#god if we run into him again later in the game now that ariadne's not quite as tied up in her order shit might get weird

[uselessgaywhovian]

how to bring up to your dungeon master that your character might be better if she got railed

#when you're also the person in the group who's usually least interested in doing a sex scene #listen i'm not saying sex will fix everything #but my formerly-oath-of-devotion paladin who has lived in a constant miasma of anxiety and is a highly pressurized bottle of emotions #is finally letting herself make (frankly bad) choices and letting her rage out and went oathbreaker and is trying to enter her bad bitch er #this is the ariadne who fucks and she should get to fuck one time 😂 #i keep thinking about this guy back in the city where her order's main temple is #who took over the thieves' guild because the temple wasn't helping the city and he was taking matters into his own hands #and god he's been stuck in her craw because like #you're saying the thing i've devoted my life to is shit #and i'm not sure you're wrong but i can't say that #and i hate that #and i hate you #and you're doing more for the city than my entire order is #and i hate that too and i hate you so much and why do i want to make out with you a little bit #god if we run into him again later in the game now that ariadne's not quite as tied up in her order shit might get weird #also: my notes from the session where we met him read “idk who this dude is but i'm gonna fuckin kill him”

[my-random-ocs]

Rise Up Chapter 2: We Fight Demon Scorpions

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x OC (eventually)

Warnings: Angst, weapons, betrayal

<<< Previous || Masterlist || Next >>>

The next morning, the buzz at breakfast faded into the background as I attempted to wake up. I never really managed to fall back asleep after my nightmare.

A nudge against my shoulder made me jump, and I turned to see Silena sending me a worried look. “You okay?” She asked.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. I zoned back into the breakfast announcements. Apparently at around three this morning, an Aethiopian drakon had been spotted at the borders at camp. I was so distracted by my nightmare and tossing and turning that I hadn’t even noticed. The magical boundaries kept the monster out, but it stalked along the border, looking for weak spots in our defenses. It didn’t go away until Lee Fletcher, the Apollo cabin’s head counselor, led his siblings in pursuit. After shooting a few dozen arrows into its armor, it finally got the message and left.

“It’s still out there,” Lee was warning us. “Twenty arrows in its hide, and we just made it mad. The thing was thirty feet long and bright green. Its eyes-” He cut himself off, shuddering.

“You did well Lee,” Chiron said, patting him on the shoulder. “Everyone stay alert, but stay calm. This has happened before.”

“Aye,” Quintus said from his seat at the head table. “And it will happen again. More and more frequently.”

Wow, how helpful.

The campers murmured amongst themselves.

Everyone knew that Luke was planning an invasion into camp. Most of us expected it to happen this summer, but no one knew how or when. Our attendance was down, and that definitely didn’t help. When I started about four years ago, there had been over one hundred. Now there were only a little over eighty. Some had died. Some had joined Luke. Some had straight up disappeared.

“This is a good reason for new war games,” Quintus said. I didn’t love the glint in his eyes. “We’ll see how you all do with that tonight.”

“Yes…” Chiron said. “Well, enough announcements. “Let us bless this meal and eat.” He raised his goblet. “To the gods!”

We all raised our glasses and repeated the blessing.

I grabbed my plate, stood, and led my siblings to the brazier. “Aphrodite,” I whispered, tossing a hash brown into the fire. Mitchell showed Lacy what to do as I prayed to my mother. “Help me with Luke, and Grover, and protecting Amara…”

There was so much to list that I could have gone on all morning, but I headed back to my seat.

After a few minutes, I noticed that Grover was eating with Percy. Suddenly, my fork was halfway to my mouth when I felt somebody lift me by my shirt and take me to the Poseidon table. She plopped me down next to Grover and I swallowed my breakfast while Annabeth slid into the bench next to Percy.

“I’ll tell you what it’s about,” Annabeth said. “The Labyrinth.”

“Oh, okay, so we’re talking about this now,” I realized.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Percy told Annabeth. Campers weren’t allowed to switch tables. I wasn’t sure what the punishment was for switching, because it’s never happened. If Mr. D had been here, Annabeth and I would have been in big trouble, but he wasn’t here. Chiron apparently had already left. Quintus was still sitting at the head table, but didn’t say anything.

“We need to talk,” Annabeth insisted.

“But the rules-”

“Look, Grover is in trouble,” Annabeth interrupted. “There’s only way we can figure to help him. It’s the Labyrinth. That’s what Clarisse, Zia, and I have been investigating.”

“The Labyrinth isn’t in Crete anymore,” I continued. “Like a lot of ancient Greece myth stuff, it’s moved to America. Or, in this case, under America.”

“So… is the Labyrinth part of the Underworld?” Percy asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Well, there may be passages from the Labyrinth down into the Underworld,” Annabeth corrected. “I’m not sure. But the Underworld is way, way down. The Labyrinth is right under the surface of the mortal world, kind of like a second skin. It’s been growing for thousands of years, lacing its way under Western cities, connecting everything together underground. You can get anywhere through the Labyrinth.”

“If you don’t get lost,” Grover grumbled helpfully. “And die a horrible death.”

“There has to be a way,” I told him. Again. We’ve had this conversation more than a few times over the past few months. “Clarisse made it out.”

“Barely!” He countered. “And the other guy-”

“He was driven insane,” Annabeth interrupted. “He didn’t die.”

“Oh, joy,” Grover said sarcastically. “That makes me feel much better.”

“Whoa,” Percy said. “Back up. What’s this about Clarisse and a crazy guy?”

I glanced over at the Ares table. Clarisse eyed us like she knew what we were talking about, but as soon as we made eye contact, she quickly focused on her plate.

I lowered my voice as I turned back to Percy. “Last winter,” I started, “Clarisse went on a mission for Chiron.”

“I remember,” he said. “It was secret.”

I nodded. “It was a secret because she found Chris Rodriguez.”

“The guy from the Hermes cabin?”

Chris was a son of Hermes who had come to camp before I had. He was about a year older than I was, and used to be friends with Nisha and I, until he left camp soon after Luke did. Last summer, Percy, Annabeth, Tyson, and I had found him on Luke’s war/cruise ship, the Princess Andromeda.

“Yeah,” Annabeth confirmed. “Last summer he just appeared in Phoenix, Arizona, near Clarisse’s mom’s house.”

“What do you mean he just appeared?” Percy asked.

“A few weeks after we got back from our quest,” I said, “Chris was found wandering around in the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armor, ranting about string.”

“String,” Percy said.

“He’d been driven completely insane,” Annabeth said. “Clarisse brought him back to her mom’s house so the mortals wouldn’t institutionalize him. She tried to nurse him back to health.”

“Chiron even came out and questioned him,” I added. “But it didn’t do much good. The only thing we were able to figure out is that Luke’s men have been exploring the Labyrinth.”

“Okay,” Percy said, trying to take all of this in. “Why were they exploring the Labyrinth?”

“We weren’t sure,” I said. “That’s why Clarisse went scouting. Chiron kept things quiet because he didn’t want to start a panic. The only reason he involved me was because… well, it’s Luke.”

“And he involved me because the Labyrinth has always been one of my favorite subjects,” Annabeth said. “The architecture involved…” Her expression turned a little dreamy. “The builder, Daedalus, was a genius. But the point is, the Labyrinth has entrances everywhere. If Luke could figure out how to navigate it, he could move his army around with incredible speed.”

“Except it’s a maze, right?” Percy asked.

“Full of horrible traps,” Grover added. “Dead ends. Illusions. Psychotic goat-killing monsters.”

“But not if you had Ariadne’s string,” Annabeth countered. “In the old days, Ariadne’s string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris Rodriguez was mumbling about string.”

“So Luke is trying to find Ariadne’s string,” Percy said. “Why? What’s he planning?”

“I wish I knew,” I answered. “At first, we thought he wanted to use the maze to invade camp, but that wouldn’t make sense. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan, so Luke wouldn’t be anywhere near our borders, let alone be able to get past them. Clarisse explored a little ways into the Labyrinth, but it was really dangerous. She had some close calls. Annabeth and I researched everything we could about Daedalus, but it didn’t help much. We can’t figure out what Luke is planning, but we know that the Labyrinth might be the solution to Grover’s problem.”

Percy blinked in confusion. “You think Pan is underground?”

“It would explain why he’s been impossible to find,” Annabeth said.

Grover shuddered. “Satyrs hate going underground. No searcher would ever try going in that place. No flowers. No sunshine. No coffee shops!”

“But,” Annabeth said, “the Labyrinth can lead you anywhere. It reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, to trick you and kill you-”

“- But if you can make the Labyrinth work for you-” I continued.

“It could lead you to the Wild god,” Percy finished.

“I can’t do it,” Grover insisted, clutching his stomach. “Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up my silverware.”

“Grover, it may be your last chance,” Annabeth said. “The council is serious. One week or you learn to tap dance!”

A throat clearing gained our attention, and my head swiveled to the head table, where Quintus was staring pointedly at us. I had a feeling he didn’t want to make a scene, but Annabeth and I were pushing it by staying at the Poseidon table for this long.

“We’ll talk later,” Annabeth said. She squeezed Percy’s arm. “Convince him, will you?”

Annabeth got up and went back to her table.

“It’s going to be okay, Grover,” I tried to reassure him. “We’ll figure it out.”

He just stared dejectedly at the table. I stood up and returned to my breakfast with Cabin Ten.

____________

That night after dinner, Quintus had us put on armor like we were going to play capture the flag, but the camp’s mood seemed more serious than that. At some point today, the crates from the arena had disappeared, and I had a bad feeling that whatever was in them was now running around in the woods.

Quintus stood up at the head table. “Right,” he said. “Gather ‘round.”

I found Ethan in the crowd and went to stand between him and Silena.

He was dressed in black leather and bronze. Mrs. O’Leary bounced around him happily, looking for food scraps to eat, then came right up to me.

I grinned, scratching behind her ears.

“You will be in teams of two,” Quintus announced. Immediately, everyone started moving around to get to their friends, he shouted, “Which have already been chosen.”

Everyone groaned.

“Your goal is simple,” Quintus continued. “Collect the gold laurels without dying. The wreath is wrapped in a silk package, tied to the back of one of the monsters. There are six monsters. Each has a silk package. Only one holds the laurels. You must find the wreath before the other teams. And, of course… you will have to slay the monster to get it, and stay alive.”

The crowd muttered excitedly.

“Lot more exciting than capture the flag,” Ethan grinned.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed. The goal seemed simple. Most of us had killed monsters before- that’s what we trained for.

“I will now announce your partners,” Quintus said. “There will be no trading. No switching. No complaining.”

“Arooof!” Mrs. O’Leary howled. She moved from my side to bury her face in a plate of leftover pizza.

Quintus took out a scroll and started reading off names.

Silena was paired up with Beckendorf, and she couldn’t hide her smile. I nudged her shoulder with mine, smirking. She shoved me playfully, both of us grinning. See, Silena had a crush on Beckendorf that neither of them would do anything about, and hoped they would soon, because it was super annoying how they wouldn’t tell each other how they felt.

Travis and Connor Stoll were paired up, which wasn’t a surprise. They did everything together. Clarisse was with Lee Fletcher. Percy and Annabeth were together. Grover and Tyson were paired together, which neither looked very happy about.

Then my name was called. “Ghaziyah Banerjee and Ethan Nakamura!” Ethan and I grinned at each other, and high fived.

“They don’t want to give anyone a fighting chance?” Ethan joked. Both of us were great sword fighters, and always rocked capture the flag when Aphrodite and Hermes were allied. I couldn’t wait to see how this would turn out.

____________

The actual game itself wasn’t important. Ethan and I almost beat Clarisse and Travis, but Grover and Tyson had a little issue. In order to make sure they didn’t accidentally kill each other, we missed the box with the laurel that would have made us win.

Luckily, Ethan wasn’t mad.

As I started taking off my armor, Ethan shuffled around nervously. “You okay?” I asked, undoing the straps of my breastplate.

“Yeah, I just-” He stopped. “I need to talk to you.”

I furrowed my brows. “About what?”

Ethan took a deep breath, then said all at once, “I wanted to leave camp.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “You-”

“I wanted to leave,” Ethan continued, “and join Luke’s army. But I don’t anymore.”

My mind was reeling. “You wanted to leave?” I asked, unable to keep the hurt and confusion out of my voice.

Ethan nodded, looking ashamed. “I did. I have a lot of anger toward the gods- you know that. And when I met Luke, so did he. The gods don’t pay enough attention to their kids, and he was really the only one doing something about it. But I realize… that he isn’t going about it the right way. I’ve decided to stay.”

“You have?” I asked, my hopes raising slightly.

“Yeah. I just- you’re my best friend in the world,” he said. “You’re the only one who actually accepts that my mother is Nemesis. You’re basically my little sister. The last thing I want is to mess that up.”

I processed everything Ethan just said, finally whispering, “So… you’re staying?”

Ethan nodded, beginning to smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m staying.”

I grinned, squealing happily, and gave my best friend a bear hug, causing him to laugh.

“Hate to break up the fun,” a voice called, causing me to pull back. I turned to see Clarisse. “But we have a problem.”

I tensed, placing my hand on my sword. “What’s wrong?”

“Percy and Annabeth are missing.”

I would love to say I didn’t freak out.

Truthfully, I just about had a heart attack.

The whole camp, including Chiron, searched the entire woods.

After about an hour, I was on the verge of a panic attack when we heard shouts that they had been found.

Ethan and I followed the voices to Zeus’ Fist.

“Thank the gods!” I exclaimed, launching myself into Annabeth’s arms, causing her to stumble back from the force. Before she could react, I pulled away and hugged Percy tight. “Where were you two?”

“We’ve been looking forever,” Clarisse added as I pulled away, examining my friends for injuries.

“But we were only gone a few minutes,” Percy protested, confused at my outburst.

“Only a few minutes?” I repeated. “What, did you time travel?”

Chiron trotted up, followed by Grover and Tyson.

“Percy!” Tyson cried. “You are okay?”

“We’re fine,” Percy said. “We fell in a hole.”

We stared at him, confused, then looked at Annabeth.

“Honest!” Percy insisted. “There were three scorpions after us, so we ran and hid in the rocks. But we were only gone a minute.”

“You’ve been missing for almost an hour,” Chiron said. “The game is over.”

“Yeah,” Grover mumbled. “We would’ve won, but a Cyclops sat on me.”

“Was an accident!” Tyson protested, then sneezed.

I would have laughed if I wasn’t so confused.

“A hole?” Clarisse asked suspiciously.

Annabeth turned to our mentor. “Chiron, maybe we should talk about this at the Big House.”

Suddenly, it clicked, and I looked at Clarisse, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “Oh, my gods,” I said in amazement, my eyes widening. “You found it, didn’t you?”

Annabeth bit her lip. “I- Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

About fifty campers started asking questions at once, but Chiron raised his hand, quieting everyone. “Tonight is not the right time, and this is not the right place.” He eyes the boulders like he just noticed something wrong with them. “All of you, back to your cabins. Get some sleep. A game well played, but curfew is past!”

There was a lot of complaining, but the campers made their way back to the cabins.

“This explains a lot,” Clarisse said. “It explains what Luke is after.”

“Wait a second,” Percy said. “What do you mean? What did we find?”

Annabeth turned to Percy, worry clear on her face. “An entrance to the Labyrinth. An invasion route straight into the heart of camp.”

After that, Clarisse, Percy, and Clarisse headed back to their cabins, and I followed. It was difficult wrangling a bunch of eleven- to sixteen-year-olds together for bedtime. And I thought living with a one-year-old was difficult.

I turned toward the cabins, and I noticed Ethan was still there, a little ways away. He looked like he heard everything, but I wasn’t too worried. I smiled, pretending nothing was wrong.

“Come on, let’s head back,” I said happily.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

I couldn’t read his expression, and it made me nervous.

We stopped as we reached our cabins. “Good night, Ethan,” I said quietly.

“‘Night, Zia,” he responded, and we went our separate ways.

#rise up #zia banerjee #teen wolf #teen wolf oc #pjo #pjo oc

[erintoknow]

falling forward

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

You agreed to help Herald relearn how to fight – and oh god what were you thinking? Tw: past sexual abuse; suicidal thoughts [still feel]

[Read on AO3]

With Halloween behind you, fall is in full swing now, and the worst of the summer heat is safely in the past. Hard to believe it’s already going to be winter next month, if it wasn’t for the cool air filling your lungs. Was Banshee’s big debut trashing the Heroic Heritage Museum Gala really just this summer? It feels like a lifetime ago.

You hold your shawl against yourself as the wind whips it about, Herald holding you in his arms. Jesus christ you hate flying. Hate it hate it hate it. Why did you agree to this insanity?

You don’t know what you expected really, agreeing to train Herald. Herald! Of all people. But he needs it. He needs the work. Whatever cocky assurance he had before your debut has evaporated. The first couple sessions you couldn’t even do much actual sparring, his leg was still in recovery.

The blond bastard is always floating, which must be why you didn’t notice before – How much he favors that knee, the way he’s shifted how he carries his weight. The first time, it was hard to stay focused, to keep present in the moment. Kept falling back to that moment, the sheer disdain and… jealousy? Were you jealous of Herald? Is that what was? So jealous you had to break him.

Another soul you’ve carved with poison.

Or you thought you had.

“Here we go,” Herald lets go of you as your feet touch solid ground again. Quickly retreating, “Again, sorry.”

You take a breath, make a show of dusting the ‘Herald’ off of you and adjusting your sunglasses. “Let’s just… get this show on the road. You said the, um, the quacks finally cleared you for active duty again?”

Herald nods, smiling with his whole face. Swear to god, even if you weren’t telepathic the man practically broadcasts what he’s thinking regardless. Always sunny. Always hopefull. And today? Excited to finally do something with the forms you’d been running him through.

You step back and let him run through his warm-up exercises as you scan the horizon. So high… you’ll never get used to it.

The little niggling urge in the back of your head whispering ‘jump!’

“Are you going to warm up too?” Herald watches you. That’s another thing about Herald, he never met a good silence that he didn’t want to immediately fill with something.

You shift your stance, flexing your fingers under your shawl. “I’m plenty warm, thanks, wonderbread.”

Herald laughs at that, so you deepen your scowl, watch the sunshine wither under your glare. “I wasn’t joking.” Concern flits across his face, and you can’t help the triumphant smirk. So he is capable of more than one emotion after all. “Look, a villain isn’t going to… uh, going to stand there while you do your morning crunches.”

“Well, good thing there’s no villains up here, right?”

He smiles, sunshine poking out from behind the clouds again. You scowl at that and shift your weight, feet planted on the ground with hands behind your back, hidden under your shawl. You’d never get away with it, sparring with Ortega. She’d pick up Banshee’s style in an instant. Herald’s still green. Still safe.

“Let’s just… see what you can do, first.” Relax. Take a breath. Let the music drop and the buzz of the world around you leech in. There he is. Right in front of you, watching. Thinking. Loud and clear.

“Uh – really? Already?”

Roll your eyes. “Just hit me already, Herald.”

Herald takes a moment to center himself. An old familiar song, crushing down the doubt into somewhere dark and deep so it can’t throw you off in the middle of a fight. He rushes you head on, thinking he’ll fake you out and sweep around the side. You stay put, ready. At the last second you twist to the side, and grab his arm, overextended. Pull him forward and off balance and follow up with a knee to the gut.

Herald wheezes, floating backward as you let go. A hand to his chest as he gasps for air. “Did you… wow – did you have to hit so hard?”

You tap your chin, glancing upwards as you make a show of thinking it over. Shrug. “No.” There’s no better teacher than pain. Frankly, compared to the kind of training you had? Herald’s getting kids gloves here. You reset your position, nodding at him. “Come on. Again.”

Herald grits his teeth, bracing himself.

The two of you repeat the process; over and over. And every time you smoothly avoid his attack and knock him away. Ten minutes later he’s still floating away, clutching his side this time. You sigh, rubbing your leg.The kid has got some persistence, but now your own knee is starting to get sore.

“Listen.” You say, and Herald looks up at you, relief in his eyes. Christ. You shake your head, focus! “Listen – Herald. You keep – keep making this same mistake. Over and over.” You spread your arms, hands poking out from under the shawl. “I say ‘attack me’ and, you, fool that you are, attack me.”

Herald face scrunches up. “What? You’re not making any sense.”

You keep your hands out. “Hit me.”

Herald doesn’t move, floating a few feet away. Still gently drifting backwards from your last go-around.

“Com’on, well?”

Confused thoughts spill onto his face, but he stays where he is.

You smile. “Better.” You run a hand through your hair. “Don’t follow your enemy’s script. Make them follow yours.” Your fingers find the bobby pin holding your hair out of your face. With a flick of your wrist it’s sent sailing at Herald’s head.

He ducks automatically and you use the chance to move forward, striking at the back of his legs. Herald falls backwards, flailing in the air as he tries to right himself again. A foot catches your face and you fall to your ass as Herald pulls up and out of reach.

“Damn!” You wince, rubbing your jaw. Bit your own tongue hard enough to taste blood there.

Glance up, and Herald is hovering, anxious. “Are you alright?”

Ugh. You roll your eyes. “Goddamnit Herald, you d–don’t ask your enemy if they’re okay.” You push yourself back to your feet, glaring up at him with your hands on your hips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He protests, dipping down closer, but not you note, within reach.

You shift your hand up, rub at your temples to hide your eyes. He has no idea. No fucking idea who you are. It – it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. “Herald.” You shake your head. “What do you think happens in a fight?”

A flare of frustration from above you. “I know what a fight is, Ariadne.”

“The moment you had me on the ground, you should have pressed your advantage, instead you pulled back and gave me a chance to recover.” You flick your wrist in his direction again, frown as he ducks. How long has he been in the game now? A couple years right? How is he still this green? “There’s no such thing as ‘playing dirty,’ understand? Only fights you walk away from and fights you don’t.”

You step away from him. Put the sunshine to your back. This isn’t a hero flick, or a sanitized news report. He needs to get it through his thick skull or he’s going to end up getting mulched. Again.

“Ariadne?” Can feel him hover closer behind. Scared you’re going to do something stupid. The concern is enough to make you ball your hands into fists. You ‘doing something stupid’ would just be doing him and most of the world a favor, honestly.

He’s still there. Just out of striking range. At least he learned one thing. “I was hoping for training Ariadne.” He sounds worried. Fuck. “Not beating the crap out of each other.”

“Yeah, well…” You stare out at the horizon. The crest of the mountains beyond the city. Somewhere past those rocks lays home, your nightmare. “Fighting people isn’t pretty, Herald. If – if you haven’t figured that out by n–now, you’re hopeless. People break bones, they bleed everywhere. Sometimes there’s tears and crying, and – and you can’t always tell if it’s… yours.” You flex your jaw. Can still feel the sting where Herald’s shoe hit. “At–at–at the end of th–the day, there’s nothing… nothing heroic about b–breaking a man’s rib cage just because the–the–the alternative is him chopping you and a d–dozen other – a dozen other people into bits.”

Your every nerve is on edge, shoulders tense enough to make your neck hurt. You shift your arms under your shawl, hugging them tight against yourself. “People just… they die.” Can feel your voice rise as your throat tightens. “They die and die and die and you p–pray you aren’t one of them.”

“Hey… are you alright?” The voice behind you sounds distant. A thousand miles removed. Vaguely aware of your legs buckling underneath you as you collapse, accordion-like onto the roof tile.

You’re not there. It’s not real. You’re not real? No – fuck. Vague memory like someone else’s voice, prodding reminder of something Dr. Finch suggested. Try to grasp it and it’s gone and there’s just light above and white around and – and –

Someone moves, their intention for touch like a burning iron cutting through your thoughts. You grit your teeth and snare it, halt the arm with red threads pulling back. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” Pull hard and the attached body staggers back. Away.

There's a note of alarm. Fear. Fear of you? Who could possibly be…?

It’s sunlight. Wonderbread. It slams like the ache in your knees, the pain in your throat. The salt on your cheeks. You’re in Los Diablos. On a roof. With Herald. It’s Herald. Not scared of you, scared… for you? Fuck.

Have to get out of here. You stagger to your feet, one hand pushing up your shades as you try to wipe your eyes before he can notice. “Lesson over for today. S–sorry. No refunds.”

Herald’s fear is palpable and terrifying. “Okay, seriously, what just happened there? Did I say something wrong?”

You march your body to the roof access. “It’s nothing. Don’t – don’t worry about it. In fact: f–f–forget about training altogether.” Grab the handle and pull. Push and pull. No luck. No movement. “Mierda.”

“Ariadne, talk to me. Something’s clearly wrong, you’re worrying me.”

God – fucking hell. You spin on your heel, fists at your sides. “I d–d–don’t owe you jack shit Herald!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “I’m only up here in the–the–the first place because of – because of you! And now I’m – I’m fucking trapped here!”

Herald dips backwards, hands raised as if he’s going to block your words like a punch. “You’re upset. I’m sorry.” He means it. Really thinks he means it, the idiot. “I’ll just… take you back down to the street and we can call it a week, okay?”

“No!” You stomp your foot, willing him to go away, heart pounding at the thought of it. “Nobody else is f–f–fucking touching me today!”

Herald doesn’t move. Stays put, ever so slightly off the ground. Hands out, ready to… to…

“Goddamnit.” You close your eyes. “I–I–I don’t need a second fucking Ortega.”

A silence passes between the two of you. It doesn’t last long enough.

“Can we…” Herald hesitates. “Can we talk now?”

“Fine. Free country.”

“Did you…” Can feel him try to pick the right words. His fear of setting you off putting you on edge again. “Was that another… attack, just then?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You turn away from him, glare at the lock. Maybe if you will it hard enough, you can get the door to open out of shame.

“But you just said–”

“You don’t – Herald, you d–d–don’t need to understand. It’s none of your goddamn business.” Have to will yourself to keep standing. To stay angry. To not fall apart. Not here. Not like this. Not in front of this stranger you barely know whose life you’ve ruined. “H–how did you think this was going to go, Herald? W–w–what exactly were you f–f–fucking expecting? To–to–to have your – your fearless hero leap out of TV Screen? Well… S–surprise!” You whirl back on him, waving your hands, sneering. “She d–doesn’t exist! I’m not her! I n–never was. We c–c–can’t all be perfect TV Stars, Herald! I’m just a – a washed-up has-been that d–d–doesn’t know when to leave things well fucking goddamn enough alone!”

You turn back to the door and kick it hard enough to leave a dent.

“Ariadne…” Oh god, he’s not giving up, jesus christ. “Even if that was true, that’s not why I asked for your help.”

Uh-huh. Sure buddy.

He wilts under your stare. “Well. Okay. Maybe, um. Maybe that was part of it – but it’s not the main reason! I was serious about needing help. This new villain, Ghost or whatever–”

“Banshee.”

“That. I told you. I need help. I need a new way to fight if I’m not going to… If I’m not going to screw up again.” He holds your stare. Can feel him focused on you. Willing you to believe him. Desperate for it.

Begging for your help to defeat you.

“… you’re really serious about this?”

“Yes!”

“One hundred percent dedicated?”

“Yes!!”

You turn away. “Welp. S–sucks to be you I guess.”

It takes him a moment to recover from that. “Excuse me?”

Rolling your eyes at the door, you hold at a hand, as if holding something. “What’s your tragic backstory? Dead wife? Lost your parents? Every hero’s got one.” You kick the door again. Still no luck. Turn back to Herald, glare at the stricken expression on his face. “Nobody willingly throws themselves at people who can shoot laser beams out of their eyes or has knives for hands who doesn’t want to die on some level.”

“You… don’t really think that, do you?”

You laugh, throwing your arms up, helpless. “Maybe I do! M–maybe I don’t. Who f–f–fucking knows anymore.” You fall back against the door, sliding to the ground. Finally got Herald to shut up. He thinks you’re a mental case now, but fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck you.

Tilt your head up at the sky, watch the smog and clouds meld together.

Herald stays put, floating awkwardly. His thoughts loud and clear and threatening to drown out your own.

This clearly isn’t how he expected his morning to go today. He knew you had… changed since the hero days. But after that first conversation and agreeing to help him, he had hoped that maybe… working with you, he could help… fix things? Somehow? That’s what heroes do, right?

Well, here you are now, looking even more tired and run down then he had ever seen at Rangers HQ. Some kind of panic attack you refused to talk about or even acknowledge. Did he just make things worse? Had he pressured you into it, somehow? He had just wanted to maybe get to know you–

“God, you think too loud.” You rub your temples with one hand, the other tracing a familiar pattern into your pant leg.

Herald’s face reddens. “I’m… sorry?”

“You should be.” You shake your head. “I’m embarrassed for you.” You add, because you just can’t help yourself today. “Fighting a telepath and you can’t even put a lid on it.”

Herald grabs the subject change with all the enthusiasm of a drowning man grabs a life preserver. “That’s possible?”

You shrug. “Obviously.” Doesn’t he know this stuff? It’s not like its secret knowledge “There’s ways – techniques, work-arounds, little ‘walls’ you can put up to make it harder.”

“What do you do?”

“It’s…” You hesitate. “It’s a little different for me. Since I’m also the one, uh, hearing.” At least this is a safe subject. Mostly. Mostly safe. “I guess it works pretty much the same though. You want something that can occupy your, uh – shit, I don’t know the professional terms. I’m not a damn doctor.” You shrug, still staring up at the sky. “But like… your surface level thoughts?”

Herald tilts his head, thinking it over. “Like… when you talk to yourself in your head?”

“Y–yeah. Yeah, sure.” Good enough. “You can use that as a – a smokescreen. Chaff. Or whatever?”

“Huh.” Can feel Herald’s mind churning. Turning your words over. “Couldn’t you also use that to like… misdirect? Think one thing and do the opposite?”

Uh – huh.

You look at Herald. Okay. Didn’t expect him to catch on that fast. “Yeah.” You nod, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah, that’s… possible. But it’s a lot harder than it sounds to pull that off in the middle of a fight. Trust me.”

Herald stays quiet for a blessed second, weighing the idea in his head. “What about you? What do you usually do for a… um, smokescreen?”

Fuck. Not Even Ortega ever straight up asked you that. “…If I tell you, and – and you laugh. I am legally allowed to kill you.” Why are you even offering? What the fuck Ariadne?

Herald smiles, raising his hands, “I won’t laugh,” he promises. There’s a slight anxiety to his smile.

“I’m dead serious, wonderbread.”

“…me too.” His voice cracks.

You chew your lip, tracing patterns in your leg as you think it over. Whether to follow through.

Ah, fuck it.

“I… um. I use music.” You stare down at your lap. Ready for the first smart comment to signal Herald’s final beatdown.

“Wait…” Here it comes. “Like – so you’re just, what? Singing in your head?”

You shift position, glare at him from across the rough, ready to strike.

“Hey!” He raises his arms again, “Hey, I’m not laughing! It’s actually kind of cu–” He cuts himself off. Has the presence of mind not to finish that sentence. “Anyway, I’m just surprised by it being that simple?”

“Try keeping it up while fighting three separate people and balancing keeping out bystanders while still monitoring the other combatants.”

“…Okay. That does sound harder.” Herald admits. “But, I’d only need to worry about keeping out a telepath right? Like Banshee?”

You can’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice, “Lucky you.”

If Herald notices, he doesn’t give any sign. “Do you think, um, maybe that we can practice that next week?” He catches your eyes again, worry lining his face. It’s enough to make your chest hurt. It’s not right. He’s still practically a kid. And you’re… Fuck.

“Maybe.” You owe him that. Don’t you? But you can’t quite bring yourself to give up that easily. “You th–think you can pick a training area that doesn’t leave me trapped on top of a f–f–fucking building?”

“Um.” Herald scratches his head. “I can try. I could at least get a copy of the roof access key.”

“And I expect at least a milkshake. As – as compensation.”

“I can work with that.”

–––

You’re really spending a lot of time at Rangers HQ these days, aren’t you? If you’re not grabbing Herald for training, then you’re playing consultant to Ortega. Or stopping by to grab her for something else… You’re a wanted criminal and terrorist. You really shouldn’t be flaunting yourself like this. One day it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass.

Until then, you’ll sit on the break room windowsill with a cup of hot chocolate and watch the traffic outside until the sound of the door opening draws your eyes away.

“So. Ari.” Ortega slides into the room, arms behind her back. A smile on her face that can only mean trouble. “You seem to be getting along better with Herald these days, huh?”

“W–what?” Can feel your face get warm. “I – I told you. I don’t – I’m just – I’m not even…” You put your drink down and cross your arms. “So – so what? What of it?”

Ortega keeps smiling, the bastard. “Nothing.” She lies. “I’m just pleasantly shocked is all. It took me how long to even get your name? A year? You move fast in your old age.”

“Old age!?” You jump to your feet.

“What, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” Ortega cackles.

“S–shut up, old woman! Crone! Uh – um – fuck – uh, Disney Timeshare holder!”

Ortega’s grin only widens. “You know? I’ve never actually been.”

Where does she get these ideas? Why does she keep – no. You’re not thinking about this. Stop it. Shut up Ariadne. “It’s–it’s–it’s not like I’m doing it for free!” You push on. “I’m making him pay for it!”

That gets her by surprise. “Really?”

“In milkshakes!”

There’s silence, and then Ortega laughs. “Oh! I thought you were serious for a minute there.”

“I am serious!” You stomp your foot. “I’m d–d–dead fucking serious!!” You need to go on the attack fast. “Why? Huh? What’s it matter to–to–to you!? What? You jealous?”

“Me?” Ortega huffs, “Jealous of what? Ari, I work with Herald. I see him plenty. I’m just happy for you.”

You blink. “W–what? That’s not – there’s – Ortega…”

“Hey, relax. I’m just teasing. Well,” Ortega tilts her head with a shrug, “Mostly teasing. I know you’re gayer than a three-dollar bill.”

“I – what?” You voice cracks.

Now it’s Ortega’s turn to look confused. “Er, I’m not misremembering am I?”

“I – I don’t know? I–I–I’ve never – never thought about it!?”

Oh god. Oh fuck. Why is this happening? Why are you saying these words with your mouth in that order?

“Really?” Ortega’s watching you. All damnable static and an unreadable face.

“I don’t know!” You sit back down. “It’s – it’s never mattered before! I don’t… I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“A certain rock on the beach would beg otherwise.”

“S–shut up! Crone!”

Just… let lightning strike you right now. Please.

“You… know it’s okay if you want to, right?” Ortega pauses. “And if the other person is into it, of course.” Can hear the smirk in her voice.

“I – I guess?? I don’t know…”

“Ari, I was just teasing before but… are you interested in Herald?”

You shoot up your head, locking eyes with her. Shock on your face. “What? No! I… No! I don’t – no. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?”

You frown, drop your gaze to your lap. “I don’t want anything to do with men. Not… Not like that. Not ever. No way.”

“Ari…?”

“I’m fine. Okay. I’m fine. It’s fine.” You dig your fingers into your leg. Focus on that. Stay present. Stay centered. “I d–don’t want to talk about this. Okay?” You close your eyes, the past three sleepless nights hitting you at once. Even with your eyes closed, can just fucking swear you can feel Ortega staring at you, that same worrying, pitying expression on her face that she has so often now when the two of you are together.

“Have you talked to Dr. Finch about it?”

You make a face, turn away to stare out the window. “Yeah. Sounds like a great f–fucking idea.”

“I think it would help.”

“Just… what did you want me for today, anyway?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry. I got carried away giving you a hard time.”

You groan. “D–doesn’t he bother you?”

“Huh?”

“Wonderbread.” You gesture an arm towards Herald’s general direction in the building. “Blue-eyed, blond hair, white dude replaces you as the public face of the team? That PR puts him up front of all your events? That he gets the speeches? Don’t you… think that’s weird?”

“Oh.” Ortega’s silent, and she stays silent long enough that you look up to check if she’s still there. She grimaces as you catch her eye. “Herald’s a good kid. PR’s kind of got him in a dazzle, and Chen hates that stuff so…” She shrugs. Doesn’t even mention Argent, you note. “People will think whatever they want. They always have. Ari… I was always envious of your ability to stay out of the limelight.”

You blink at that. “R–really? But… you always kept trying to push me in.”

“You deserved at least some recognition, Ari, and… honestly? I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Oh.”

“The kinds of stuff people said? I don’t miss it at all. Hell, Ari, I still get shit. It’s just easier to ignore now. Let Herald have the spotlight. I did my time. I never signed up to be some kind of model minority.”

“I…” You frown, look away. “I never realized. I’m s–sorry. I thought… you always seemed so at home in front of the camera. I – I always thought you lived for that stuff…”

“No, I do. Or did. Still do?” Ortega sighs. “Mierda, I’m sorry. I know you had your own reasons, I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. And I don’t… I didn’t mean to drag down the mood–”

“S–stop” You make yourself look at her again “D–don’t apologize. Um. Thank you. For… for telling me. I’m sorry for… for not being there. For… not realizing.” You mean it. Your heart hurts for it. For everything. You can’t apologize for everything but… you can apologize for this, at least.

“Yeah, well…” Ortega cracks a smile, and after a moment it’s spread to your own face. You push up your sunglasses, rubbing at an eye. She coughs, “Anyway, we’ve gotten way off track here.”

“W–what about?”

“It’s circling back to Herald actually.” Ortega’s smile turns apologetic as she finally pulls the bag from behind her back. “He wanted me to pass this on? I think he was a little too embarrassed to hand it over himself.”

“Oh.”

Oh no.

You look between Ortega and the bag in her hands. “So that’s why you were…?”

“I… think it’s just Herald being Herald? He’s a gift-er.” She holds the bag out towards you. “Well? I want to see what’s inside at least.”

You frown. “Don’t act innocent. This has your m–mitts all over it.”

“What?” She snickers, “I had nothing to do with it. Scouts honor.”

“I–” You narrow your eyes, searching her face. “…were you in scouts?”

“Oh, just – open the bag, Ari!”

“Alright, alright, fine. Geez.” You get up and stick your hand in the bag, feel around until you pull out a small plastic box.

“Well?”

“Hrm.” Turn it over in your hands, scanning the print. “It’s… a CD player?” Why would…? “With headphones?”

Ortega puts the now empty bag aside on the table. “He said it was to help you concentrate? I couldn’t get him to explain what that was supposed to mean though.”

“Oh.” Maybe you underestimated Herald. “Huh.”

“There should be a couple CDs in the bag, too.” Ortega jerks a thumb to the bag. “So, okay, yeah, full honesty, I helped Herald out with some suggestions. But the idea and everything was all him.”

“This is… very, um.” You can’t tear your eyes away from the package, the silver-colored machine encased in plastic. “I… I can’t take this, Ortega.”

“Of course you can. It’s a Christmas present.”

You blink. Wait – what? “Christmas present!? Since when is it–”

“Uh, Next week, remember?” Ortega looks at you, brow creased. “Have you looked outside lately?”

“I – I just. I didn’t think about – oh my god. Already?” You shake your head. “It – it doesn’t change anything, Ortega I…” Your voice cracks. “I can’t. I don’t…”

“Ari… how many times do I need to tell you?” Ortega steps closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “People care about you. It’s okay to let them.”

“But–”

“Herald wanted to do something nice. As thanks. We both did.”

You have to blink your eyes rapidly. Try to clear the water away. “Idiots.” Your laughter is abrupt. Nervous and guilty. “Both of you.”

“I can think of no higher compliment.”

You push her away, laughing. “S–shut up!”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

[bestillmyslashyheart]

(not) just a dream

Happy Birthday @jumbled-nonsense!!! I hope you are having the most wonderful day. Enjoy some malex/inception goodness!

They were a mess, all of them. It had been four days. Four days since Caulfield, four days since Max, since Rosa, and none of them were functioning well at all.

Alex and Michael were reeling from their last confrontation, Maria was half in denial about the alien secret she’d finally been let in on, Liz, Isobel, and Michael were in complete denial about Max’s death, Rosa was trying to come to grips with having missed ten years of her life, and the rest of them were just trying to process the fact that Rosa was alive again. 

And in the midst of all of that, there was Jesse Manes.

It was a good thing Kyle had wrangled him his own room at the hospital or this would have been very suspicious. The whole group of them were gathered around his bed, his father still deep in his medically induced coma, as they tried to figure out just what the hell to do about him. Maria, Kyle, and even Alex were against anything drastic. The idea of murdering his own father just a step too far for Alex, not unless it was absolutely necessary. Isobel and Michael were on board for any plan that would permanently remove him as a threat to their survival, which Alex understood, while Liz and Rosa were just bouncing around ideas. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just make him leave,” Kyle said for the fourth time.

Isobel glared at him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I can’t make someone do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“Is there anything we can blackmail him with?” Rosa asked as she settled into a chair, her legs kicked over one of the arms. “Make him leave town and never return?”

“Tried that already,” Alex told her. “Didn’t work for very long.”

“I still say we just k-”

“No,” Maria cut Michael off with a glare. “We are not killing anyone.”

“He deserves it,” Michael countered with a shrug.

“He does,” Kyle agreed. “But we’re not going to do it.”

“Can you just keep him in a coma?” Rosa asked.

Kyle shook his head. “Not for much longer without causing permanent damage.” Everyone ignored Michael’s muttered “pity.”

“Besides,” Alex continued, “the second one of my brother’s finds out he’s here, they’re gonna want answers as to why he’s in a coma and we don’t have any.”

“Isobel,” Liz piped up. “Is there any way to manipulate him? I know you can’t make him leave if he doesn’t want to but can you like, I don’t know, find something he wants more and make him do that instead?”

Isobel pursed her lips. “Hypothetically? It’s possible, I guess. I don’t really know. But that wouldn’t stop him from coming back or hunting us from afar.”

“We need some way to make him forget about you,” Maria waved a hand at Michael and Isobel. “Make him forget about aliens and make him want to be anywhere else in the world but Roswell.”

Someone replied to her but Alex didn’t hear it. There was a pounding in his ears as Maria’s words echoed in his head. Make him forget. Make him want to be anywhere else in the world. The answer was obvious, if you had all of the pieces as Alex did. Because there was a way. A way to change what it was that Jesse Manes wanted, what he knew. 

Unbidden to him, Alex’s eyes rose to meet Michael’s. The other man met his gaze evenly, the same thoughts clearly running through his head. They could do it. If they worked together, hell if Alex just gave Michael access to his father Michael could probably pull it off himself. But-

“No.” The room fell silent as Alex cut somebody off. He didn’t pay attention, his eyes never leaving Michael’s.

“Alex-” Michael took a half step forward. 

“No.” A year ago, hell two months ago, Alex would’ve been on board. But that was then. That was before he knew-  He shook his head. “No,” he said again. He turned sharply and fled the room before anyone could say anything. 

---

Sometimes, Alex thought, the military could be incredibly short sighted. They recruited him for their Special Ops program specifically because he thought for himself and didn’t just take orders so they really couldn’t object when Alex disobeyed direct orders. He’d been a good little soldier for two years before branching out and he thought he deserved some credit for that. The civilian work opportunities were far more lucrative and imaginative than the military’s and even if he hadn’t wanted the money he’d have done it just for the variety.

That didn’t mean he appreciated being blindsided with a job. If it hadn’t been Arthur himself who called him in, Alex would’ve told them all to fuck off. But as it was Arthur, and no one told Arthur no, Alex drove out to some podunk town in western Texas to step into the middle of a job. The former point man had been involved in some unfortunate accident and they needed someone in to fill the gaps right away. Alex didn’t know much more than that, further details promised upon arrival.

As soon as he stepped into the dingy warehouse, Alex knew he should’ve pushed Arthur for more information up front. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so blindsided by the sight of Michael Guerin crouched over a table.

“Hey, you must be the new point,” a woman greeted. “Alex, right?”

Alex nodded but didn’t look at her. Michael had looked up at him when the woman started talking and now they were just staring at each other across the warehouse. After a moment, Alex tore his gaze away and introduced himself properly to the woman, Ariadne, their architect, and William, the chemist. “And this,” Ariadne waved a hand at Michael, “is Michael, our extractor.” Michael frowned and Ariadne rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t like the term extractor, says it doesn’t fit with inception because we’re not taking anything out but it’s as good a term as any.” She raised her voice towards the end as she blatantly called him out. Michael honest to god stuck his tongue out at her before dropping the pencil he’d been playing with.

“I need coffee.” He grabbed his jacket and rounded the table. “Come on new guy, you can buy.” His hand twitched like he was going to grab Alex’s arm but he curled it into a fist as he pushed past. Alex paused only a second before following.

“What are you doing here?” Michael whirled on him when they’d walked a block. He pulled Alex into a side street and stared at him, his eyes raking over Alex’s face and body as if trying to assure himself that it was really Alex. Alex would have made a comment about it if he wasn’t doing the exact same thing.

“I’m the new point man,” Alex reminded him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m the extractor.”

“How the hell do you know anything about dreamshare?”

“Met Eames in a bar,” Michael shrugged. “He introduced me. You?”

Alex stared at him dumbly. “You’ve met Eames? In a bar?”

“Yeah, that’s probably how most people meet Eames. How do you know about dreamshare?”

“The military,” Alex answered honestly. 

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing pulling a job like this? This isn’t military sanctioned.”

Alex shrugged one shoulder. “Military pay is crap. And the jobs get monotonous after a while. Always the same damn thing.” He paused. “Never get to do inception either.”

Michael smiled a wicked grin. “Pity. Inception’s where the fun’s at.”

All at once, Alex put together the pieces. He’d heard rumors of an extractor named Michael, an extractor who almost only performed inceptions. He’d only been in the game for a few years but he was so good at inception that he’d essentially cornered the market on it. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he heard of a team pulling off inception without Michael. 

And to think it was Michael Guerin all along.

Alex kissed him without thought. Michael stilled under him for half a breath before kissing him back, his hands gripping the sides of Alex’s face and holding him close.

“I’ve missed you,” he exhaled when Alex pulled away.

“Me too,” Alex barely got the words out before they crashed together again.

Three weeks later, Alex knew two things to be true: one, Michael was under his skin in a way that Alex knew would never come out, and two, Michael was even better at inception than the rumors had promised. The second they entered a dream, Michael became almost like a god, able to twist the subject’s mind in new and inventive ways with the person never the wiser.

---

“Alex,” Michael grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty room before Alex could pull away. “Hear me out.”

“We are not performing inception on my father,” Alex spat out.

Michael clenched his teeth. “Why not? It’s the best solution and you know it.”

“N-”

“I can make him forget all of this! Forget about Project Shepherd, about aliens, about wanting to hunt us down, about wanting to hunt you down! I can make him leave Roswell and never return, no matter what.” He paused. “You know I can.”

Alex worked his jaw and stared at him, the last puzzle piece clicking into place. “You use your powers.” Michael blinked. “That’s how you’re so good. No one, not even Dom Cobb, could pull all of that off but I have no doubt you can. And it’s because you’re using Isobel’s powers,” Alex realized. “You said you didn’t have any other powers but your telekinesis,” he accused.

“I don’t,” Michael protested. 

“Bullsh-”

“Not in the real world,” Michael continued. “The rules are different in a dream. In a dream, I can do anything I want. Including, yes, using Isobel’s powers of influence.” He shrugged. “It works. Way better than when Izzy tries it in the waking world.”

Alex knew that to be true. How many times had Michael pulled off the impossible when it came to inception? How had Alex missed it all of those years? That Michael was something other, that he was doing things in dreams no one else could because no one else literally could?

“We can do it, Alex,” Michael urged when Alex didn’t say anything. “I have a PASIV, I just need Somnacin.”

“I have some,” Alex replied absently, his mind still whirring. 

“Then let’s do this.” Michael stepped in close. “We can get rid of your father forever. He can never hurt either one of us again.”

Alex knew it was the smart thing to do, knew that Michael could do as he promised, and yet-

---

“Wanna go for a ride?” Michael nodded his head at his truck with a wry grin. Alex barely registered the invitation, his mind trying to argue against what he already knew.

“This isn’t going to work out, Guerin.”

Michael nodded slowly before taking a step towards him. “Why not?”

“I talked to my dad earlier.” Alex wasn’t sure why he started with that.

Michael scoffed. “Who cares what he thinks?”

“He mentioned how nice it was to see me acting myself again. Commended me even on working past my childish behavior after the accident.” Alex watched Michael closely as he spoke and so he didn’t miss it when Michael’s shoulders tensed imperceptibly and he leaned backwards like he wanted to put space between them but wouldn’t let himself be that obvious about it. “It got me to thinking.” He swallowed thickly. “After the accident, I was a wreck. I was depressed and so fucking angry. I couldn’t do my rehab, I wouldn’t even let them fit me for a prosthetic.” He chuckled humorlessly. “And then one day, the same day that I swore I saw you in the hospital, everything changed. It was like someone flipped a switch. One day I couldn’t function and the next I was feeling hopeful and optimistic and I started working my ass off at PT.” 

Michael took a step back.

“Tell me you weren’t there,” Alex pleaded. “Tell me I didn’t see you at the hospital. Tell me you didn’t incept me into being okay with losing my leg.”

Michael didn’t answer.

“Tell me!” He yelled. A few people nearby turned their heads but Alex ignored them.

“Alex-”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex took a step back and then another when Michael reached out towards him. “You played with my mind?”

“You weren’t getting any better!” Michael took a step and froze when Alex took a corresponding step backwards. “I just wanted to help you, Alex. You wouldn’t let me be there for the rehab or the PT and I just- I wanted to help you.”

Alex nodded slowly. “So you invaded my dreams and twisted my mind.” He laughed harshly. “What else have you helped me with? What else have you made me feel?”

Michael’s face twisted in hurt and outrage. “Nothing. I swear to you, Alex, that was a one time only thing.”

“Yeah,” Alex scoffed. “And you expect me to believe that, don’t you?” He shook his head. “How am I supposed to trust you, trust myself even, ever again?” 

Michael didn’t reply and Alex walked away.

---

Alex held out for a day before Kyle urged him to decide. He didn’t know what Alex and Michael had planned but he insisted that he couldn’t keep his father under any longer. If they had a plan, they needed to do it now. And as much as Alex had trust issues with Michael and inception, he knew it was their best bet. 

They met at the hospital, Michael with the PASIV and Alex with the Somnacin. “Do you even have a plan?” Alex asked. “Or are you just going to use your powers on him?”

Michael shrugged without looking at him as he got the device in order. “Little bit of both. I’ve been working on a plan to get him out of Roswell and out of your life for about five years so I’ll just tweak it a bit and leave the rest to my alien powers of persuasion.”

Alex paused in place as he prepared to insert the needle into his dad’s arm. “You’ve been planning this for five years?”

Michael still didn’t look at him. “Ever since I learned what inception was. Figured if there was ever a way to get him gone without raising any red flags, this would be it.”

“I-” Alex closed his mouth and got back to work. He didn’t even know what he could say to that. They finished their prep and entered the dream without another word.

“Alright,” Michael greeted when they opened their eyes to see Alex’s old house around them. “Shouldn’t take more than half an hour, keep an eye out for projections.” He disappeared down the hall to his dad’s office without waiting for Alex’s reply.

Alex waited a beat before fleeing out the back door. This was Michael’s dream and the details weren’t perfect but it was close enough to get Alex’s heart racing. Out on the back deck, Alex took a few deep breaths, his falling closed as he listened for anyone approaching. The world was silent.

He opened his eyes to find the shed right in front of him. He hadn’t moved but there it was. Alex glanced over his shoulder at the house and paused only a second before taking the obvious invitation and pushing the door open.

He stepped into a frustratingly familiar hospital room. 

“Just do it, Michael,” he heard his own voice ask. Alex looked over at the bed to see Michael sitting next to him. “I need to be okay with all of this and I’m not so I need you to do it.”

“Alex, I’m not going to incept you! You’ve heard the stories, you know what happened to Mallorie Cobb. I won’t do that.”

“It’s not the same thing. I’m not asking you to give me a reason to live or anything like that, I just need to be ok with losing my damn leg.” Alex watched as Michael shook his head and stood up. He watched as he grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him back down. “I need this Michael. I need you.”

“Is this why you called me here? Not because you wanted me to be here for you but to fuck with your mind?”

Alex watched the cold mask fall over his own face. “I do need you to be here for me. And this is how.”

“Alex, I can’t. Please don’t ask me to do this.”

The door behind him burst open just as the him on the bed replied. “I don’t remember this,” Alex told Michael, his eyes never leaving the memory versions of them.

Michael sighed heavily. “You didn’t want to. You figured it would be easier to buy the inception if you didn’t remember asking for it.”

Alex turned to face him slowly. Part of him argued that he had no reason to believe Michael, that this could all be a false memory but Alex knew it wasn’t. He didn’t remember it but he knew himself, he knew this is exactly something he would’ve done. “Michael, I-”

He opened his eyes to a different hospital room.

“It’s done,” Michael told him as he pulled the needle out of his own arm and leaned over Jesse to remove his. “You can tell Kyle to remove the sedation or whatever. He should be leaving Roswell as soon as he wakes up.”

“Michael,” Alex tried again as he stood up. “I’m sorry.”

Michael paused. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not. I blamed you for doing something I asked of you.”

“It’s not like you remembered it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still owe you an apology.”

“Fine. Apology accepted or whatever.” He finished putting away the PASIV. 

Michael tried to brush past him to the door but Alex stepped neatly into his path. “Thank you. For helping me.” Alex paused. “And for today.”

Michael nodded. “You really don’t have to thank me for today, it was purely selfish I assure you.” It wasn’t and they both knew it but Alex let it go. “And as for- I just wish you’d let me actually help you.”

“All clear in here?” Kyle opened the door behind them just as Alex opened his mouth to reply. He paused and took in the mood, his eyes flitting between the two of them where they stood awfully close to one another. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” Michael promised with a fake smile. “Go ahead and wake the bastard up, he won’t be a problem anymore.” He put his hand on Alex’s hip to squeeze past him without touching Kyle and was out the door before either of them could say anything. He didn’t turn around when Alex called his name.

#happy birthday maura!! #malex fic #rnm #my fic #this got longer than i intended lol

[justtessasworld]

time after time - caspian x

Hello, this is a little something i wrote about Caspian and an oc named Elizabeth, i actually thought about making a few more parts of this so tell me what you think about it :)) love, tessa

warnings: just my english, i´m sorry it´s not my first language 

-

In which Elizabeth finally finds back to Narnia, and to Caspian.

-

Elizabeth was 6 when her mum left her dad. She didn´t remember much about him. He was mean, never voluntarily spending time with his daughter, or it seemed, with his wife, so when Beatrice left together with their daughter no one was actually surprised.

They tried living on their own after that for a year. A crappy apartment in the middle of nowhere until Beatrice decided she wanted a better life for her daughter.

A few months after Elizabeth turned 7 they moved to their grandmother, Beatrice mother, a mean and strict, old lady that lived in a mansion not very far from the city, with a massive forest in the backyard and no immediate neighbors. That time Elizabeth felt like the most lonely person on the world.

Shortly before her 8th birthday Elizabeth explored the forest, like she often did. That day she found a big group of trees near the lake, with a gait between them. Walking through it, Elizabeth suddenly found herself in the backyard of a small but friendly faun family.

That day Elizabeth found Narnia.

The family brought Elizabeth to their king, a handsome, young man with kind eyes and an even kinder smile. He told her about the magical land she had found and about the other siblings that had come there from her world.

When Elizabeth went back home, she didn’t feel lonely anymore.

She told her mother about Narnia, who smiled and nodded, even when Elizabeth knew she didn´t fully believe her.

After that, Elizabeth visited Narnia nearly daily.

The family brought her to the castle every time, and King Caspian spent all of her visits with her.

He showed her all of Cair Paravel and Narnia, taught her the Narnian history as well as royal duties so that Elizabeth felt more and more like a true Narnian princess, like Queen Lucy the Valiant or High Queen Susan the Gentle.

On special occasions, when Caspian didn’t have any very important duties and Elizabeth just didn’t stop begging, he even taught her some sword fighting and shooting arrows.

When she was 9 she was in Narnia again, sitting next to Caspian at the table, wearing Narnian clothing and picking at her bread. They did that often, just living their daily life together as if they didn’t come from different worlds.

“When will I be queen?”, she asked, tugging at her sleeves, that had become dirty while they had explored the village next to Cair Paravel. “I love Narnia so much but I guess I´m still to young to marry you, aren’t I?”  

Caspian coughed and set down his plate.

“You definetly are”, he laughed, smiling at her softly. “Let´s wait for marriage until you´re at least a few heads taller.”

She grinned at him, standing up from the table. “Well then you have to keep training me too, so that when I´m tall enough to marry you I can also kick your butt.”

A few days later, Elizabeth had a visitor at the mansion. The new girl from her class, Katie. She was small, even a head smaller than Elizabeth, with blonde hair and brown eyes. She became  Elizabeths only friend.

When she tried showing Narnia to Katie, they walked right through the trees, but stayed in their world. They tried it again and again but it never worked. Katie shrugged her shoulders, “maybe another time it would work and they could have wicked adventures in Narnia”.

But it never did. Not even when Elizabeth came alone.

Years passed and Elizabeth, now called Lizzie, didn’t think about Narnia anymore. It was just some weird game she had played with herself when she was feeling lonely.

She and her mother had moved out, Beatrice had a new and great job and could afford a small house away from her mother. And while Lizzie grew up, with new friends and new hobbies, she just couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something.

 “And why exactly did we agree to a Christmas eve dinner with the witch?”, Lizzie grumbed, leaning her head at the car window while they drove to their small town.

“Because she´s still part of our family”, her mother said, then mumbling:” and she´s probably dead soon anyway.”

Lizzie laughed softy, while it did sound evil, their relationship to the woman just hadn’t gotten any better since the stopped living with her. Still strict, mean and controlling, that was Theodora. And no, they weren’t allowed to call the mom or mother or grandma. No, just Theodora.

“It´s not too late, we can still run away and go home and watch Harry Potter”, Lizzie suggested when they were standing in front of Theodoras front door.

“Don’t temp me”, ringing the bell, her mother tugged at her dress. Any imperfection would be critizised by their hostess.

The door opened and Carla, the maid that worked for Lizzies grandmother, greeted them and showed them to the table in the living room.

“You´re late”, Theodora said, her wrinkly eyes cold and her grey hair pulled into a tight bun.

“But I shouldn’t expect any better from you two, now should I?”

Well, this was going to be fun.

“And what are you doing right now again?”, Theodora asked Lizzie, elegantly cutting up a potato.

“I´m still in university to become an elementary school teacher.”

Theodora lifted an eyebrow unimpressed.

“Well, like I already told you, you should definetly focus on a different part of your life, you´re nearly 23 already and you still don’t have a husband or even a boyfriend”, she shook her head disapprovingly.

“At this rate you´re just going to end up like you´re mother. A bad reputation, no husband and a daughter from some idiot that she couldn’t even keep.”

“Mother!”, Beatrice looked at her mother shocked.

“What, you know I´m right. Look at that girl, she´s not nearly as intelligent or pretty as she should be at that age. She´ll probably never find a husband.”

Lizzie dropped her fork. She knew how mean her grandmother could be but this was a new for her. Fighting the tears that welled up she put away her napkin, ignoring her mum that was yelling at Theodora.

“Excuse me, I´m going for a walk”, she whispered shakingly and left the room.

The cold air was biting at her nose but she ignored it, wrapping her coat tighter around her as she waked towards the wood.

The tears had already started falling, but she didn’t bother wiping them away.

How could someone be so mean to their own grandchild? She knew Theodora didn’t like her very much, but she still thought that deep down she cared about her.

“She will never find a husband”, Lizzie repeated angrily. “I don’t have to find a husband right now, you dumb witch”, she said to herself. “I´m 22 for gods sake. I still have plenty of time left!”

She kept walking, away from the lake and towards a group of trees, while she raged about her grandmother.

Stepping through a gait between the trees, Lizzie suddenly looked up.

The sun blinded her and she couldn’t open her eyes, why was the sun suddenly out? It was nearly 8 pm on a winter evening, and why was it suddenly this warm?

She knew this place. She didn’t know why but she remembered this place, a warm sensation bubbling up in her chest.

She blinked slowly, her eyes getting accostumed to the light, and when she opened them the memories came rushing back.

She was standing in the backyard again. The backyard of the faun family.

Lizzie grinned brightly, her heart feeling warm.

“Who are you?”, a voice said. Turning around Lizzie recognized Bandon, the faun boy, standing next to his mother Ariadne.

“Bandon”, Lizzie laughed, “Ariadne, it´s me: Elizabeth.”

Getting both of them to believe her took Lizzie nearly an hour. All those years Lizzie hadn’t been in Narnia had only been 2 for them, so it had been kind of a shock for them when she was suddenly an adult.

After a lot of crying and hugging and telling a summary about what happened in all those years, Bandon and Lizzie readied their horses and rode to Cair Paravel.

Lizzie couldn’t stop looking around, the view was nothing new but still, she knew that that was the part she had been missing. It seemed so unrealistic now, that she could have simply forgotten about this place, about these people, and she still didn’t understand why but right now, she was way too happy to be back to worry about it.

A guard greeted them and while Bandon and her were trying to explain what was going on a servant was already ordered to send message to the king.

“I can´t believe I´m back here”, Lizzie laughed, smiling at Bandon as they brought their horses to the stables.

“Elizabeth!”, someone yelled. She recognized the voice instantly, Caspian.

Beaming she turned around. He was running towards her, still tall and handsome, his hair a tad shorter than the last time she´d seen him and, confusingly, only a few years older than her.

He grinned from ear to ear and, as soon as he reached her, engulfed her in a tight hug.

Lizzie laughed softly, hugging him as closely as possible, her eyes filling with tears. God, she had missed that, she had missed him.

“You´re back”, Caspian said, slowly letting her go to look at her properly. She nodded, holding back her tears, she really shouldn’t cry again. That would be the third time today.

“You´re…”, he started, looking her up and down, and again.

“…older?”, she suggested, pushing her hair back. He nodded this time, still shocked.

“I can´t believe it, I- How long has it been? For you, I mean.”

Lizzie lowered her eyes.

“12 years”, she whispered.

She remembered everything now, especially the devastation she felt, when she couldn’t go back to Narnia, but she still felt like it was her fault. Had she done something wrong so that Aslan didn’t want her in Narnia anymore?

“So long? It only been two years here and I still-“, he stopped suddenly, looking at her again intently. “I missed you everyday.”

She nodded, wiping away a tear that had fallen from her eye. “I missed you too”, she whispered, trying not to cry completely. It was a lost cause.

“I missed you so much all those years”, she sobbed and Caspian pulled her to him, his arms tightly around her waist.

“It´s okay, you´re here now”, he said, burying his face too her neck. She nodded, it was true. Now that she was here, everything would be okay.

#narnia #Caspian X #prince caspian #peter pevensie #high king peter #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #pevensie siblings #The Lion The Witch And The Wardrobe #voyage of the dawn treader #aslan #imagine #fanfic #ben barnes #Smut

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 17 -- The Pros and Cons

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“Your objections have been noted, Sweettalk,” Ariadne addressed the crew about 25 minutes later, give or take, in front of the whiteboard once again, “and none of us likes having to work with this slimeball—”

“—Can I raise an objection?” Prescott cut in.

“All objections have been noted,” Ariadne spat back, “but the information Prescott’s carrying is too valuable to our cause to pass up.”

“And what is our cause, exactly?” Sweettalk asked, “because, I mean, I get that this cult is bad news, but, why is that still our business?”

“Would your conscience allow you to let Vi’s sisters stay locked up?” Ariadne replied casually.

Sweettalk considered this. “It… ugh, it would not…”

“Besides,” Ariadne continued, “and this is a totally selfish reason, but as long as they’ve got one of the impostors, they can keep posing as me and ruining my good name.”

“Your good name as… a wanted criminal…?” Prescott interjected.

“This is now the fifth time someone has told you to cram it,” Sasha pointed out. “I’ve been counting.”

“Do you want our help or not?” Ariadne offered in assent.

“I’m getting your help regardless,” Prescott smirked, “remember, my information is ‘too valuable to pass up.’”

“What information do you have?” Pilar snapped, “God, sorry, it’s hard to keep this group focused sometimes.”

“Thank you, Ms. Pilar,” Prescott smiled at her.

“Don’t get friendly. I still hate you. Keep talking.”

“Must have been raised in a barn, I swear,” Prescott muttered. “No matter. I have extensive information on the cult leader known as The Zealot. I’ve already told your captain enough independently verifiable information to prove that I’m not full of shit, but given our track record thus far, I understand if you still don’t exactly trust me, and believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”

“Prescott and I have worked out a deal,” Ariadne explained. “He needs our help retrieving some valuable artifacts from a casino in Lohnausfall where he believes his girlfriend—”

“—ex-girlfriend,” Prescott snapped.

“Shock,” Ariadne replied sarcastically, then continued, “a casino where he believes his ex-girlfriend fled to with the bag of church artifacts he stole from the Red God compound.”

“Church artifacts are valuable?” Alicia chimed in from the crowd.

“These ones are,” Prescott explained, “The Zealot, see, he’s bartered, stolen, and even killed to get just about every ancient text, every holy artifact, basically anything the Catholic Church wanted to keep under wraps. He learned how to establish a religion using primary sources on some of the most powerful churches of all time. I’ve got nothing against people of faith, but, he took something good and twisted it to his own ends, which obviously I appreciate. One of the reasons my security company never sold those compounds out is because we knew they were sitting on a fortune bigger than any sticker price we could’ve given a buyer, and we could just quietly slip in any time, take one document, sell it to fund our operation for a year, and if they ever noticed it was gone, they’d just chalk it up to an archaic and confusing filing system. In that duffel bag alone, among other things, there was an original manuscript of the Gospel of Judas, one of the nails purportedly used to hang Jesus on the cross, the true shroud used to cover his body, and enough documentation to prove the authenticity of every bit. In the right hands, each artifact is worth millions, maybe more.”

“Okay, so, it’s obvious Prescott is a slimeball who’s attempting to exploit humanity’s cultural heritage for his own profit,” Ariadne began, “I think we can all agree on that—”

“I can’t!” Prescott scoffed.

“Everyone whose opinion matters can agree on that, but, given his history, I wasn’t exactly comfortable helping him out with no guarantee that he won’t throw us under the bus and make a mad dash to save himself. So, we came up with a little arrangement. Prescott wrote everything he knows about the Zealot on a tablet which will be entrusted to Sweettalk, the least likely person in the universe to ever help Prescott—”

“Yo,” Sweettalk said, making a thumbs-up to indicate that she was absolutely game to be unhelpful where Prescott is concerned.

“—and, to ensure that we don’t just take the information and drop him out the airlock on the way to Lohnausfall,” Ariadne continued, holding up two small memory drives, “these are the two decryption keys. I coded them myself. Even I can’t hack my way into that tablet without both of these, so if either of them are missing, the tablet is useless. One will be on Prescott’s person, the other in Pilar’s. Both of them need to return for this to work.”

Sweettalk raised her hand.

“We’ve established that this is not a classroom, Sweettalk, ask your question.” Pilar sighed.

“What’s to stop him from taking his key and booking it once he has what he wants?” Sweettalk asked.

“I hate that she makes such a good point,” Pilar asked.

“Oh, you’re gonna like this,” Ariadne grinned, and, without warning, quickly tackled Prescott to the ground.

There was a quick scuffle, the sort you might expect when one person abruptly throws their entire weight onto another person and knocks them to the floor, but after a few seconds it resolved itself into Ariadne twisting Prescott’s arm behind his back and attaching a heavy-looking black manacle to his wrist.

“THERE.” Ariadne said, slotting one of the drives into a small notch in the manacle, which closed behind it.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Prescott bellowed.

“I like it already,” Sweettalk laughed. “What is it?”

“I call it The Jumper,” Ariadne said, “I invented it a few months back and I’ve always wanted a chance to use it. It’s got a small, long-range teleporter inside it, hardwired to our receiving pad. Only I can unlock it, although I have no manual control over it. It activates automatically if it leaves a 1-kilometer range of my person, or if any of our crew’s vitals go critical for more than 30 seconds. If he attempts to flee, or harms any of us, the Jumper will automatically return to our station.”

“And what’s stopping him from leaving Spacebreather in the back of some cop car, so having his key back doesn’t do us any good?” Sweettalk asked, “Sorry, Spacebreather, I’m not doubting you, but we can’t afford to underestimate how much of a snake in the grass this guy is.”

Ariadne released her hold on him. “I’m right here, you know,” Prescott said, sounding somewhat offended.

“OH, ARE YOU?” Sweettalk asked, “I WASN’T SURE, I WOULD’VE SAID SOMETHING MORE INSULTING.”

Ariadne jumped in at this point, hoping to keep the crew focused, “the Jumper is programmed to return to our station. It is also designed to take the wrist it’s attached to with it, and do so in such a way that ensures the wearer will bleed out within minutes.”

“So, we know he can’t screw us over again,” Sasha started.

“Don’t count on that,” Sweettalk interjected.

“But, do we have a plan to actually extract the target?” Sasha finished.

“The security at the casino is lax,” Ariadne explained. “Big Top Casino is owned by the Rizzo crime family. Now, I’m told they used to be a big deal, and the head honcho Harry ‘Big Top’ Rizzo is a force to contend with, but their wealth has waned in recent years, which I’d bet is why they wanted these artifacts in the first place. They’ll have a lot of goons on the ground, but the main threat they’re there to guard against is hit jobs by rival families. They don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to try to steal something out of the safe in Big Top’s office, which is where the target will undoubtedly be.”

“Can you crack the safe?” Pilar asked.

“I’ve never met a safe I couldn’t,” Ariadne said, “all I need is to make sure I don’t get caught cracking it. So, we’re going to need to divide into two teams. Diamond Team, that’s Spacebreather, Deathsbane, Sweettalk, and any available Whiptals, your job will be to stage a robbery on the casino floor. Make a big show of it. You don’t actually need to get anything out of the robbery, just make it believable enough that security thinks you’re the threat and comes running, and most importantly, don’t get killed.”

“Do we really think that Deathsbane—” Pilar began.

“I don’t want to hear any arguments on this,” Ariadne cut in, “we need a field medic on site for any dangerous missions from here on out. If you’d like Deathsbane to take on an apprentice, we can talk about that when we get back, but in the meantime, we’ve only got one medic and we can’t afford to be away from her.”

Pilar let out a somewhat angry-sounding sigh. “Fine, whatever.” Sasha smiled and Sweettalk smiled wider.

“Easy enough,” Sasha shrugged, “I’ll prep a few auto-capsules for the regen serum that’ll monitor our vitals and inject us in the event of any sort of trauma. They’re one-use only, though, so try not to get hit, and if you do, go down and play dead so they don’t shoot you again.”

“So, we’re the diversion,” Sweettalk mused, “but what happens when you’ve got the safe? Do we have an exit strategy?”

“Fastwing will keep the shuttle cloaked nearby with a receiving pad idling. As soon as I give her the signal, we flee as quickly as we can and she flies us the hell out of there.”

“What will I be doing during all of this?” Prescott asked.

“Other than cramming it?” Sasha proposed, and Sweettalk quietly high-fived her.

“You’ll be with me,” Ariadne said flatly. “If you’re seen on the casino floor this ex-girlfriend of yours will know what we’re there for and the diversion will be blown. For all your faults, you’re a pretty good liar, and that’s going to work to our advantage. You’ll be our lookout, wearing your security guard getup. If anyone catches us red-handed, your job is to get us out of trouble.”

“You’d trust him to do that?” Sweettalk asked incredulously.

“I’d trust him as far as I could throw his grubby little severed hand and a bag full of blasphemous goodies,” Ariadne replied casually.

“Fair,” Sweettalk nodded.

“So, anything else we need to know?”

“One thing,” Prescott interjected, “Don’t underestimate my ex, Nicks. She may look harmless, but she might be the most dangerous person I’ve ever met.”

Pilar looked moderately offended.

“Ego still a little bruised from the breakup?” Sweettalk offered.

“I’m not kidding,” Prescott insisted, “maybe it’s from growing up with the rest of the Rizzos, but she has this, like, Bonnie and Clyde thing, she lives for danger and that’s more important to her than her own safety or anyone she loves. There is no risk she’s unwilling to take, and no consequence great enough to give her pause. Call me biased or jilted or whatever, but if she confronts you, don’t bother firing a warning shot. She can’t be intimidated, if anything, it’ll just encourage her. Shoot to kill.”

“Noted.” Ariadne rolled her eyes. She was sure they could handle whatever squeaky-voiced rich brat who was airheaded enough to find Prescott attractive, and she didn’t need to know him for very long to know you couldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. “If there’s nothing else, let’s saddle up and get this heist underway. I don’t want to spend any more valuable time helping Prescott, whom I hate, than we need to.”

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x03 ~ Familiar Taste of Poison

Summary: Sam struggles to be on Maddie’s side as Dean continues torturing her, all the while Toni is becoming more of a bother.

Character(s): Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Maddie Rayner (OC), Toni Bevell

Word Count: 4,876

Warning(s): shit ton of angst, explicit language, mentions of the biggest bitch named toni, mentions of cas’ death that r really insulting to cas as a character but that’s just maddie being maddie so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One | Two

“Hey,” Dean muttered, his flannel opening a bit at the hem as he walked into the library.

Sam looked up from his lore book. His mind was somewhere else as his eyes drifted across the page, facts about birds being included on the list of monsters he and his brother would hunt. He was dumbfounded when nothing on the combination of a bird, or anything avian, and a human was mentioned.

He lifted his brow a bit higher than it was when Dean jerked his thumb back in the direction he came. “She’s awake,” he finally said after standing there for a solid minute.

The youngest Hunter cleared his throat and slowly closed his book. “O-okay. I’ll, uh, be there in a minute,” he said, voice dropping to barely a whisper. A lump had risen to his throat, and his gut twisted. He tried to talk—he begged, even pleaded—to his brother, and knock some sense into what he was doing with one of the greatest Hunters in the nation.

Kidnapping a Rayner was one thing, but Tasing her? Tying her up and putting her inside of the Impala’s trunk? He felt sick about it, and he could only make himself feel worse when he found himself comparing his brother to Toni; he had kept his mouth shut during the ride back. He went with the flow of things and just . . .  went with it.

“Dee?” His brother stopped in his tracks. Sam understood this game all too well; using nicknames was when he wanted to talk about something serious or get something off his chest.  Dean pivoted on his heel. Sam didn’t give his brother a chance to speak. “Don’t you think you’re . . . kinda emulating . . . you-know-who?”

Dean frowned. “Who are you . . .”

“I mean, come on. Tasing Mads? Tying her up and putting her inside the trunk? I can’t really find myself not relating to her a little bit.” Sam let his voice trail off. He felt his patience wearing thin, especially when the devil herself clicked her tongue in disagreement.

Toni sat in the war room, her elbow leaning on what appeared to be the southern coast of Argentina. Her fair hair was done in a neat bun parallel to her eyes on the back of her head, with a tan leather jacket accommodating a white undershirt and matching dress pants. Black flats completed the look, along with beige eyeshadow to bring out those stupid eyes.

She shook her head slightly. “You don’t like me, Samuel, but I get it. Maybe Maddie would enjoy the same activities we endured during our time together. Or, perhaps, once that strapping lad of a brother leaves, we could have some . . . alone time, hmm?”

Sam glanced over at her with a slight shudder, tears springing to his eyes when he saw the needle in her hand. He managed to keep his fear and anger under control, but the second his brother rolled his eyes and retreated down the hall, the Hunter jumped from his chair and dashed down the stone stairs. He stopped at the world map, bracing himself on it with both hands trembling and his fingers turning white. Anger made his face hard, with his upper lip twitching in irritation.

His veins rose along his skin. Toni glanced down at them and licked her lips to his disgust. Sam lifted his arm and pointed at her with a stiff hand. “Shut. Up. You’re not . . . real.”

Standing, Toni sauntered her way around the table at a slow and predatory pace. Her eyebrow was arched slightly, with her tongue set between her teeth. Maddie had done the same exact thing in the motel parking lot. He thought it was hot, but now? He felt disgusted for even considering the action as sexy on Maddie’s part.

He shook his head at Toni, pressing his thumb into his palm where his scar used to be from years ago.

It still worked. Toni flickered away with an eyeroll.

He was finally greeted with silence. He finally felt calm in what seemed like weeks, or months if he counted the tension between his brother and his estranged mother. He knew Toni would be back later, but Sam decided to embrace this moment of silence with open arms.

A hand ran through his hair as he sighed deeply, feeling hesitant when he stepped back into the library. His book, checked out from the local library when he couldn’t find anything bird related in the Bunker, lay closed on the nearest table closest to the steps. His hand reached out and scooped it up with ease, the book opening to the page he marked with a sticky-note.

His mind went directly to Maddie the second he laid eyes on a depiction of the Greek god Eros. A marble statue of the god was said to be of Pompeiian decent, one line said, and a blush ran to his cheeks when he read that Eros was, officially, the god of sexual desire and attraction.

Even mythology can predict his future. He shook his head and turned the page, only to be greeted by another mouthful of a paragraph of Eros. His jaw clenched. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he read on. One part of the paragraph quoted a Greek comic playwright named Aristophanes that detailed the birth of Eros:

“At the beginning, there was only Chaos, Night (Nyx), Darkness (Erebus), and the Abyss (Tartarus). Earth, the Air and Heaven had no existence. Firstly, black-winged Night laid a germless egg in the bosom of the infinite depths of Darkness, and from this, after the revolution of long ages, sprang the graceful Love (Eros) with his glittering golden wings, swift as the whirlwinds of the tempest. He mated in the deep Abyss with dark Chaos, winged like himself, and thus hatched forth our race, which was the first to see the light.”

Sam’s lips parted a bit, his brow furrowing in deep concentration. He turned the page again, reading more on winged humanoids in folklore and mythology. There was the Greek legend of Icarus, the son of an Athenian craftsman who built the famous Labyrinth in Crete. Icarus and his father, Daedalus, were imprisoned in the Labyrinth when King Minos’ daughter helped Theseus, the enemy of the king, defeat the Minotaur.

He knew this legend all too well. He was always a fan of mythology, even if it wasn’t relevant to a case. Daedalus fashioned a pair of wings using wax, feathers and a thread given to them from Ariadne,  King Minos’ daughter. Escaping the Labyrinth, Daedalus instructed Icarus to not fly too low above the Mediterranean Sea or to not fly too high, for the Sun would melt the wax. Icarus disregarded his father’s advice and flew too close to the Sun, whose rays melted the wax and sent Icarus to his death.

The thought of death made his mind wander. He thought about how iron and silver were the two number one things that monsters could be killed, but he remembered seeing an iron ring on Maddie’s middle finger. Plus, not to mention, the angel sword she wields must be made of iron or silver, so she couldn’t be killed by either of those elements.

Maybe it’s not a mythological thing, he thought and shut the book. He stood from his chair and stalked to the staircase, hustling down them and jogging to his bedroom. He rushed past the closed dungeon door, not even taking a glance at it. He was worried about what Dean was doing to Maddie, but he was paranoid now that Dean would do worse if he didn’t get what he wanted.

Sam ignored Toni’s figure on his bed. Her jacket was off, and with that revealed her bare arms from the shoulder down. He hated to admit that her arms looked quite nice despite her age.

He blushed slightly when she crawled to the end of the bed at yet another predatory pace, her fingers wrapping around the footboard. Her hair fell from over her shoulder to rest above her breast.

Her hand reached for him when he finally found his tablet. He unplugged it from its charger atop his dresser. Toni’s fingers gripped his sleeve and tugged him closer to the bed, her other hand trailing up his chest. Sam clenched his fists with his jaw hinging forward in protest.

He knew she was trying to reel him in. She was trying so damn hard to make him fall for her again.

He shoved himself away and left the room, pressing his thumb into his palm as he did so. He heard the strained flickering behind him; he didn’t look over his shoulder. He felt her, though. He felt her presence looming over him from behind even though she was massively short compared to his monstrous height.

He ignored her again. He turned the corner and stopped in front of the dungeon door. It was the only thing that kept him away from Maddie. His heart tugged at what Dean was doing, and it tugged even harder when he heard her groaning inside.

Sam dug deep inside himself to find the courage to open the damn door. His hand shook as he turned the lever, the gears inside of the eighty-two-year-old door groaning in protest as it slowly opened. It was quite heavy, in his opinion, but he found it easier to open each time he did it. His daily workout routines were paying off, both on and off the job.

The bookcases were closed. Chains rattling echoed in the large room, with the combination of old books and blood making Sam’s eyes water. He blinked and shook his head. His hand trembled even more now when he reached out and pulled open the two bookcases, revealing a pissed-off Dean and a bloodied Maddie.

The first thing he noticed about her was the giant scar running from the center of her forehead to her jawline. It was a wide wound that was bleeding profusely, with thick trails of blood dripping into her lap and on the floor. Her left cheek was slashed, as well, as were both her arms. A dried pool of blood soaked her shirt in the stomach area; her shoulders were bleeding with large X’s carved into them.

How is she alive? he thought.

Dean set down a machete that was covered from tip to heel with blood. His hands were turning pink and crimson with new and dried blood.

The tray next to him, mocking the youngest Winchester’s former demise with Toni, was filled with instruments of torture. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably and cleared his throat, toying with the tablet as he swept his eyes over Maddie and the table.

Turning, his brother looked up at him. Suddenly Dean’s face lit up a bit, and that darkness in his eyes was gone. It disturbed Sam more than when Dee had the Mark of Cain, or when he was a demon. Eye wrinkles creased in the corners of his brother’s eyes, a characteristic that the women of the world couldn’t resist.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said with happiness in his voice.

Sam cast a concerned glance Maddie’s way. Her shirt and jeans were in pieces. Both items of clothing were covered in blood, with her lap being the most covered from the scar on her face. What alarmed him the most was how still she sat.

He shifted on his feet and showed Dean the screen. “Maybe she isn’t anything, Dean,” he muttered, pain cracking his voice. His gut churned the second he saw her like this. It pained him to see her tortured to a pulp and barely breathing while chained to a chair in a place unfamiliar to her. The least Dean could do was loosen the bonds, but even he knew that was a horrible idea.

His mind sent off alarms in his head. when he thought about what would happen if she got free. She’d kill us both, that’s for sure, he thought with a dizzying wave of uneasiness.

Maddie’s head lifted a bit. Sam’s jaw clenched when her shoulders rolled and her head lifted itself up to stare at the ceiling. The chains behind her rattled quite loudly when she began to struggle, her teeth baring and a snarl leaving her lips. She glanced behind her at her bonds and stared up at Dean with death in her eyes.

“Are the chains necessary, Dean, or are they here to satisfy your kinks?” she spat, a taunting arch of an eyebrow clearly setting the Hunter off. Sam fought a snicker on his part and managed to keep it on the inside.

Dean stepped over after he retrieved a dagger smaller than the machete. Sam’s gut churned the closer his brother got to her and tensed when Dee grabbed Maddie’s jaw in his hand and rested the tip of the blade on her chest. He chuckled to Sam’s dismay. The eldest Hunter’s head lifted a bit as if narrowing his eyes and twisted the blade on the surface of Maddie’s skin. Her face contorted to a slight grimace, but her expression remained taunting.

“I’m gonna ask you once and once only,” Dean spat, voice dripping with venom, “what are you?”

Maddie let out a devilish chuckle that mocked Dean’s. Sam felt a pang of regret for just standing there and not doing something, for the angel killer’s next words would haunt him forever: “Your questions can kiss my ass, Dean.” Dean’s hand flew between her side and right arm, his fingers grabbing the reinforced steel chains and pinning them to her wrist. Hissing filled the dungeon, mixed with Maddie’s pained grunts and profane threats she spewed at him. Sam shifted on his feet, fists clenched at his sides, and forced himself to not grab Dean and throw him across the room.

“Dean,” he said quietly, voice deeper than usual with emotion. Dean ignored him and grabbed the dagger from the tray and stabbed the blade into her leg. Flesh squished and blood boiled to the surface, pooling over her leg and dripping to the floor. A violent scream burst from Maddie’s throat, with the chains rattling loudly in the dungeon.

Bile rose in Sam’s throat. Toni stood behind the chair, an arm draping on Maddie’s shoulder. She was dressed in the same outfit as earlier, this time a blowtorch replacing the needle she had held. His jaw clenched when it turned on, which made him jump to his dismay, and told himself this wasn’t real.

This isn’t real, he thought when Toni placed the nozzle of the torch directly on Maddie’s scar.

Before he knew it, Sam was barreling down the hall towards his room. A wave of coolness slammed into the back of his head as he bent over the sink and vomited, his eyes squeezing shut. He remained there, arms braced on the sides of the sink, until nothing but stomach acid came up.

His throat burned, his mouth hurt. He shuddered and coughed, hoping and praying nothing else would come up. He rested his forehead on his arm, turning the sink on and washing his vomit down the drain.

When he looked up, a single tear slipped from his eye when, in the mirror, Toni stood behind him. A soft smile was on her face as they stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Those crystal pools haunted him both in and out of sleep, and today marks the eighth day he hasn’t slept a full night without nightmares.

She took a step forward. Another tear slipped, another drop of his dignity falling with it. His soul felt weak inside of him; it cowered in the corner when Toni stalked her way closer to him. He watched her in the mirror, his entire body shaking when her ice cold hands wrapped around his frame. He closed his eyes and shuddered in front of the sink.

“I missed you,” she purred, resting her head on his shoulder, hands snaking around his chest. He shook in her grasp, with tears dripping into the sink. “You know, Sam . . . I know you enjoyed our little fling together. How you groaned my name? I’d—”

Sam grabbed the glass sitting beneath the mirror and hurled it across the room over Toni’s head, with her figure fading away like smoke as he screamed, “Leave me alone!”

He stood there with his chest heaving in anger. He ran his hand through his hair and blinked, squeezing shut his eyes and opening them wide as the room swayed beneath his feet. Voices added to his dizziness, with most of them being different things Toni had spoken to him during his time with her.

Sometimes objects in his room flickered to things in the farmhouse. His duffle bag on his bed changed to cow prods, and his stash of ammunition flickered to needles and drugs of various sizes and doses. The voices grew in volume.

Toni’s degrading words and taunts rose to shouts, with moments of Ms. Watt carving into him flashing across his eyes.

The last thing he remembered was falling to the concrete floor.

It took him about five weeks to finally gather the courage to go back into the dungeon. He had busied himself with research sessions and bidaily jogs to the store, where he would stock up on whatever things the Bunker needed: beer, food, ingredients for his “disgusting and nasty” protein shakes, as described by his wonderful brother; and over-the-counter sleeping pills.

He drove himself to insomnia as the weeks crawled on without sleep. He had kept his lack of sleep from his brother, of course, claiming he had stayed up too late doing research for various or sparse cases; last week, there was a werewolf in Elkhorn, Nebraska, that took only four days to finish.

Dean had found him unconscious in his bedroom. Apparently, he had passed out from lack of sleep, and Sam even suffered a concussion from slamming his head on the floor. His brother said he needed stitches, but it didn’t take long for his memory to come back.

It didn’t take long for him to remember Maddie was still here.

Maddie’s screams slipped their way beneath his door. He flinched when her screams suddenly stopped. He slammed shut his book. It was a lore book on Chupacabra, and everything he’d read went out the window as he hurled himself off his bed and opened the door.

It took a while to make it to the dungeon. Even though he and his brother had been living there for almost five years, he still found himself becoming lost and continuing straight when he should’ve turned the corner.

Toni appeared next to him, her shoulder leaning on the wall next to the door. Sam ignored her, as per usual, as he stepped inside. The dungeon was consumed in darkness, save for the domes of yellow given off by the lights above him. His head shook in irritation when the soft clacks of Toni’s heels sounded seconds later.

The bookcases were closed suspiciously. It was obviously Dean’s very poor way of covering something up that happened to Mads, and it didn’t take long for Sam to realize how quiet it was in the musty room. It was too quiet, in his opinion, and as he made his way toward the bookcases, Toni couldn’t help but commentate.

“Quiet like you,” she whispered.

“Screw you,” Sam replied, his hands reaching out and wrapping around the shelf’s iron case. He gave the two rolling bookshelves a good tug, and the doors opened, sending a wave of pale light to shine on his lower body and on Toni’s entire, fictional and completely nonexistent body.

Maddie sat in the chair with her head bowed, her chest never rising and falling. A piece of duct tape was positioned over her lips, with her head wound bleeding more than he’d seen it earlier. It seemed like her knees were cut and bleeding to beyond restoration, but it looked like her wounds from weeks ago were already healing.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Toni quipped with intrigue. Sam’s heart twisted with disgust as Toni made her way to Maddie, stopping and admiring the damage on the Hunter’s body. “Beautiful handiwork.”

He ran over when he saw the machete embedded into her shoulder, keeping the right side of her body pinned to the chair.

Sam fell to a kneeling position, his hands immediately going to cradle her head. His hands stopped, however, and instead went to check her pulse. Her skin was cold beneath his, and a tear came to his eye when her pulse was deemed faint.

Her head snapped up and muffled screams filled the room. Her eyes were wide as ever, scanning his face for the apparent darkness she had witnessed with Dean. Sam clutched her face and rubbed his thumbs along her jaw, quietly shushing her as she struggled and screamed. His heart tugged.

“Hey. Hey, Mads,” he whispered, “Maddie. Maddie! Listen to me, okay? I’m not here to hurt you. Promise. Just lemme take this off and I can help you. Okay? Do you trust me?”

She quieted a bit. Her chest heaved and shone with sweat, soft grunts leaving her sealed mouth. Her head lolled when she lifted it up, to which Sam grabbed the sides of her neck and held her head up with his thumbs. His heart thundered in his chest as he shook her to try and keep her alive or conscious; he couldn’t tell if she was hyperventilating, passing out or dying.

Finally, she nodded and allowed him to pry the duct tape off her lips. Her breath shuddered and she shook in the chair. When Sam went to get a grip on the machete, she shook her head and let her head fall back slightly with exhaustion.

It took her a few seconds to find words. Seeing her so exhausted from fighting the pain Dean had caused her made him feel gross. For once in his life, he could relate to Rayner. For obvious reasons, the Rayner bloodline couldn’t necessarily be deemed as relatable, but now? He never felt so complete with Maddie.

He waited for her to speak, and once she did, his tormentor snickered next to him.

“Leave it in. I-I don’t him to think you’re . . .  he-helping me.” Maddie’s voice was beyond raspy, possibly from her five weeks’ worth of torture on his brother’s part. The thought of Dean made Sam tense and glance over his shoulder, thankful he didn’t see his brother.

Toni paced around Maddie and stopped at her side, legs bending so she could be level with the angel Hunter. Sam took his hands from Maddie’s head and pressed his thumb into his palm as hard as he could, grunting when Toni’s figure simply flickered like a television losing its signal for a few moments. Instead, he focused on Maddie. She was his number one priority at the moment, and at any time, Dean could return from his break. It pained Sam to know that he had a ticking time bomb in his hands, plus a hallucinogenic Toni Bevell weaseling into his life like Lucifer did.

Least you’re not with him, he thought. He felt a little better after that thought came and went, but the glare from the Woman of Letters made him resist making eye contact with her.

“The question is, Samuel, would you rather be with me or Lucifer? After all, you were tortured by him, so what makes you think I’m any better?” Toni’s voice annoyed him, and this accent in a pantsuit bitch made him want to punch a wall. He ignored her; it was the only thing he could do without looking insane. Sam clenched his jaw as he stared at Maddie. Her eyes, he realized, were struggling to stay open. He looked at the machete, which was probably the only thing that was keeping her from bleeding out.

He looked up at the second door not far from Maddie’s chair. If he could get her out of the chair without severing any major organs, he could have her in a motel a few miles away in less than an hour. An hour could save her life, he thought. His hand lifted to grab the machete, but he knew Maddie would start bleeding the second he moved the weapon.

Praying that Toni would go away out of annoyance, he waited until Maddie returned her gaze to him. Tears were in her eyes, and Sam’s soul felt crushed. She was scared—horrified was a better word—and in serious pain, possibly thinking that he was here to hurt her. He wanted to yell at her that he was here to help, but even he knew she’d think that was bullshit.

“Maddie. No, no, no, hey. Hey, Mads. Stay awake for me, okay?” Her head was bobbing up and down, and he knew it wasn’t long until she lost consciousness. Her lips barely moved as she looked up at him through her drooping lashes. “I’m so tired . . .” Her voice was barely a whisper, either, and it broke his heart. Just seeing her like this broken, defeated woman who didn’t deserve any of this.

Sam bowed his head, lips scrunching to the side in thought. His brow furrowed, too, and the idea that hatched in his brain went burning to the ground when the door opened behind him, and Dean’s halted footsteps stopped.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was deep with confusion and slight anger. “What’re you doing?”

Mads lifted her head as much as she could with a groan, the flesh around the machete squishing around. More blood oozed from the wound and dripped to the floor. The chains rattling filled the silence that wrapped its arms around the Hunters. Dean held his knife, twirling it on his fingertip nonchalantly.

Sam’s jaw clenched tightly when Maddie spoke. “Bet you wish Castiel could zap on in and heal me. Brand new slate for a brand new session, huh?” She drew in a sharp breath as if wincing and continued. “Ooh. Hold on. That’s right. He’s dead as a doornail.”

Dean stormed over and placed the dagger’s tip on her chin. Sam moved to push him away, but his brother’s other hand reached into the back of his pants and took out his pistol, cocking and raising it to Sam’s head without looking away from Maddie.

“Don’t even, Sam.”

“Course, I’m not saying that you wish he was here. You want him here, need him here. Is that right? That longing, depressive feeling that’s been eating at you for weeks is simply delicious, in my opinion. The greatest Hunter in the nation had his precious little boyfriend put down like a dog. But, alas. If only I were the one who made that killing stab, my life would be so much brighter.” He was shocked Dean didn’t end her right then and there. What happened, however, was his big brother grabbing the machete and twisting it clockwise, sending a fountain of blood to lightly spray from the wound.

Instead of screaming, Maddie let out a maniacal chuckle. “Y’know, the little bastard deserved it. Fucking up the world for one measly human, rebelling against his superiors for one measly human. Almost killing seven billion people for Dean Winchester.

“I wonder how it feels to have the love of your life taken from you so tragically, so soon,” she continued, her voice cracking and dipping as she spoke. “But, I guess he died knowing you didn’t love him. Bet he never got the chance to say, either, considering his little problems he had to deal with. His family never accepted him—his true family, might I add—and everybody talking about him like he was nothing but a piece of shit walking this earth. Oh, wait! He still is, even in death. I sleep great at night, by the way, knowing that he died without a purpose. Guess he’ll always be the one who got away, huh, Dean?”

Sam stared at her in horror. Tears were in his eyes at the degrading and shocking words that this woman just said about his friend, but he wasn’t prepared for the bone-rattling punch that Dean threw, Maddie’s head whipping back and going limp as she slumped to the side, unresponsive. When her chest rose and fell, a sigh of relief left both Hunters.

The younger Hunter stared awkwardly at his brother. Dean’s knuckles were bleeding and cracked, but apparently, he didn’t care. When Dee exhaled sharply, Sam cleared his throat. “Why don’t I take a stab at her? Y-you need a break, anyway.”

Dean turned and stared at him like he had said that Dad was alive and breathing. At first, he was confused, but then his brother shook his head and turned to leave. “Cut her tongue out next time,” Dean said over his shoulder as the door was opened. It creaked closed faster than Sam could unchain Mads and carry her towards the door.

#horrors & hunters #supernatural #spn fanfic #horrors and hunters #sam x maddie #sam x ofc #sam winchester #jared padalecki #dean winchester #jensen ackles #toni bevelle #elizabeth blackmore #maddie rayner #odette annable #this toni thing is interesting imo #so guess who's keeping her >:D