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mochegato · 3 years

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Nannyette

Chapter 8 – World War MDC

Chapter 1 Chapter 7

**Spoilers for Knives Out!! I forgot to warn people**

Tim knocked on Dick’s door and waited impatiently for Marinette to answer. Dick was supposed to get home from his shift soon, if a development on one of his cases didn’t pop up at the last minute, and Tim would be able to take Marinette out for their date. After a wait that lasted forever, about 3 minutes, Marinette opened the door for him.

Tim looked up at her with a smile and immediately flinched back. “Jesus Christ! Holy Crap!” he screamed out seeing her face. He grabbed the fabric over his heart in an attempt to slow down his racing heart. “What the hell happened to you?” He started examining her face in confusion. Marinette’s face was caked with different colors of lipstick and eye shadow and Tim was sure there was more but he didn’t know what.

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him warningly. “I know you’re impressed with the amazing work Mar’i did to get me ready for our date tonight, but please don't curse in front of her.”

“Ahh, that explains…” Tim walked over to where she was and crouched down to look her in her eyes. “Mar’i, you did that?”

“Yep I did.” She answered excitedly.

“It looks beautiful, cupcake. You did a great job.” Tim assured her, ruffling her hair.

Mar’i grinned proudly and skipped away. Tim leaned against the back of the couch and grabbed Marinette, pulling her closer to him, his hands resting on her hips. He looked over her face again with an amused smile, “You look like a victim in a zombie apocalypse movie.”

Marinette laughed and looked down self-consciously. She ran her hands through her hair nervously. “Why thank you.”

Tim hooked his finger under her chin, which he was fairly sure was unmarked, to get her to look at him. “I meant the hot one that survives and kills all the zombies.” Tim smiled at her.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds unsure how to respond. She finally started giggling. “You say the most flattering things to me.”

She pushed up to give him a quick peck, but he leaned back out of her reach. “Nuh uh. You’re not getting me. I’m surviving this apocalypse.” Tim laughed, dodging her attempts at a kiss but refusing to lean too far away from her or let go of her hips. Marinette pouted at him. Tim’s face turned to mock solemnness. “I will mourn your loss of course.”

“I thought I survived!” She cried in pretend outrage, gently slapping his shoulder.

Tim cringed. “I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to still have hope. But, unfortunately you fell to the hordes. I’m the only one left.”

“So you’re the hot one that survives and kills all the zombies?”

Tim shrugged and smirked at her. “You think I’m hot?”

Marinette narrowed her eyes and puckered her lips. She leaned away and looked toward where Mar’i had run off to. “Mar’i, don’t you think Tim would look amazing with a makeover for the date, too.”

“Noooooo,” he called out quietly, collapsing his head on her shoulder. “So close to surviving, but it’s total annihilation.”

“I have the makeup! Come on Uncle Tim,” Mar’i insisted pulling his hand toward the kitchen island. Tim gave Marinette a mock glare as he let Mar’i pull him away.

After twenty minutes, during which time Marinette had prepared a snack for Mar’i and cleaned up the mess they had made playing earlier, Mar’i finally deemed Tim’s makeover complete. “Marinette! Marinette, look! I made Tim so handsome!” she proudly crowed to Marinette.

Marinette made her way over and took in Tim’s appearance. There was long red streaks marking his face from forehead to jaw. He truly looked like he had gotten attacked by someone with long, thick nails. “Oh, he looks so handsome.” She gave him a smirk as she gently tilted his head from side to side to get the full effect. Tim tried to give her an annoyed look but couldn’t help smiling instead. “You are so talented, Mar’i. It looks so good.”

Mar’i looked away shyly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Now, can you start putting the makeup away and then I have a snack ready for you.”

“Okay.” She jumped up and grabbed the first container of makeup and headed back to her room.

As soon as she was out of the room, Marinette turned to Tim. “Welcome to the apocalypse.” Marinette giggled at him and giving him a few comforting, patronizing pats on the back.

Tim smiled back, pulled her between his legs, and ran his hands through her hair to avoid the makeup that was caked on her face, neck, and the parts of her chest left exposed by her shirt. “The apocalypse doesn’t seem so bad. I’ll get to spend it with you.”

Marinette giggled and almost laid her head on his shoulder. “Sorry about that.” She wiped imaginary marks off of his shoulder. “I was so mesmerized by your flirting I almost lost myself.”

Tim pretended not to notice the sarcasm in her voice. “Good. I’m glad to hear it’s effective.”

Marinette opened her mouth to respond when Dick finally came home. “Sorry, sorry, Marinette. Something happened and I had to write it up before I left.” He finally looked up at the two and did a double take. “You two look like a rouge attack gone wrong,” he said quietly. He turned toward Mar’i’s room to call out loudly, “Mar’i, honey, did you do Uncle Tim and Aunt Marinette’s makeup?” He smirked at the double squeaks Tim and Marinette let out in response.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed happily running out of the back room to fly into his arms for a hug. “I did! Don’t they look amazing?”

“They certainly do,” he chuckled and shook his head.

Tim cringed. “Yeah, we should probably clean up before we leave.” Marinette scoffed at him and shook her head pityingly. He looked at her curiously. Surely she didn’t plan on leaving the apartment looking like this. There was no way.

“You can’t take my makeup off! It’s for your date. Don’t you like it?” Mar’i looked up at him with wide, wet eyes.

He looked over to Marinette who gave him a knowing look that let him know she knew exactly how this was going to play out. They were leaving the apartment with this makeup on. “No! Yes, of course I love the makeup. It’s gorgeous. It just maybe isn’t right for a first date.” Tim gave her a strained smile.

Mar’i looked down and sniffled. “Okay.”

“I meant, maybe I need a bit more makeup?” He tried instead. “I’m not as naturally gorgeous as Marinette is,” he looked over at her with a smirk, “I need more help than she does.” Marinette rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that formed on her lips.

Mar’i brightened up immediately and started sorting through the container of makeup she hadn’t put away yet. “Okay!”

Dick clapped him on the back and leaned in to whisper, “Smooth recovery. Got on both of their good sides with that.” Tim shrugged at him and sat back down so Mar’i could make him look even better.

It only took Mar’i a few more minutes to make Tim look even more handsome. Marinette and Tim thanked her again for her help and were finally able to leave for their date. Tim looked at the time as they waited for the elevator. It was now too late for them to go home, get ready, and make it to the restaurant on time. He sighed and studied her, more specifically her makeup, for a few moments. He leaned against the wall and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. “Hey, what do you say to staying in for our date instead?”

She grinned cheekily at him. “What, don’t want to be seen in public with this?” She motioned to her face and neck.

Tim chuckled and tightened his arms around her waist. “I wouldn’t want to start a panic of people thinking there was a new rogue out there tearing people’s faces off. We already have Black Mask for that. But I was thinking how nice it would be to cuddle with you on the couch without worrying about Mar’i waking up or Dick walking in on us.” He gave her a chaste kiss pulling away just far enough to talk. “No dressing up, no pretentious restaurants. Just order food, watch a movie, cuddle under a blanket… I can show you my apartment this time.”

Marinette sighed and relaxed into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. “That sounds amazing. But you do realize, even if we went out it wouldn’t need to be to a fancy, pretentious restaurant. I just want to spend time with you. It could be a coffee shop, a corner diner, a picnic in the park. I don’t care.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed out happily. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Marinette blushed and took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “And just because we couldn’t take the makeup off in front of Mar’i doesn’t mean we can’t take it off now.” She pulled a few face wipes out of her bag and offered him one.

“Thank you,” Tim smiled and started rubbing vigorously as they walked onto the elevator. He groaned when he saw his reflection in the elevator doors. “I don’t think this is going to be enough.” Marinette giggled and helped him wipe off his makeup, standing closer than strictly necessary to accomplish the task, which Tim did not object to at all.

<><><><><>

“So, this is my place,” Tim opened the door to the townhouse and held her hand to guide her in. “Did you want the tour?”

Marinette looked around in awe. “Tim! What the hell? This isn’t an apartment. This is like a… oh my god. This is amazing.”

“You like it?” he asked nervously.

“Like it? Tim, this is amazing. I…” her eyes kept darting around the multistory, open concept, sleek townhouse, “I’m speechless. It’s beautiful.” Tim let out a relieved breath and smiled at her. She looked at him incredulously. “You couldn’t have actually thought I might not.”

He shrugged at her and stroked her cheek. “I just… want you to be impressed.”

“Oh Tim… you already impress me.” She shook her head gently and looked at him with sincerity and adoration. “I already think you’re amazing and I still would even if you lived in a crappy, walk up studio apartment. I didn’t fall for you because of your money.”

Tim beamed at her. “Oh no? What was it then?”

She grinned up at him cheekily. “Clearly, your post-apocalyptic good looks.”

Tim barked out a laugh and gently rubbed his thumbs along her cheek. “Speaking of, do you want to wash your face first or want me to go first?”

Marinette leaned into his hand, enjoying the feeling of his hand on her. “You can go first.”

“Okay. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll just wash my face and be right back. The remote is right over there if you want to turn on something to watch.”

She nodded to him and started looking around his home taking in all the decorations and the enormous saltwater fish tank. “Fucking rich people,” she muttered to herself with a small laugh. She stopped in front of some of a few large photographs hanging on the wall. She studied them for a few minutes before laughing so loudly, Tim came hurrying in to see what was so funny.

He looked at her questioningly and she shook her head, unable to stop laughing, the bewildered look on his face making her laugh harder. “You weren’t even trying to hide it were you?” she finally managed to get out through the laughter.

He gave her a completely baffled look, “Hide what?”

“Your identity.”

“What do you mean?” He whipped his head around looking for the source of her comment. He was careful. Exceptionally. He didn’t slip up and leave weapons around. He did NOT leave his suit in his closet. There should be nothing here to give away his identity.

She motioned to the pictures she was standing next to. “This is clearly taken from the top of Titan Tower. These look like they were taken mid-swing. Who can do that but a hero? Who could get those but a hero?”

Tim looked between the pictures and her a dumbfounded look on his face. He’d had a number of people in his home before that never even gave the pictures a second glance. He’d had Titans in his home before and none of them had even noticed. He was again struck by how incredible she was.

He chuckled and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You ever thought about being a hero? Because you would be amazing at it. You can already kick ass. You’re smart. You’re observant. You notice the details nobody else does. You try to help others.” He looked at her adoringly. “You’d be amazing,” he let out breathlessly.

Marinette froze for a moment and gave him a nervous chuckle, pushing hair that hadn’t been loose behind her ear. She looked down, avoiding his eyes. “Thank you. I don’t think I’d… I’m honored you think so.” She steeled herself and looked back up at him with a faked coy smile and took a step closer. “That means a lot coming from a hero like you.”

“Vigilante,” he quietly corrected.

“I know what I said,” she answered just as quietly, pulling him down to meet her lips in an affectionate and insistent kiss. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, making it hungrier and more passionate.

He pulled away after a few minutes. “I’ll order the food and get a movie set up while you get cleaned up. Sound good?” he asked quietly, his breath fanning over her lips as he spoke. She nodded mutely, still recovering her breath after the kisses that stole it, thankful Tim was holding her up. She was pretty sure her knees would have given out if he hadn’t been.

After she had washed her face and reapplied her makeup herself, she emerged from the bathroom that was larger than her apartment, feeling refreshed and a little less scary looking. She found Tim lounging on the couch, looking through movie listings. Her breath hitched slightly at the sight. He looked so handsome sitting like that and she couldn’t believe he had chosen her. She bit her bottom lip to keep her smile from becoming too wide, but it didn’t work. There was no holding it back.

Tim looked up from the television and gave her a beaming smile. “Hey, the food is on its way and I think I found the perfect movie,” he said motioning to the spot next to him for her to sit. His expression was too innocent though. Marinette eyed him suspiciously, but still sat in the spot he indicated and cuddled up to him. He grinned mischievously and hit the select button to bring up the movie’s details.

Marinette groaned good-naturedly and buried her head in his shoulder. “It made me think of you,” his grin widened as the theme for World War Z played in the background.

Marinette pulled back to give him an unamused look. “You’re terrible and I don’t know why I like you.”

He shrugged smugly. “It’s the fish tank.”

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I assure you it isn’t.”

Tim gave her a mock pout. “That hurts. Okay so, World War Z?”

Marinette hesitated and gave him a nervous look. “Can we… not? I get the joke, but it gives me flashbacks.”

Tim gave her a confused look. “Flashbacks?”

“Yeah. Zombies.” She shuddered at the memory.

“Yeah, let’s discuss that one a bit more. Zombies?”

“Zombies,” she confirmed with a curt nod. “It was one of our akumas. One of the more effective ones. Almost everyone in Paris became one. They passed it by kissing. Then you became mindless kissing machines.”

“I’ve known a few people at some galas like that,” he tried to joke to lighten the mood.

She let out a mirthless chuckle appreciating the awkward attempt to change the subject. “Yeah, me too. And a few frat parties.”

“Okay, no horror movies,” he nodded, returning his attention to the movies listing. “What about the Majestia movie that just came out?”

Marinette froze and quirked her lips to the side thinking about how to respond. She loved Majestia. In fact she and Adrien had just gone to visit her a few weeks before, but the movie was sooooo not a realistic representation of her. They got so many details wrong, including every detail about Knight Owl. She could not in any way sit through that movie without criticizing it ruthlessly, revealing she knew them and knew everything about the movie was wrong. “How about a murder mystery? Or do you figure them out too quickly to enjoy them? Oh! Have you seen Knives Out?”

Tim shook his head and started navigating to the movie. “I have not and I take it as a challenge to see how quickly I can figure it out.”

Forty minutes later, the food had arrived and been eaten and they had just gotten back to cozying up to watch the movie. “So we agree Captain America is the killer, right?”

Marinette snorted, “Well, obviously.”

“So,” Tim angled his face to look at Marinette, “we’ve already solved the mystery and there is about an hour and a half left of the movie.”

Marinette leaned her head back to look at him. “Yes?”

“I’m just saying we don’t really have a reason to pay attention anymore,” he pointed out suggestively.

“I see your point.” She nodded sagely. “So what you’re saying is you want to play a game.”

He smothered a grin at the game she was playing. “Of sorts,” he confirmed.

“Want to get out Chess or Risk?” Her voice was innocent, but her hands running up and down his arms and shoulders were anything but.

He shook his head at her as he turned her around to fully face him. “I’m not allowed to play Risk anymore.” She raised her eyebrow at him encouraging him to explain. “Something about taking world domination too seriously.”

She giggled. “So Settlers of Catan is out too then.” Tim let out a frustrated huff and nodded. Marinette giggled harder and traced the edge of his jaw. “So you were thinking a video game then?”

He hummed as though in thought as he pushed forward, forcing her to lean back. “I was thinking something more physical.”

“Oh! Like DDR?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He moved his face closer until his nose was ghosting against her jaw. “What about something more about making each other feel good than scoring points.”

“Ahh, an exercise game,” she offered breathlessly.

“Something like that,” Tim nodded before closing the gap between them.

“That was a great movie,” Marinette whispered against Tim’s lips an hour and a half later as the movie credits rolled up the screen. She looked up at him coquettishly as his face hovered over hers. “We should watch it again soon.”

“Or at all,” Tim chuckled. He brushed Marinette’s hair out of her face and gazed at her face flushed from kissing through the entire movie. He gave her a quizzical look. “Are we… No. That’s not what I meant to say.” He frowned at himself and looked away.

Marinette smiled at him and caressed his cheek. “What did you want to say?”

He looked back up at her with a nervous smile. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Marinette’s smile widened until it was beaming. “Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly before pulling him back down so they could miss the next movie as well.

Chapter 9

Tags:

@timari-month-event @ichigorose @stainedglassm @better-toast @theymakeupfairies @trippingovermyfeet @demonicbusiness @maskedpainter @ladybug-182 @a4-machete

#maribat #Nannyette #timinette #timari #Timari January #prompt - Zombie AU

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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Could you do Drift and Ravage for the oxygen loss prompt?

I absolutely can do Ravage, our dear kitty deserves the love! Drift can be found in part six below!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Part Thirteen: You're Here!

Ravage

·The tale of how you even became friends with the reclusive and understandably untrusting felicon is as long as it is convoluted, but a good synopsis is that the two of you simply get one another. It doesn't hurt that you always gave him ample personal space and respected his boundaries, and the fact you don't mind meeting up in the vents is a plus for him. Bots are absolutely baffled by your relationship, so avoiding public spaces has become his preferred activity to enjoy with you, if only to be free of the gossip. Equally eager to have peace and quiet, you'd long since found ways to make his favorite spots in the vents into ideal hangouts.

·Unfortunately, today is one of the rare days he has to be away from your side and amongst the crew. On the Bridge there's some kind of trouble, requiring all the commanding officers to be present while it's sorted out, and he refuses to leave Megatron there alone. Primus knows his old friend gets blamed for everything that goes wrong eventually... Yet he's far from focused as the diagnostic scans reveal a confounding bug in the ship's programming. As worrying as it should be, his thoughts drift repeatedly to you, and how much he'd rather be somewhere far less open and bright. Hopefully this will all end soon, and the two of you can curl up somewhere to relax, with his larger body naturally fitting around yours as if made to do so...

·A teasing look from Megatron makes him realize he had allowed his dreamy thoughts to color his face with a ridiculous expression of lovestruck bliss. Pinning back his ears and flushing hot as a star, he can only be grateful no one else seemed to notice. Just as he's debating whether or not to sneak away, there's a commotion amongst the more tech savvy bots. They claim to have found the source of the programming bug; which isn't a bug at all, but a virus. Claws fully unsheathing in preparation for combat, his sense of dread grows exponentially as he puts together what is being said, realizing that something very bad is moments away. Lights flicker in confirmation of his fear. In moments the ship is flashing out a hundred or so alarms, signaling that it is more or less helpless against whatever may happen next.

·You're the first thing he thinks about as countless terrible scenarios begin to play in his mind. Between his hypersensitive hearing and smell he's nearly choked on the panic and fear growing through the Lost Light, but all he wants to focus on is you. A human has precious little in the way of defense, and with every system keeping the ship stable, there's nothing to protect you. The solution is obvious; he has to find you before something else does. When the ground quakes and an incoming transmission threatens the crew he doesn't stick around to hear the enemy gloat. A brief explanation to Megatron is all he offers before taking off, and though he doesn't stick around to see it, his old friend gives him a nod of understanding.

·Distant sounds of metallic warping and the scent of soldering tell him the ship is being breached, but also make it incredibly difficult to pinpoint your location. He's memorized every identifiable feature of yours for moments like this, but the chaos turns the air into a smog of panic, so that it's only the uniqueness of your scent that allows him to find a trail. Faster than most vehicle modes and far more limber, he's an unstoppable blur through the hallways. A path to your shared quarters forms effortlessly in his mind as he passes down the levels.

·Far from your partner, you're still recovering from the bang that shook the entire room you'd been so comfortably set up in. Dazed on the ground, you get your feet beneath you before thoughts return, and the first one is for Ravage. Unfamiliar with space travel, you feel compelled to fear the worst; what if he was too close to whatever just went wrong? Capable as he is, the Felicon isn't immortal. Dead communication lines cement the need for worry in your dizzy head. Careless to the considerable tumble you just endured, you try to think of the best possible response for both your sakes. If he's able to so much as crawl, Ravage will be headed for you, so the best thing to do is make yourself as easy to find as possible. Shallow as that plan may be, it's at least a starting point, and you won't have to go far.

·A trail of claw marks through the hallways marks a tireless and acrobatic flight of barely disguised panic. Ravage takes every possible vent into his olfactory receptors for even the tiniest whiff of you. It's a scent he falls asleep with every night, the familiar yet so unusual mammalian musk soothing him as he curled about your tiny body... Now he's panicking over every tiny whiff, if only because he can't tell if you're really okay. Foreign smells tell of an encroaching enemy spilling into the Lost Light, and from the overpowering rush it appears their numbers are considerable. Some even appear to be moving through the lower levels just a floor or two below... Hulking footsteps that are not Cybertronian register in his sensitive ears, moving with such little grace he can feel them through the floor in his perceptive paws. Anger helps him swallow down some fear. If they want to get between him and his partner, then it's their death wish.

·Finding little to be working reliably, you open the door to your room just wide enough to let you through only after multiple attempts prove unsuccessful. A lifeless but somehow noisy hallway greets you. The sounds of combat are close, or at least, you presume what you're hearing to be combat. Perhaps you hit your head harder than you thought, because thinking through what's going on is far more difficult than it should be. Holding onto the wall for support, you try desperately to think of a plan. Ravage could be anywhere, and with no way to reach him, it's impossible to plan a meet up or even attempt to learn of his status. Yet... these dire thoughts don't invoke the panic they should. It's growing impossible to even stand on your own, and without meaning to you start to lean more of your body against the wall...

·Ravage inevitably is faced with a foe he cannot evade, and for your sake, he charges forward. There's a group of them, all gathered in the only hallway that will take him quickly to your location. He can feel the heat of energy weapons simmering in the air by the time he's upon them. With the element of surprise he's able to unleash incredible damage in his first attack, claws and fangs tearing through protective armor to kill one and severely wound another before they even realize they're being attacked. Bounding between their hulking forms, he faces the one disadvantage he's always endured through combat; his enemies far outscale him. Though his need to protect as well as survive turns him into a living blender, a well placed and simply lucky strike makes painful contact with his back, cracking the armor and bringing forth a spattering of energon.

·Recovering with the aid of his own anger to fuel the final attacks, he fights on with the wound agonizing him all the while, sinking his fangs in deep to take care of the final enemy. It isn't until the last body thunders to the floor that his legs temporarily give way. He's in need of medical attention, but he doesn't dare slow down, or even get a moment of rest. Shaking legs push defiantly to get him upright, and for once he's able to be grateful to have four. The ragged pace he resumes with is only as fast as it is because he knows he's close, as your scent is now clear despite the warring smells of blood and a million other unpleasant odors. Even if all he can do is collapse by your side and keep you company, it will be enough...

·Time seems to stand still when he sees you slumped over by the doorway to the room you two share. Though you're without injuries and the iron rich smell of human blood is undetectable, he knows something is very wrong, and though every motion hurts he bounds to your side. Crying out your name, he gently nudges you with a careful muzzle. Warmth and the rythym of your heart quell his greatest fears just before you open your eyes. Not quite awake, you can only be relieved to see him again, far too out of it to be afraid. At his insistence to move you express a desire to rest instead. No amount of encouragement can seem to make you realize the danger, and thus he's forced to make the decision to move you himself, even if he's in bad shape himself. Clearly, you need more help than he can give.

·You go along as best you can when he insists you ride on his back, and it's only your considerable experience doing so in the past that makes it possible now. He tries to think through the pain, but has little luck imagining what could possibly have done this to you, and his efforts to do so are hampered further as he begins to limp forward. Between energon loss and exhaustion and fear he knows things are looking grim. It tears at him more aggressively than any wound ever could, particularly as he feels you growing weaker against him, and all he can do is beg for you to hold on. You want to, but with his body so close and the rocking of his steps, how can you resist the urge to sleep? Surely everything will be fine when you wake... It's too much for him to endure when you slip into unconsciousness, and his legs give out beneath him. Failure burns in his spark as he tries in vain to keep going, his inability to save you haunting his exhausted body as footsteps draw near.

·It's by fortune he has rarely experienced that you're happened upon by a group of bots led by Megatron. He forces himself to stay awake for your sake, refusing to let anyone separate you so long as you need care. The blur of the medical bay brings comfort only briefly, as when he's informed of the reason behind your struggle he's nearly torn apart by guilt. Seeing you with your oxygen mask confirms his failure to protect the one he holds dearest to his spark. Withdrawing from the world, he allows himself to be patched up before curling himself around your tiny body, all but shielding you from the universe so intent on hurting you both.

·The warmth of his frame so frequently is your first sensation upon waking that you don't realize something is off at first. It isn't until you feel the mask on your face that you remember what happened, but by then Ravage is gently tapping his muzzle against you to confirm everything feels alright. Without promoting, he gives a quick rundown of what led up to this moment. You're wide eyed as he explains the ship's atmospheric shutdown, particularly when he gets to the part where he tried to carry you to safety... The apathy as he recounts it all, however, is far from fitting. Laying a gentle hand on a paw, you ask if something happened that bothered him, and receive confirmation from his silent expression of sadness.

·Initially, he can't bring himself to say what's wrong. On the surface he knows his actions were reasonable, but in his spark... he's so afraid of how his own inability to save you nearly resulted in tragedy. Just the thought of losing you is terrifying enough, but having nearly faced it has rocked him to his core, and he sits in silence under the weight of those emotions. Mercifully, you can read him well enough to not need words. Ravage has always withdrawn when upset, and few things agonize him more than failure.

·Gently as you can, you encourage him to come close, pulling his helm as near to your lap as possible. The sadness in his optics nearly breaks your heart, but you're confident as you speak, thanking him for what he did to save you and insisting you wouldn't be here without him. When he briefly tries to protest, you point out that he likely wouldn't be injured had it not been for you, and he quickly replies that you're worth any scars. When you retort that you feel the same way about him, a small amount of weight appears to leave his shoulders. He recalls that the best part of loving you has always been the freedom to exist as he is, free of pressure, and that he can't be a failure in your eyes so long as he tries. It's simply easy to forget that sometimes... Allowing himself a purr, he uses his tail to most effectively wrap you in his protective body, intent on keeping the both of you safe and warm for some much needed rest. So long as you have each other, there's nothing that can't be overcome.

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Leave a Light On

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Family!Rosie Holland x Family!Harry Holland (idk really how to do pairings because most characters have interactions with everyone)

-Warnings: Hospital scenes, sadness, blood, typos

-Words: 4.1K

-Key:

Y/M/N = your middle name

Y/L/N = your last name

Y/B/T = your blood type (if you don’t know you can pick a random one, there is O-/+, AB-/+, A+/-, and B-/+)

A/n: I have a too much fun writing the hospital scenes sorry. And before you at me for a second coma, it isn’t one. Some people just take longer to come out of general anesthesia.

Chapter 11: Leave a Light On

Words: 4K

“Oh my god, she still has a pulse” said one of EMTs in the copter.

“Tell the hospital to have as much Y/B/T on hand when we get there.”

“We got you, Mrs. Holland.”

Everything was a blur. You were taunted by your consciousness ebbing like the tide. One minute you were awake, the other not so much. Noises and smells seemed louder and stronger as your sight was stripped from you. A constant buzzing gave the hint of a helicopter, you were rescued. You wanted to give up at that moment. All your energy had dissipated over the hours of waiting. Giving up would make all the pain go away.

But at what cost? You wanted to see Parker’s and Rosie’s smiling face once more. You wanted to see Tom again. Tell him you loved him because you aren’t so sure he truly believed you the last time. You wanted all these things but it seemed you were meant for a different path.

One without pain, struggle and hurt. One that has only known of peace, bliss, and tranquility. One you ready to say goodbye to and the other hello.

Something beyond yourself was keeping in the position you were in. Struggling to bring oxygen to your lungs, bleeding out liter after liter from your side you were ready and needed to give up. Someone else wasn’t ready.

“Mrs. Holland can you hear me?” A doctor said, shining a light in your eyes to see if you were responsive.

“Mrs. Holland, we are going to take good care of you.”

“Oh, wow... she’s soaked entirely through her bandage. I need all the bags from the blood bank of Y/B/T you can find. She could die of exsanguination any moment.

“Tom,” you whispered.

“What was that? Did you hear that?” Asked the hospital staff, working above you. You reached up weakly, to pull your oxygen mask off for a second.

“Tell Tom I love him, please,” was all you could choke out before a terrifying but familiar sound filled the room. A monotone beep. You were coding.

“I need a crash cart in here. Charging to 200… clear,” called out the doctor. Your body jolted up with the force of 200 joules.

“Charging to 300… clear.”

“Charge to 400, CLEAR,” the doctor screamed.

“Charge to 450—.“

“Doctor we aren’t supposed to give that high of a shock,” informed one of the surgical interns.

“I don’t care, this woman needs to see her kids again… Clear,” The doctor said, delivering a final defibrillation. Your heart rate returned to normal, a steady pulse still weak but there.

“Doctor, she has a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) on her right lung,” said one of the medical personnel using the ultrasound. “Shit, we need to get her to the OR now. Let’s move. I’m not going to let her die on me.” The doctor explained.

A plane ride that was only supposed to be 2 hours and 15 minutes melded into what felt like days. No word from Harry or anyone had come about you and Tom. They all landed and took a car to the hospital. It was enough waiting by then, all they knew is that both of you were found. Neglecting to mention dead or alive.

“I’m here for Tom and Y/N Holland. They were airlifted in. Can we see them?” Nikki asked the person at the front desk.

“No hablo ingles, lo siento,” said the receptionist

“IS THERE ANYBODY HERE WHO SPEAKS ENGLISH?” Dom screamed. “Yes, I do. Did I hear you say you are here for Tom and Y/N Holland?” Asked a man clad in a white lab coat.

“Yes. He’s my son and she’s my daughter-in-law. These are their kids.” Nikki explained gesturing to Parker and Rosie.

“Well ma’am if you’ll follow me. I can tell you in private.” “No, whatever needs to be said, they can hear. They want to hear.” “Still follow me to a private waiting room please, your son is in there. Everyone can come,” the doctor concluded. “Alright then,” Nikki responded, following the doctor to a private waiting room.

“Harry.” Rosie said, seeing her favorite uncle.

“You made it, I’ve been waiting for you guys to hear an update.” Harry was so happy to see the rest of his family. “It’s bad, it was really bad,” Harry explained somberly. “Enough with the dilly dally, just tell me. Is my son dead?” Nikki couldn’t take the waiting anymore.

“They were both brought in barely conscious. Tom had lost some blood due to an open wound on his femur, he has a severe concussion, a few cracked ribs and a small knick on his kidney. He is currently in surgery, they are fixing his kidney. The most he will have is a few stitches but, we are very confident he’ll pull through,” explained the doctor.

“And my mom?” Rosie asked.

“Y/N is currently in surgery, she has protruding wound to the abdomen, a collapsed lung, broken ribs, and a severe concussion. She lost a lot of blood, almost dying of exsanguination. She is in surgery to treat her abdominal wound and her lung. Our biggest concern is sepsis, we are worried an infection caused by the elements will occur.”

“So she’ll be okay, right?” Parker questioned.

“She wasn’t conscious like Tom when they found her. In her case the amount of blood she lost might have stopped bringing oxygen to her brain. If she survives the surgery—“

“If?” Rosie gasped, starting to cry.

“Rosie, let him finish,” Parker snapped.

“If she survives, we don’t know when or if she will wake up. We can only hope for the best. I promise to come back with any further updates.”

“Thank you doctor,” said Nikki.

“I need some tea or coffee or a drink. Anyone else?” Sam said, Dom nodded in response.

“I’ll join you and dad,” Paddy said following Dom and Sam out of the room.

Parker was trying to keep everything inside. He actually appreciated the uncertainty of it all, the longer it went on the longer he didn’t have to hear a definitive answer, that you and Tom were dead.

Parker mainly tried to comfort Rosie but that position was filled once Haz and Henry got to the hospital. It was only 30 mins til another doctor approached them.

“Your son is out of surgery. He is resting in room 302, we are just waiting for him to come out of general anesthesia,” came in another doctor with news.

“Thank you. And my daughter-in-law?”

“She is still in surgery,” informed the doctor.

“Ok, thank you. I’m going to go check on Tom. Parker come with?” Nikki asked, she didn’t want to be alone seeing Tom lie in a hospital bed.

“Sure,” Parker said, following Nikki through the door.

“Harry, you’ll stay here with Rosie,” Nikki called out.

“How you doing, Roo?” Harry asked, moving towards Rosie’s side.

“My mom calls me that,” she said, unmoving towards Harry’s love.

Rosie was still like a statue. But her mind was very active, traveling from place to place. Just waiting for someone to update her on your condition.

“I know. She’ll pull through, Rosie.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Cause I know your mom. For as long as I can remember she has always been the strongest person in the room.” Harry comforted her, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Your dad is convinced she is indestructible. Sure, she has gotten hurt in the past but she has always bounced back. Hasn’t she?” Harry encouraged.

“Yeah, she has,” Rosie sniffled, wiping her nose with her sweater’s sleeve.

“After everything she has survived, she is still here,” Harry asserted. “When she and your dad first were dating, they’d like to scare each other. Tom must’ve pulled something like 20 guns on her. It was really funny to watch,” Harry grinned.

“Tell me more stories please,” Rosie perked up at the anecdotes.

“Well there was that time when your mom told your dad about being pregnant with both you and Parker.”

“I already know that one.”

“Ok, let me think… oh. One time we pulled a prank on her. All of us, me, your dad, Sam, Paddy and Haz. She was supposed to speak at this benefit promoting something… I want to say a disease… maybe climate change… who cares,” Harry began. “But she is better at it now but she used to be so scared of public speaking. That night at the gala, she had a panic attack and Tom went to comfort her backstage, while the boys and I all went into her purse and switched out her speech for the joke one we made.”

“She went on stage and broke in to a laughing fit. All her nerves dissipated as she stood up there, cracking jokes from left and right. It was really funny because she was so scared she would read whatever was written on the cards. She did end up making a fool out of herself, but it was funny nonetheless. She was so mad at us, she avoided Tom for a week,” Harry finished, reminiscing of that night.

“Wow, that’s mean. Like really mean,” Rosie remarked as his story came to an end.

“No it wasn’t. It was funny, she’ll laugh about it now if you ask her.”

“Was she as mad as she has been lately?” Rosie inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“Mom and dad have been fighting a lot… I’m scared they won’t be able to work it out. I’ve never seem them like this,” Rosie cried, fighting back a fit of sobs.

“Roo, those two? Are you kidding me? They will work it out, they always have.”

“But that isn’t a guarantee.”

“Rosie, your mom and dad have been written in the stars since the beginning. Nothing will ever break them apart. And almost dying really brings people back together. I wouldn’t worry Rosie, they’ll be ok,” Harry consoled her.

Rosie really needed to hear that. Something to get her mind off all the death and sickness that surrounded her. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She needed you to hold her once more.

“Mrs. Holland, Y/N is out of surgery now. If you’ll follow me I can take you to her room,” a doctor said to Nikki as she was stroking Tom’s hair, waiting for him to wake up.

“Oh thank god, thank you. Parker do you want to come?” Nikki asked.

“No, I think I’ll stay here with dad. In case he wakes up. I’m not ready to see her like that anyway,” Parker mumbled, needing every excuse to not walk into your room.

Nikki just nodded in response. Nikki was there when Rosie was in her coma and she knew you liked to talk to her as if she was there, so she did the same.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry this happened. The doctors have warned me that you might not wake up and I’m here to tell you that’s not an option. Your kids need you. Tom needs you…. He won’t be able to live without you. None of us will,” Nikki said, holding you hand. As soon as Rosie got word, she was already there. Standing in your doorway peering at your sunken body.

“Mom? It’s Rosie…. It’s your Roo,… why isn’t she waking up?” Rosie came barging in. She’d never seen you in a state like this.

“Mom? Mommy, please,” Rosie said, starting to shake you a bit.

“Rosie, come here,” Nikki said, pulling her into her arms. “She’ll be ok. All we have to do is wait.” Nikki concluded.

In Tom’s room, Parker was still there by his dad’s side. Everything had gotten massively screwed up. He was betraying his own dad and Tom didn’t even know.

“Parker?” Tom croaked out, slightly moving.

“Dad, I’m so glad you are okay,” Parker lunged to hug him.

“Me too, buddy,” Tom said, gritting his teeth to mask the pain.

“How’s mom?” Tom asked, praying you were still alive. It had been a rough night. Images of your half-dead body leaning against him for support plagued his memory.

“Umm… you should see for yourself.”

“What room is she in?” Tom asked, jumping out of bed.

“Dad, I don’t think it’s such a good idea you get up,” Parker exclaimed.

“Parker, don’t you dare stand in my way.”

“Mr. Holland, you’re awake — woah, you can’t get up. Your stitches could rip,” the nurse spoke with a thick Spanish accent.

“I don’t care. Let me see my wife,” Tom yelled.

“You may need to sedate him,” Parker said cheekily.

“Fuck that,” Tom cursed.

“You aren’t doing anything to me till I see her,” Tom asserted, the nurse just nodded in response and brought him a wheel chair.

Parker wheeled him through the hospital. He was about to face his fear as well as Tom. It both being the fact that you were dead and not longer living. They weren’t ready for that.

Tom came into your room and it was like a time machine. All those times he was walked into a room similar to this one with the white walls, white sheets, bright blinding lights and the machines that beep to no end. He was taken back to every time he had seen you lying in a hospital bed.

All the times he knew he hadn’t protected you. All the guilt and anguish came flooding back. Washing over him like a tsunami.

He walked in to see everyone gathered around you. Rosie was sitting on the left side of your bed, clutching your left hand and Henry was next to her keeping an arm around her shoulder. Tom didn’t care about them anymore, all that mattered was you.

“Dad, you’re awake!” Rosie cheered, as she saw Tom in the doorway.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay,” he said, holding Rosie close to his chest.

“I’m scared, dad. I’m scared she won’t wake up,” Rosie cried.

“I know. I am too.” Tom responded, his eyes still fixed to your lifeless figure.

“You know it was just a 5 weeks ago, you were lying a hospital bed just like mom. And she was holding on to your hand just like you are to her. And if you woke up from that, I can promise you she’ll wake up from this,” Tom encouraged.

“You really think so?” Rosie queried.

“I know so.… You know what your mom loves to tell me?”

“No. What?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“It sounds like her,” Rosie chucked to herself.

“Yeah, it does.” Tom did the same, he was the one keeping you here. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. 17 years was nothing compared to lifetime he was destined to have with you. Nobody accounts for the times where something so drastic happens that it can change your entire timeline.

Nobody believes they will die tomorrow or get hit by a bus anywhere. People just live in day to day life thinking that they have a 100 years to go.

You’d think by now, he’d gotten used to seeing you in a hospital bed. Maybe grown accustomed to it. On the contrary, every time he’d see you like this he’d go weak at the knees and beg to switch places with you. To be the one lying there, on death’s door, not you

Every time he has made a promise, your life has been put on the line. You are constantly caught in the crossfires. Tom slowly remembered why he hated hospitals so much, especially when they were associated with you.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Nikki said, motioning for everyone to clear the room so it was just Tom and you.

“Hey, darling. I told you we’d make it. We had two choices either we died together or we made it together.” Tom began, trying not to cry.

“Y/N, I’m standing here and I’m okay. So it’s only a matter of time before I see you again. We promised it would be us together. Don’t you dare go back on that promise from ages ago, I’m supposed to go before you. Ok? It’s supposed to me. You promised me.”

“This one that you have to keep. I know it might be nearly impossible to, love. But there is no but or if, there is only you waking up and seeing me. Seeing your husband who loves you more than life itself. Seeing our two beautiful kids. I know I haven’t been your favorite person lately, so don’t do it for me. Do it for them, Parker and Rosie. They need you, more than they know.”

“Alright princess, it's only a matter of time. I’ll see you soon.” Tom finished, pressing a kiss to your forehead. One of longing, he just wanted to see your smiling face again. He let himself go completely, breaking down the flood gates. Tears started coming and they didn’t stop, they couldn’t.

Haz peered through the open door, to see Tom crying over you, he immediately jumped into best mate mode and went to comfort Tom.

“Hey. It’s ok. You can let it out,” Harrison said, pulling Tom into his arms.

“I was so awful to her Haz. I let her think I cheated on her so she wouldn’t be mad about Rosie and Henry,” Tom cried out.

“Why? What did you do? You know what, that’s not important right now. The point is she will pull through.”

“She could be dying and the last moment I can only remember with her is our fight. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“She’s not dying, Tom. Y/N has survived much more than this and promise you, you will say hello again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Tom said, taking a line from your vernacular.

“Come on, let’s get some coffee… Here, hop on. I’ll push you,” Haz said, grabbing Tom’s wheelchair

“For fucks sake, you aren’t pushing me. I’m not some sick, crippled patient.” Tom exclaimed.

“Well… you did just get out of surgery.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going to let my helicopter crashing be the reason I can’t walk and I am looked at with pity.”

“Alright Tom, I believe we were going to get some coffee.”

“I don’t want to leave her alone,” Tom whispered.

“Rosie will be in here in a moment,” Haz explained.

“Ok.. Roo, can you go sit with your mom while I get your dad some coffee?” Haz asked. Tom still didn’t want to leave you but he knew you would want him to eat something.

“Yes, I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know you will, baby… Hold it. Hey Henry, can I talk to you?” Tom said, holding Henry back from entering the room.

“Dad,” Rosie said, sternly.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Tom said pulling Henry to the side.

“I’m sorry Tom.. um I mean Mr. Holland but I love your daughter more than anything,” Henry stammered.

“I just wanted to say thank you for being there for her when.. you know,” Tom admitted.

“Of course, I love her very much. And if the time every comes where I plan on marrying her I will ask for hands in marriage,” Henry promised.

“Woah kid, slow down. This is permission to date. No talking or even thinking about marriage, you understand. Also wear a fucking condom.”

“Yes, sir. Understood… Thanks Tom.”

“You’re a good kid, Henry. She’s in good hands,” Tom grinned, Henry just smiled and returned to Rosie. Returning to his rightful place, in her arms.

“Haz, did you bring me a change of clothes. I need to get out of this fucking gown,” Tom chuckled.

“Are you sure that’s a good ide—“ Haz started but was soon cut off.

“Eh, eh,” Tom interrupted giving him a harsh glare.

“You are not weak, I get it. Yeah, they are in my bag,” Haz concluded.

Tom said, “Thank you,” in return.

The waiting was back and it was killing Tom once again. This time he wasn’t waiting for both your impending deaths, just yours. It was eating him from the inside out.

You didn’t have enough time together. It wasn’t enough. Tom desired more, he needed more. All your favorite moments of you played through his head. Like he was watching a movie of his life with you, his love story.

One specifically, the day he proposed to you. It was hard to top his happiness that day.

All the days leading up to it he was distant and flighty. It worried it you greatly. Was he planning to break up with you? You were consumed with never-ending negative thoughts about your relationship.

It had been a while since you and Tom had a date night. He’d blown you off a few times to plan out the perfect proposal, afraid he’d let the question just slip out somehow. However, that was unknown to you so all you thought was, he’s an ass.

Tom was in his office, planning out how he was going to do it. What he would wear, where he would propose, what would he say. What would you say? He was nervous wreck.

“Haz, I can’t have anyone come in here ok?” Tom ordered. He must’ve practiced it 7 times. Getting down on one knee and declaring his love for you behind closed doors.

“Understood, Tom,” Haz said, giving him a cheeky grin as he closed his door. Not even 10 mins later, you came barging in through the front door. In a fury because Tom hadn’t returned any of your calls.

“Where is he?” You asked Haz. “Y/N?” He said, confused as to why you were here. Well, you did live there.

“Where’s Tom? I have to talk to him,” you asserted. “Why am I asking you? Of course, he is in his study,” you replied to your own question.

“NO, you can’t go in there,” Haz said, following you to Tom’s office.

“And why not?”

“He’s in a meeting.”

“What meeting would he have a 10:30 at night… Unless?” Your heart sank at the possibility of Tom not alone in there.

“Unless what?”

“He has a woman in there doesn’t he?”

“Umm.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go. You won’t see me around anymore. He chose her over me,” you said, trying not to cry. But you weren’t going to put up a fight.

“Y/N it’s not like that,” Haz called after you, trying to stop you from walking away.

“Then what is it Haz?”

“I can’t tell you?… Just go in there and see for yourself.”

“I don’t want see them.”

“Just do it,” Haz ordered, you eventually agreed. Opening the door to a very well-dressed Tom down on one knee holding a blue velvet box in his hands.

“People always spoke of soulmates and I didn’t believe them. But then I found you. And I had never been so happy to be proven wrong. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N you make me want to be a better man. You are my inspiration for everything. I can’t ever imagine living without you. Will you marry me?” Tom said, oblivious to you standing right there.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

“No! No, no. You weren’t supposed to see that. Haz I told you to guard the door,” Tom yelled.

“Yes, Tommy. I’ll marry you”, you continued, hoping he’d hear you.

“God, it's ruined now. I’m so sorry. I had this huge plan take you to the London eye,” Tom apologized profusely, running his hands through the curls atop his head in frustration.

“Tom, you're not hearing me. I want to be your wife,” you exclaimed, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“You do?” Tom surprised at your answer.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been saying. YES!” You screamed. Tom immediately grabbed you twirling you in the air and kissed you with all the love and passion you deserved. He had been neglecting you so he wouldn’t spoil it.

He put the ring on your finger. It looked as though it was home. You were his and he was yours. Nothing could top that moment.

Thinking about you and the time spent together. It made it that much harder to say goodbye.

Tom was brought out of his trance as you stirred, starting to wake. All heads and eyes turned towards you.

“Y/N. Honey, it’s ok. You were in a helicopter crash. You’re ok. You’re ok. I’m so happy to see you,” Tom whispered, tucking the hair out of your face.

The moment you came to, your eyes widened and a look of panic adorned your face. You were completely lost. Unaware of all your surroundings. You managed to croak out three words. Not an “I love you,” not words of love, quite the opposite.

“Who are you?”

A/n: Alright, Y/N lived. As I promised, there are 17 chapter in this series, 6 more to go. I will start writing the sequel series once all these chapters have been posted, even though I have it already planned out in my head lol. New chapters every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @dummiesshort @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#mob!tom #tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland mob au #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland #mob tom #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland masterlist

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jelly-pies · 3 years

Text

Dancing From Now On

Read on AO3

Pepper remembered their first dance. Contrary to public knowledge, it had not been at the annual Stark Industries gala.

Tony and Pepper's first dance took place months before that, alone at the mansion, late after a long day of work. The music had been Pepper's idea, to relax. But the dance had been Tony's.

"Getting better, Potts." Somehow cheerier than usual, he spun her slowly around the workshop. "Nobody will ever know you had two left feet. Hardly believe it myself, if my toe wasn't still throbbing."

Pepper huffed. "Not all of us could afford dance classes, you know."

"Well, it's not that hard, see? We're just swaying." Tony pulled her in, an inch closer, meeting her eyes. And for one moment, Pepper was purely dancing with the friend she was secretly in love with—not the boss who depended on her, or the playboy whose one night stands she escorted out of the mansion every few weeks. Just Tony. "Just dancing."

Their casual flirting was one thing. But this was getting dangerously close to something else—so Pepper ended the moment. JARVIS stopped the music, and when Pepper looked back after collecting her things, Tony suddenly looked away as if he'd been caught staring.

Maybe he had.

"So, you're good?" Tony asked casually, hands fiddling with some tools he picked up. "No stumbling over anybody's feet at the next gala?"

"We're good." Pepper matched his light tone. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're very welcome, Ms. Potts."

"And Tony... " She paused at the door. Did she imagine that expectant look he sent her way, or was it just the lighting? "Um… that contract you still have to look over. Don't show up tomorrow without it."

"Which one?"

"Tony."

He chuckled. "I got it. Have a good night."

Maybe it was just the lighting.

"Good night," Pepper answered, and exited the room with deliberate steps.

She turned back before the landing. Tony was facing away, bringing up holo-screens, flexing his hands—and suddenly she remembered the feel of those calloused fingers against her own, drawing her closer.

Tony looked up. Pepper turned away, determined not to be caught staring.

But maybe she had.

Pepper remembered their first dance. And she remembered how it led to much, much more.

Their second dance, that one was at the Stark Industries Firefighter's Family Fund benefit. A backless blue gown, a little banter, an almost-kiss on the roof. Another moment Pepper ended before anything could begin, even though she half-wished something would begin—had been wishing it those dreadful three months of Tony's disappearance.

As Tony left to get them drinks, Pepper turned away to hide a growing blush. She didn't see the way he looked back at her from the door.

Tony reentered the building, and didn't see the way Pepper looked after his retreating back, either.

Years later on another rooftop, after a disastrous Stark Expo, the kiss became real.

They even had a witness, who deadpanned, "You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

Tony put his arm around her as they faced Rhodey, and Pepper couldn’t help thinking how that gesture must make them look like a real couple. She found she didn’t mind. All of a sudden, plans of her resignation as CEO didn't seem so urgent.

Tony turned back to her as soon as Rhodey left and challenged, "How are you gonna resign if I don’t accept?"

Pepper laughed, letting the action release her anxiety and near-death stress and girlish romance. "I…" And Tony was leaning close. She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Tony, if I don't… we can’t…"

"Come on, it’s us. We’ll figure something out." And there was that look again. Pepper wasn’t so quick to blame the lighting this time. "Ms. Potts?" Tony took both her hands. "Pep?"

It was too late to stop this moment, and Pepper knew it. But the doubt must have still shown on her face because Tony took one look and continued, "Remember when we danced? The first time, Malibu? You crushed my toes about a hundred—"

"Please let that go."

"—but we made it work."

Pepper took a breath. "We did."

Tony smiled, eyes shining—that's how Pepper could always tell if his smiles were real. She could also tell that both of them were done holding back… whatever this was.

"We are pretty good at dancing," Pepper replied.

Tony couldn't see her face as they embraced, but if he did, Pepper was sure he could tell her smile was real, too.

A private night at Stark Tower after the New York attack, that was the third dance. Or fourth, or fifth, maybe. Pepper wasn't sure she needed to count anymore.

She was only sure of two things. Swaying together in their home, with JARVIS playing soft music overhead, her arms around the love she had almost lost—and had accepted she would come close to losing, over and over again, for the sake of saving the world—Pepper was only sure of these: that she wanted herself and Tony to have a thousand more dances to come.

And that she could never know which one would be their last.

They danced that night on yet another rooftop, after the events with the Mandarin.

They didn't dance after Ultron.

Or for several months after that.

But the next time Pepper and Tony finally held each other in their arms, they held on tighter, and neither let go for a long, long time.

This wasn't how Pepper imagined it, for several reasons.

Tony’s smile was different. There was a sadness in them that lingered like ashes, but he smiled anyway, holding her close—which was a feat with Pepper's growing belly, but they made it work.

There were fewer guests. Several seats they left vacant on purpose, scattered around the lakeside like lonely souls. Some people held the belief they were there, in spirit, and that's what mattered. Pepper wasn't so sure; pure sentimentality had prevailed on her to leave the seats out.

Apparently sentimentality ran high this evening. The band played the song she and Tony had first danced to, oh so long ago, in a mansion long since blown to bits, by an AI, a friend, long since gone.

There was no publicity in what had once been anticipated as the event of the decade. A single ray of sun through gray clouds instead of all-around sunshine, in what was supposed to be the happiest day of Pepper and Tony's life.

But the people they loved—those that were left—celebrated with them, and that was enough. A simple reception at their new house, and the wedding was over.

After the lake grew quiet and the stars came out, the newlyweds slow-danced through the night, just the two of them.

This wasn't how Pepper imagined their new life would start. But start it did, with a dance.

"Getting better, Potts," Tony whispered beside her temple, their heads pressed together.

"Not so hard without the floor length gown. I know that was my idea, but God, don’t let me do anything like that ever again."

Tony chuckled and spun her slowly until she faced away, then wrapped his arms around his wife, their four hands interlocking on top of her belly.

Pepper had long lost count of their dances. But she knew this was one she would always remember.

It was Tony who broke the silence. "You guys still here? Scoot."

Pepper turned where he was looking: Rhodey’s wedding presents on the mantelpiece, staring at them—two plushie seals. And she laughed. Tony could always make her laugh.

“Fighting over a grape?” Pepper recalled.

“I never really got that image, to be honest.”

“Hm.” She turned back to Tony, cupped his cheek, and leaned in. “Let’s see about that.”

"That’s it! You’re doing it!" Tony spun their daughter around until the song ended, and Morgan collapsed in giggles on the floor. Tony scooped her up and tickled her with his stubble, making the giggling grow louder.

"Dad!" Morgan laughed. "Mommy, save me!"

Pepper swiftly rescued the toddler, only to drop her on the couch and blow raspberries on her stomach a second later. "In this house—" another tickle, and Morgan squealed— "nobody—escapes—dancing!"

Morgan finally succeeded in pushing her away as FRIDAY started the next upbeat song, and soon all three were back on their feet.

“Not that it's a competition.” Tony walked in. “But she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh, does she?”

“You were somewhere on the low… six to nine hundred range.”

Tony could always make her laugh.

Even the night after the Avengers came to visit. The night their new life, that Pepper knew in her heart could never last long, started to melt away.

Tonight there was no music, no dancing. Only the crackle of the fireplace, the weight of the future, and Pepper’s words hanging in the air— "But will you be able to rest?"

Tony didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to.

But Pepper held his hand, and Tony kissed her cheek. And when they finally went to bed, they held each other tighter.

Tony held her hand, and Pepper kissed his cheek. "You can rest now."

Tonight there was no dancing.

Two cylindrical compartments stood along the garage wall, one of them forever to be empty. In the other, Pepper put her Rescue suit away by herself. Crossing the room, her fingers couldn't help lingering over Tony's reserve helmet—Tony's desk—Tony's tools—Tony's presence. She could always feel it in his workshops.

Their first dance had been in his workshop.

The memory jolted her, pulling Pepper's eyes back to the last gift Tony left: her Rescue suit slumped in its compartment, looking as battered as she felt. Pepper remembered what it was like to take the suit to battle. To fight side by side with her husband, gauntlets firing in sync, guarding each other's back. A team to the end.

Did that count as a dance? Because otherwise, Pepper realized, she didn't remember the last time she and Tony danced.

She remembered their first, though—would always remember it. JARVIS’s song, their wedding song, strained in her ears—she could almost feel Tony's calloused fingers around hers—dancing in his workshop late at night.

But in this workshop, on this night, Pepper could only cry.

Pepper still danced.

She danced with Rhodey, and they leaned on each other, the way they had learned to do long ago.

She danced with Happy, bouncy little head bangs as they cooked Christmas dinner together, and for a moment the house was full of music again.

She danced with Peter, years later at his wedding, whispering "We’re so proud of you" in his ear.

She danced with her daughter. Morgan always pulled her to her feet whenever a lively song came on the radio— "In this house, nobody escapes dancing!" And they laughed. And they danced.

Pepper still danced. Just not with the one person she most wanted to dance with again.

When years had passed, and Morgan was grown, and the house was quiet most hours of the day, Pepper developed the habit of sneaking out on the balcony on clear nights, and looking up at the stars.

Some of her favorite dances with Tony had taken place under the stars. Like the rooftop. And their wedding.

Pepper didn’t remember which dance had been their last. But she remembered the first. And the second. And the thousands that came after that. Maybe that was enough.

In the quiet of the lake house, with only the strains of their wedding song echoing in her ears, and the stars above her, forever her witness—Pepper danced.

- "Ang Huling El Bimbo (The Last [Dance])," The Eraserheads

Lahat ng pangarap ko'y bigla lang natunaw

Sa panaginip nalang pala kita maisasayaw

(All of my dreams are suddenly gone

Only in dreams can we dance from now on)

#THIS IS ENDGAME COMPLIANT BTW #pepperony #pepper potts #tony stark #mcu #fanfic #angst #character death tw #did I have 3+ other wips I started first and wanted to finish first? yes #did I dump my endgame feels on this angsty one-shot instead? also yes #jelly's

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smashboxgirl26 · 3 years

Text

vengeance / chapter 9: anxiety

chapter 8: unspoken confession | chapter 10: loving

vengeance masterlist

Bakugou could still feel his heart pounding in his ears as he made his way quickly across the town.

Why hadn't he taken a car? He didn’t know.

Maybe because it felt like he was getting there faster if he was able to blast his way to the edge of the city without getting stuck in traffic.

The urgency to get to the scene was so immediate, it almost gave him whiplash from how his emotions had changed within the past five minutes.

Five minutes ago, he’d been standing in your apartment and ready to open up the last of his walls to you. Ready to show the deepest parts of himself that he thought he’d buried so long ago.

Five minutes ago, he was pissed off at the fact that it was his night off, and that he shouldn’t have been disturbed when he was spending time with you.

But all of that drifted away from the thirty seconds he heard frantic shouting about your name, how he had to come quickly, and how there were pictures of you.

Kirishima’s words were ringing in his ears as he finally spotted a few police cars headed off into the same direction, and he followed them to a old apartment complex that was now flooded with heroes, civilians, and cops alike.

He quickly controlled his blasts to bring him to a stop in front of the building, uncaring of the few dirty looks he was getting from the officers. He knew they were sneering at him from the sidelines because this part of town was technically out of his jurisdiction. And normally, he wouldn’t give a flying fuck about stomping over there and creating a scene to silence their dirty looks.

But he couldn’t. You were the only one on his mind.

He quickly caught wind of Kirishima’s notorious hair above the crowd, and jogged his way over to him quickly.

Kirishima immediately returned his confused looks with a grimace before he explained the situation.

“The police said that they received a 911 call at 8 o’ clock, stating that there was a girl in danger at the address of this apartment and that they needed to check out the scene immediately,” Kirishima started as he lead Bakugou through the crowd of people standing about the entrance of the building. “Now normally, those kinds of calls would be ignored since the person who called hung up immediately after they said that. But the operators reported that they had received multiple calls for the same apartment reporting a disturbance. They said it sounded like a fight.”

Bakugou nodded along as he listened to Kirishima. They’d finally made their way to the entrance of the building, where some reporters had snuck in and were trying to interview other heroes and policemen on the situation.

“So the police sent one of their cars out to investigate the apartment they said the disturbance was coming from, and I uh… I think you should see it for yourself,” Kirishima gestured to the opened apartment door in front of them.

Bakugou shot him a sidelong glare before stepping in.

“S’ filthy,” he sneered, giving a pointed stare at the dirty clothes that were littering the small living room. He wasn’t going to give it a second look but something very blatantly caught his eye.

It was a red pair of lacy panties that was mixed into the jumbled mess of clothes, blatantly sticking out of the drab colors, and he kneeled down to get a closer look. They seemed familiar, somehow.

“Tut tut,” he heard from across the room.

His glare was immediately directed towards the sound of the disapproval coming from the doorway between the bathroom and the kitchen.

Of fucking course this side of town lies in Monoma’s jurisdiction.

“Of course you’d be one to start handling evidence without thinking about the consequences of your actions,” he said condescendingly.

“Look man,” Kirishima immediately stated. “I know this isn’t even part of our area but please don’t start this right now. You know what the situation is.”

Monoma only rolled his eyes as he shoved his way past the two to head out the door.

“Have fun.”

The room was silent for a few moments, as Bakugou left the panties on the floor and inspected the rest of the room. He didn’t like how no one was actually telling him what happened.

“Could we stop tiptoeing around the actual problem and actually show me what’s wrong? Why the hell is Y/N in danger and how is she involved in all this shit?”, he spat, turning his attention to Kirishima immediately.

“Go look in the bedroom.”

Bakugou quickly spun on his heels as he walked to where Kirishima had directed him. He stopped half-hazardly in front of the door, slightly scared over what could possibly be behind it and why it was so bad.

And as soon as he opened the door, his eyes widened at the sight of your face plastered on every single wall in the small room.

That underwear…. That underwear was yours.

He turned back to see Kirishima in the doorway giving him a grimace as he crossed his arms over his chest. He knew how bad it was.

“Who lives here?”, Bakugou’s rough voice broke the small semblance of silence in the small room. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

An officer walked past Kirishima and stepped into the room, turning to address Bakugou quickly.

Yours and Bakugou’s relationship wasn’t a secret from the public, and this officer knew exactly who he was dealing with. It didn’t matter in this situation if the area was in Bakugou’s jurisdiction or not because of the subject matter of the case. And he’d rather deal with other officers being annoyed at the pro’s presence than the possibility of getting his arms blown off.

“The landlord said the man who lived here’s name is Ochiro Ito,” the officer replied simply.

“Where is he?” “I apologize sir bu-”

“What the hell are you apologizing for you fucknut?” Bakugou interrupted quickly. “What's the answer to the goddamned question I was asking?”

“He wasn’t here when the police arrived on the scene, sir.”

Kirishima immediately noticed the way Bakugou’s eye began twitching uncontrollably as he stepped closer to the officer. It appeared that he was about to lunge at him and choke him right then and there.

Kirishima quickly ushered the officer out, trying to make sure that he wasn’t present to experience the wrath of the angry blonde.

Well, angry wasn’t the right word.

He looked livid.

His breaths were coming out short and shallow, and it was obvious that every second he stayed in the room was making him angrier. He was about to destroy the whole place and everything in it.

The fact that someone had been violating you, looking at you, even thinking about you in this way was…

He couldn’t even describe it.

It felt like his chest was burning in a way he couldn’t understand. Your smile plastered in front of him didn’t have the effect it normally did. It made the feeling worse. He felt like he was going to collapse and fall to the floor at any second.

The anxiety bubbling up in his chest was becoming overbearing, and his already heavy breathing wasn’t helping calm his mind down in any capacity. Your face was running through his mind currently, and he needed to know you were okay.

All the what ifs in the entire world ran through his mind in that moment, and even as he tried to make a move to call you, or step out the door, or anything, his body refused to listen. He just stood there, breathing heavily.

Kirishima noticed the loud breathing and quickly stepped over to where Bakugou was staring wide-eyed at the ground. He was having an anxiety attack.

“Hey,” Kirishima spoke softly, bringing his hand up to Bakugou’s shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s fine. She’s at home and nothing’s going to happen to her.”

He pressed small circles into Bakugou’s back, trying to bring him out of the state that he was in. It’d been so long since he’d seen him like this.

Bakugou’s breathing began slowing down slightly, as he tried to match his with Kirishima’s. The words he was hearing were helping slightly, but the sinking feeling in his stomach was throwing his mind off.

“Look, the police have already started to look for him okay? Even Monoma said that he’ll tell the others at his agency about what happened and they’ll be helping the investigation. She’ll be fine, I promise.”

Bakugou almost wanted to punch him at that moment. How the hell could he promise that in the first place? Bakugou, himself, had promised that he would always protect you, and look at what was happening. There was some psycho on the loose that had been stalking you for who knows how goddamn long and he had no idea about it.

What was wrong with him? What if this guy had tried something with you? What would have happened then?

‘It’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault. I shouldn’t even be here anymore.’

“Yeah,” was all Bakugou said before he stepped out of the room.

...

The second Bakugou left, you were left staring at the door he’d exited through.

For the second time today, you had no idea what was happening, or where he was going. You had no idea if he was in danger or anything.

After locking the door, you sighed as you leaned back against it.

When would Katsuki finally begin to tell you about these things before he ran off? It’d been 5 years since you’d been together, and you’d known him for even longer. Couldn’t you be trusted with whatever was going on?

Then there was the thing with Midoriya, which he still hadn’t addressed whatsoever. The only information you’d gotten out of that situation was from Midoriya himself. Katsuki had nothing to do with anything you’d learned.

You glanced longingly at the tv, wanting to turn it on and check the news to see if you could find out what was happening.

And at first, you felt almost guilty about it. Katsuki was trying to tell you something before he was interrupted. And it wasn’t like he was going to come back without explaining the situation to you when he walked in.

As you mulled over the idea for a few moments, you became distracted when your phone began ringing.

You walked over to where it sat on the table slowly, staring at the caller slightly confused. It was Camie.

You pressed the accept button and brought it up to your ear slowly, only to be attacked by her shouting into the phone for you to turn on the news quickly.

What if something happened to Katsuki?

“Okay I got it, I will,” you breathed out.

You were trying to sound cool and collected but you felt like you were about to pass out. Katsuki had left in such a rush and there was something that had gone unsaid between the two of you.

You fumbled over the remote as you tried to turn the news channel on quickly, ignoring the other notifications that were coming through the phone, also telling you to turn the news on.

Finally you turned on the news channel, looking at the reporter who was standing outside an old apartment building along with other heroes and officers.

“Good evening, this is Rika Suzumi coming to you live from an apartment building at the edge of downtown, where the stalker of the number four hero, Dynamite’s girlfriend lives. Police were sent down to the scene after numerous calls reporting a fight, followed by someone claiming a woman is in danger. When investigating the apartment of the stalker, it was found that he had many personal items as well as pictures of twenty-five year old Y/N L/N, leading to many heroes to arrive at the scene, including Dynamite himself.

The screen cut away from the reporter to a video of Katsuki walking with Kirishima right beside him. The press was attacking them both with questions, and while Kirishima tried to pacify them, Katsuki looked completely out of it. He had a dazed look and acted like he wasn’t being surrounded.

You glanced down at your phone, only to see that Camie had already hung up.

You only stared back at the tv screen in shock, not knowing what else to do in the situation. Your shoulders slumped as you fell back onto the couch, your eyes giving a glazed stare to the tv in front of you.

The news cut back to the reporter, as she added, “The police have also said that he was nowhere to be found when they arrived at the scene. So if you see this man, going by the name of Ochiro Ito, please contact the authorities immediately.”

When the screen cut to a picture of him, you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling in your mind that you’d seen him somewhere before.

──────────────

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#midoriya x reader x bakugou #yandere midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #yandere #mha #bnha #yandere izuku #mha fanfiction #bnha fic #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha izuku #mha x reader #bnha x reader #vengeance #keke.writes

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buglife · 3 years

Note

Perhaps a meeting between Dadmaster and the White Lady?

“Do you think that they might be okay with taking students again?”

Mato thought for a moment, walking beside his child in the restored Royal Gardens. They were just enjoying the quiet sights for a while, when Ghost brought up the possibility of teaching nail arts to the guards and knights of the realm. The question was a surprising one, which for a moment worried the beetle that something may be going on that he wasn't being told about.

“They might be, why do you ask?” He leaned down to look Ghost in the eyes. “Are you worried about something?”

“I just...I can’t be everywhere at once, even as a god.” They admitted, averting their gaze as though ashamed of the fact. “I want my people to be protected, even If I can’t be there. I don’t need protecting, but they do.”

“Well, that’s a fine reason as any.” Mato answered with a reassuring tone to his voice, glad to hear that nothing nefarious was going on. It was just Ghost being Ghost, worried over everyone's safety again. “You indeed can’t be everywhere, and perhaps more people knowing the nail arts would be a boon to the kingdom.”

“I thought so too, but there’s only you, me, Uncle Oro and Sheo, and Grandpa Sly who know how to even teach it. I can’t teach everyone by myself.” They gestured to themselves and their current 'mortal' form. They were certainly not as large as their twin, Hollow, nore were they even tall enough to reach Mato's shoulder. Even being a god, they wouldn't be able to instantly teach a rather intensive and practice heavy technique like the nail arts. It would have to be done the old fashioned way with actual teaching. They were right, they couldn't do it all by themselves. They would need some help.

“Did you ask Sly about this?” Mato thoughtfully replied. “He was the one to teach us, after all. He’d be able to help you for sure.”

Ghost nodded their head. “I asked Grandpa Sly and he said, and I quote, “I trained enough kids, now I want to enjoy my goddamn retirement.”

“Then what did he say when you offered to pay him?” Mato crossed his arms and raised a brow, anticipating the answer.

“Where do I sign?” The void being snorted in amusement, shoulders shaking with the effort to not burst into outright laughter. Mato was not so reserved.

“HAHA! Of course that old miser would!” Mato bellowed a deep belly laugh and slapped Ghost so hard on the back it sent them stumbling a little. In the corner of his eye, he could see the posted guardsmen stiffen at the interaction. “To be honest, I think he also wants to be able to brag about being able to beat up knights and guardsmen all day without getting a treason charge.”

“That and I think Uncle Oro would be down with It too. He’s that kinda guy.” Ghost chirped, eyes now full of mirth. They didn’t seem to mind being bodily hauled around by their father, despite their status as a King. “He likes putting bugs who are a little too full of themselves back in their place, and I saw some of the new applicants. I think he’d do a lot of good here.”

Mato hummed in thought. Oro was very different from the rest of the brothers, and even Sly. He'd need special motivation and he wasn't always swayed by Geo. “What do you have in mind to get him out of his hovel and here in the city?”

“I think he wouldn’t mind if I offered to give him a private candy chef on call that I will employ.” They drummed their claws together, amused by their own cleverness. “I remember that he used to train me in exchange for honey I’d sneak out of the Hive. Imagine what he’d do for whatever sweets his heart desires that could be made on demand?”

“There’s my little tactician! That will get him for sure.” Mato beamed with pride, not like Ghost had to do much to get him to be proud of them to begin with. “Sheo I think might just be too busy with his husband right now for teaching beyond his art school.”

They nodded in response and smiled up at their father, who quickly reached down to give them a gentle noogie. They didn’t bother trying to escape and accepted their affection without so much of a flinch. Good. Mato released them after a chitin crushing hug and set them back on their feet.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He asked softly, deciding to voice the thoughts he was having. It was one thing to feel pride for someone, it was another to let them know that you thought as such.

Ghost nodded, a bit of gray coloring the shell that made up their face, nudging a few pebbles with a foot. “I know, thanks Dad.”

He was about to comment further when a little dragonfly suddenly dropped out of the air and pancaked into the cobble stones below them. Both Nailmaster and King leapt backwards from the sudden noise and movement, drawing their nails together in a smooth motion through instinct alone. Then, when nothing outright attacked them, they took a second look.

It was a messenger to be sure. The dragonfly was wearing a bag and a hat that denoted them as a member of the messenger corps. At first Mato thought that the bug was injured from the crash, but the amount of scrapes and cuts alone couldn’t have been caused by just hitting stone. They wearily reached up to hold out a hemo-stained letter, somewhat reeling from the hit they took, antenna bent and crooked.

“Messenger Stikks, reporting with an urgent message from Kingdom’s edge!” The dragonfly slurred, struggling to focus enough to hold the letter out straight. They closed one eye and narrowed the other, adjusting their grip so that the letter was actually in front of Ghost and not a few feet to the left. “Antlion larvae have dug in from the wastes and they are everywhere!”

Ghost took the letter and read it quickly. Then read it again. They finally put the paper down and sighed, all the humor they had merely seconds ago sucked out by the reality of their station.

“Something the matter, my child? Do you need help?” Mato had yet to release his grip on his great nail, moving the other hand to rest it on their shoulder in an act of comfot.

Ghost shook their head with a huff of annoyance. “This wouldn’t be a problem if the coliseum would have just left the larvae alone. The letter is from the head Fool, apparently they caught a few, which then escaped, and now is tunneling under the arena and is causing sections to collapse on itself. They are requesting aid from me as per our treaty.”

“Well, they are called Fools for a reason.” Mato could only shrug at that. “Even I wouldn’t mess with a doodlebug.”

“...A what?”

“Just a nickname for them.” Mato bent over and picked up the dragonfly. “You alright son?” He looked the bug over. They were kind of smooshed and bent up, but it seemed like they’d be okay after getting some medical attention.

“Aye aye, sir!” The dragonfly saluted and missed, causing them to punch themselves in the head with a CRACK.

Mato was then holding a completely unconscious bug. He winced and waved over a guard, handing the poor bug over to be taken to the nearest doctor. Ghost was trying to not laugh, obviously feeling bad for the poor bug, but Mato had to admit it was kind of funny.

“You sure you don’t need help, Ghost?” Mato asked again, once the guard and dragonfly were gone. He focused hard with his dad powers to determine if Ghost was going to tell the truth. God King or not, they were still his kid and he’d be damned if he let them run off and get themselves hurt.

They shook their head. “No Dad, I will be fine. I’ll just have to pull out the larvae and then set them loose out in the wastes. Nobody else has to get hurt today.”

He nodded. “As long as you’ll be okay. I trust you to know your own limits.”

“I will.” They tilted their head up in a smile. “Feel free to wander around for a bit, I’ll be back soon and we can meet up with Quirrel and Hollow later for dinner.”

“Sounds good to me, come back safe.” He gave them a short hug and a pat to the back.

They nodded and stepped back, suddenly dissolving into liquified void, seeping into the stonework and vanishing from view. It was a very blink and you miss it type action for sure. Teleporting was different from bug to bug, but Ghost sure did know how to make and exit when they needed to make one quick. Soon the last bits of excess void evaporated and not a single trace was left behind that the King was even standing there. Well, with nothing else to do but wait, he decided to take their advice and take a look around. After the palace was built over top of the old one, the gardens were also revitalized. A lot of work had been put into the place and once things were green and blooming again, it was opened up for the public. It was fairly peaceful and offered a lot of nice spots to simply sit and reflect should one want to.

He decided that perhaps the best thing to do was to find such a spot and meditate for a while. Ghost had given him quite a bit of information to consider. The idea of teaching the nail arts to the next generation of warriors was a interesting one and he wasn’t quite sure how to implement such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a school would have to be made. He’d have to talk to his own father and brothers as well about it. Perhaps a solution would come to him once he emptied his mind for a while.

He walked around gardens, looking for a quiet spot for Ghost to find him later, when he was stopped by a sight that made him question his vision. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, but he still saw the same figure that used to be everywhere before the infection began.

The White Lady sat on a stone bench, idlily watering a patch of flowers using a simple watering can. Mato could see no finery on her or any mark of a station beyond a civilian on her person. She was dressed simply in white robes, the roots on her head curled up and branching outwards in a mess of tiny white leaves and petals. She didn’t seem to notice him, giving the flowers on the ground a drink as she hummed to herself, her eyes closed in either thought or contentment.

To be honest, it Mato didn’t quite know what to think at first. Most of the citizens of Hallownest gave little thought to their previous Queen. Before Hollow was even locked into the temple, she had fled her people and her home to wall herself within her personal gardens, taking one of the great knights with her. When it was clear that Hollow wasn’t going to be able to hold back the wrath of the Radiance, the King also fled, abandoning the kingdom to their fate. Most remembered this, and cared little about the fates of the rulers who vanished during the kingdom’s darkest hour, leaving the common bug to fend for themselves with no leadership and no help.

They weren’t remembered fondly, regulated to history books and a cautionary tales of pride and cowardice.

It was only years of training that kept him from fully succumbing to rage. How dare she! How dare she sit here all pretty in the palace gardens, like she never allowed the king to murder their own children and abandoned every bug that looked up to her when things didn’t work out perfectly? The same lady who annexed an entire section of another people’s land for her own personal gardens? The same Lady that sat a scant few meters away from the home of those she most hurt?

And why was she here? From what he understood, Ghost did not like her one bit. Even gentle and sweet Hollow only recalled moments with her to be painful and refused to further elaborate on the matter. He got most of the story from Ghost, and what he heard made him livid. He often wondered what he would say to the former king and queen should he meet them again, and now he was being presented with such an opportunity.

He took a few deep breaths. As far as he knew, she was no longer his Queen nor any sort of authority over him anymore. He would get a few answers, no, he demanded them.

He approached her, no longer masking the noise of his movements as his boots crunched a few discarded dead leaves. She paused in her humming and turned her face to fix her startling blue eyes on him. Mato stared back, unafraid and resolute. She balked slightly from the force of his stare, but composed herself by sitting up and gently smiling down on him.

“Hello.” She said, her voice soft and whispery, like a breeze through the leaves of a willow tree. “How can I help you?”

“What are you doing here.” Mato demanded. The question was short and very much to the point.

“Me? Well, my child-”

“They are not your child.” Mato hissed, cutting off her words with an enraged snarl. “You don’t get to call them that, not after what you and the pale bastard did to them!”

She seemed taken aback for a moment, narrowing her eyes as her roots shuddered, before she seemed to slump into herself. She turned her head away for a moment, taking in an audible breath as she turned it back to glance back at the Nailmaster. “You act as if I don’t regret what we were forced to do.”

“You always had a choice.” Mato countered. “You could have done anything other than let thousands of your children lay dead at the bottom of the abyss. Have you even gone down there to see them? Offer some sort of rites like any parent would do for their deceased children?”

“It does not matter, Ghost has-”

“King Ghost.” He once again corrected her. Only family got to refer to them by their name alone and fiercely guarded such a privilege. Especially since they had to pick their own name. The Lady and the King didn't even feel it fitting to give them something as simple as a name.

“Yes." She sighed, "King Ghost has informed me that their siblings besides Hollow now reside within the void... at rest, which is now a part of them. Empty rites and platitudes will not bring them back, nor erase what I have...what we have done.”

Mato stared at her for a moment, scanning her face and body for any hint of lies or manipulation. To his surprise, he found none, just an old woman who was full of regrets.

“Then why are you here?” He finally spoke and crossed his arms in front of him. “My child obviously knows that you are here, why let you in? You told them to kill their own sibling and take their place in a plan that already failed, just to hold the mad goddess at bay for a scant few more years while you could still hide in the Gardens and play pretend. Why?” He could barely keep the fury from his voice as he spoke. He could see her flinch with each accusation, her eyes blurring with what might be tears, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that was he was saying was impacting her in some way, and he was happy for that at least.

She was silent for a moment, the roots and branches that made up her head curling in on themselves and shuddering slightly. A few leaves and petals dropped to the stones below and rapidly lost their otherworldly shimmer. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

Mato narrowed his eyes behind the hard shell of his mask. “You gottah be shitting me.”

“I speak the truth.” She shifted in her seat so she could face him fully. “All I know, is that one day, King Ghost arrived where I have made my exile. They commanded me to unroot myself. I could sense the brand on them, the pieces of my husband and I that made them, and the spark of a higher power, so I obeyed. It took time to unroot myself, but once I did they commanded me to unbind myself and to come with them.” She paused a moment to look up, as thought remembering a feeling or a snippet of a memory. “I had diminished myself, made myself weak. I could no longer see, so they commanded that I reside here to recover. I did so, and when I saw them for the first time I was astonished and humbled. I had believed that perhaps that they would take revenge and have me executed or banish me to the wastes, but... they did not. Instead, they told me that I will do what I was meant to do and I was not permitted to run away again.”

Mato was silent, listening as the White Lady spoke, watching her face as it went through a range of emotions. Regret, bitterness, elation, joy, shame...all flickered through her pale face and shimmering eyes.

“My sentence was to bring life back to the kingdom, as it was my duty long before the Pale Wyrm even chose Hallownest to rebirth himself in. I would, as they put it, ‘have to clean up my mess’ and I have been doing as such.”

“I did notice everything get greener.” Mato muttered. He had noticed the yields from the farms were also quite abundant and rich. The kingdom should have gone through a period of famine as they rebuilt, but there was food. Nothing refined at the beginning, but nobody went hungry. “Was that you?”

She nodded, serene as she put her watering can to the side. She lifted one of her roots from the ground, leaving a neat little hole that she dropped a single seed into. “Yes, I am a goddess of life and fertility, it brings me joy to know that life has begun anew.”

“Are you a prisoner here, then?” He looked, but saw no chains, no shackles, and not even the delicate weave of spells or magic. Nothing that could force her to stay here.

“Goodness no.” She shook her head, eyes curled up in slight amusement. “There is not a place I could run that my ch….my king could not find me. Nore do I expect that they are such a god to begin with. I am here as they said, to clean up my own mess. Nothing more, and nothing less. I have been given my own home here.” She gestured to a cottage nestled in among the trees, just barely out of sight, most likely for her own privacy. “I have no need to leave, nore am I under duress. I simply am.”

Mato’s rage was beginning to cool somewhat. From what he understood, his child had decided to grow beyond the pettiness and childish ways of the former higher powers, and instead, enact rather wise and mature decisions. With a start, he realized that he may have had a hand in that decision. He thought back to a moment, a scant couple years ago when rebuilding hasn’t even started yet.

“Dad?” Ghost asked. They had just had their first molt, resting their now slightly bigger body against their twin sibling. Hollow was in bed, their head and body haven just gotten new fresh bandages. It had been only a bare few months after the death of the Radiance, and Ghost had had some time to sit and think about their situation.

Of course both of the void siblings were a mess after the final battle, and Mato had commandeered an empty home in Dirtmouth to care for them both. Herrah had awoken from her slumber and was there to care for Hornet, but she had Deepnest to restore. Hornet jumped back and forth between both homes, bringing honey from the Hive and silken bandages in the effort to bring Hollow back to some semblance of wellness.

“Yes, my child?” Mato had adopted Hollow instantly, the poor injured bug still was very much a child despite being the tallest bug they’ve ever seen. He coaxed Hollow into opening their mouth and letting him stick another spoonful of light broth inside. He patted them gently when they did, helping them get ready for the next spoonful.

“How did you learn to forgive Uncle Oro?” Ghost was staring at their new set of arms, clenching and unclenching their hands. They tripped over their new telepathy a few times, but they were able to be understood. Mato stayed steady enough to get another spoon of sustenance in his largest child, but was quite surprised by the question.

“That’s quite a question, Ghost. What suddenly brought this on?”

Ghost was silent for a few moments and Mato gave them time to get their thoughts together. Hollow tried a chirp of encouragement, but Mato tapped them on the snoot. No chirping, only soup for the moment. They harrumphed and took another spoonful, which earned them a nice rub to sooth the healing cracks in their face.

“Uncle Oro hurt you and Uncle Sheo, really bad.” Ghost started. “But now, you are all okay again. How did that happen? What do you do when someone hurts you, but you don’t want to be hurt by them anymore?”

Ah, there it was. No doubt this had something to do with the sibling’s awful, awful parents. He didn’t want to accidentally poison his child with his own bad memories, nor the awfulness of why the situation actually happened in the first place. Instead, he decided to be completely honest.

“Well, Sheo and I were hurt, yes. We took space for ourselves to sort out our feelings. By then, the infection was in full swing and we didn’t know how the other was doing. When you let us know that all three of us were still alive, that’s when we knew there was a chance.”

Ghost looked up, tilting their head backwards so they didn’t have to get up from where they where lounging. “A chance?”

“Yes, the only time a chance to fix something between someone is gone, is when they are gone themselves. When we realized that we were all still alive, I knew that a chance still existed to get my brothers back.”

Ghost nodded, listening closely. Hollow subtly curved their head to listen as well, and Mato suddenly found himself with the full undivided attention of two children. He would have to choose his words carefully

“So, a few weeks ago, we both went to see Oro, and we talked. We talked about how we hurt each other. We talked about how we were sorry. We talked about how we can improve ourselves and move on. In the end, we decided to give each other a chance again, at least for one last time. Obviously, Oro wanted to be back with us again, because we worked it all out. We missed each other a lot, so I found that we could forgive each other and start again.”

“Uncle Oro is still really grumpy though…” Ghost added as an after thought.

“Oro was always a grumpy little bastard, that hasn’t changed.” Mato laughed. “ What changed however, is that we realized what we all did to cause the problem in the first place, and apologized. Now it’s just letting time go by to heal the wounds and give everyone a fresh chance again.”

“That’s it? Just time and a chance?” Ghost tilted their head to the side, eye’s narrow as they did their best to grasp the concept. Hollow moved their head just enough to give their smaller sibling a nuzzle. Ghost sighed and shifted so that they could hug Hollow back with nuzzle of their own, melting into the cuddle pile.

“If you think they are worthy of a second chance, than yeah. If not, than don’t give them a third.” Mato stopped assaulting Hollow with soup for the moment, letting them have a bit of a break for a cuddle. He took the time to look over the bandaged socket where their left arm used to be. He’ll have to ask Sheo and Smith if they could do something about that. "It's up to you to even consider giving that chance. If you don't want to, nobody is going to blame you for that. It's your decision alone and nobody can force you to do otherwise." He waggled the spoon at Ghost to further get his point across, as well as a subtle unspoken 'I will beat anyone who tells you otherwise with this spoon'.

“Thanks, Father.” Ghost looked up, eyes shining with resolve. “I think I know what to do now.

“They are giving you a second chance.” Mato spoke aloud once he finished with his memory, startling the White Lady with the suddenness of his voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t..” She looked confused by it all, looking Mato up and down as though he suddenly went crazy.

“They are giving you a second chance to be in their life. Both theirs and Hollows.” Mato’s voice took on a hard edge again as he pointed to her. “They are deciding if you are going to hurt them again, as they are not going to give you a third chance.”

“You mean...they’d want me to be…” her eyes widened and glistened with moisture, speaking some delicate hope that still resided within her. Mato knew he could never understand her particular pain, nore did he feel like she even deserved to have that hope after all this time, but that was not his decision to make.

“I don’t think they want you as their mother.” Mato took no joy over crushing that bit of hope, but she needed to know the truth. “After all this time, I don’t think they can let you be that intimate with them, at least for a very long time. Of course I’m speaking of Ghost, not Hollow. But for Ghost, I would shoot for just being a friend, someone they can trust again. Maybe it can evolve into something else besides that, but who knows what the future can hold."

"It is clear that you do not like me, or approve of my presence here at all. So why tell me this?" She bent her head down to regard Mato as though searching for the punchline to a cruel joke.

"Because it's the truth, and yes, I don't like you one bit, but the ones Ghost choose to be in their life is not up to me. If they want to give you a chance along with Hollow, than so be it. It's their life, not mine. BUT..." He stopped slouching and pulled himself up to his full height. "If you hurt them again, either of them, I will make you regret that. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I do."

"Good, then we have nothing more to discuss." He turned on his heel and left, not even giving her a wayward glance as he left her behind. He could have dragged more answers from her for sure. Even if they only needed one vessel for the plan, they could have taking in the 'rejected' ones and cared for them. Was she even there when the selection was taken place? Did she also leave Ghost to fell back into the abyss, never to see light again for years, maybe decades? Too many questions, and he doubted he'd get satisfying answers to any of them. Perhaps for now, it was best to let it go. Ghost or Hollow will bring it up on their own time and he would do what he always did, be there when they needed it. He loved them, even if it was later in their lives than he wanted it to be.

He wished he could have been there from the beginning. How different would they have turned out if he could have scooped them up at their hatching and carried them away to raise and love? All of them, not just those two, every single cracked shell in the abyss belonged to an individual child. He didn't know how, but he figured he'd have enough love for them all if needed. Perhaps he was feeling jealous that she could have had that, but chose to throw it and her own children away instead.

Too many feeling and not enough answers. He needed to get some meditation done and sort himself out before Ghost came to find him again. It wouldn't do for them to see him angry and conflicted like he was. He marched along until he found a nice, quiet section of the gardens and sat. He folded his legs under himself and let his cloak fall around him, emptying his mind and falling deep into the calming waves of meditation. He let the feelings come and wash over him, letting himself experience them without becoming consumed. The memories and the experiences were neatly sorted as he pulled himself together where he'd be able to experience them again should he wish to. Soon, there was nothing but calm. Everything was in it's right place and Mato let himself drift away into the nothingness and soothe his heart.

He started back into reality when he felt a tug on his cloak. He instinctively looked down where he expected a tiny void creature to be tugging on his cloak, looking for hugs. When he didn't see them down there, he looked up to see his grown child tugging on his cloak, eyes curled up in amusement.

"Hey Dad," they said with a giggle. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm back."

"That you are." Mato replied with a 'smile' of his own, standing up to stretch. He must have been sitting for a while, as his legs began to buzz with pins and needles as he worked the numbness out. "How did it go?"

"Well. The larvae were moved with no more injuries. The Fools will have to fix their own coliseum, since it was their fault it got damaged in the first place." Ghost giggled again, something amusing must have happened, and no doubt they were saving it for dinner later.

"Let me guess, there's more too that?"

They nodded, vibrating slightly. "Yes, but I want Quirrel and Hollow to hear it too. They'll get a kick out of it and you'd spoil it if I told you now."

"Then let's not keep them waiting." Mato mock bowed. "After you, your majesty."

"Dadddd noooo." They waved their hands around, trying to get him to stand again. "That's embarrassing! Monomon doesn't do that!"

"She isn't allowed to bow because it gives her cover to get smoke bombs out of her veil without getting caught." He countered with a laugh.

Ghost just sighed dramatically and grabbed his hand, dragging him off towards the palace where dinner and company awaited. Mato found that he couldn't stop laughing, letting his child drag him around just for the fact that he could.

It was then he realized that he pitied the White Lady. All these little moments she willfully gave up, never to experience it for the foreseeable future. It struck him as very sad that she would give up such a thing, but he decided there was no use in trying to understand why.

After all, he would be too busy coming up with ways to spoil his own children, and that thought would consume most of his days, as It should be.

---

Heyo another request down!!! Next up will be SIBLING DAY!!!

Also antlion larvae are terrifying, but the fact that they have 'doodlebugs' as their nickname is strangely endearing.

I feel neutral about the white lady. Yes she willfully participated in the plan and no in no way innocent, but boy did she make herself suffer for it. Hence here, Ghost gave her a chance to just be who she was before, just god doing god things, without having to balance a kingdom. She just has to help clean up the mess she left her kids to deal with and can't run away when the going gets tough again. To be honest, I feel like she's a lot happier now to just have her nice little private cabin in the gardens with no royal responsibilities and the hope that one day she may have more than a professional relationship with Ghost and Hollow.

Hollow knows she is there, but is working through their own feelings before they decide on what to do about it. They love her so much but remembers the pain in being constantly rejected and treated as though they were already dead by her. It's complicated, but there are therapists in the kingdom now and that will help over time.

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101flavoursofweird · 3 years

Note

For the ten line drabbles, would you do 20 for any combination of Kat, Ernest, and Sherl (either two of them or all three of them together)? Thank you!

[[Apologies, this ended up being more than ten lines and didn’t even include the quote, though it definitely inspired it! Thank you for giving me the chance to finally write a fic about my Sherl theory!]]

20. “If you feel safer with me being there, you know I will always be there.”

“Aurora, our messenger, do you wish for this human to be reborn as a beast?”

“Yes, please. He has brought a great deal of suffering upon the world and to the fabric of time. And he hurt the professor… Also, can you take away his memories, like you did for me?”

“We were able to accomplish that as you were an Azran golem—“

“I was a sentient being with a beating heart. Surely you can do this same for this man?”

“…Very well. We will grant your wish.”

—

Kat had gone out for dinner with her inspector brother and her chef sister, leaving Ernest and Sherl to ‘manage’ the agency by themselves. (Or rather, stall any clients until Kat got back.)

Sherl thought this would be the perfect time for a dognap, but then Pipstripes decided to switch on the television while he was dusting.

Uuugh, that stupid black box! Why did Kat have to bring it in here, and place it on the drawers right above Sherl’s bed? Why couldn’t she find another way entertain herself when it was raining cats and dogs outside?

Sherl covered his ears as the droning voice of a news reader came on.

“—on this day, seven years ago, that the St. Herald Hotel collapsed during one of the worst storms in British history—“

“Who cares what happened seven years ago?” Sherl groaned. “That’s... forty years ago for a dog...”

“Shush, Sherl,” Ernest said, his gaze glued to the television.

“—While the establishment had received five star ratings in the past, it was undergoing maintenance work at the time, making some rooms unstable—“

“That thing will rot your brain,” Sherl warned. You would never catch Sherl gawking at a screen.

He couldn’t see in full colour anyway...

For him, it was mainly grey with some shades of blue and yellow. Pinstripes stood out like a sore thumb with his waistcoat and his trousers. Sherl could distinguish Kat’s yellow coat and her hat, but her dress just looked... dull. (Kat had nearly thrown a fit when Sherl told her this.)

As far as Sherl could tell, the news reader was a lady with long blonde hair, a grey suit and a solemn expression.

“All of the hotel staff and guests were able to escape, expect for one—“

“Poor sod,” Sherl snorted.

“—Former Prime Minister, Bill Hawks.”

Sherl’s ears perked up. “Who?”

“Shhhhh!”

“Did she say Prime Minister?” Sherl persisted. He stumbled out of his bed to get a closer look at the T.V.— at the photo of the man the news people had put up.

He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, judging by his balding head, deep frown lines, droopy eyes and glasses... Sherl squinted, wondering if dogs could get glasses.

“Yes— from about twenty years ago,” Pinstripes informed him, frowning slightly. “If you listen, they’re going to talk about his life soon...”

Talk about him they did. Bill Hawks: Born in London, squeaked his way in to university, became a scientist at the Institute of Poly-something or other... until there was an explosion at the lab he worked in. An explosion, it turned out, that Hawks had caused with an experiment gone awry.

Sherl hummed. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“The... explosion?” Pinstripes fiddled with the end of his feather duster. “It sounds like something out of a sci-fi film, doesn’t it?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But it really did happen, over thirty years ago... and there were terrible repercussions ten years after. You might have heard Miss Layton discussing it...”

Sherl shook his head. He would have remembered if Kat had mentioned something like that. His short term memories were clear as crystal. It was his long term memories that were murky— at least, those prior to joining the Layton Detective Agency.

All he could remember from his past life was a tower falling down, and lightning flashing across the sky... but with each passing day, the details felt less precise and less important. Kat seemed to have given up on solving his case of amnesia altogether!

“Oh...” Pinstripes glanced out the window and back at Sherl. “Do you— surely you know about the Mobile Fortress attack? From a man called Clive Dove?”

For some reason, that name made Sherl shudder. Still, he answered, “No...”

“He tried to destroy London? There were crushed buildings and a gaping tear left in the ground?” Pinstripes said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “It took them years to repair—“

“I might seem older than you kids,” Sherl interrupted, “but I can’t have been alive for more than six or seven years.” He was a ‘mature dog’ (according to the vet), but that couldn’t compare to a human lifespan. Kat’s grandmother, Rosa, was in her seventies!

Pinstripes waved his hand. “Right, sorry... Anyway, Clive Dove was put in prison— thanks to Miss Layton’s father— and he remains there to this day.”

“Good,” Sherl huffed. “Sounds like this Dove was barking!”

“That’s really not funny...”

“What made him go round the bend?”

Ernest winced. “He, um... he wanted to get revenge... because his parents died in that lab explosion.”

Sherl stuck out his teeth. “But if Bill Hawks was behind the explosion... then why didn’t Dove just go after him? Why take it out on everyone—?”

“I don’t know!” Ernest dropped the feather duster. He sighed heavily and crouched to pick it up. Turning his back on Sherl, he resumed his dusting around the television.

The news reader was exposing more about Bill Hawks; by sweeping his crimes under the rug and making shady deals, Hawks had climbed the political ladder to the very top.

Then he was kidnapped by one of his former scientist colleagues and taken to an underground fake ‘Future London’...

“So that’s what she meant...” Sherl breathed. When he’d first arrived at the agency, Kat had asked if he had a ‘letter from the future’. Had her father been sent such a letter?

Sherl’s heart pounded at the next part of the news report. Clive Dove had imprisoned Bill Hawks in the Mobile Fortress, using Bill’s heartbeat to power the machine... That was intense!

Fortunately for Hawks, Professor Layton had saved him and shut down the fortress.

After they all escaped, Hawks had ensured Dove was arrested, put on trial immediately, and locked up for life.

During Dove’s trial, however, Hawks’ disreputable past had been brought to light. Hawks wasn’t put behind bars, but he had to pay a lot of compensation money for the victims of the institute explosion and for the Mobile Fortress attack.

A clip from an interview was shown— a man from Barkleys Bank described Hawks’ loss of financial backers as his approval ratings dropped. (Poor Barkleys, having to represent Bill Hawks...)

Disgraced, Bill had resigned from his post as prime minister and disappeared from the public eye. His wife had divorced him and he had started mooching off his parents’ inheritance.

“Good-for-nothing fat-cat...” Sherl grumbled. You wouldn’t catch his pups leeching off their families like that. When Kat’s father went missing, she had set up a detective agency. When Ernest’s mother died, he had worked his way up to university— and taken an unpaid job on top of that!

Sherl hoped there were assassination attempts made on Hawks’ life after everything he had done.

But no... It seemed that the world had forgotten about Bill Hawks as soon as he left office.

By all accounts, his death at the St. Herald Hotel had been deemed an accident. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, asleep when the roof above him collapsed.

“...Did he wake up in unbearable pain or did he die peacefully in his sleep?” the news reader lady pondered.

“Oh, come on, woman!” At this point, Sherl was standing on his hind legs with his paws pressed up against the television screen. “I need to know! That skid mark deserved to suffer—!”

“We may never know for certain,” the news reader went on, smiling impassively. “But some might say that justice was served on that day... Thank you for listening! And now, over to Puzzlette for the pollen report...”

“Waste of time...” Sherl flounced away from the television and looked around. He spotted the T.V. remote on the settee. “Turn it off, will you, Pinstripes?”

With a huff, Pinstripes turned off the television. He tossed the remote back on to the settee.

Sherl flicked his tail. “What’s got you so hot under the collar?”

“N-nothing...” Pinstripes crossed his arms as if he was trying to contain something in his chest. Whatever it was— anger, grief or uneasiness— Sherl reckoned Pinstripes wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. (He had broken down the minute Kat accused him of being Lord Adamas.)

“You might as well tell me,” Sherl prompted. “Kat’s out, and it’s not like anyone else can hear...”

Sherl prided himself on being a good secret-keeper. He hadn’t told Kat about Pinstripes’ crush, besides a few snide remarks. He hadn’t turned that street dog, Yapper, over to the pound. And he hadn’t ratted out that mouse who would occasionally nip in to steal Kat’s food...

Pinstripes whispered, “You... you can’t tell Miss Layton. She and her family would hate me...”

“Is it worse than what you did at Richmond Court?” Sherl asked. He made a furtive glance at the door.

“N-no!” Ernest exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch. “It doesn’t even involve me directly... but it does involve... one of my family members.”

Sometimes, Sherl was glad that he couldn’t remember his relatives. He didn’t have to deal with any of that family drama— unless Kat and Ernests’ issues counted as drama.

“Just spit it out,” Sherl growled.

“I... I’m related to Bill Hawks,” Ernest burst out. “Distantly!”

After all the cases Sherl had solved with Kat, that wasn’t too surprising to hear. Sherl cocked his head to the side. “How ‘distant’ are we talking?” He had heard that a lot of Europe’s royal families were related. Did it work the same way with lords and politicians?

“Quite distant... He was my grandfather’s second cousin!” With the cat finally out of the bag, Ernest sighed shakily. He sank on to the settee and tucked his knees under his chin, pulling himself into a tight ball. He looked more like a child than a lanky young man, but then again, he was only nineteen. That was still young by human standards.

“Pinstripes...” Sherl murmured when he heard sniffling. Sherl padded over to the settee and jumped up beside him.

“P-please don’t tell Miss Layton,” Ernest repeated with a whimper. “I nearly— she let me stay... even after what I did. I don’t want to— to hurt her again...”

Knowing Kat, she had probably already discovered the connection between Ernest and Bill Hawks.

It was possible that she had figured out Sherl’s identity as well, but she was keeping quiet. Honestly... Sherl didn’t really mind at that moment.

What would he do if he knew about his past? Track down his family? Would they even be able to understand him? And what if he had left his loved ones on bad terms? He would struggle to make amends with them, and they might be even more upset.

It wasn’t like he could return to his old job, either... unless it involved police work, assisting people with disabilities, or herding sheep. There was always performing— who didn’t love a good dog act?

But even then, it would be lonely if he couldn’t communicate with anyone.

At least if he stayed here, at the Layton Detective Agency, he could make a difference. He would do his best to help their clients... as well as Ernest and Kat.

Sherl curled up next to Ernest on the settee. After a while, Ernest’s sniffs stopped and he started stroking Sherl’s head.

Maybe one day they would find a way to transform animals into humans... but until then, Sherl didn’t mind being a detective’s dog. There were fates far worse than this.

#Answers #Sherl O.C. kholmes #Ernest Greeves #answers #Bill Hawks #My writing #my fics #layton’s mystery journey

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

5+1

Five times Michael kisses Alex, and one time Alex kisses Michael.

They have been arguing for half an hour. Michael upset that Alex has been avoiding him. Alex upset that Michael no longer loves him – even though he hasn’t admitted that part yet.

When the rain starts, Alex turns to head home. They are getting nowhere, and he doesn’t want to get soaked. ‘Goodbye, Michael.’

‘Wait, Alex.’ Michael grabs his arm as the rain starts to fall in earnest. ‘What’s wrong? And the truth this time. Then you can run home.’

Anger flares in Alex’s chest. ‘What’s wrong, Guerin, is how easily you stopped loving me. It was just ‘you’re not good for me’. And then, poof! I was suddenly so much nothing. How did you do it? Please, because I’m having a really fucking hard time returning the favor.’

His tears mingle with the rain as Michael stares at him open-mouthed and clearly confused. Maybe a touch hurt.

‘What? Alex, no.’ Michael reaches for him again, but Alex dodges. They are both soaked now, hair plastered to their foreheads. Michael follows Alex to his car door. ‘Please. That’s not what happened.’

‘Yes, Michael. To me, that’s what happened. So just, leave me alone.’ His hands go to his pockets for his keys but come up empty. ‘Fuck. My keys are back at the Crashdown.’

‘Stay here. I’ll go get them.’ He runs off before Alex can stop him.

It’s raining so hard the storm drains are starting to backup. Small rivers flow along the curbs, splashing over sidewalks. The temperature has dropped. And Alex is starting to shiver beneath his soggy clothes. He wants to go home and shower this day away.

By the time Michael returns, he’s hugging himself and rubbing his hands up and down his arms – teeth practically chattering. Michael hands him his keys, wallet, and phone – but grabs his wrist before he can pull away. Warmth immediately surges through Alex’s body. Melting away the freezing rain.

‘I love you, Alex. And I never stopped. Not once. Not even for a second.’ He moves to open Alex’s car door. ‘I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise.’

Alex runs his thumb over his key fob. But can’t bring himself to push the unlock button. ‘Well, you were very convincing.’ He guesses the storm has washed away all his anger. Or maybe he’s just exhausted.

‘Years of practice.’ Michael half-smiles and motions to the door. ‘You’re cold. You should go and get warm.’

Alex doesn’t move. ‘I am cold. But I want you to warm me up.’

They stand staring at each other. Thunder clapping overhead. Michael takes a step forward and then another. The gap between them shrinking quickly. And then his hands are on Alex’s chest, walking him slowly back against the Explorer.

Michael moves his hands up to Alex’s neck, presses their hips together. And everything locks back into place. Their bodies curving into each other like that’s what they were made to do.

Alex runs his cool, damp hands under Michael’s shirt. Not caring that they are in public. And Michael shivers. His thumbs reach Michael’s nipples and that’s when Michael attacks. Moaning into Alex’s mouth, sucking and licking along his bottom lip until Alex opens for him.

If possible, the rain falls even harder as they kiss desperately, bodies fused together against the Explorer. Kyle spots them and stops briefly, lifting an umbrella over their heads, before laughing and running off. Alex and Michael do not notice.

Two weeks later, Michael and Isobel are at the Pony. Tucked away in a back booth. Isobel is trying to discuss the Max and Liz situation, but Michael is distracted. Alex is at the bar laughing with Maria. More than once, something in Alex’s left ear has caught the dim bar lights overhead. Michael suspects he knows why and welcomes the heat that flares in his belly.

‘Michael, are you listening? We’re practically in crisis here and you can’t pull your eyes away from Alex for two fucking seconds.’ She throws a slice of lemon into this hair and he just leaves it there. Too distracted to care.

Isobel gives up. Goes back to drinking her beer and plotting ways to get her dumb brother back together with the love of his life. One down, one to go. Then she can focus on herself.

Alex turns around and spots Michael immediately. Grins. Waves goodbye to Maria and heads over to their booth. With every step, Michael gets more and more excited.

As Alex slides into the booth next to him, Michael’s hand goes to his ear and discovers the small, gold hoop. Fingers giving his ear a little tug. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Last night. Liz and Maria helped. Doesn’t even hurt. Do you like it?’

Michael answers by kissing his earlobe. Licking up the shell of his ear and whispering. ‘I think it’s really fucking hot. Forgot how much I’d missed it.’

Isobel groans dramatically. ‘Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Watching you two lick at each other like feral animals?’

Alex goes to say he’s sorry, but Michael shooshes him with a kiss.

‘Really, Michael?’ Isobel whines.

Michael reaches back blindly for his hat, uses it to hide their very enthusiastic making out from his sister. She huffs a laugh and kicks him under the table. ‘I will have my revenge.’

‘Wait. Why is there a lemon in your hair?’ Michael puts his hat on his head and takes the lemon slice from Alex, throws it back at Isobel. Starts to nudge Alex out of the booth.

‘Enjoy babysitting Max, Iz. I’ve got better things to do.’ He winks down at her.

Alex grabs Michael’s hand starts pulling him towards the door. ‘He means me.’

Isobel flicks them off as they leave the bar laughing.

Six months fly by and Michael moves in with Alex. Max comes over to help Michael build out Alex’s closet – well, their closet now. Alex is busy working on a coding project for work and leaves them to it.

Lunch time rolls around and they’ve worked up an appetite. Michael heads out to where Alex is hunched over his computer at the kitchen counter. ‘We’re going to grab something to eat. Want to come?’

Alex shakes his head. ‘Too busy. I’ll just eat something quick here. Have fun.’ He doesn’t even bother looking up from the screen.

‘Okay. Well, I’m be home soon.’ Alex’s fingers abruptly stop typing. Michael grins like an idiot. It’s the first time he’s used that word out loud. Home. He’s finally home.

Michael kisses Alex hard on his cheek. ‘I love you so much.’ And then he kisses him on his temple, his forehead and both eyes. Back down to his cheeks. Loudly punctuating each kiss with a smack of his lips.

Alex laughs, plays at swatting Michael away. ‘I love you, too.’

He kisses Alex one last time on the mouth. And then turns back towards Max. ‘I’m ready now.’ As he passes his brother he stops and smacks a kiss on his cheek as well. ‘Wouldn’t want you to feel left out.’

Max chuckles. He’s so damn happy for Michael.

They head out to his jeep and Max pauses before climbing inside. ‘I like this Michael. The Alex Michael. Looks good on you, brother.’

‘Feels good, too.’ He smiles and walks around the jeep, pulls Max into a hug. Lifting him off the ground and spinning him around.

Alex hears them laughing, smiles and sends a prayer of thanks to the universe.

October 2008

Alex returns to Roswell nine weeks after leaving for basic. His hair is shorn close and he’s lost weight. Michael barely recognizes him. And it breaks his heart. All the anger he remembers feeling with Alex left vanishing.

They are sitting on Michael’s bed. In his new airstream. Well, new to him anyway. Alex hasn’t said more than two words. But he’s driven out to the junkyard, so Michael is doing his best to make him feel wanted and welcome. Because Michael has missed him so much that sometimes he can’t breathe.

‘Was it bad?’ Michael asks. He knows the answer already.

Alex just shrugs and hugs his knees into his chest. ‘It’s over now.’

But that’s not true. They both know it’s only just beginning.

Michael aches to touch him. To hold him. Worries if he does, he’ll never let him go. ‘Do you want to stay here? With me. Instead of with…,’ His voice trails off. Doesn’t want to mention that man.

‘I got a motel room. But I’d rather stay here.’ He looks up at Michael for the first time, his pretty brown eyes so haunted. And Michael can no longer stop himself. He scoots back against his pillows, pulling Alex down onto his chest. The way Alex clings to him brings tears to his eyes.

‘I missed you.’ He whispers the words into Alex’s hair.

Alex shifts against him. Looking up. ‘Is your hand better?’

Michael instinctively flexes his fingers, feels the tight scar tissue stretch. Shows Alex. ‘It’s not pretty, but it still works. Mostly.’

They lie together for a long time. Holding on for dear life. Michael is just about asleep when Alex climbs on top of him. ‘Show me how much you missed me.’ His hands are clasped in Michael’s dirty t-shirt. ‘Please.’

He knows sex is maybe not the best idea, but he’s never once been able to say no to Alex. He weaves his fingers through Alex’s hair and stretches his neck up to kiss him softly on the mouth.

At that one simple touch, something in Alex comes undone. He collapses against Michael’s chest, body racked with sobs. Michael holds him until he falls asleep, until the sun comes up, until he has to leave again.

Their one year anniversary happens to coincide with Planet 7’s Pride celebration. All of their friends come along to celebrate with Michael and Alex.

Isobel declares herself in charge of wardrobe and dresses everyone for the big night. Michael looks like a walking bisexual flag – all pinks and purples and blues. While Alex just looks hot. Rainbow tattoos across his cheeks, tight black leather pants, and an old David Bowie t-shirt with the sleeves cut out. Cut off so low that Alex’s nipples are nearly always on display – at least from the side, which is where Michael tries to station himself all night.

Everyone else has some version of cheek tattoos, feather boas, and glitter. Especially Kyle who really takes to everything Isobel throws at him. Even Max has let Isobel do his makeup – the entire bar complimenting him on his gorgeous pink eyelashes.

They have an absolute blast. Singing and dancing and loving each other.

As the evening draws to a close, Isobel brings out a huge cake. It’s covered in rainbows and unicorns and little green aliens. Michael and Alex delight at the garish cake and hug her between them. Both wishing her a happy pride and kissing her thank you.

Michael cuts the first piece of cake and smashes it into Alex’s face. Isobel shrieks, punching him on the arm. But Michael just grins wider and stalks towards his boyfriend. Alex is trying to scramble way, but he’s not fast enough. Michael pounces, grabbing his hips and lifting him onto a stool. Thumbs under his chin, lifting his face up for better access. Licks the pink frosting from his chin and then buries his tongue in Alex’s mouth.

Everyone groans but throws glitter over them as they kiss. Isobel never forgives them for the food fight that breaks out shortly after. Her beautiful cake ruined.

On Michael’s 31st birthday, they head out to their spot in the desert. Wrap themselves in blankets in the bed of Michael’s truck. It’s a cool June night and the sky is clear, stars twinkling above them.

Their two year anniversary is next week. And they are taking their first real vacation. Michael has always wanted to go to Asia, so they have a whole trek planned. Three weeks in Thailand, Vietnam, and Japan.

‘Do you still think about leaving?’ Alex twines their fingers together.

Michael shakes his head. ‘There’s nothing out there for me.’

‘Really? You don’t want to know about your home anymore? Where you came from?’ His brow creases and he worries that Michael has given up too much for him.

But Michael reaches up and smooths out the crease with his thumb. ‘You are my home and I’m way more concerned about where we’re going. The past is the past. But the future can be anything we want it to be.’

‘And you’re really not sick of me yet?’ Alex smirks up at him. ‘I mean, I am unemployed now. Can’t even pay my half of the bills.’

Alex’s honorable discharge was one of the happiest things to ever happen to Michael. He’d work a thousand jobs if it meant Alex was free of the military.

‘Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to take care of you.’ He nuzzles his nose against Alex’s. ‘Staring with this.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a guitar pick, hands it to Alex.

‘Rings are kind of dumb. So, I got you your favorite pick. A whole box of them, actually.’ He laughs, a little nervous now.

‘What?’ Alex is confused at first – but then realization lights up his eyes. ‘Wait – are you – what are you doing right now, Michael?’

Michael shrugs, leaning back into the blankets. ‘Asking you to marry me. Figured two years – ‘

Alex doesn’t let him finish. He straddles Michael’s waist and kisses the proposal from his mouth. Answering with his tongue. They move against each other, Alex frantic – Michael trying to slow him down.

‘Is that a yes, then?’ Michael smiles against Alex lips.

‘That’s a fuck yes.’ Alex attacks his mouth again and Michael doesn’t try to stop him this time.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin

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pedrobois-fanfic-collections · 3 years

Text

MarcusMorenoxReader SuperVillainessPt4

Tag list: agingerindenial , killtherandomness

bruh I don’t know what I’m writing anymore

“I didn’t realize you and Miracle Guy had such a difficult time.” Missy said leaning back and taking a sip of her drink. “So Electrica just jumps off the table, leaps at you, attacks you and runs off.”

Marcus felt his cheeks heating up, but nodded, “Yea, pretty much.” He replied with a straight face.

“What happened when Miracle Guy came back?”

“The media eventually showed up, he posed for his glamour shots and the heroic discovery of an evil scientist’s lab that was doing human experimentation. Promises were made to shut it down and any future news on what might have been uncovered.”

Missy furrowed her brow, “You didn’t mention…” She seemed to struggle on whether or not to call you ‘mom’.

Marcus shook his head, “No. Throw the public into a panic? And over what? We didn’t know exactly what she was capable of yet or what she was going to do. At this point we were still hoping she would fade away or stay a minimal threat to be quickly dealt with or hopefully recruited into the Heroics with her powers.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So some weeks passed, no mention of her.”

“Marcus, we have a small-time job for you.” The administrator walked over to Marcus’ desk at the Heroics’ headquarters.

Marcus turned idly in his chair, looking up from his computer. He hummed in response, letting the pen he had been balancing fall from his finger.

“It’s just something to keep you from dying of boredom, things have been quiet, and everyone else is pretty much indisposed.”

“What do you need?”

The administrator handed him a tablet, “The guy calls himself the Dragon.”

Marcus took the tablet from the administrator and inspected it closely. The Dragon was tall, muscular, and partially covered in hide-like scales in various parts of his body. He seemed to have severe burns as well, despite manipulating fire as he threw balls of flames at terrified crowds. The Dragon wore a long red, orange, and yellow cape, the colors gradient into each other and similar themes along his trousers but had a bare chest to reveal his scaley skin. The most striking aspect of him were his clawed hands which he frequently seemed to use to slice into thick metal objects such as cars or metal buildings.

“Great.” Marcus muttered.

“Think you can handle it or should we call someone else in for backup?”

Sighing, Marcus shook his head, “If I’m to lead these people, I need to be able to prove it by example. I can’t always need back up.”

In short order, Marcus was flying downtown to where the havoc and fiery destruction was taking place.

“I am the Dragon!” The man identified as the Dragon roared, spewing a burst of flame from his mouth. “Your pitiful Heroics don’t even stand to oppose me! None can challenge me! I will burn this city to the ground!”

Marcus landed, rolling forward and drawing his katanas. He came to a stop in a crouching position. “I represent the Heroics. We can end this peacefully,” he glanced around at the last of the people running to safety. His gaze shifted to the smouldering fires and he grit his teeth, “or I can put you down.”

The Dragon threw a ball of flame at Marcus and Marcus rolled out of the way.

“Ha, ha, ha!” The Dragon laughed.

Marcus rolled his eyes, at the gregarious display. Just once, a criminal that didn’t have to make a show of things, would be nice.

“Watch as your beloved hero falls to me! Nothing can stand before my might!”

Marcus threw his katana and it hit the Dragon square in the chest. The blade sank in a fraction of a centimeter, and the Dragon cut off with a grunt, but the blade quickly fell to the ground.

“You dare strike me?”

Marcus had propelled it forward with his magnetism. “It shut you up. For a bit.” He smiled awkwardly.

The Dragon charged at Marcus holding the katana out. His hands gripped the blade and Marcus’ eyes widened as he saw the katana growing white hot in the villain’s hands. Marcus reached up with his remaining blade and parried the blow.

The Dragon’s blade was so hot by this point that the strike bent the blade, thrusting the Dragon into Marcus and knocking the smaller man to the ground. The Dragon landed on top of Marcus and for a second the two of them stared at each other in surprise. Each held their swords interlocked, keeping the other man away from themselves.

The Dragon tossed his katana to the side and raised his razor-sharp claws and began slashing at Marcus.

Marcus cried out, pulling his arms up to protect his face. The guards on his forearms giving him minimal protection for the briefest of seconds before they were quickly tattered. He kicked uselessly at the Dragon, but the villain had Marcus at a better angle.

Unable to turn his head to the side to look for any metal to assist him, Marcus was well and truly f-

A blast of electricity shot through the air, arching into the Dragon, and throwing him backwards.

Marcus glanced up, but the sun shone in his eyes, along with blood and sweat. Instead, he opted to collapse his arms on top of his face and curl up in the fetal position, to beat and exhausted to fight back.

From around him he could hear the shrieks of the Dragon, electrical discharges, blasts of fire, and the carnage of battle. He could smell ozone, the destroyed city block, and fiery ash, and his own blood and sweat.

Then, there was one final cry from the Dragon, strangled and desperate, and then the street was quiet. A heavy thump. Then, truly quiet.

Marcus opened his eyes, but the blood and sweat stung and despite his blinking he still couldn’t see well.

“Hold still.” A woman’s voice said softly. He recognized that voice.

You knelt over Marcus. A water bottle found in one of the nearby shops held in your hand. Carefully, you poured a small amount over his head, draining some into his eyes, and clearing the dried blood. With the cloak you had taken up wearing, you wiped the excess from his eyes, heart swelling as you took in just how deep brown they were. You hadn’t been able to appreciate in the lab the depths of the color of his eyes.

Marcus blinked up at you, reaching his hand up to hold the back of your head as you knelt over him. You held him up, cupping the back of his neck so he would not be resting in the hard, dirty street.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus croaked, his voice hoarse.

“Here.” You poured some of the contents of the water bottle into his mouth, watching some of it spill over his supple lips and down his mouth.

Marcus hissed as he raised his bloodied arms to wipe his hand at his face, “But why?”

You looked away, taking a drink from the water bottle and setting it down, before turning back to him.

Struggling to sit up completely, with you still holding him, Marcus looked past you and exhaled softly. “He’s dead.”

“I did what I had to do.”

Marcus looked up at you. “You saved my life but I can’t let you go now. I can get you a lesser sentence maybe since it was in self-defense, but,”

“It wasn’t in self-defense.” You looked at him. “I killed him, and I will do so again.”

“Electrica… That’s the name you’re going by? Surely you had a name before, before whatever was done to you.”

“That time no longer matters.” You smiled, “I have been made into this, and so the world shall have me as I am.”

“But you saved me, you’re not a killer.” Marcus reached up and touched your face. “You don’t have to be a killer.”

You took his bloodied arm and dug your nails into the gashes. Marcus cried out in pain. “I’m sorry, my dear.” You murmured, watching as he writhed away from you. “It is who I was made to be.” Leaning down as he once more lay on the ground, breaths coming in great heaving gasps, you pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I look forward to when we meet next.”

“Wait so she saves you, and then hurts you? Talk about mixed signals, Dad.”

“Yea, I was out of commission from fighting for a long time after that fight. The administrator was really apologetic for sending me alone on that. They severely underestimated the Dragon’s capabilities and realized it should’ve been a team effort.”

“I’m glad you’re not doing anything without me.”

Marcus chuckled, “Of course.”

“You sound like you get your butt kicked a lot.”

“In this story, I do. I swear I normally don’t though. These are just kind of my heroic lows, but trust me, your mother had as many close calls as I did.”

“What?”

“As much as she had a soft spot for me, I… had a weak spot for her.”

“You were saving a criminal?”

Marcus smiled weakly.

You stood on the roof, gazing down at the rows of armed police. Night was dark as pitch and they aimed their spotlights uselessly, attempting to find you.

Hands on your hips, you gazed down from the three-story building wondering exactly how you would fight your way out of this. From behind you, came the familiar heli-blades you knew so well.

You turned around with a smile. “Marcus. I didn’t think you would come.”

Marcus landed behind you, “I shouldn’t have.” He growled angrily. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re angry, you know that. How deep your voice gets?”

“Don’t flirt with me when I’m mad.” The sting in his words held no weight as he shifted his weight on his hips and held a finger out at you.

You leaned back on the balls of your feet and bit your lip, slowly batting your eyelashes.

Marcus groaned, “One of these days, I’m not going to come for you, and you’re going to be on your own.”

“And what are you going to do when you’re broken and bloody and I don’t come for you?”

“Ha! Better than sell my soul to the devil.” Marcus snapped.

You walked up to him and slid your hands under his shirt, smoothing your fingers along his skin, feeling the years of scars. You hummed idly, “Is that so?”

Marcus sighed heavily before groaning and pushing your hands away, “Stop it, stop it, don’t do that.” He quickly tucked his shirt back in. “Do you know what I’m risking for you?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“Do you know what I risk for you? It’s not reputation when I risk life and limb to save you.” You snapped back, your voice equally hushed.

Marcus’ face softened. He stepped towards you and cupped your cheeks, smoothing his thumbs gently along them. “I know. I know.” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “But you know at the end of the day…”

You looked away, but he held you fast. “We’re enemies.” You whispered.

Marcus nodded, head pressed against yours. He pulled back and pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here. I won’t let them take you away, not yet anyways.”

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno fanfic #we can be heroes fanfic #no y/n #ficbit

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loudlypanickinginvenezolano · 3 years

Text

Care for you. (Sneak, Sneak.)

Sonic has a bad day. A real bad, and rough day, that lefts him drained and tired in ways he feels are dangerous...

Shadow cant have that, now can he?

Now its a question of wherever Sonic will left him help ride this out, or not...

Soon on AO3!

You can read it under the cut though!

If you squint hard enough you can see some references to depression and/or panic attacks. If I missed something I should have known to tag, please, let me know.

Silence. Solicitude. Calmness. It wasn’t often that Sonic felt such a hard craving for them. That he felt almost a need, such a need so strong it was pretty much breathing down on his neck, and weighing down on his back.

Sonic was tired.

He was oh so tired, so weary to a soul-deep level he tried to not feel so commonly. He really couldn’t afford it, after all, and yet today… today was rough, to call it something.

Battling since early, public appearance all around the place, people screaming, calling his name, cameras being shoved into his face and all… he was used to it, it was…okay, of sorts.

What wasn’t okay was trying to manipulate him. What wasn’t right was using his name to pull people into things that really weren’tokay. What wasn’t right was getting his ears pulled or his body touched or grabbed just because they wanted a rise out of him. To invade his personal space like he didn’t have any kind of right over it anymore. Like it didn’t exist anymore.

What wasn’t right were the set up cameras always waiting for him to mess up.

Always.

The noise.

The fakeness of it all.

The sickening heat.

The hurt on his body.

The ache of his legs.

The pain on his neck and back.

The smoke filling up his nostrils.

The unsavory questions.

The objectifying looks.

It was too much, sometimes.

He ran, and ran, and ran. It felt like ages. It felt like a torture, like if everything was trying to claw out his body and just step on his heart.

His breath was shallow, hitched. His body was sweating, and shivering with an unknown force.

Sonic was tired.

he collapsed on his knees, and then on the soft moss covered ground with barely a sound, gasping with all of his might and trying to get back the feeling on his sore body.

He wasn’t even sure about how much time did he spent like that…he only came to himself when he felt someone approaching, and he had to change his sprawling figure a little, already searching into himself for the last bid of energy into his being so he could flash a smile and wave off any concern or rude question he knew may be on his way.

When he opened his eyes, startled red ones were everything he saw.

It was enough of a shock to had him of all persons spluttering rather unflattering in front of his boyfriend, who fell back on his bottom and was rubbing his eye with his fist, grimacing.

“I am not quite fond of the water plays, hedgehog. Try to keep them to yourself?” he gritted, a disgusted expression clear on his face.

Casual.

“What are you doin-How did you find me?!” Sonic squeaked, blinking furiously and trying to stand on his still jelly like legs. That was, of course, a failure.

Shadow just frowned at him, lifting the basket he held on his hand right on his eye level, half full with things Sonic couldn’t really name, and gesturing at it with this free hand.

Oh.

In Sonic´s defense he… well. He didn’t notice it, honestly, and how was that possible was a serious question he won’t dwell on.

He totally wouldn’t think about what could have happened had it been something AND someone different. Nop.

Not today!

“I was picking up things for dinner and tomorrow breakfast, as I always do, hedgehog. Always. Do. Shouldn’t you know that by now?”

“Yeah but you don’t… you usually don’t… just how late is it?”

Shadow´s frown deepened. “have you hit your head?”

“Aw, C´mon it’s a valid question! I… I…Don’t know for sure, but it is not why I- You were searching for me?” he changed the subject to what was, for him, a more pressing matter, doing the effort on sitting up even if all his body screamed at him to not do, to just lay there.

“Should I have?” Shadow tilted his head, some curiosity on his eyes as he didn’t bother in hide how his eyes trailed down Sonic´s body, searchingly, before looking back at his eyes, arching his eye ridge. “Something I should know?”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before he ever really thought about it, a small shake that was everything his head could manage at the moment. “There…there really is not, babe. Nothing to worry your pretty head about, kay?” Shifting his weight, he reached out a hand, not minding a bit the slow spreading pain on his upper muscles, actually, it was the last thing on his mind right now. How could he stop to think about the annoying sensation when all of his focus was on the hybrid in front of him, a tender smile in those lips he adored so much as Shadow rubbed his cheek against his palm, letting him cradle his face with no complain. Damn.

He loved Shadow´s smiles.

“Up?”

“Whatever you wish.” Shadow´s hand came up as well, holding his still just so he could twist a bit and left a little kiss on his palm and then his knuckles, not paying mind to Sonic´s blush or the little burns or scratches littered on his skin. He didn’t comment, and didn’t ask neither.

Sonic thought he loved him a little bit more than before.

With barely a move, now the both of them were standing, Shadow´s arm finding its way around Sonic´s body, steadying him while holding him close, as finally, the hedgehog was able to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Sorry, I pulled you too hard.”

“…No biggie.”

Thing was…He didn’t. it was him the one at fault. The one that needed a second to find his right footing even now, as he felt his boyfriend kiss his cheekbone, and then his cheek. They just waited, for what? Shadow wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think Sonic knew it, neither, but they did, just breathing in, holding each other as the azure leaned more and more on him...until suddenly they weren’t, each taking a step back in synchrony.

Sonic stretched, glaze on the far away trees.

Shadow crouched, setting his basket in the ground so he could pick up the ingredients that fell off.

A peach bared hand was firmly perched on a dark shoulder, though, and a gloved one rested on top of it, quietly.

Neither talked for a while, content just as they were. Comfortable.

It really wasn’t something to scoff at in their life styles.

However, the sun was starting to go down, and the skies were darkening with quite the speed, suspicious raising in Shadow´s stomach as he eyed the gloomy clouds he could see.

They needed to move.

Straightening up once more, Shadow took Sonic´s hand off his shoulder, holding it to his lips so a small tender kiss could be laid on the [Wounded. Sonic is wounded.] appendage, softly lowering it and letting it go, despite his lover´s pout and confusion.

A small flicker towards the rain clouds ahead of them, and Sonic eyes cleared slightly in understanding. Good.

He started to walk away, calm, slowly, studying the plush greenery around him with scientific dedication, stopping from time to time to sniff at a few, or rub a single leaf between his fingers, sometimes taking a few and setting in inside his basket, sometimes taking the time to scribble down a few words after looking around.

If Sonic noticed or doubted his slow pace, he didn’t say something, focused in the ground at his feet, making sure the rain was still far, and trying to keep up with the ebony steps.

If he noticed Shadow´s lingering glances, he ignored them.

Shadow was okay with silence.

“I take it I was close to the house, then?”

But…maybe Sonic was not. Part of him was growing restless, and he kind of half hoped his boyfriend would suddenly propose to Chaos control away.

Usually he would say no. He knew that. even when tired, or slightly wounded.

Running, even walking, always gave him a rush. Life.

He was so tired though. He almost didn’t want to think of it at all…

“You would be quite right, dear.” A silence. Ruby eyes snapped to his left, getting lost in the deep mess of foliage. His words were also lost, apparently. Sonic could almost see the gears on his brain working overtime. “I take it you weren’t planning on coming home?”

Home…

Well. It was curious that from all the places he could have ended in he so casually found himself that close to Shadow´s house.

To home.

Yeah. He liked that word. It was especially lovely coming out of Shadow´s lips. It was especially lovely knowing that the dark hero saw him as part of that home.

“How could I not, Hn?! Wouldn’t have missed it for nothin´!” He assured, and this time the smile that grazed his lips came easily to him. It came with life, and love, and Shadow didn’t have any kind of shame at the way he marveled at it, before a small yet equally heartfelt smile formed on himself.

I adore you, it seemed to say. Thank you, it seemed to scream.

The dark hero looked away for a moment, bottom lip softly held between his teeth. He was happy. Sonic could tell. He was so happy and the only thing they did was smile at each other.

How simple, wasn’t it?

Sonic wasn’t happy. He didn’t think he was. But it was an improvement, that was for sure. Like calm was finally edging into his consciousness, closing, and closing in.

It was a good feeling.

In a way, he was happy to had it. He was happy to have Shadow with him.

He still felt tired. But it was okay.

Once home he was going to rest. And then maybe he wouldn’t feel so bad afterward.

It was going to be okay.

#Yeah sorry.#Sonadow #Fluff #God I love my grandpa but he surely loves to talk and drive me up the walls when I need it the least #Sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sth #Be kind with yourself

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captain-danwilds · 3 years

Text

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life. He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay. And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist.

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times. I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor. I do not know everything they go through. I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things. There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her. She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany. But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly. There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over. There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty. If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.

The problem was, in both worlds, Nathaniel hadn't shown promise. It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying. He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary. As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically. But he was moving through water. He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement. The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out. There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks. He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else. She also happened to know the traitor in question. One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework. There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it. He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky. Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years. Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs. Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches. He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends. For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own. A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road. His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic. They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other. Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England. In dire circumstances one had to make do.

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program. He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?" Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile. "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned. He had no idea what she meant by genuine self. Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam? Or logical like Owen? His life had been a mass of contradictions. The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.

"You needed two years for that?" Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse. "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves. Truly the incompetence is astounding."

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words. She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball. Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet. "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them. Instead, he was fifteen. Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car. He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch. He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy. Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.

They took enjoyment in this. Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.

He was scared. He fought back anyway.

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him. Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind. Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court. In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital. This is that story.

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck. He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards. Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face. "I'm glad I'm able to help. Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump. "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit. Every hospital was wrong.

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding. But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up, did their job and offered some kindness. Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through. Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know. He’d just know they’d hurt like hell. Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.

It’s one thing to offer sympathy. It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door. It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment. He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed. So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift. (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone. Abby knew better to expect much from him.

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner." She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.

Well he should have expected it of her. Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.

It's for her own good. The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep. Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file. He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk. She had housed him during the trial. That would be enough for them. There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was. Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person. He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break. Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going. He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?” Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well. “Still an example. Just an example of one way to fuck up. You’ll be fine.”

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.

Matt made him feel unbalanced. He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily. Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.

And what was left after that? The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables. It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.

But he was.

And that made Neil want to try. Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.

After two weeks, he had more than enough. Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up. He might be able get onto the roof. But he would settle for just one of the upper floors. As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked. But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.

The roof wasn't empty like he expected. Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof. Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short. Small but not delicate. Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs. His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him. He is not the best with names. He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon. But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.

Allison had taken that a step farther. Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers. “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease. Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation. There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him. Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot. Everything about it had made him feel unsteady. He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised. He narrated everything he did before he did it. Nothing was a surprise. They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day. He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs. He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else. There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof. But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.

“What are you doing up here?”

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet. He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.

“Trying to avoid company.” Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew. They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail. It’s unnerving.

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke. Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side. “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly. "You lie. All the time."

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.

This time it isn’t quite a lie. He did like the smell. It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep. But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either. He did lie all the time. Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them. Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons. As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college. Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously. It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be. It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that. They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage. Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face. The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him. He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against the roof. "I'm not asking for party tricks. I'm asking for something true."

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer. What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this." He gestured to himself. He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline. Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain. This wasn’t an accident.

"My roommate forced me into PT. Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."

"It's not like he was wrong."

"You disgust me Josten."

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then." Neil teased easily.

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try. I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew. Eating on the roof together felt easy. The conversation had rules. Answer for answer, truth for truth. There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew. They could just talk.

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand. He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation. "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling. "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"

Neil rolled his eyes. "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"

"That wasn't an answer."

"And if I just like orange?"

"You're being ridiculous."

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.

"College colors. Just never outgrew them I guess. They make me feel..."

Safe wasn't the right word. He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus. Like he was a part of something feels wrong too. He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence. "Feeling is dangerous."

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more. It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.

"So is not feeling. What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence. It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far. Andrew wouldn’t let him. But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor. He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof. There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear. What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.

It certainly helped that they shared patients. They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse. 402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.

Neil did not have soft spots for patients. He was the epitome of professionalism. But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.

"You don't have to like your scars you know?" Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face. "Don't have to hate them either."

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that. I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.” He uncapped a new jar of ointment. “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened. No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would. People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”

"It doesn't change what happened."

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected. I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around. Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest. He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat. He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. “People always look at the scars. Drove me mad with their staring. Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”

Andrew snorted. “The scars are the least of your problems then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body. He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof. “People find you attractive.” He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning. He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.

“You like me."

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands. They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky. And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky. (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)

Still today shouldn’t be too bad. There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite. She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her. So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible. If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed. Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall. Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary." They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot. He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases. He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it. He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again. And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car. Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle. He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together. There was just so much blood and not enough time.

You can't stop running.

He thought he heard someone calling his name. Too close. He’s too close.

You're never safe.

He darted through the closest door. It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly. You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.

He forced himself into the corner. There should be something here, anything really to block the door. But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.

And if you can’t run. You hide. You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf. It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small. It should be just big enough. Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way. He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast. His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away. His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him. He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars. He knew he should stop. He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now. He’d be dead soon. He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.

He should have tried to think his way out of this.

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share. He’d made it to twenty-six. But now, he was going to die.

He knows it won’t be a painless death. There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore. But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin. He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure. There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him. His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again. He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be. He kept seeing flashes of other moments.

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement. Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife. His father’s grin menacing and horrible.

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure. Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital. You're safe." The words wrapped around him like a caress.

It felt less like he was drowning.

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared. Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens. His hazel eyes stared into Neil's. They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over. You're safe. Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move. He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.

"We're going to do this together." Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him. He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out. Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync. They're not deep breaths. Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him. "Can I touch you?"

He nodded haltingly.

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin. “You’re not there.” His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf. He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers. He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit. "Yes or no?"

He hated how broken his voice sounded. His father wasn't even here. His father was dead. He shouldn't sound so lost.

Andrew's stare was penetrating. "To what? I'm not going to kiss you. You're having a mental breakdown Josten."

Neil bit his lip. That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all. He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.

"Just touching you. Leaning on you."

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched. It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.

"It's a yes," Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck. It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.

"I should be happier."

"Bullshit. There is no should."

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair. "Maybe someday it will. When was the last time you thought about him before today?"

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates. But he couldn't. For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof. He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying. He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father. And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right. “They come where they aren’t wanted. Doesn’t mean they get to stay.

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.

“Do you have any other clothes?”

Neil looked up at him confused.

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests. “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”

Andrew glared. “I’m taking care of that.”

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him. The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into. It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.

They drove in silence. At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway. Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew. Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station. The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue. Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?" Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.

"No." The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why. He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him. But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place. Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to. It wasn't just today. Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.

"Kevin's going to ask questions."

Neil barely stifled his groan. While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?" Neil asked.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be. Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college. Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams. But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed. And for that Andrew would never let him go.

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.

"The hospital's fine. I can get home from there."

Andrew gave him a disparaging look. "Now is not the time Rabbit. Give me the address."

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it. The lock on staff records too hard to break?"

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all. So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people. He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days. Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him. But the thought of people made him want to shrink. He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too. It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.

Neil wasn't being paranoid. His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson. Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison. But there had to be some he hadn't met. People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about. He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.

But for now, he had time. He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before. He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his. Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter. For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new. But he thought he could get used to it.

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea. Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors. Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby. “I’m so glad to see you. Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes. She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier. The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips. "You're in a hospital Dan. It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically. "I'll have you know I could do it any day. I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here." Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is" Allison cooed as she held the newborn.

Dan watched her with a smile. "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”

Dan snorts.

"So when are you back officially then? I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."

Allison snorted.

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it. "You mean we get to keep him?"

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."

"So?"

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."

"Of Course Dan. I wouldn't dare." Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you. I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard. "Most of them from your husband I assume."

Dan laughed good naturally. "You’d certainly think so. I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."

Neil grimaced.

"But it isn't just him." Dan stepped closer. "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"

"It's fine."

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred. "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here. And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach. "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now. I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."

She smiled so eagerly at him. He almost felt guilty when he said, "No. I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."

"Oh." Dan's voice was so small. She looked absolutely heartbroken.

He grimaced again.

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.

They wanted him to stay.

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital. He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer. Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.

"Why are you being such an idiot?" Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open. "I can't believe you."

"What's there to believe?"

Andrew stalked across the room toward him. Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face. "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.

"He's dead."

"So?"

"So stop running."

"I don't know how." The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body. He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else. But it wasn't the same. He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone. And she was all too willing to watch him walk away. He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.

He couldn't explain why this time was different. Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him. Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself. He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him. He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.

Neil was desperate for him to understand. "Tell me to stay. You have to tell me to stay."

"Why should I? Nothing will come of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Neil wanted to scream. Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to. He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer. Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid. I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to. I won't make you."

I'd never make you.

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway. Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.

"It's always been 'go. It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'." Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face. It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this. He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was. "I'm so tired of being nothing."

"Then stop making yourself be nothing. Let yourself have this."

Neil felt himself floundering even more. "It's not that simple."

Andrew huffed and turned away from him. "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."

He let the door slam as he left.

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur. Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed. His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home. He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months. Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.

It never really bothered him before.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them. But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt. He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew. He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person. A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with. Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew. Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force. His chart notes were too detailed. His frown all the deeper when things went wrong. He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit. And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too. Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.

The first was to Andrew. “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything. Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew. Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.

“Can I really stay?”

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out. But he didn’t have another way to ask. It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.

But he needn’t have worried. Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous. “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago. It was only his address. But Abby would know what it meant. She always did.

#rbb 2021 #aftg #aftg fic #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #andreil fic #hospital au #so many potential triggers so please read bolded list #blood #burns #torture #panic attacks #are the big ones

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

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Humans are weird: Death of an empire is the birth of a hundred more

The skies were burning. Dift watched the skies of the human homeworld in awe. Though the sky was covered with dense cloud cover and blotted out the rays of the nearby sun the sky was nonetheless bright with reds and oranges as if it was a summer evening on his own homeworld.

The streaks of burning human ships finally losing their battle to the planets gravity fell like fireballs racing across the sky leaving a trail of burning wreckage in their wake that gave the clouds their coloring. From atop the massive imperial palace which was located in the city Dift believed was once called “Cairo” he could not picture a more welcoming sight to mark the end of tyranny. The Terran Reformation had been the bane of the galaxy for decades. Ever since humans obtained faster than light travel they had spread like a plague across a hundred worlds and carved themselves and empire. Their leader, emperor Asher Galvoc had forged humanity into a single engine of conquest with dedication placed towards military service with the result being numerous border conflicts with the surrounding galactic governments. After several years of human aggression several systems banded together and forged the Union of Stars to counteract the human aggression. They combined all of their forces into a single massive strike force and used cloaking technology to sneak past the borders of the human domain until they had arrived at the very heart of the retched empire. They struck like lightning on a clear summer day and wiped away what orbital defense and ships guarded the planet before launching a full invasion force. Dift had led his Kavaran brothers into battle against the imperial palace that he now stood upon with the mission to secure the emperor himself. The stories of humanities fanaticism do not even compare to the madness he had witnessed. Countless humans, soldier and civilian, threw themselves at Dift and his brothers as they fought their way into the palace. At every hallway laid a barricade of blank faced royal guards, in every room a servant armed with a knife or pistol ready to take as many of his brothers as they could, he had even witnessed a human child no older than five solar cycles walk up to one of his brothers with a hand grenade and detonate it taking its own life and the life of three of his brothers. With each conflict Dift became increasingly worried as time was working against them. He had received reports from commanders in orbit that human forces were being recalled from all fronts to defend their emperor and that if they did not obtain him within hours then all would be lost. Several barricades later Dift and his brothers had finally stormed the throne room at the very top of the palace. The room was massive in size with high ceilings vaulting upwards and a long red carpet leading to the throne itself. Standing at the base of the throne flanked by the last remnants of his royal guard stood the emperor himself. He made no attempt to hide or cower but clutched a sword in his right hand. Before the two sides could attack each other the room exploded inwards as a shot down human fighter crashed into the outer palace walls. Whatever weapons the fighter had been carrying went off upon impact triggering a massive explosion that caused nearly half of the ceiling to collapse on to the emperor. As the dust settled Dift had his brothers begin sifting through the rubble until finally finding their prize. Dift knelt down to human leader, his once imposing visage now gone leaving a broken dying man. “Die knowing that your empire dies with you.” Dift had spoken as he saw the last embers behind Asher’ s eyes begin to fade. Reaching out and grabbing Dift Asher pulled him close and whispered back. “You...will...wish...I...had lived...” then took his final breath and passed on. Dift shook off the dead man’s arm and took a step back. From the gaping hole he could see transports slowly descending to retrieve the Union’s soldiers now that their task was complete. He should have felt a sense of victory, of righteousness, something noble in toppling the greatest threat to peace among the stars. But as Dift ascended the boarding ramp all he could think of was the dying words of the once emperor and if they were those of a last act of defiance, or a premonition of things to come... -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(4 years later) Dift shuffled in place, his honor guard uniform uncomfortable and itchy as he waited to appear before the broadcast. An attendant motioned for him and he stepped out from behind the curtain and on to the stage as the studio crowd began clapping and cheering. The camera drones circled around him as he smiled and waved to the crowd, his picture being broadcast not only across his homeworld but to several other Union planets.

As the applause died down Dift took a seat next to the shows host. This appearance along with several others were part of the propaganda tour he had been assigned to for the last few months meant to boost morale and encourage recruitment. He had been taken from the frontlines to perform this duty given his previous actions years earlier at the human palace. “Thanks for joining us commander Dift,” the host began outstretching an arm which Dift shook, ”it’s a real honor to have you on the show.” “Well I am a huge fan.” “Really now?” “Actually, not even a bit.” Dift smiled as he looked at the shocked host. “I will just use any excuse to come home and sleep on a real bed again.” That drew a round of laughter from the crowd and he smiled again. The two then began talking about the general state of affairs in the galaxy, pop-culture, and so on.

Despite the seemingly fluid nature of the discussion it was all a sham. A carefully laid out script made up by military command meant to show a sense of stability and calmness when the reality of the situation was far from it. The truth was the Union was on its last legs, desperately holding on to what territory it had left. Dift couldn’t help but let his mind wander as the host broke into a long story about how things could have gone so wrong. He wagered it was right after the human emperor died things began turning for the worst. The Union’ s forces were able to safely escape the encroaching human forces and return back to their respective territories. The Union’s leaders expected humanity would send a delegation to discuss terms of surrender or at the very least a ceasefire to the ongoing conflict. Months had passed without a single word from the Terran Reformation and the news their informants were brining back made no sense at all. Several members of Asher’ s inner circle had gathered after his death to elect a new emperor. Many of the Union suspected that the former emperor’s favorite general, general Qwint Javal, would be chosen without delay. Unexpectedly several other figures rose to challenge the general’ s claim to the throne.

General David Holden was one of the first to challenge Qwint’s claim. Holden was described as the new generation of generals that had now joined the old guard. He had gathered them into a strong faction and began motioning that the empire should be turned into a democracy. The industrialist Heather Windwall was the second challenger. Controlling nearly 75% of the empire’s industrial capacity she had been kept in check by Galvoc’ s political maneuvering to ensure she was too busy with her corporations internal matters to concentrate her power base. With Galvoc‘s passing Windwall had stabilized her holdings and solidified her power base across several dozen worlds whose entire population was employed by her companies. A surprising third faction was the remnants of the royal guard under their commander Jacob Hashmall. Many had assumed that the royal guard would stand with Qwint’s claim and were rightly surprised when their commander denounced Qwint as a traitor. Hashmall argued that the general had let their emperor die by leaving their homeworld so undefended and deemed him unfit to carry the same mantle. It was not long after before more claimants began appearing from the human leadership until where there had been one now there were dozens. The debates seemed like they would go on forever until General Qwint attempted to seize power by force by having several squads of troopers surround the gathering. The move backfired as each party had come prepared for betrayal. Hashmall had a private security force waiting nearby that rushed in and extracted her, several members of the troopers defected to Holden’s side and aided him escape the palace and back to his ship in orbit, and Hashmall’s guards were well enough equipped that they simply fought their way out. The result of the action was Qwint securing claim to the throne and homeworld of the Terran Reformation along with several surrounding systems. He made public broadcasts denouncing the other inner circle members as traitors and to be hunted down and brought before him. Things fell into chaos soon after the proclamation. From her headquarters and surrounded by her own private military Windfall declared herself the true empress and formed the Terran Conglomerate. Holden rallied several bands of Reformations armies and fleets to his side and declared the formation of the Terran Republic. His popularity ensure himself to be named the first president and his vows of fairness and equality captivated millions. As for Hashmall he took control of the former emperor’s flagship the Midnight Vail and set off into unknown space vowing revenge against all traitors and enemies of the true empire. That had all been three years ago and since then madness had ensued. The Terran Reformation split into dozens of pocket empires each fighting with each other. Where once the Union leaders had been able to predict humanities intensions under the leadership of Galvoc now they were confounded as they were hit by a hundred different threats.

The Terran Conglomerate had turned to increasing their workforce by enslaving surrounding alien species for their factories. Raider fleets prowled between stars as entire colonies and worlds would go dark with their passing. Without limitations now of the Reformation Conglomerate scientists have been conducting horrific experiments on not only aliens but on humans as well as they seek to push the bounds of their knowledge what ever the cost. No method has been deemed restricted to their expansion and Union worlds that did not submit to their rule quickly found themselves being bombed with various gas and nerve agents slaughtering millions.

The Terran Republic was at war with several other human factions along with dealing with intense internal struggles. President Holden had attempted to form a coalition of different parties for his government but found that they quickly became roadblocked and corrupted ensuring that nothing was ever done. Increasingly Holden has been giving himself more executive power in an attempt to bypass the congress which has resulted in a civil war within a civil war as his enemies now proclaim him to be making a crown of his own.

The remnants of the Terran Reformation under emperor Javal have remained the military autocracy it was before. Dissent is stamped out without hesitation and much of the populace lives in the shadow of enforcers weapons. Though not as popular as his predecessor Javal is still an ample military tactician and began making up for territory lost by other factions by conquering new star systems. With Union forces stretched thin to combat numerous threats the Terran Reformation was easily able to invade several systems before meeting stiff resistance which has now turned into a grinding war of attrition.

From his flagship Hasmall has formed the “Sons of Galvoc”. Much less a state the Sons of Galvoc operate more as a terrorist faction with fanatical loyalty to their former leader. The sons attracted a considerable following among the Galvoc loyalists who now worship him as a god of humanity. The group strikes seemingly at random targets of every faction. Devastating bombings of military and civilian installations have been claimed by the group as they appeared to only value the body count of their actions. With all that had happened Dift could not help but lay awake and think back to the dying emperor’s words. Humanity under him had been united and though a terrible force in the galaxy had at least not committed the heinous crimes its successors have. As the host stopped his story and looked to Dift for a response he saw the war hero smiling. Not a smile from the story that had just been told nor even a smile of happiness, but at the realization that as absurd as the man had been he had been right. Dift was wishing that he was still alive.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #civil war

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

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Inside a Broken Dream Chapter 2

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen Words: 3200 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Shachi, Bepo, Penguin, Ikkaku, Heart Pirates, Donquixote Doflamingo, Monkey D. Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Robin, Usopp, Zoro Note: Story title comes from the Vertical Horizon song “Shackled.” Character and relationship tags reflect the current chapter. Obviously this is canon-divergent ;)

Summary: Two years after Wano, peace on the Grand Line is fragile. Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates are doing their best to help maintain the peace, but the return of a figure from Law’s past might shatter the balance of power entirely.

Previous chapters: 1