arthur, his black hair falling in waves to just above his shoulders, lifted his head as he placed a box on top of a crate.

Thomas O’Driscoll smiled widely at his uncle, inclining his head as he brushed his hands together. “Hey. You were right, Jackson was fine, said we could go back in a week...” He trailed off as his gaze shifted behind him.

“That’s good, that’s good...” Colm rubbed his jaw as his body half-turned, his other hand gesturing at the young woman. “Thom, this is your sister, Adaline.”

It was said without ceremony, without pomp or thrills, without any preparation. 

Thomas stared at her, eyes darting over her, still.

Colm continued, his arms folding as he watched him. “Me and the boys rescued her from some Murfree fuckers. She’s your sister.”

Frozen, the man’s brow dipped slightly. “... Ada?”

She didn’t realise she was shaking, thick tears filling her eyes. She knew him. She knew that face. Those green eyes. She would have recognised him anywhere.

Ada mouthed his name “... Thom.”

Oh my God...

She lifted her arms, reaching out to him—

His were already around her, lifting her and holding her tightly. She cried out and wept into his shoulder and she could hear him saying her name over and over. She had no words. Nothing.

She faintly heard Colm chuckle and say, “I’ll leave you kids to it.”

Ada couldn’t stop crying, could barely breathe. Then, Thom was drawing his head back and she looked at him, looked at those warm green eyes, the faint freckles that dusted his skin here and there, the nose that was nearly identical to her own, their mother’s, the strong jaw line like their father’s. His own eyes were shining and his hand was smoothing her hair down, his thumb stroking her cheek as he gazed at her incredulously and still kept her lifted.

“Look at you, my sister, my little sister. Look at you...”

All she could do was cry, cupping his face, taking him all in. 

“I thought... you were dead...” she managed to say between sobs, her own words bringing a fresh wave of tears, barely able to see him through them.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Ada, I’m so sorry...”

His hand slid to the back of her head and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck and she cried and cried and cried.

Her brother. Her brother Thomas, alive and safe.

He gently stroked her hair, hushing her softly while he began to move, walking them somewhere, she didn’t care where.

She wished Mama was alive.

She didn’t lift her head until her boots touched the ground, and then his hands were on her arms, gently guiding her to sit down on a log. She took one of his large hands in both of hers, as if if she stopped touching him for a moment then he would disappear.

Ada sniffed, biting at her lower lip as it trembled slightly. She swallowed hard, fighting off more tears. “I... imagined this moment so many times, but I never thought it would happen.”

“Me, too.” He smiled widely and placed his other hand over hers, and she just couldn’t believe how big his hands were; they were the hands of a man.

Sniffing again, she closed her eyes for a few moments, tears escaping, and then inhaled a long, steadying breath before releasing it. Looking up at him, she shook her head slightly.

“... How is this possible... What happened, Thom?”

He released a breath of his own, licking his lips. It was a few moments before he spoke. “I just... I just had to. It killed me to leave you and Ma, it really did.” A corner of his mouth lifted, his thumb stroking her hand. “How is she?”

Oh, no... Colm hasn’t told him...

Her features crumbled again as she held his hand tightly. “She’s, uhm... She died, Thom.”

“Oh.” She could see the conflicting emotions in his eyes, the love he still held for his mother, but that she was also someone he hadn’t seen in over ten years, had probably distanced himself mentally from it all, from them, to make his life easier. The look then vanished swiftly and he cleared his throat. “How?”

“I...” Oh fuck, she couldn’t tell him it was because of his own men, could she? “... I can’t... can’t talk about that now.”

“Okay, it’s all right, I understand.” He smiled gently, patting her hand. “Another time.”

She nodded, exhaling a breath, almost crying again at that because they had time now. “Go on, please, tell me everything.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, licking his lips again. “I travelled for weeks...” He laughed humourlessly. “I was just a kid, wandering around, without a clue, no where to start. I just went to towns and asked people outright, like they’d just say ‘oh, head east’...” She laughed softly with him, her heart simultaneously breaking at how determined she could imagine he’d been. “I nearly came home a couple of times, but...” His smile faded. “I thought I couldn’t live with myself if I did. Thought you’d think I’d failed.”

“Never, Thom, never.” Her heart broke again as she gripped his hands tighter.

He shook his head a little, smiling faintly. “I know, I know...” His eyebrows rising again, the smile widened. “But then I did come across some of his boys, in a bar. I made them laugh for a while and then they got pissed off at my pesterin’ and then when I kept insisting they just took me with them. Thought it’d be hilarious to see a kid up against Colm O’Driscoll. I was so damn nervous.” She didn’t laugh with him this time. “But I met him, confronted him and then he... He told me the truth, about everything. Do you...?”

She nodded and swallowed as he trailed off. “Yeah, I know.”

Thom shook his head, his jaw moving. “I still think about that day.”

“Me, too.” She took a breath, asking as gently as she could the question that was killing her. “... Why didn’t you come back to us after finding out?”

Thom gave a small shrug after a moment. “... I thought you and Ma wouldn’t believe me.”

It broke her heart because they probably wouldn’t have. If she hadn’t have heard it from Dutch himself...

She didn’t think she had any more tears left in her, so she quickly managed a smile as she sniffed, squeezing his hands. “You must’ve seen some places, then, huh?”

The wide smile returned and she loved it. “Oh, yeah. Mainly fields and woods and small towns, but I’ve been to Chicago a few times.”

“Really?” He laughed as her smile widened. “Mama always wanted to take us.”

“Yeah, I loved it. I’ll take you one day.” 

One day, oh, they had days now. 

“What about you?”

“Well...” She licked her lips as she inhaled. “... We were at the farm for a while and then we moved to Strawberry to be with Uncle Nicholas.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting.” A corner of her mouth lifted a little higher. “And lonely.”

His throat bobbed. “I’m sorry—”

She was already shaking her head. “Don’t be. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I... There’s no point in what ifs.” Glancing over his shoulder, she exhaled. “You move around a lot, then?”

“Yeah, but we do have a main camp in the west, just by Little Creek River.”

She caught his slightly sheepish expression... then it dawned on her, her lips parting.

“Hang on, that’s in West Elizabeth, that’s north of Strawberry.”

Thom was nodding, the sheepish expression lingering. “Yeah, I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “... When I found out you were both in Strawberry, like I said, I... Well, didn’t think you’d take me back.”

Her lower lip trembled as, oh, yes, she did still had some tears left. “Oh, you idiot, of course we would have...” Releasing his hands, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, her chin on his shoulder.

His arms went around her, holding her tightly. She could feel his muscles under his shirt, could feel his strength; he was no longer the, quite frankly, scrawny boy who looked like a fair breeze would have blown him over.

“You’re so big,” she laughed thickly, sniffing as she pulled back to look at him once more. “When did that happen?”

He laughed, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ooh, overnight, just after my seventeenth birthday.”

"Wow, what a treat,” she chuckled, and, oh, they could laugh together, he still had that sense of humour she’d loved.

"But what about you, huh? You were the size of the town cat when I left.”

She laughed, grinning as she wiped her cheeks. “Oh, for me it was earlier, after my sixteenth birthday.” 

“Well, you were always better than me at everything. And look at all this!” He reached out and tugged on a curl. “You still cry when you brush it?”

She pulled a face that made him laugh. “Oh, I don’t brush it anymore, can’t you tell?”

“Well, I was trying to be polite...”

Ada laughed again as her instincts took over and she punched his arm, the action so nostalgic, so long-forgotten that if she wasn’t laughing she would have wept.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they looked at each other, both still unable to quite really believe it. The noise of the camp filtered back into her hearing and her gaze drifted over his shoulder again. Licking her lips, she smiled lightly.

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

Thom returned her smile, raising his eyebrows a little. “Well, what do you want to happen?”

She shook her head slightly, inhaling a long breath, her smile lingering. “I want to leave. I want to take you and Arth—” Ada caught herself quickly, her cheeks flushing as Thom’s eyebrows rose a little higher.

“Ah, yeah, I heard about that...” His smile was still there, though, so she relaxed, even if her blush did remain.

“Yes, it, uhm... It wasn’t exactly part of my plan, but...”

“You love him?” he asked gently after a moment.

She couldn’t believe she was talking about the man she loved with her brother. Her heart could’ve burst. “I do. I really do.”

He looked at her and her soft expression, before his head lifted and he looked away, out towards the trees, and exhaled a quiet laugh.

Her brow dipped a little as she watched him. “What?”

Thom shrugged slightly, a corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “It’s just strange. I’ve heard so much about him, and the gang, but I’ve never encountered them. Colm’s always kept me out of things like that, in case they got me and found out who I was. I've come to hate them, they're the enemy, but now...” He looked at her, shrugging again. “They’re just strangers, aren’t they. Can’t even really put a face to the man my sister loves. You’re a stranger, too, I guess.”

Something twinged in her chest as she looked at him, exhaling a slight laugh. “Don’t say that.”

He shook his head quickly, taking one of her hands. “No, no, I don’t mean it in a... We just lost so much time.”

Her features softened as she squeezed his hand, swallowing the lump that had returned to her throat. “Well, we can make up for it now.”

“Yes, we can.” His smile reached his eyes, deepening the small lines there, and it felt good to know he’d smiled and laughed enough for them to form.

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, though. “You knew I was with the gang, then?”

“Yeah, Colm told me. I didn’t fully believe it at first, just couldn’t believe it but... here you are.” The smile lingered.

Her own widened. “Here I am.”

Shaking his head, he released her hand and lifted his own. “Go on, then, tell me about you.”

"What about me?”

“Everything, what you like to do, what you’ve done, what you read, you can still read, right? Do you still talk to frogs and toads...?”

Her laughter carried across the camp.

—

They talked for hours, reminiscing on the memories they had and comparing the paths their lives had taken. She told him all about her recent adventures, how’d she got the scar on her face, thankfully he didn’t ask about the bruises on her neck, and the roles she played in the gang. He listened quietly and didn’t ask questions, and she left out some parts, like Dutch’s plans, her feelings about him, and just how... developed her relationship with Arthur was. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Thom, she just didn’t want anyone else overhearing the specifics of what the gang had been up to.

The sun had nearly set by the time they’d filled each other in on everything. 

He let out a whistle as his eyebrows raised once she’d finished, sipping water from the cup someone had brought over to them. “You a gunslinger now, then, huh?”

She snorted. “Hardly. I just... had to get by.”

“Mmh. I understand that.”

A cheer caught their attention and they looked over towards the main area of the camp; another group of men had joined, seemingly the last by the jeers and laughter.

The event brought them both back to reality. Looking up at the sky, she couldn’t believe how dark it was getting and how much her stomach was rumbling. Thom seemed to be having the same train of thought as he stood and held a hand out to her.

“Come on, let’s get some food, I’m starvin’.”

His arm went around her shoulders once he’d helped her up and she much preferred it to Colm’s. He introduced her to every group of men that passed, proudly stating, ‘this is my sister, Ada’. She shook all their hands with a polite smile, even laughed easily a few times, because she was just so happy. She shoved to the back of her mind thoughts that told her they were only being courteous because she was someone important... and that they’d killed Kieran and countless others.

She thought for the shortest of moments about whether Thom had killed anyone, then it was gone, incomprehensible.

They ate together, and when a man came over to greet him, her gaze drifted, trying to find Peter or Zach. The former was nowhere to be seen and the latter, it seemed, had finally taken his eyes off of her for she couldn’t see him either. They were probably off somewhere, reconnecting, sleeping, or—

She stilled, staring at a man sat on the outer edge of a group. He was laughing hard, slapping his hand against his knee at whatever another man was saying. He was so familiar... where the hell had she seen him...

... Oh, God...

A coldness washed over her as she froze, a rush of breath escaping her. Thom glanced at her, rubbing his jaw as the man beside him continued talking. Frowning, he lifted his hand and the man paused.

“Ada? You all right?”

She swallowed hard, speaking before she could stop herself. “He was there.”

Thom was leaning closer, setting his bowl on the floor and taking her hand. “What?”

Everything sounded so quiet all of a sudden.

She licked her lips, unable to look away as the man laughed again. “That man over there, he... he was at Strawberry when they attacked and he, he was with a group of men who killed Mama.”

"What, that’s how she died?”

Ada finally looked away, meeting her brother’s gaze.

Oh, shit.

Thom was still, holding her gaze. He remembered a group of them had gone at Colm’s request to Strawberry, to get Andrew and Colin out of jail. He’d thought of convincing his uncle to let him go, wondering if Ada and Ma still lived there but... he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it.

Now, it was the second biggest thing he regretted in his life.

“Which man.”

She swallowed again. “Uh...” Thom was giving no reaction, and she knew she couldn’t just suddenly dismiss this. Looking back over at the group, she pointed briefly. “That man there. The one in the green shirt.”

Turning his head, Thom followed the direction of her finger. “... With the black hair and beard?”

“Uh...”

He’d suddenly turned back to her. “Are you sure it’s him?”

This was her chance to back out, to stop whatever had come over Thom. “I-I don’t know—”

His hands were on her shoulders, gripping them as he held her gaze. “Is it, Ada?”

“Yes.” The short word exited her so swiftly it was like it had been punched out of her.

His jaw moved.

Then he was on his feet, moving towards the group. She didn’t even have time to say anything to him, a slight sound leaving the back of her throat as her body turned to watch him.

Thom's broad shoulders were squared, his hand rubbing his jaw.

“Hey, Toby.”

The man looked up, a grin still on his lips. “Hey, Thom, good to see ya!” He stood, offering his hand to him.

Thom didn’t accept it as he came to a stop, and Toby lowered his hand after a moment, his smile faltering slightly. Ada fully appreciated how tall Thom was now, practically standing over Toby. The other man seemed to realise this, too, drawing himself up to his full height as he let out a slight laugh.

“You all right, brother?”

Ada’s heart was pounding as she watched them. Thom was silent and Toby’s grin was fading with each passing second.

Then, Thom exhaled a harsh breath. “String him up.”

Men moved instantly, lurching out of their seats, others nearby standing and craning their necks to look at what was happening.

Toby let out a short, nervous laugh, his eyes darting from the moving men to Thom. “What? Wait, I— Why? What the fuck have I done?!”

Some men had gotten rope from somewhere, and one grabbed Toby by his shoulder, holding him still as another wrapped the rope round and round his wrists. Toby tried to yank his arms back but the man held him still.

“C-Come on, guys, what the fuck’s going on?!”

“Awh, shit, what’s goin’ on here?” She heard Colm call out from somewhere behind her, nearing, a smile in his tone, and in her peripheral vision she saw him drinking from his flask.

She couldn’t look at him, though, couldn’t look away from the terrified Toby and her silent brother, the small group now moving as the men began to pull Toby across the camp.

“What’s going on?! What’s happening?!”

No one was answering Toby, not even questioning Thom themselves. Rounding the fire pit she was at, her body turned automatically with them, unable to move beyond that. As they reached the trees, one of the men pulling Toby along threw the other end of the rope over a thick branch and pulled sharply, making Toby rise a foot or so off the ground. He yelled out, his eyes wide, trying to kick his legs out, flailing in the air.

“Thom?! What did I do?!”

Thom ignored him and turned as some of the men laughed, his tongue running along his lower lip as he moved towards her. The fire made light dance across her, hiding that she was trembling.

“Thom—”

He lowered down to one knee, one hand resting on hers as his other unsheathed a knife from his belt, flipped it in his hand and held the handle out to her. She stared at it, her gaze then darting back up to him.

“... I can’t.”

His features were unreadable. “Come on, Ada.”

She shook her head a few times, trying hard to take a full breath. “I can’t, Thom.”

A corner of his mouth lifted and his features softened, a terrible juxtaposition to Toby’s yelling behind him. 

“It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then, he’d risen and turned away, striding back towards Toby.

She heard Colm bark out a laugh as men jeered. “Oh, you really fucked up this time, Toby! Look at that fuckin’ face! Like thunder!”

Toby was nearly sobbing, desperation saturating his tone. “What did I do?! What did I do?!”

Ada’s gaze hadn’t moved from where she’d stared at Thom’s chest, now just fixed on the ground.

“No, no, Thom, please, come on, please—!”

She flinched at the sound of material ripping, Toby’s howl echoing in the night.

Then came Thom’s voice; cold as ice. “You killed my mother, Toby.”

Curses and insults went up from the group but Colm’s voice came the loudest, jeering, taunting.

“Oh, shit, you killed my sister-in-law, Toby?”

“When?! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!” Toby’s words were jumbled in screams, and Ada could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Within moments they were sliding down her cheeks.

She could hear the men laughing, making casual observations, drinking, some not even paying much attention.

This was a game to them.

A sport.

A regular occurrence.

She couldn’t stop her eyes from lifting to Thom.

He was stood before Toby, the man’s shirt open, a wound on his chest, blood running out of it. Toby was pale, terrified. Thom was calm.

 This was nothing to her brother.

She suddenly got to her feet, her gaze dropping. As Toby screamed again and she heard a sound she didn’t want to identify, she turned on her heel and began to stride away, her fists curled tightly at her sides, chest rising and falling swiftly, staring at the ground, body rigid.

Tears fell like a stream down her cheeks as she walked away, Toby’s screams echoing in her ears.

She could hear her own breathing, jagged, gasping.

A few whoops went up as Toby cried out again, the sound so agonised, so drawn out that she released a sob and put her hands over her ears.

She walked into the trees, still able to hear the screams. Her legs suddenly gave out as a higher, panicked scream came. Her arm darting out, she grabbed at a tree trunk, sinking to her knees. Curling up against it, her hands went back over her ears as her eyes closed tightly, her breaths short, sobbed.

She murmured to herself, not even sure what she was saying, just trying to drown it all out.

Yet it was useless.

All she could hear was his screams.

—

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