Can u write something about soudam wedding?

I’m sorry this took like 3 weeks to answer, but here you go: 4.3k word worth of Soudam wedding ramblings.

(This is for a western style wedding by the way)

Wedding Planning

Neither of them know what they’re doing, cus neither of them ever really spent much time thinking about weddings growing up, much less their own weddings lol

So one day, after they’re engaged, they’re just hanging out with some friends. They’re on a couch, Soda’s laying with his head in Gundham’s lap, just vibing, then their friends start asking about what they have planned. They both kind of look at each other and shrug, cus they have planned literally nothing, they just know they kind of want to get married on their anniversary, but that’s really all they’ve got lol.

Sonia like presses them for ideas cus they must have at least some idea of what they want, right?

Soda looks up at Gundham and is like ‘probably lots of black stuff, yeah?’

Gundham nods and looks down at him ‘perhaps with vibrant accents in your preferred colors as well?’

Soda’s like ‘Oooh and we could have like an animal theme maybe?? OH! OR A ROBOT ANIMAL THEME????’ and Gundhams just like ‘whatever makes you happy’ and they throw out a couple more terrible ideas while Sonia silently suffers lol.

Eventually they’re laughing at their own stupid ideas and Sonia is just glad they actually realize their ideas were dumb and they didn’t seriously want a goth robot hamster ice sculpture lol. They admit they don’t super care how it all goes down, they both just want to get married and have fun with all their friends at the reception.

Sonia offers to take care of the planning and stuff with her team of professionals (Yes she has a team on wedding planners okay, she’s the kind of person who has been planning her wedding since she was 9 and also she’s a princess so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). She seems really excited and Soda and Gundham really don’t know what they’re doing so they agree to let her handle it as long as they get the final say on things. She immediately starts rambling about all her ideas and Soda and Gundham just kind of chuckle and smile at each other.

 Suit shopping

Fuyuhiko takes them suit shopping. They go together, they aren’t too concerned about keeping their outfits a secret from each other and they figure it’ll be fun to watch each other try on all kind of different things. Sonia comes too of course.

They start kind of idlily browsing sample suits (they’re getting custom suits made, Fuyuhiko wouldn’t hear otherwise) and Sonia asks what kind of suits they’d like to see each other in. They both stop and look at each other, and Fuyu rolls his eyes cus they’re just blatantly checking each other out lol.

Eventually Soda shrugs and is like “I don’t really care. As long as I get to see Gundham looking hot as hell in a tux I’m good with whatever” and Gundham kind of tilts his head and is like “So you would prefer me to wear a tuxedo?” Soda is dumb as hell and doesn’t realize Gundham is not using ‘tuxedo’ as a synonym for ‘suit’ like he was, so he gets super blushy and is like “Oh. I-I mean if you were thinking about a dress instead that’s cool too.” And Gundham’s eyes just widen a bit because he was not thinking about wearing a dress but now he’s thinking about Soda in a big, white, full skirted wedding dress. Soda is picturing Gundham in something a little more fitted with a high slit. They’re both just blushing and staring at each other until Fuyu clears his throat and tells Soda that a tuxedo is a type of suit, and he’s pretty sure that’s what Gundham meant. Soda just hides his face in his hands and apologizes. Gundham comes over to kiss his forehead and tell him it’s okay, and eventually they get back to looking at suits lol

Gundham’s done pretty quick. He does end up picking a tuxedo, and I’m not great at fashion but Just picture something black, very gothic, and a tiny bit extra haha. Soda super excited to see it once it’s done being made, cus Gundham already looked amazing in the sample suit. He maybe gets a little emotional looking at his fiancé all dressed up knowing it’s for their wedding, but nobody says anything and Gundham just smiles at him softly.

Soda has a lot more trouble. He doesn’t want to ruin their wedding by wearing something tacky so he’s trying to stick to traditional black. But every time he comes out and looks at himself in the full length mirror he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t look like himself,  he thinks he looks like some kid borrowing his dad’s suit for prom.

He’s on like the 12th sample suit, he’s trying all kinds of styles and different lapels and undershirts/vest combos but he still just feels like trash in all of them. This suit fits him like a glove, accentuates all of his best features, and he honestly looks so good in it. Sonia and Fuyuhiko are telling him as much, along with whatever staff are around.

But Soda still doesn’t feel like himself. And Gundham can tell.

Gundham comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist and they both just look at themselves in the mirror for a moment. Gundham makes a point of frowning as he looks at the suit and Soda laughs at how obviously exaggerated it is. It’s the first time he’s genuinely smiled in at least an hour.

“What’s wrong, babe? Don’t like it?”

“Hmm… perhaps if it was yellow… maybe blue?”

Soda laughs but he feels a little self conscious. He really doesn’t want to make their wedding tacky, but he just doesn’t feel right in such… boring colors. He tells Gundham as much. Gundham hums and kisses his cheek, still holding him from behind, and asks to see color samples for the suits materials while Soda insists he’ll be fine and he’ll just get used to the black.

Someone brings Gundham a collection of cloth samples, and he finally separates from his fiancé to stand in front of him and hold them up, one by one. Soda is insisting black is fine the whole time. Eventually Gundham stops, holding up a sort of deep red, and tilts his head. Soda looks at the color; he likes it, but he’s still worried it would be kind of tacky. Gundham asks for someone to bring him a jacket in that color.

He puts it on Soda and grabs a black suit jacket and a red tie for himself, before standing next to Soda and linking their arms. Soda looks in the mirror and, hey, that’s not too bad, the red actually looks pretty classy, and paired up with Gundham’s tie it looks…

He starts crying, but it’s mostly relief and happiness. Fuyu laughs at him but tells him he looks good and Sonia just smiles while Gundham pulls him into a hug. They order the 12th suit in red, and every time Soda tries t apologize for being so difficult Gundham just shuts him up with a kiss lol.

Wedding Traditions and Stuff

They start talking about wedding traditions one day after having a conversation with Sonia about how the wedding plans are going. The first thing that comes up is the whole ‘bride walking down the aisle’ thing since, obviously, there isn’t gonna be a bride. Gundham suggests they both just walk out together, but Soda kind of wants that moment where he’s standing at the alter and gets to watch Gundham walk down the aisle towards him. Gundham just smiles and kisses him and says he’s like that too.

Soda suggests they take dance lessons or something so they can have a cool first dance. Gundham says they can if he really wants to, but he would rather just be able to hold Soda close and sway to the music without having to worry about memorized steps. Soda blushes and agrees, he mostly suggested it cus he thought Gundham would like it anyways.

Neither of them really care about name changes. They both offer to change theirs, but in the end they just decide to keep their own names.

Sonia (jokingly) mentions being disappointed because there won’t be a bouquet toss, and Chiaki (also jokingly) responds that Gundham should just toss a single rose into the crowd like tuxedo mask. He agrees to do it (not jokingly)

They both write their own stupid sappy vows, it’s not even something they have to discuss.

Hajime is Soda’s best man, Sonia is Gundham’s. She insists on being called ‘best man’ instead of ‘maid of honor’ or ‘best woman’ because she likes the way it sounds lol.

They pick a very classic décor theme, but add in a lot of black accents for the aesthetic✨

They decide to do that thing where they spend the night before the wedding apart and don’t see each other again until the actual ceremony.

Bachelor Party

Soda wasn’t planning on having his own bachelor party, he figured they could just have like a joint bachelor party at their house or something because he loves his fiancé and prefers to party with him lol. But then Fuyuhiko, Hajime, and Nekomaru are carrying him out the front door while Gundham casually waves and tells him to have fun lol (They absolutely got Gundham’s permission before kidnapping his man haha).

(Gundham invites Sonia over for wine and calls it his bachelor party. They watch the bachelor and laugh about how funny they are.)

Soda is thrown in the back seat of one of Fuyu’s fancy cars with blacked out windows and yells at his friends for like the whole trip while they just laugh at him lol. They eventually get to a bar and Soda is just super relieved it’s not a strip club, Hajime tells him it’s cus Gundham wouldn’t let him, but Fuyu and Nekomaru insist it’s cus they have more class than that. (Whose lying? You choose lol).

They get a table and a round of shots as soon as they get inside. It’s actually pretty laid back as far as bachelor parties go, they mostly just sit and talk, and get Soda gushing about his soon to be husband lol. At one point, after a couple drinks, they do like a chugging contest for the first time since they graduated uni and Soda wins. Fuyu is just like ‘wtf when did you get so good at this?” and Soda is like “Well, thanks to Gundham I’ve gotten really good at swallowing” and everybody just fucking groans while he loses his mind laughing lol

As the night goes on Soda just gets sappier and sappier and starts complaining about how much he misses his boyfriend. Nekomaru pats him on the back and is like ‘he isn’t even your boyfriend anymore, he’s your fiancé’ and Soda just light up like ‘yeah… I’m so lucky…’ before he stops and his eyes go wide. The other guys kind of look at each other, confused, before Hajime’s like ‘uh, you good dude?’ and Soda’s just like ‘oh my god, he’s my fiancé! We’re gonna get fucking married next week!! Holy shit that means he’s gonna be my husband! I have to tell him!’ and the guys just laugh while he dials Gundham.

Gundham is surprised to get a call from Soda and gets a little worried, so he answers like ‘is everything alright, my paramour?’ and Soda is just like ‘Holy shit Gundham! Did you realize we’re gonna be husbands??!?’ and Gundham just laughs and relaxes while telling Soda that, yes, he did realize they were going to be husbands lol

Soda just rambles away on the phone about how excited he is to marry Gundham and how he promises to be a good husband and how much he loves him. The other guys roll their eyes and decide it’s probably time to call it a night lol.

When Soda gets home he immediately attaches himself to Gundham and tells him how much he missed him lol. Gundham just pets his hair and gets them both ready for bed as he asks if Soda enjoyed his bachelor party. He says his favorite part was when his fiancé kissed him good night, and Gundham just rolls his eyes and does it haha

The Wedding

Soda is super nervous the night before (not in a ‘I’m not ready for this’ way, he’s just excited and scared he’s gonna say/do something dumb or that something terrible is gonna happen and ruin the whole thing) and he ends up calling Gundham from his hotel room at like midnight and talking about all his worries (“What if I say ‘I don’t’ by accident and we have to do the whole wedding again?” “What if I have to pee in the middle of our vows?” “What if we get to the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part and like, Nekomaru suddenly decides he’s in love with you? There’s no way I could take him in a fight!”). Gundham smiles as he reassures Soda that whatever happens, they’ll get through it, and that he doesn’t really care what happens, as long as he gets to call Soda his husband by the end of the day.

They fall asleep telling each other how excited they are.

In the morning their respective best men wake them and help them get ready. Gundham styles his hair up and Soda puts his in a low ponytail, and they both put on their fancy new custom suits (They both got ties to match each other’s suits too haha). They’re both a little nervous but Hajime and Sonia are ready with all kinds of compliments and reassurances, and they get both grooms out their doors and on the road right on time.

Gundham gets to the venue first, and he’s a little taken aback by how good it looks. Sonia gushes about all the little details while Gundham just half listens and thanks her. He’s looking at the flower arrangements sitting in classy black vases, the chairs covered in white cloth held in place with black ribbon, and noticing all kinds of subtly gothic touches Sonia added to the décor. Soda may have been worried about making the wedding tacky with his suit, but Gundham had been worried about making it tacky with shitty gothic decorations. He’s amazed with how well Sonia managed to pull it off. He grabs both her hands and sincerely tells her that he loves her and that she is, and always will be, his dearest friend. They both get a little teary and hug it out haha.

Then Hajime ruins it by kicking in the front door and saying something like ‘Gundham you look hot as fuck, but get out of my sight right now so I can bring your stupid ass fiancé in. Also, hey Sonia, great job decorating.’ Lol

Sonia and Gundham head off into a little room to wait for the ceremony to start, and Hajime heads back out to get Soda. When Soda gets inside he’s just as impressed by the décor as Gundham was. He thinks it’s all very Gundham and he loves it. Hajime tells him he tried to get Sonia to throw in some hot pink roses for Soda and Soda is just like ‘thank god Sonia didn’t listen to you.’ Lol

Soda just heads right into the main hall, just taking in all the amazing décor until his eyes land on the wedding arch. He stares at it and it just really hit him that this is happening. He’s about to marry the love of his life. He’s about to be able to call Gundham his husband. He’s about to be Gundham’s husband. He starts tearing up and Hajime pats him on the back, smiling ‘Come on, ya big sap, lets get you married’

Hajime gets Soda up to the front to take his place under the arch and Sonia comes out to see how things are going. Everything is pretty much ready and the officiant is ready to go, so Sonia heads back to Gundham’s room and the officiant signals everyone to take their seats so they can get things started. Soda’s regained his composure in the tie it took everyone to settle down, and Hajime gives him one last pat on the back before he takes his place to the side and the music starts.

Soda looks up as the door opens and he sears the image into his mind immediately.

Gundham looks amazing, he always does, but there’s just something extra to it in that moment. He’s glowing, Soda decides, and as their eyes lock he feels himself tearing up again. It only gets worse as Gundham gets closer, it’s not long before he’s full on crying. He’s jut so overwhelmed with love and happiness, and he almost wants to sip all the vows and wedding rites and just be married already.

Gundham’s not doing much better. He’s vaguely aware of their friends and family waving to him and complimenting him or congratulating him as he passes, but he’s way too focused on Soda to really care. He looks so handsome in his deep red suit with his hair tied back, and he’s frozen, clutching his hands in front of him nervously the way he had been when Gundham entered. Gundham want’s to run to him, sweep him off his feet and just declare them married himself, but he manages to hold himself back. He doesn’t hold back his tears nearly as well though, and a few roll down his cheeks before he makes it to the altar.

When Gundham gets to Soda he immediately pulls him into a tight hug, Soda wrapping his arms around him just as quickly, and then they’re both laughing through their tears. Gundham gently strokes Soda’s hair, careful not to mess it up, and kisses his forehead. Sonia scoffs to let Gundham know he’s on thin ice for that, she’s very into wedding traditions, but lets it slide since it technically isn’t a real kiss lol.

They eventually pull themselves away from each other a bit and try to wipe away each other’s tears at the same time. It’s a little awkward but they’re happy and don’t care, they just keep staring at each other as they finally step back, still holding hands, and signal to the officiant that they’re ready to start.

Soda says his vows first, it’s on purpose, he wanted to go first cus he knew he would be too busy crying after Gundham’s vows haha. He’s like shaking really hard when he starts, cus he hates public speaking and he’s embarrassed to be so sappy in front of all their friends, but as he talks he watches Gundham light up and it just gets easier and easier, until he’s only shaking from the effort it’s taking not to kiss his groom.

Everyone is expecting Gundham’s vows to be long winded and extra extra, but to their surprise they’re pretty straight forward. Gundham explains, as part of his vows, that he doesn’t need extravagant metaphors to express his love and he wants to speak plainly and clearly, in hopes of expressing how clear his feelings for Soda are (he said he doesn’t need metaphors, nut technically the whole thing is a metaphor lol). Soda is in fact crying well before he finishes, and the only things that stop them from kissing once Gundham stops talking are a stern cough from Sonia and a disapproving tut from Hajime lol

The officiant does their thing, Soda and Gundham requested a shortened version of the usual spiel cus they didn’t want to have to stand through a stupidly long ceremony, but even that feels way too long to them haha. When they get to the ‘speak now or forever hold you peace’ part, Gundham raises a non-existent brow at Soda before gazing pointedly at Nekomaru for a second. Soda snorts and laughs and nobody else gets it, but no one speaks up either haha

Gundham is the first to say ‘I do’, then Soda nearly cuts the officiant off with his own ‘I do’ before they can even finish the question haha. The officiant basically steps out of the way while saying ;you may now kiss cus they can tell these two have no patience lol.

They both lean in before the officiant even finishes speaking. Their lips meet and Soda wraps his arms around Gundham’s neck while Gundham pulls him in by his waist. Their friends are cheering and clapping and both of them are crying again.

They both smile and laugh as they part and make their way back down the aisle, thanking all their friends and family, before heading outside to get some photos taken.

Photos take literal hours (wedding party, friends, family, just them, each of them separate, each of them separate with friends, separate with family, now each individual family member with both of them and each of them separately, etc, etc), and they’re both pretty tired by the end of it. They end up heading back to Gundham’s little waiting room to take a nap together.

Sonia sends Mahiru in to get a picture of them cuddled together on the little couch. Both of them have their suit jackets off, their ties loose, and a couple shirt buttons undone. Soda is lying between Gundham’s legs, head resting sideways on his chest and drooling a little. Gundham as his arms wrapped around Soda’s back and his cheek is pressed against his hair. One of Gundham’s legs is dangling off the front of the too narrow couch, along with one of Soda’s arms.

Despite how sloppy they both look, it’s one of their favorite pictures from their wedding day.

The Reception

When Soda and Gundham wake up from their nap like an hour later, they spend like a solid 20 minutes just tenderly making out being all ‘hey you’re my husband now and I’m gonna keep saying the word husband until we’re both sick of it’ haha (neither of them get sick of it). Eventually Sonia and Hajime come get them, Hajime makes a comment like ‘haha save something for your wedding night guys’ and Sonia is just bluntly like ‘yeah, you two will have plenty of time to fuck later’ lol

They all grab something to eat before the reception because Soda and Gundham have barely eaten anything all day.

Their first dance is literally just them holding each other and kissing and swaying to the music, and Soda is so glad Gundham didn’t want to take dance lessons cus he doesn’t want to do anything but hold and kiss his husband in that moment. After the first dance the champagne starts flowing freely and formal atmosphere dissolves pretty quickly lol

Gundham and Soda have both ditched their jackets and are alternating between chatting and laughing with their friends and rocking out on the dance floor (they’re terrible dancers but it’s their wedding and no one is allowed to judge them lol). They’re both kind of acting like they’re drunk but they haven’t actually had that much to drink, they’re just stupid happy. They keep sneaking off to make out, only for Hajime or Sonia to drag them back lol

By the mid night Gundham has lost his tie (They threw it on the ground during one of their make outs and both of them forgot lol) and Soda has some fresh hickies on his neck, and Sonia and Hajime decide they’ve fulfilled their socialization quota and finally release them lol. They thought about getting a hotel room, but they both agreed they would rather just spend their first night as a married couple in their own bed.

The Wedding Night 👀

(suggestive but not explicit)

They start making out the second they get in the limo (courtesy of the Kuzuryu family) to take them home. They can’t keep their hands off each other, but they manage to keep their clothes on for now haha.

Once they make it home they’re stumbling over each other to get to the door, but then Soda freezes when they get it unlocked and Gundham is just like ??? Soda looks at him wide eyed and is just like ‘I want to do the thing’ and before Gundham can figure out what he means, Soda literally sweeps him off his feet and carries him bridal style into their home. Gundham just laughs and lets it happen.

Soda throws Gundham onto the bed and jumps on top of him, resuming their earlier make outs for  bit before Gundham pushes him back. Its Soda’s turn to be like ??? but Gundham just says he has a surprise for him and heads off to the bathroom.

Soda is 100% expecting lingerie, but when Gundham steps out in a lacy white baby doll with matching white panties and stockings he nearly dies from joy.

Gundham says he noticed the way Soda had reacted to the idea of him in a wedding dress during their suit fitting and went out to buy this outfit pretty much right after. Maybe it wasn’t quite a wedding dress, but it definitely had a bridal feeling to it.

Once some of Soda’s blood makes it back up to his brain, he smirks and points out that Gundham doesn’t really qualify for the whole wearing white on your wedding day thing’ and Gundham’s like ‘hmm, really? Better make sure, just in case’

It’s all really tender, filled with reverent kisses and I love you’s and a couple of happy tears, and by the end of it both of them are completely naked and cuddled up, smiling as they look at the new matching gold rings adorning their fingers.

They both fall asleep thinking about how excited they are to spend the rest of their lives together.

Before This Dance Is Through XV

Chapter: 15/16

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo stayed at John's for the remainder of the day, he ordered in dinner for the both of them and they sat in front of the television while they ate. Ringo did his usual routine of cleaning up small things around the house, like offering to do all the washing up because he'd already started cleaning up a plate or two, or taking the bins out because he wanted a bit of fresh air; Ringo imagined that John knew exactly what he was doing, he didn't try to be overly subtle about it any more, but he was a little too embarrassed to say thank you because it would be an acknowledgement that he needed help in the first place.

The day soon turned into night, Ringo always found that time flew whenever he was with John. Ringo had offered to drive the two of them over to the club, considering he'd driven all the way here in the first place, but John wanted to ensure they didn't leave too early.

"Paul likes to have his breaks near the end of his shift, and I can't really interrupt him working so we'll have to wait for him to take a break." John explained with a mouth full of Chinese food.

"Are you gonna tell me exactly what's going on with Paul? Or are you just gonna keep me in suspense all night?" Ringo asked, he'd already essentially figured out what their dynamic was but he wanted to hear John's version of it.

"I'd tell you if I knew." John smiled, more to himself than anyone else "We just seem to gravitate towards each other, you know?"

Ringo made an affirming noise while he ate, part of him wishes he didn't know. He'd never seen John so taken with someone before, usually he was moving around from person to person without much of a care. Ringo had figured John had just stopped telling him about his array of one night stands, but with Paul in the picture he realised there simply hadn't been any. All this obsession with getting Ringo out in the world to find somebody had clearly been a major deflection on John's part.

Even though Ringo was anxious to get to the club as soon as possible, as much as he'd been hesitant at first to agree with going he'd rather face whatever was waiting for him there, but this was ultimately John's night and hopefully his big moment, and Ringo could never sabotage that.

They left at around 2 in the morning, Ringo knew he'd regret staying up this late come tomorrow but it was too late to turn back now. He could feel John's excitement as he sat beside him in the car, it was refreshing to see a genuine smile on his face again. He'd scrawled down the poem on a page in his journal and ripped it out as neatly as he could, it was the most presentable Ringo had ever seen John's handwriting.

There was nobody loitering outside the club which was a sign it was fairly empty inside, this satisfied John as he knew he'd be able to get Paul alone but Ringo felt unnerved by the idea that he'd be far more visible to George. John led the way excitedly, the poem folded up inside his jacket pocket.

"Need a drink to settle my nerves." John announced as he headed to the empty bar, Ringo just followed behind him silently.

The club was sparse, there were about two or three small groups hanging around and several loners; it meant that Ringo could get a perfectly clear view of the main stage where the one and only George was dancing. Ringo almost didn't recognise him, he was sluggish and slouched with a distant look in his eyes. Was he drunk? Ringo watched him from the bar, hopefully shrouded in the relative darkness, trying to figure out what was going on. John followed his line of sight after ordering his drink and gulped dramatically loud.

"What's gotten into him?" John asked "Didn't realise sleeping with you was so deadly."

"I dunno..." Ringo spoke softly, his eyes were fixed on George.

John led the way closer to the stage in his search for Paul, Ringo would really rather stay hidden for now but he didn't have much of a choice. As he got closer, Ringo could see just how inebriated George was: his eyes were heavy and unfocused, he stumbled a little as he tried to move across the stage. He'd never been drunk before at work, as far as Ringo knew, so why now?

"I'm gonna go check if Paul's in the back." John explained "Just wait for me here, I shouldn't be too long. I'll text you if something happens and you should head home, okay?"

Ringo nodded slowly, he was hardly listening to what John was saying "Sure. "

And so John slid away into the back of the club, Ringo could see him knocking on the staff only door and waiting anxiously. John looked over at him for a moment and made a dramatically anxious face, Ringo let out a small laugh and held up his thumb to encourage him. He wished John was the only thing he had to worry about right now, but lately things hadn't seemed to be going as Ringo wished they had.

There were a few people waving money around at the front of the stage, eager for George to give them a quick lapdance, they didn't seem to notice the change in George's behaviour. Ringo stayed near the back, hesitantly taking a seat and observing as best he could. George was dancing as he usually did, partially clothed with a great deal of hip thrusts, but something was definitely off. Ringo wasn't sure what to do, if he should do anything at all, but sitting there and watching felt wrong somehow. Was he merely no longer so impressive because Ringo had slept with him? He didn't think it was the case, but he couldn't understand why tonight would be the first time George had seemed so strange to him.

At one point George seemed to suddenly notice the money being practically thrown in his direction, what he'd been focusing on before Ringo couldn't tell, so began making his way off the stage as steadily as he could manage. He was wearing heeled boots, nowhere near as high as the ones Ringo had seen him in before, but tall enough that he began to stumble as he tackled the steps. Nobody seemed to care that he was struggling, perhaps the audience were are all far too drunk to even notice themselves. Ringo wasn't though, he still had half his drink left and wasn't planning on finishing it any time soon, not with George in a state like this.

Ringo only seemed to blink, to take his eyes away for less than a second, and George was suddenly falling down onto the floor. Nobody reacted, nobody except Ringo who was out of his seat instantly. Unfortunately he hadn't been quick enough, George fell face first into one of the empty tables and smacked his face off of the hard metal, the noise rang out louder than the thumping music. As he hit the floor, some of the audience let out a pantomime groan yet still remained in their seats. George managed to get himself off of the floor, he didn't seem to realise at first that Ringo had been helping him up to his feet. His nose and lip were bleeding pretty badly, red pouring down his chin and onto the floor. George moved his hand sluggishly to touch his bruised face, looking at the remnants of blood on his fingertips in confusion.

"Is there a first aid kit anywhere?" Ringo asked alarmed.

George nodded, finally turned his head to face Ringo; his movements were so slow that Ringo could see the realisation spreading across his face.

"Ringo..." George slurred, his teeth were painted red "What are you-"

"Don't worry about that, we need to get you fixed up." Ringo tightened his grip around George and began walking the two of them over to the staff room.

George made a quiet noise, Ringo wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say, but the important thing was that he allowed Ringo to lead him away from the stage. The music was still pounding even when the stage was empty, it seemed to signal to a lot of the stragglers that it was time to go home. George limped a little as he walked, Ringo supposed he must've twisted his ankle as he fell or something.

"You're always... Always coming to my rescue." George mumbled as they approached the door.

"You're always in need of rescuing." Ringo spoke gently, the way you'd speak to an old person who'd lost their hearing "What's the code for the door?"

George turned his head to face the keypad, it rolled heavily on his neck, then he pressed four of the numbers sluggishly and a quiet hum could be heard which signified the door being unlocked. George then rested almost all of his weight on Ringo, his head falling to the side, luckily he wasn't too heavy. Ringo had to kick the door open with his foot, it was extremely awkward to do with such an unexpected burden, but he managed it.

"Jesus Christ!" A voice called out as the door violently opened, it was Paul.

Ringo had almost forgotten that John had even come back here, and judging by the surprised look on John's face he'd forgotten all about Ringo too. John's poem was spread open on the countertop, facing towards where Paul was sitting. The two of them moved erratically when the door opened, but Ringo was certain he caught a glimpse of a heated kiss; the redness of their lips was enough of a giveaway. Ringo managed to get George into the room and down onto one of the benches, the heavy door swung closed and locked behind them. He wished he'd be able to relish this moment of victory for John, but there were more important things to be dealt with.

"What happened?" Paul practically jumped out of his seat and over to George, who sat slumped against the wall with blood still dripping down his face.

"He fell." Ringo explained, letting out a huff of air as he caught his breath "Why's he so pissed? Who let him go out there like that?"

Paul looked over a John with wide eyes then turned back to Ringo "I tried to get him to stop drinking, but there's only so much I can do."

"Suppose it doesn't really matter now. Do you have a first aid kit at least?" Ringo asked, both his face and voice were hard.

Paul nodded then began rooting around under the counter, while he did so Ringo and John shared a knowing look: Ringo raised his eyebrows inquisitively, and John winked in response. That was all he needed to know for now. Paul pulled out a rather heavy first aid kit and opened it desperately, but before he could begin looking for anything, Ringo gently pushed him out of the way.

"Can you get him some water? I'll deal with this." Ringo demonstrated his words by picking up some antiseptic wipes and plasters.

Paul nodded again then headed over to the small sink in the corner, finding a relatively clean mug from the overhead cupboard and filling it with water.

"Can I help at all?" John asked but remained comfortably seated.

"Don't think so." Ringo sighed as he sat down beside George who had begun falling asleep or slipping unconscious, it was difficult to tell "Are you alright George?"

George groaned in response "Why does my face feel like shit?"

"Looks like shit too." Paul commented as he tried to pass the water over to George, but he didn't even seem to notice it "You need to drink some water, George."

"Piss off." George almost whispered, Paul screwed his face up slightly in annoyance but didn't let it deter him from his mission, he pressed the mug against his lips and waited for them to open, which they eventually did, then he gently poured water into his mouth.

George drank almost the entire mug, Ringo didn't suppose he was entirely aware of what he was doing, then let out another groan "Tastes like blood."

"That'd be the blood." John quipped from the other side of the room.

Paul retreated back over to the sink to fill the mug up again, while he did so Ringo opened up the wipes and began cleaning up George's face as best he could. George struggled against the contact for a while but eventually gave in, his eyes were closed the entire time.

"Why are you so pissed, George?" Ringo asked in a hushed tone, gently wiping around his nose.

"He didn't show up." George mumbled almost unintelligibly.

Ringo paused "Who didn't?"

"Ringo." George answered, Ringo almost wanted to laugh at how unaware he was.

"Fucking hell." John laughed as Paul returned with more water, he shot John a glance of warning.

"Drink." Paul demanded softly, pressing the mug against his lips once more.

George obliged but only drank about half, then pushed it away aggressively and spilled some water onto the floor "I'm fine." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut even harder.

"You don't look fine." John called out once more.

"Or sound fine." Paul agreed "What's gotten into you?"

George rolled his head to the side and moaned again "Why didn't he come?"

Paul looked at Ringo anxiously, it told him all he needed to know about what had happened that night. It looked like George had wanted Ringo there after all, not only that but he gravely missed his presence so immensely that he drank himself almost to sleep. Just when Ringo thought he was getting George all figured out, something like this would happen. He wasn't quite sure what to do in this situation, was it better for him to be there at all? Ringo had managed to get rid of most of the blood on his face at least, it looked like most of the bleeding had fortunately stopped. He opened up a plaster and tentatively pressed it against the cut on George's nose, he almost felt like shivering when his fingers brushed against the skin.

George struggled again when he felt Ringo's fingers "Paul, stop..." He scrunched his eyes up tightly, trying to move his body away but evidently he didn't feel able to, then he opened his eyes to protest further but the words died in his mouth.

Ringo saw realisation spreading across George's face for a second time, but he had a feeling this time would be a little more permanent. George's face softened almost immediately, his mouth was hanging open as though he were still about to speak. Ringo could even tell that he'd been crying, when or how much was impossible to see, but knowing that he'd cried at some point tonight was enough.

"Ringo..." George breathed out "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Ringo replied with a sweet smile "I would've come sooner if I'd have known you'd get like this."

George turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, it was only now that he realised the state he was in "What happened to me?"

"You fell coming off the stage." Ringo explained, he inspected George's face for anything else in need of care.

"Shit." George almost laughed, but it didn't come out properly "What time is it?"

"Nearly closing." Paul answered, he'd sat back down opposite John again "You're lucky we're so empty or you'd be in deep shit."

"Don't you start on me Paul." George furrowed his brows, but it was hard for him to look intimidating while he was swaying slightly as he sat "You're always going over your break time to talk to what's-his-face, and I don't say shit."

"Allow me to introduce myself." John announced "John What's-His-Face, a pleasure to meet you."

All three of them laughed, Ringo louder than anyone, George had only just noticed John's presence.

"What matters is that you're alright, George. Everybody just calm down, it looks like it's been a long night." Ringo tried to clear the energy of the room.

"You're telling me." George sighed, resting his head against the wall.

John stood up rather abruptly "I'm going for a smoke, care to join me Paul?"

Paul got up out of his seat too "Please."

John led the way to the fire exit at the back of the room, holding it open for Paul to walk past him first. Ringo let out a chuckle at the sight of the two of them conspicuously hurrying away together. He figured he must've interrupted some pretty important stuff, that they evidently were eager to continue. The door slammed shut behind them and silence followed, George had closed his eyes once again and Ringo was just staring at him cautiously.

"What's going on, George?" Ringo asked, quietly as though the two outside could still hear them.

George let out a pained chuckle "Fuck if I know."

Ringo paused, tightening his lips, somewhat frustrated "Did you get like this because I didn't come earlier?"

George let out a heavy sigh "If I said no, would you believe me?"

"No, I wouldn't." Ringo answered gently.

"Then yes, I did. I thought you weren't coming, so I had a few drinks." George explained, his eyes still closed "A few turned into a lot which turned into me falling over like a prat."

"But... Why?" Ringo asked "I'm not here for one night and you drink yourself stupid?"

George sighed again, then tilted his head to the side and opened his eyes slowly so that he was looking directly at Ringo "I thought you wouldn't come back at all. Why would you? I don't even know why you're still sitting here after seeing me like this."

Ringo tutted "You're impossible, do you know that?"

"So I've been told." George attempted a grin, but the movement of his lips pained him and he hissed.

"I told you I wanted to see you again, and I meant it." Ringo began somewhat intensely "You need to get it out of your head that I'm going anywhere; as long as you want me here, I'll be here."

George's brows knitted together sadly "I just don't know if I can risk it. Not again."

Ringo placed his hand over George's, it was scuffed up slightly from the fall "What's the risk? Seems like being with me is the safer option, if I'm honest, far safer than almost breaking your neck on stage like that at least."

George chuckled "You might be the nicest guy I've ever met. What could you possibly see in a git like me?"

Ringo squeezed George's hand "Well right now I see an idiot with a bloody nose; I see someone who's in desperate need of some sleep."

"You might be right there." George sighed "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for tonight to go like this."

"Neither did I, yet here we both are." Ringo smiled "Come on, I'll drive you home."

Ringo stood up and extended his hand out to George, who looked at him somewhat cautiously.

"There you go being nice again, do you know how hard it is to hate you?" George accepted the hand and pulled himself up.

"I could say the same to you." Ringo let go of his hand after a while "I'll just go and see whether John wants a ride home."

"I'd be careful interrupting those two, never know what you're gonna walk in on." George warned, but it only made Ringo's smile wider.

Ringo opened the door far slower than he had before, giving John and Paul enough time to pull away from one another before he was fully outside. He pretended that he hadn't seen anything, even the hickey beginning to form on Paul's neck.

"I'm gonna drive George home. Are you coming John?" Ringo stood against the door, he knew he wasn't going to be out here long.

John paused and looked over to Paul, who shook his head as discreetly as he could manage. The two of them looked like a deer in headlights, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly open.

"No, no, I'm good." John answered suspiciously slow "You go on without me."

Ringo smiled knowingly at them "Sure thing. Let me know when you get home safe."

"Will do." John replied before Ringo slipped back into the warmth of the room.

George had thrown on his coat and was currently looking at himself closely in the mirror, inspecting the cut in his mouth from where his teeth had cut the flesh when he fell. When he noticed Ringo had returned, he pulled away quickly and flashed him an innocent smile.

"You ready?" Ringo asked as he stepped further into the room "You better not be sick in my car."

"I can't make any promises." George continued to smile drunkenly.

Ringo rolled his eyes playfully "Can you walk alright on your own?"

"I wouldn't say no to some extra support." George walked over to Ringo's side, exaggerating his limp as he did.

"I don't think this is gonna make it any easier to hate me." Ringo suggested as they made their way to the door.

George paused for a moment then tightened his grip around Ringo's arm "I think I might have to give up on that."

Bright Eyes (IronHawk)

Previously posted as KoFi Exclusive fic

Check out my new and improved FIC MASTERLIST HERE!

***********************

There weren’t very many days that Tony took the time to stop and think about the intricacies of JARVIS’s system. He would even admit that most days he took the AI for granted. It made sense in a way, Tony had designed the system after all, it would sort of be like thanking himself for being brilliant enough to design something that could anticipate his needs and therefore deserve thanks, right? Anyway. There weren’t very many days that Tony took the time to stop and think about the intricacies of JARVIS’s system, much less to thank him, but today was a day that Tony was both incredibly aware and entirely grateful for every bit of code that made up the AI. He didn’t know how it happened-- nope, scratch that. Tony did know how it had happened. A too hard hit and the suit had taken too long to catch itself and he had knocked his head on the ground hard enough to make him see stars, and then consequently nothing at all. 

The resulting concussion from the hit had rendered Tony temporarily blind. Hopefully it was temporary. 

Please God let it be temporary, because Tony couldn’t see much more than a wall of black in front of him and had had to rely solely on JARVIS to announce to the rest of the team that he had been compromised, and then to get the suit home to the Tower and dismantled around him. It had been unnerving to say the least, flying totally blind. Knowing there was new information flashing through the screen in his helmet almost faster than he could read it-- altitude changes, speed, weather conditions, any buildings they approached and avoided-- all of that sort of thing that usually Tony saw, scanned and took into account as he flew, but this time he hadn’t been able to see any of it. JARVIS had relayed the pertinent information in a calm tone, sounding almost like a tour guide as he warned Tony they were approaching the city and which buildings were coming up on his right. Tony was completely disoriented as the suit took itself apart, feeling around for the wall as he tried to walk and it was only with his AI’s help that he made it down to the lab at all. “Run scans for me, J.” Tony said once he had made it to his desk. “Full body scans, tell me how bad this concussion is, what my eyes look like.” “You can’t see anything at all sir?” “Nothing at all.” “Just a few minutes while I run a scan, hold still please.” Tony held as still as he could, standing straight and trying to settle himself in the space. It was his lab after all, he spent more time here than in his bedroom. He knew where every piece of equipment was and every desk and the distance to the walls and how many steps it took him to get to the doors and-- “Barring any sort of professional exam, it appears as if there is some swelling due to your fall.” JARVIS intoned. “I cannot see any acute trauma, though I am limited of course. A visit to a doctor is recommended.” “If you think I’m alright, I’m probably alright.” Tony said slowly, feeling around for his chair and sinking it into it. “This is my desk, right?” “Yes Sir.” “Did I knock anything over on my way in?” “No sir, everything is just as you left it.” “Okay.” Tony took a deep breath. “This is fine. I can make my way around just fine for right now. Dum-E--” A low whir as the robot came to his side. “--hey buddy, I’m going to need you about a foot to my right at all times in here, alright? Don’t let me walk into anything stupid.” A series of clicks and beeps and Tony smiled. “Okay. This is fine. Dum-E will help me get around and no one thinks anything of it if I’m down in my lab for a few days. I’ll survive.” “I should alert the team, or at least Captain Rogers.” It shouldn't have been possible for a robot to sound disapproving, but JARVIS definitely disapproved of Tony’s plan. “Uh no…” A negative shake of Tony’s head. “No, no one needs to know about this. I’m sure I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and everything will be fine.” “If you insist sir.” “I insist.” Tony swallowed back a wiggle of unease. “Everything will be fine.” ****************** ****************** Everything was not, in fact, fine in the morning, nor was it fine for the next three days.

Tony was definitely blind. JARVIS kept doing scans and seeing no change nor anything that seemed particularly alarming besides the very alarming lack of vision, but Tony brushed off his AI’s concern. If he was admitting things, it was sort of fun to not be able to see. Not fun in the oh I should do this all the time sort of way, but in the sort of way where it forced him to focus on things he’d never focused on before. Tony thought he knew every sound Dum-E made, but having the bot in constant contact with him in the lab made Tony realize that the soft whir of Dum-E’s treads was very comforting. There was a slight hitch in the air just before JARVIS spoke, as if someone had opened an electrical current and even though Tony hated it at first, after a few days he sort of enjoyed it. Interacting naturally with the team was a little harder, but Tony learned very quickly that he could quite literally wear his sunglasses inside for no reason at all and no one felt the need to comment. In the kitchen he leaned against the counter and didn’t move, and everyone just moved around him and for movie night he posted up at the bar and no one even blinked. Tony heard the hesitation in Steve’s voice before the Captain asked for something, realized he could tell if Sam was smiling even without seeing it, and for three straight mornings drank his coffee with fat free creamer because he grabbed the wrong one out of the fridge and no one thought to say anything about it. And it made Tony maybe a little sad, that something could be so wrong with him, his day to day altered in such a life changing way and no one would pick up on it. It made him a little sad that he had lived with most of the Avengers for almost a year now, and they thought it was perfectly normal that he stood silently with sunglasses on and didn’t contribute to a conversation. It certainly made it easier to hide his blindness with no one really paying attention to him, and Tony quickly figured out the best way to do everything as fast as he could. JARVIS talked to him via earpiece as he walked so he knew when to turn, where to look when someone passed. The elevator was easy enough to operate even when he couldn’t see, but the stairs were a little trickier. Eating was hit and miss but Tony Stark had never been accused of having good eating habits, so three solid days of pizza didn’t raise any red flags. In fact, by the fourth morning Tony had adjusted well enough that when his lab doors swished open and heavy boots headed his way, he didn’t even need JARVIS to tell him who had come in. “Hey Clint.” he said easily, nodding his head in the general direction of the door. “How’s it going?” “Heya Tony.” Clint’s voice was actually coming from right behind him and Tony turned with a frown. “Did you know I was behind you, or did you have to wait until you heard me talk?” “Um--” “How long you been blind, Tony?” Oh. Oh shit. “Um---” Tony paused, listening to the rustle of cloth as Clint folded his arms. “You know that hit I took earlier this week? Since about then.” “Since about then?” Clint repeated, disapproval dragging the words. “Or literally since then? Have you been blind for four days?” “Give or take a couple hours.” Tony mumbled, and reached behind him until his hand connected with his chair, sitting cautiously. “What about it?” “Have you been to see a doctor?” Clint sounded impatient now, the soft rumble of chair wheels as he moved on over so he could sit next to Tony. “Is this temporary? Permanent? Did you really think you could hide it with those stupid sunglasses?” “Okay in my defense? I’ve been blind for four days and you are the first one to say anything so yes I figured I could hide it behind my sunglasses. And they aren’t stupid, they’re worth more than every pair of shoes in your closet.” “Tony!” “JARVIS says it’s just swelling.” He blurted, cringing away from the flash of anger from the archer. “Just swelling. He says there’s no reason why this should be permanent. I’m just sort of dealing with it for right now. If it lasts much longer I’ll got to the doctor, but my particular brand of self care has been working so far so I figure it’s fine.” “You figure it's fine.” Clint repeated. “Jesus Christ, Tony.” Silence in the lab for a few minutes, Tony’s head tilted down towards his feet so it wouldn’t look like he was just staring, Clint quiet as he apparently thought some things over. “How did you figure it out?” Tony finally asked. “Did I give it away?” “You’ve started tipping your head to the side when you listen.” Clint pointed out. “Not really enough to mean anything, but you do it constantly when you’re in the room with more than one person. Plus you’ve started wearing an ear piece, which means it’s probably JARVIS talking you through walking, right?” “Uh, right.” Tony frowned a little. “I’m tipping my head?” “Like I do when I’ve only got one of my hearing aids in.” Clint answered ruefully. “Except I do it because I’m a dumb ass and toss my aids down where ever I fall asleep and then can only find one in the morning. You are doing it because you’re trying to hear whatever JARVIS is saying to you so you can make sure and react the right way.” “....yeah, that’s what I’m doing.” “Why wouldn’t you say something Tony?” Clint was probably throwing up his hands in frustration, but Tony couldn’t see it. “Why wouldn’t you tell the team? We were all worried about you after that hit, but you acted as normal as you always do--” “You were all worried?” Tony interrupted. “Well then why didn’t anyone come down and check on me?” “I wanted to.” Clint’s voice softened, slowed. “But the last few times I’ve tried to spend time with you down here you’ve sorta sent me away, or you were too busy to talk so I figured if you were stayin’ down here, you just didn’t want to see anyone. I didn't want to intrude or bother you." A beat of silence. “And I mean, I was sorta right, right? You didn’t want to see anyone?” Tony cracked a smile. “That was a terrible joke, I’m not laughing at that.” “You’re laughing a little bit.” Clint countered. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile all week.” Tony started to say-- “What do you mean you’ve tried to spend time with me?” and the same time that Clint murmured, “I sure do like your smile Tony.” “Wait, what?” Tony sat up abruptly, his head jerking up as well. “What did you say?” “I said I like your smile.” Clint said clearer. “You’ve got a nice smile.” “Oh.” Thrown for a loop, Tony’s mouth opened and closed a few times while he tried to figure out what to say. “Well um--” “That’s when you’re supposed to say thank you.” Clint prompted. “Or 'wow Clint, you got a great smile too'. Not just look at me like I’m crazy.” “I just--” Tony shrugged a little helplessly. “I don’t really know-- I mean do you-- okay, what is happening right now?” “I’m not real good with words, Tony.” Clint cleared his throat. “Not like you are, so let me just-” “What do you mean you’re not--” Tony startled when a calloused palm landed on his cheek, a hand at his waist to steady him. “Clint--?” Warm lips against his own then, and when Tony gasped a little, a questing tongue ventured into his mouth, sliding and curling alongside his own until he could barely breathe from it. Unbidden, his hands traveled up Clint’s arms to the broad shoulders, his fingers digging in to firm muscle and then further up into shaggy hair, tugging at it until Clint sighed and gathered Tony even closer. He tensed when Clint scooted him towards the edge of the chair, but the archer murmured, “I’ve got you, babe..” and then they were kissing again, both of Clint’s arms wrapped securely around his waist and holding him steady, a quiet moan when Tony finally went a little limp against Clint’s chest, trusting him to not let them fall. “Tony.” Clint whispered as they parted, so close that his lips brushed Tony’s cheek as he spoke. “Don’t want you to think I’m takin’ advantage or anything like that. Just hard to get up the courage to do this sorta thing when I know you can see me.” “What--what--” Tony’s brain still wasn’t quite online so he cleared his throat and tried again. “What do you mean?” “I mean that sometimes you look at me and it sure seems like you see everything.” Gentle fingers trailing through Tony’s hair. “And then you laugh or make a sarcastic comment or whatever and I’m always afraid you see that I want you and that you don’t want to deal with it. Don’t want to deal with me.” “So you waited till I couldn’t see you coming to sneak attack me?” Tony couldn’t resist the snark, his mind was still barely functioning after that kiss. “That seems sketchy.” “I’ll admit to being a sketchy sort of guy.” Clint chuckled, but he still sounded unsure. “I know I probably should have started with asking you out for dinner or something, but I’ve already gone and kissed you so um-- was this weird? Too weird?” “It was weird.” Tony nodded and could feel Clint’s shoulders slump. “But I think a second kiss is in order, just so I know for sure. Can’t make any decisions without enough data, you know?” “Yeah?” Clint kissed him again in a heartbeat, crushing their mouths together and groaning under his breath when Tony kissed him back hungrily. “Good?” “Good.” Tony was panting when Clint pulled away this time, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. “Do I really look at you like that? Like I don’t want you? Because I had no idea that you wanted any of this.” “Maybe I was reading you wrong.” Clint slid his hands a little lower on Tony’s hips, hovering at the top of the tempting curve of his rear. “Maybe I’m more subtle than I think I am.” “You are the least subtle person I know.” Tony deadpanned and Clint protested, “I’m a super spy! Give me a little bit of credit!” “You’ll get more credit if you kiss me again.” “You drive a hard bargain, Iron Man. But I’m willing to meet your terms.” ******************* ******************* The rest of the week was taken up with stolen kisses and lots of hand holding and Clint posting up by Tony’s side as much as he could to help him through the day without making it seem too obvious what he was doing. There were quiet conversations in the lab in the early mornings, and sharing food at night, and Tony actually laughing as Clint gave him play by plays of the day complete with hilarious descriptions of everyone and what had gone on while Tony couldn’t see a damn thing. Thursday came and went and Clint didn’t make it back to the Tower until after dinner time. The first thing he did was ditch his gear and take the stairs down to the lab as fast as he could so he could get to Tony. They hadn’t had the whole “this is what we’re doing” or “this is what we feel” talk yet. Hell, they hadn’t even made it past kissing and what could pass for the lightest grope yet, and Clint was starting to get a little antsy. Not because he was in a hurry for sex (lies) but because he didn’t know if Tony actually felt anything for him or if they were just messing around or anything else like that. But he figured tonight they could at least chat about it, at least start a general discussion over what was going on because Clint was definitely ready for-- Oh. He slowed to a stop outside the lab doors when he heard the music playing and saw Tony working at his computer, spinning in his chair to do something else and stopping to text on his phone. “Well hello there.” Clint stepped through the door and sauntered towards Tony’s desk. “When did you get your vision back?” “Hey.” Tony beamed a smile up at him. “Actually, it started getting better yesterday so I went in for a few scans today and the doc says there’s barely any swelling anymore, but that I shouldn’t strain my eyes so--” “-- so you’re doing eight different things at once?” Clint finished. “Definitely not straining your eyes.” “I’ve only been at it for an hour.” Tony countered, and puckered his lips for a kiss. “How was your day?” “It was fine.” Clint bent to kiss him, then kissed him a little longer when Tony’s hands curled into his shirt and pulled him closer. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved-- a tiny piece of him had really thought Tony would pull away once his vision came back and Clint had been nearly sick to his stomach about it. “You’re thinking.” Tony frowned a little. “I can practically see your brain working overtime. What are you thinking about?” “Nothing.” Clint smiled and bumped their noses teasingly. “Just thinkin’ bout you, bright eyes.” “Oh god, is that a thing?” Tony made a face and Clint kissed it away. “Bright eyes? Is that what you’re going to call me?” “It’s either bright eyes, or I’m going to ask you ‘jeepers creepers, where’d you get those peepers’ every time I see you.” Clint said seriously. “Pick your poison.” “Wow. Bright eyes it is.” “Bright eyes it is.” Clint nodded and tugged coaxingly until Tony left his own chair and settled on Clint’s lap. “So I wanted to tell you something.” he began. “You can’t break up with me now that I can see!” Tony’s voice pitched in alarm. “That’s not fair.” “I’m not breaking up with you.” Clint laughed and cuddled him a little closer. “But you said something the other day that bugged me so I figured I’d should clear it up.” “Oh? Um-- alright?” “You said no one noticed that something was wrong.” Tony tensed in Clint’s arms, but Clint didn’t let him pull away. “I noticed Tony. We all noticed, alright? But you don’t let us close, so we don’t try to get close and I--” a deep breath. “--I’m sorry it took you having some ridiculous accident for me to decide to speak up.” “Oh.” Tony nodded a little. “Well I’m sorry that I don’t… that I don’t let people get close. And you. Sorry I didn’t let you get close.” “That’s alright.” Clint said immediately. “You can make it up to me by getting naked.” “CLINT!” “I meant by getting closer.” “Oh my god, Clint. Why do I even like you?” 

***********************

@bethy-sue @thesmollestgay @babypinkbunny @lilwitchybee @kloudbby @shipeveryonetogether @shadowrayven @hausoffro @plutoisstillsalty @thereaderandwriterwithin @thecat-theparrot-theonion @zerokrox-blog @zuretha-metal @hurricanesass @tstilcr @ulnusilmukka @kahowl-knight @oswolfpack @larissaloki @stuckony-stank @blackhearted @iona-laia @itsallyd @youarenewformetoo @megahuffledor @starks-avengers @tabziecat @stitchinaride @ceealaina @cwar1864 @trinidaddee @emogoddess24 @my-drowning-in-time @pidgist @yukina64 @words-aremy-weapons @psychobitchgonepsycho @little-big-mac2 @multishippinglife @susana0 @paranormalmoonlight5 @lullilt @girlnic @vgurl18 @sw3etpotat0

leave me to dream

SM:FFH fic below! spoilers abound! full summary within! hurt!peter. title from imagine dragons song

this film was full of good peter whump but no irondad to make him feel better afterwards! so i wrote this...because even spider-man can’t get run over by a train and just be magically okay. especially when it’s also the perfect opportunity for tony to come out of his ‘faked-my-death-to-retire-ment’. enjoy!

________________________________________________________________

As he all but crawls down the aisle of the train car, Peter knows one thing.

It's bad. It is very, very, very, VERY bad.

The pain is staggering. Peter can barely get his legs to work under him—the pain racing down to his toes—but he knows he has to move, just move.

Keep moving, he urges himself, weaving around the holes in his vision that are opening up. Blearily, he recalls Strange's portals on the battlefield all those months—a lifetime—ago. He remembers their searing orange light, how they'd opened up reality itself and revealed the impossible war on the other side.

The holes in Peter's eyeline are like that, except waiting on the other side of them is nothing but black. If he was pressed to describe it, Peter would say it's not even black but nothingness, the kind of nothingness that comes when you close one eye and nothing takes up the space at the side of your head.

Something primal and urgent in the back of his mind warns Peter that if he falls into one of these holes, he won't come back out. Keep moving, he tells himself. If you stop, you won't get back up again.

His foot catches one of the seat frames and he goes down, barely able to spin himself around so his broken back thuds hollowly against the wall of the train car. His legs, splintered and bent, slide away from him like liquid. He slumps back, gasping.

Broken things are shifting inside of him, splintering and crunching. In a twisted way, Peter feels more at home in himself than he has for eight months, his body finally matching the shattered fragments of his soul. His head tips back against the wall of the train car. The vibrations of the moving carriage shudder through him but he doesn't hear anything. Another hole opens up above him. The blackness comes tumbling down, crushing, engulfing, but on the other side, it is blessedly—finally—nothing.

________________________________________________________________

"Yeah, it's bad. You need to get here, Tony. I'm calling it. Code Reichenbach." Someone's—a woman's voice—stirs the pool of Peter's mind. He swims up to it, his eyes slitting to drink in strawberry red hair and a blue metal suit.

"M's P-Potts," he murmurs, trying to get his eyes to open fully.

"Hi, honey," Pepper says carefully. He hasn't seen her for so long. She looks good, despite the stress lines creasing her face. Healthy and well. Her eyes are sparkling. He kind of gets lost in them. It used to make Mr Stark laugh, the way Peter could never keep his cool around his mentor's super pretty better half.

Her hand sifts through his sweaty hair. He moves slightly and groans, the pain a sharp shock that electrifies him all the way to his fingertips. Her hand tightens incrementally. "Don't move okay?" Pepper instructs. "You're really banged up."

"The trai..." He can't get the words out. His voice fizzles out like a spent battery.

"Shh, it's alright, kid," she says. "Try and follow my voice. I have a surprise for you. I think you're gonna kill us when you're back on your feet, but for the moment just focus on hanging on in there. There's someone coming to see you. He's missed you a lot."

Peter tries but he can't follow what Pepper's saying. But when the whine of repulsors splits the air—a sound he hasn't heard for so long—he realises he didn't have to.

At the far end of the cab, a laser shears off the wall. Peter startles, barely able to turn his head, hands trembling where they lay in his lap. Glowing eyes and an arc reactor meet his dim gaze, Iron Man stepping into the train car.

He shudders and gasps, shoulders heaving. "'M I...'m I dreaming?" he whispers, feeling tears run down his cheeks to match the blood dripping from his nose and mouth. "M’s P-Potts...p-please...i-is this a dream?"

Pepper's face is heartbroken. He knows what her anguish looks like, because he saw it after Mr Stark died. He really must be in bad shape. She grips his hands where Peter paws at her softly. "Not a dream, honey," she says softly. Then, she smiles ruefully. In a voice almost too quiet to hear, she announces, "Dad's here."

The mask retracts and...There he is.

It's him. Mr Stark.

He's missing an ear, that's the first thing Peter takes in. The whole right side of his face, in fact, is a mess of bubbly scar tissue that runs down his neck. And Peter suspects, from the way it moves and attaches to the rest of the suit that, the right arm is a permanent addition. But he's there. Alive.

Peter gasps, swallowing blood, head grinding on metal as he struggles to get his eyes to focus. His heart flutters and squirms.

Mr Stark lays eyes on him and his face falls apart. Peter must lose some time, the shock and blood loss taking their toll. One minute Mr Stark is across the cab, the next he is knelt in front of him, out of his suit save for one metal arm which is holding Peter up, the other running lightly over Peter's face and shoulder, trying to rouse him.

Peter can't focus. There's so much he wants to...If he could just breathe. He heaves a lungful of air, blood gushing out from between his parted lips, disappearing down his neck and chin and into the dark fabric of his stealth suit.

"You're he-here, you..'re...alive" he struggles, panting thinly. There are tears in Mr Stark's eyes. They match his own.

"Hey, kid." It's his voice. Softer than Peter's ever heard it before, barely audible over the roaring in Peter's ears. A hand brushes over Peter's forehead, smoothing the hair back, warm, heavy, and alive.

"I'm here," Mr Stark soothes. His eyes rake over Peter and whatever he sees makes his expression crack. His nose wrinkles, eyes brimming with regret. "I'm sorry, kid, I'm so sorry. Jesus, look at you." Mr Stark's hand swipes at the blood dripping off Peter's chin.

Peter shakes his head, train cab swirling around him, nearly delirious with the sickly sweet combination of sheer joy and raw agony tearing through him. His face splits in a grin he can't contain, even as his vision blurs with even more tears.

"'M so...hap..." His voice hitches and deserts him again and Mr Stark shudders, pointedly drawing a huge breath through his nose.

"Don't worry about all that now. God, what did they do to you, huh? FRIDAY, read vitals," he commands.

He needs to tell Mr Stark. The urgency lights within him. "B-Beck," he stammers, trying to hold on to his cloudy thoughts. Shame douses his exhilaration. "Needa tell...tell you..."

"Shh, kid, not right now." Mr Stark's eyes are roving all over him, hands hovering like he doesn't know what to touch.

Even through the blood pounding in his ears, Peter can pick up on FRIDAY's whispers in Mr Stark's ear. Broken bones, lacerated organs, bad internal bleeding, bruising...Beck is going to kill him, has all but murdered him already. He needs to tell Tony...

"My fault," he grits out, the words escaping with a whimper.

Mr Stark rears up, eyes like flint, like he's flipped a switch. "Stop it, kid, stop it. We're gonna lose you if you keep talking. Save your strength, alright? Help's coming. We'll debrief when you're not bleeding internally."

"N-No...you needa...need to...I did t-this...m not...next Iron Man...Not worthy." He can't gather his thoughts, the blackness that stole him earlier is inside him now, creeping through his mind like one of Beck's illusions.

"N-Not worthy," he repeats, copper on his lips.

It's like Mr Stark can't bear to listen. Heedless of Peter's damaged body, he draws him forward slightly, tucks Peter's head against his shoulder where he can nestle into the crook of Mr Stark's neck. Hazily, Peter feels Mr Stark drop a kiss to the crown of his head. 

Gently, Mr Stark arranges him against the wall again. "It's not your fault, kid, okay? You'll be okay, c'mon. Save the heart to heart stuff for later."

Grief swamps Peter like a wave, his failure oceans deep. "I just wanted to be like you," he croaks out, tears spilling.

Mr Stark sniffs, shakes his head. "You're better than me, kid. I'm so damn proud of you, it's ridiculous. C'mon, Spider-Man, where's your fighting talk, huh? Pep, how long?" 

Dimly, Peter is aware that Pepper is standing over them, watching with infinite concern. "Medics are two minutes out," she says bitingly.

Peter gasps, more blood trickling out of his lips he slumps back against the wall and sinks, unable to sit up any longer.

"Kid? Kid, hey, talk to me."

It's like the old Peter is back when he wants to playfully retort, "Weren't you just telling me to shut up?" Peter's missed him almost as much as Mr Stark. His chin goes to his chest, unable to hold his head up anymore. Mr Stark's fingers dig into the pulse point at the side of his neck.

Eyes dimming, he tries to embed in his mind the sight of his mentor's immaculate goatee, his shaven head to match the missing hair on the right side of his scalp. He relishes the glinting metal arm that means survival and the shining brown eyes, so open without his glasses, so full of a love that Peter once wasn't sure was imagined.

He knows now. But still, Mr Stark is here. It's a miracle he doesn't know how to process.

"'M I...'m I dreaming?" he whispers, black crushing him again.

A hand grips his scalp, trying to hold him there. In that moment, Peter isn't scared. If Mr Stark can beat impossible odds, then he can too. He just needs to rest a moment, just for a little while.

"Not a dream," Mr Stark says, and that's all the hope Peter needs. "I'm here. I got you..."

The promise follows Peter into the dark.

________________________________________________________________

i imagine pepper’s rescue as being like first aid for the avengers and only calling in tony when it’s absolutely 100% necessary, hence code reichenbach. had to get my holmes ref in there somewhere.

Appetence [1/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn't expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #cemetery #haunting #relics

Canon-Compliance: Alternate Universe; Jason still died but was not found by Talia when he was resurrected. All other events mostly follow the same chronology as New Earth continuity, with mentions made to events in New 52

Author’s Note(s): My attention span was really terrible today and I couldn't focus on either of my two other fics even though the next chapters of both are completely planned out. So I'm posting the start of the third (and final) story that I'm doing for the JayTimWeek/Month challenge. Also, I'm really excited about this one. I spent more time planning this than either of the other two and I can't wait to hear what you guys think!I've got work stuff to do tomorrow so there may not be anything updated until Friday.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

The Bat-Signal cuts through the dark and hazy clouds lingering above Gotham City, and for a split-second, Jason Todd has the urge to drop everything and race for the roof of the GCPD Headquarters. It’s hard to ignore the nervous jump of excitement in his stomach, the phantom sensation of a domino mask on his face and the heavy drag of a cape at his shoulders.

Which makes no sense, since it’s been at least five years since I even wore that shit.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, the smoke mixing with the familiar summer smog, Jason turns his back on Gotham’s literal beacon of hope and steels himself against nocturnal threats of his own. The city is for the caped crew—because apparently, the Bat has a posse now, he thinks with only a hint of a bitter sneer—and Jason has been fighting in a different arena for quite some time now.

He takes a final drag of the cigarette, and then grinds it beneath his boots, and shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. It’s a weathered and worn thing that reminds him of one Willis Todd wore in one of the few memories Jason has of him that doesn’t involve alcohol or fists. He thinks it’s less pretentious looking than a trench coat and probably gives off fewer ‘creepy motherfucker’ vibes like the sartorial choices of certain other people. It’s also less likely to snag on things when he needs to make a quick exit while digging up graves.

Yeah, it’s a thing in his line of work.

Gotham Cemetery is a sprawling necropolis, as dark and forbidding now as it was the night he dug himself out of his own grave. Half a decade of Gotham-style tender, loving negligence has left the somber green hills overgrown and the majority of the old tombstones fallen or rotting.

You’d think in a city with the highest homicide rate in the country, the mayor would spring for better maintenance. Then again, it’s Gotham. The dead don’t pay taxes, so fuck ‘em.

Which…enough said.

Gotham and the world think Jason Todd-Wayne is dead and has been for five years now; in a way, it’s the truth. He’s no longer anything like the boy that was beaten to death by a psychotic clown, no longer the shrimp who fastidiously dyed his hair black and jumped into someone else’s cape and pixie boots just so he didn’t have to be his own screwup self anymore. He outgrew wanting to be Dick a long time ago, outgrew wanting to be Bruce, too, and embraced a whole new other set of skills to put him apart from them.

Most occultists and even homo magi need to put conscious effort and intent into calling up or even seeing a spirit. Ever since Jason died and then mysteriously got better, the dead appear to him as blatantly and a solid as the living.

John told him he was a fool to come back here.

“Someone with your gifts, they’ll drive you bloody mad,” his mentor warned him when he left London. “And I ain’t talking about the dead ones, neither.”

“You’re just saying that because Batman wouldn’t hold your hand that one time,” Jason retorted, shrugging off the concern. He is Gotham born and bred, his blood is in those streets, and he has always wanted to come home, even if it wasn’t necessarily to a stately manor or its inhabitants.

He clenches his fists.

Inhabitants that wasted no time in replacing him after he died. Jason was rotting away in fucking Arkham, and Bruce was shoving another kid into the tights.

If it didn’t involve seeing him, I would hunt him down and break his jaw.

He surveys the graveyard proper. The everyday observer considers cemeteries to be places of peace and eternal rest; quiet, if a little bit spooky. To Jason, they’re as gruesome as any major battlefield.

Spirits pack the way before him; some of them look relatively normal if dated by their clothes; many others are disfigured and bloody from whatever killed them, whether natural or unnatural. They clamor and crowd, eternally shouting to be heard, or screaming as they relive their deaths in their own personal purgatories.

In the beginning, that din almost drove Jason insane. Bruce’s teachings kept him rational as long as it could in the months after he woke up, and then John’s training helped him temper his own awareness further. By now, he can function almost normally, automatically filtering the voices out as he goes about his daily business; it’s only in places like this, where the dead outnumber the living, where it’s harder.

Jason reaches up, adjusting the noise filters in his ears—mechanical devices that need regular winding but are still more reliable than anything running on electricity of batteries. They’re like steampunk hearing aids, only instead of magnifying sound, they drown out the constant moan of the ghosts when he can’t do it himself. Just one of many methods of protection he’s learned over the years. Some are physical, like the prayer beads wrapped around his wrist or the bottle of holy water in his pocket; others—spells and symbols and mantras—are carved all over his body in tattoos and blood writing. Anything to keep the otherworld away.

“Personal space is a key to a medium’s sanity,” John told him once. “That and a good bottle of single malt scotch.”  

Jason ignores the moss-covered path that winds through the larger and more prominent mausoleums. He deliberately doesn’t search out the one in the distance bearing the Wayne crest—

(Still remembers the feel of his fingernails splitting against the wood of the coffin, choking on clumps of soil and insects.)

—and instead seeks a small structure much farther away. It’s in the furthest part of the cemetery, the shabby section almost hidden by overgrown willows. Half of the name above the doorway is obscured by vines, but it’s easy for him to make out the name etched into the stone with bold letters.

HAYWOOD.

According to the public record, Sheila Haywood’s body was returned to Gotham at the same time as Jason Todd’s. Bruce paid for her funeral and internment, which was just as well since she had no other family, and then she was promptly forgotten about.

By everyone except Jason, it seems.

It took some doing and a few weeks tracking down everyone that had worked at the same refugee camp as his mother, but he’d finally managed to collect what possessions she left behind. A colleague of hers had put them aside when there appeared to be nothing of actual monetary value in them.

A gold coin, small bone carvings of stylized animals, dainty trinkets of garnets, amber and lapis lazuli, a compact mirror, some seashells, a decorative fan, quartz paperweight, and a brightly colored feather. There was a picture of Willis in there, too, young and almost Jason’s double. No picture of Jason, though, but he hadn’t expected it.

He kept the picture but left the rest in the small wooden box, which he now removes from his messenger bag and sets down in front of the stone bearing his mother’s name. He follows that with various tools and ingredients. Black candles arranged in a star shape around the box, a chalice, a jar of detritus—teff seeds, driftwood and soil, all from the place where she died—that he sprinkles around in a circle, a handful of smooth obsidian stones to mark a pentagram joining the candles, the dagger John gave him for his last birthday, vials of oil and holy water.

Murmuring a few protection oaths, he shrugs off his jacket, leaving his arms bare, and then digs out a pack of matches to light the candles; flickering shadows dance across the mausoleum walls. He takes up the chalice to combine the water and oil, and then reaches for the dagger.

Hate this part.

Training to ignore pain doesn’t mean it goes away, and he grits his teeth a little as he draws his blade across his forearm, not deep enough to nick anything vital, but enough that the blood runs easily into the chalice. Without bothering to bandage the wound, Jason holds up the chalice in front of him and centers himself.

“Phantasma inrequietum, te voco,” he intones. “Eloguiorum mei audi: Sheila Haywood, te nominas!“ The stagnant air in the mausoleum starts to pick up. “In nominee creatricis, te impero, hic locum decede.” Hand over the top of the chalice, he swirls the liquid within, and then tips it into the open keepsake box. “Per sanguinem hominis et per sanguinem filii tui, non remane et apage! ”He strikes a match and lobs it into the box, not even flinching as the whole thing flares into flame; he intends to watch it until it burns to nothing.

“That’s not going to work, you know.”

“Jesus fuck!” Jason explodes, whirling to the right and glaring at the interrupter. “What did I say about sneaking up on me? Or just—showing up around me in general?”

The apparition in front of him doesn’t look impressed.

Sheila is still beautiful—or, at least, the side of her body that isn’t covered with third-degree burns and sections of pulverized bone—and still sharp. Cold, untouchable and self-interested.

But unlike the way she was before, she’s all-too present in Jason’s life now.

“Goddamn it,” he snarls, and against every lesson John has ever given him, lashes out and knocks the candles and detritus hard enough to send it skidding across the floor. “What the hell. I’ve done everything. You had last rites, your body was cremated, I just torched the things that had any value to you, why the hell won’t you just move on?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Sheila replies, as always.

Jason scowls. “And of course, you can’t just tell me.”

She gazes at him balefully, and he runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Sheila, we’ve been over this. You can’t stay here. One, you know spirits that stick around past their time go Dark Side, and I really don’t want to have to exorcise your spectral ass. Two, it’s fucking creepy for a twenty-year-old guy to be followed around by his mother wherever he goes. What the hell is keeping you here? What more do you want from me?”

“Your forgiveness,” she tells him patiently.

“I already forgave you. Years ago.”

“You still call me Sheila.”

“That’s your name.”

“I’m your mother.”

“Who sold me out and got me murdered.”

“See? You haven’t forgiven me.”

“I have. I’m just stating a fact, Jesus…”

“Apparently the cosmic balance doesn’t agree enough to let me move on,” the ghost says dryly. “And to think, I used to be an atheist.”

“This is total bullshit,” Jason snaps, grabbing his jacket and stalking out of the mausoleum in frustration.

Three years of this mediumship crap, and neither he nor John have ever been able to figure out why the ghost of Jason’s dead mother won’t stop haunting him. Wards and sutras that keep even the nastiest spirits away from Jason don’t even phase her, and she’s inexplicably coherent.

And persistent.

As Jason stalks back through the cemetery, he can sense her in his periphery, gliding along beside him, unconcerned with his irritation.

“Can you just…stay away from me? Like you did in the beginning?” he grumbles.

“You were just learning how to communicate without going insane. I wasn’t about to disrupt that.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I try.”

“Look, I’ve had enough of the ghost-stalker thing for today. I went out of my way for this, you know. I didn’t even want to come back here. And now I’m back to the fucking drawing board.”

“It may not have been a waste of a trip,” she replies and vanishes.

“Oh, you can fuck off when it’s convenient for you,” he grumbles, though he already senses what she was speaking of.

Several yards away, a small boy, maybe eight, is clinging forlornly to an angel headstone. Translucent tears stream down his cheeks, but every now and again his face shifts, like a television caught between two channels, and his mouth widens into an unnatural smile.

Jason could have gone the rest of his life without seeing that smile again.

Still, he sighs and heads toward the kid.

“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low and maintaining a safe distance from the boy, whose head whips up to stare at Jason in sudden fear.

“Who are you?” he asks, voice thick with tears.

“I’m Jason. You okay, kid?”

“I can’t find my mom,” the boy murmurs, wiping at his face. “I keep going looking, but I forget the way home. And then…I always end up back here.”

He sounds on the verge of tears again; it’s something Jason can understand.

With the puzzling exception of Sheila, who appears to come and go as she pleases, most ghosts are stuck in certain patterns and paths when they die, frozen in an infinite loop until they break themselves out of it or until some arbitrary higher power decides they’ve suffered enough. And for some reason, Jason can break them out of it.

“You could always try again,” he suggests. “I think you’ll manage it this time.”

The boy shudders. “There’s scary people here.”

No arguing with that.

“I know. I see them, too.” Jason glances at the headstone, scanning the name and dates. “Your name’s Cole?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re missing, there are probably people looking for you. They might have posted something online about it. I’ll check it out, but it could take a bit.” He holds up his phone, glad to see it’s at full charge and bars; that’s hit or miss around so many ghosts. “Can you hang around here until I’m done?”

The boy nods, silent, face flicking back and forth between sadness and the unnatural smile.

Fucking Joker…

Jason does a quick search of the kid’s name, pulling up obituaries in the Gotham Gazette in the past year. It doesn’t take long for an article to pop up concerning the Joker’s latest escape and a list of the dead.

He narrows his eyes, startling the kid.

“It’s fine,” he lies. “The internet is just really slow.”

“Or our phone is really bad,” Cole tells him with the blunt honesty of a kid that grew up constantly surrounded by functional technology.

“Everyone’s a critic…”

Another quick search for the parents, phone lists and social media, and he’s got an address. Crime Alley, of course. He brings it up on his map and enables a view of the street, holding the phone out to the boy. “Is this your house?”

Relief settles and settles over his face. “Yeah.”

“What if I helped you find your way home?”

Cole makes a suspicious face. “I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strangers.”

“Which is really smart. But you see, I’m not really a stranger.”

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret.” Jason bends down, conspiratorial, and Cole’s eyes gleam the way any kid gets when hearing a secret. “When I was a little older than you…I was Robin.”

The boy gapes. “Like…Batman and Robin?”

“Exactly.”

“No way!”

“Way,” Jason smirks, crossing his arms. “And I’ll tell you all about it on the way to your house. Including the time that I stole the wheels off the Batmobile.”

“No way!”

Despite his scandalized disbelief, the kid is obviously hooked.

Jason’s heart clenches a bit at the open curiosity on Cole’s face, the reality hitting him that this boy will never have a chance to do anything mischievous or fun ever again.

From one dead boy to another, this sucks…

As he leads him out of the cemetery, Jason starts to tell the little ghost about his life. He edits out the less pleasant bits, like dying and returning to life half brain dead with the ability to see and hear ghosts.

He figures a good story is the least he can do for the boy.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

LEVIATHAN | 11. Apotheosis | MASTERLIST

words: 6k+

A/N: you can probably guess why this chapter hurt my feelings

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

After what felt like forever, lights flickered back on and air began to blow through the sub's vents again.

Jodie's heart was hammering, and she was pretty sure she had hit her side against something, the space just below her ribs throbbing with pain. Gill was standing up from previously being in a crumpled pile on the floor. Serizawa helped Graham up to her feet.

"Damage report." the commander said as everyone got back on their feet.

"Fire in the torpedo room is out." one of the men said. "Atmosphere is stable. We're pretty banged up but we'll make it."

"Make it where?" Mark asked.

"Can't fix our position," one of the control techs said. "But inertial says we're six hundred miles from departure."

Running the numbers in her head, Jodie's brows scrunched together in confusion. No way this sub could make six hundred miles in little over an hour. And the lights had only been out for about 30 minutes since the vortex. Despite everyone else's confusion, Stanton was beaming.

"That's impossible, unless.." Graham thought out loud, grasping her chin.

"I knew it, man!" Stanton exclaimed. "That vortex was a tunnel into the hollow earth!"

Everyone shot him a pointed look. He waved them off.

"Y'know, subterranean tunnel system that connects the entire planet - doesn't matter, I knew I was right - I told you, Chen!" he rambled.

"Shut up, Rick." she said, putting a hand to her throbbing temple.

The Hollow Earth was an old theory, up there with the likes of the Flat Earth theory and whatnot. It had been entertained by scientists back in the 1600s thanks to a one Edmund Halley, but in a few centuries it faded to nothing but science fiction. That is, until Dr. Houston Brooks proposed an updated version of the theory back in the 70s. He had tried to test his theory on the Monarch expedition to Skull Island, but at this point everyone knew how that went. While he had managed to gather evidence of cave systems deeper than usual, it just wasn't enough to prove the larger theory.

Until now, if Stanton was right.

Had Mothra known about the vortex? Was it encoded in the minds of all titans? That debate would have to wait, however, as they still had a mission to get on with.

"One-second emergency blow forward." the commander said.

The sub lurched ahead, dipping down into a crevasse.

"Doctor?"

"Launch probes." Serizawa said.

Ahead of them, a trio of probes flitted through the water, their floodlights illuminating the pitch black abyss around them. In the control room, the feeds from the drones appeared. As the sub followed their lead, they approached strange, twisting shapes that were still too vague to make out through the murk. But even then, it was obvious they weren't natural.

"Lights on, cameras good, range one thousand yards." Stanton said as he pushed the drones farther along.

As the sub and its guides continued through the darkness, Jodie could see the occasional flicker of life dart away from the lights. But one shape loomed, the shape of a woman's face - pale and ghostly - suddenly appearing on the feed. Jodie flinched.

"Jesus," Stanton said in mild shock.

As the probe pulled back, widening the frame, they found it wasn't some waterlogged corpse or a mermaid. It was the figurehead of what looked like a centuries old galleon. And it wasn't alone.

Dozens of wrecks were visible in the searchlights, many piled on top of each other. What looked like an authentic Viking ship raised its dragon-shaped figurehead from the remains of galleys, cogs, and frigates. The rusted cylinder of a submarine, covered in barnacles, lay near the broken remnants of a warship that had probably last seen the surface during the first world war. And they had all been drawn here by the vortex, thrown into the mouth of the abyss. And they could very well be next, just another addition to this graveyard.

But as they pushed forward, Jodie found that analogy had taken an all too literal turn.

Among the wrecks were immense bones - ribs, arms, legs, skulls, bony plates with spikes and spines and anything in between. And beyond that was something else.

"Pan right." Serizawa said.

There was a light in the abyss, but not the artificial blueish green light from the sub and its probes, it was almost a soft orange glow that emitted a reddish fog. It wasn't coming from the surface, but boiling up from a trench. It was lava, pouring out of fissures in the earth and creating a sort of underwater stream, flowing across the seafloor through giant structures that were definitely not natural. Gill leaned closer to the feed, eyes shining with fascination.

Through the muck were dozens of crumbling statues the size of skyscrapers, and alongside them were temples and other smaller buildings - the ruins of a cyclopean city. Breathtaking colonnades reminded Jodie of Roman architecture, but in some places the structure seemed more Egyptian. And in others they were more ornate, like Southeast Asian temples. And illuminating it all was the stream of lava.

"Amazing.." Gill said with a grin on her face.

Passing countless monuments, Jodie could barely make out what might be hieroglyphics, bas-reliefs, and murals of strange creatures and much smaller humans.

"Looks Egyptian, Roman maybe?" Jodie said, coming up from behind Gill to observe the feeds.

Chen shook her head. "No, this is something else, this is much older." She looked closer through the dim lighting. "Can't say what exactly, but it almost looks Mesopotamian at least."

Much larger murals came into view, and now Jodie could recognize what she was talking about. The strange creatures on the earlier hieroglyphics were much clearer now, and they all depicted the same four figures - Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan and Kong. And beneath them, smaller figures were arranged in various forms of respect, service, or worship.

"You were right." Gill breathed, looking over at Chen. "The legends, the stories..all of it. They're all true." She began taking stills of the ancient carvings.

"They really were the first gods." Graham whispered.

This changes everything, she thought. Emma, Chen, Serizawa, they had all been right. Although Emma had royally screwed up and gotten unknowable amounts of people killed needlessly, the link between humans and titans was inescapable.

What caught her attention the most was that there was nothing in the human figures' poses that suggested fear or intimidation. Piety, maybe. But also cooperation. This was the coexistence they had always spoken of. This was the connection.

"After all this time," Gill said, looking at a particularly large mural, depicting Godzilla - in all his glory - defending a city from what looked like MUTOs. "He never forgot."

"But we did." Serizawa responded.

As they passed through the sunken city, the ruins began to tell another story. It was slowly becoming clear that the city hadn't been peacefully abandoned. Nearly everything around them had been scarred, scorched, or blasted to pieces. The sea bottom itself bore the scars of some ancient cataclysm that had undoubtedly sent the city asunder. The last mural was of a familiar three-headed dragon, the wall cracked beyond repair. Seeing Ghidorah depicted on something so ancient sent a chill down Jodie's spine.

And with the wreckage, the murals of man and monster ended - but not because the artists had finished their story, but because their work had been wrecked beyond recognition. Whatever harmony had once existed in this place had been drowned in a single day of misfortune much like the mythical Atlantis. Had this even existed above, Jodie thought. Or was this all one big cave, once filled with air? Either way, who - or what - brought about its downfall was beyond her understanding. It very well could have been a war between titans fought with the aid of humans. If so, given the amount of giant bones, the end result didn't seem to have gone very well for either side.

Except, perhaps, Godzilla's.

"If the stones could only speak, the stories they could tell us." Stanton mused.

"Amen to that." Gill said, continuing to take photos.

"Dr. Stanton, any sign of Gojira?" Serizawa asked.

"Yeah, the probes are picking up a radioactive blob just past past that ridge." he said, pointing to the thermal screen.

"Set a course."

_____

Elena and the others pushed through the woods as fast as they could.

She kept imagining the Controller behind her, gun in hand, that same shock the Regulator had shot her with that first day surging through her whole body. Or maybe this time she wouldn't be stunned. Would she even feel it? Would everything just stop? She was determined not to find out, and she was determined even more so not to let Madison find out either.

After nearly an hour, they finally came across a winding two-lane road with hundreds of cars packed bumper to bumper. Through the windows, she could see people staring at them as they walked in the opposite direction, puzzled but not making any attempt to stop them. She couldn't blame them.

It wasn't long before the road passed into a suburban area where they could no longer see the skyline. The Regulator slowed.

"I suppose I should let you take the reins."

Madison nodded.

She knew Boston like the back of her hand, but it was more than a little eerie seeing all the empty houses. Every now and then they would see a family still packing up. At one point some people in an SUV stopped and offered them a ride, but once they learned they were going into the city, they shook their heads and moved on.

Then the road joined a bigger one, all bodegas, malls, office complexes, and finally an interstate that was just as bad - if not worse - than the road outside the city. It was practically at a standstill, and the drivers were definitely not happy about it. Elena could feel a headache coming on from the constant stream of honking and screaming, but what bothered her most were the people too frustrated to wait, weaving through cars and abandoning theirs altogether. It was like swimming upstream, and the ORCA was heavy. She could only imagine how much the backpack must weigh for Madison. She was already more than tired, and they still had a long way to go until they reached the ballpark.

Every now and then they would take turns carrying the loads, stopping to rest or eat or drink. But never for more than a few minutes.

At least Elena felt a little safer now that they entered the downtown area. The evacuation had already kicked into high gear, sirens wailing near and far. Jets tore through the skies, helicopters and Ospreys filled with military and civilians alike taking off in the distance. The odds of the Controller and his men finding them were significantly lower now, and she could only hope that Emma had kept her word.

By the time they got within sight of Fenway, the crowd had turned, no longer flowing out of the city but within the park. It was one of the evacuation hubs, complete with aircraft lifting hoards of people lifted off every other ten minutes or so. It seemed to be going well. A little too well, perhaps, but a small part of Elena thought maybe there was a chance they could survive.

No. They would. She would see to that. And with the ORCA in their hands, those chances were looking just a little higher.

But with all of the people pouring into Fenway, it was going to be a little trickier than they anticipated. Finding no other way in, they merged into one of the lines where people were being herded into the stadium by cops and soldiers like a bunch of sheep. Every few minutes the loudspeakers above reminded them all to remain calm, that the ships would be departing every fifteen minutes or so. A few places ahead of the line, a little girl was clinging her to her father. She looked terrified, tears streaming down her face as she saw the bustling stadium around her. Madison made a funny face, and the girl cheered a little and turned away. A small, hardly noticeable smile appeared on Elena's face.

Just a moment later, Elena saw their chance. No one official was looking, and the line had gotten as far into the stadium as they could go without reaching the helicopter waiting ahead. The trio sprinted across the field until they reached a door that lead to the broadcasting booth at the top of the stadium. But after jiggling it, she found it locked. She slammed a fist against the door.

"Damn it," she cursed.

Wordlessly, the Regulator nudged her back. Lifting her leg farther than she thought a human could reach, she kicked down like a hammer. Almost as soon as her heel connected with the lock, the door splintered from the impact, swinging open.

"After you."

Madison raised her eyebrows, trying to hide an impressed grin. As they slipped inside, there were stairs that lead to the booth. They had reached the easy part. Despite the massive crowds outside, in there, it was deserted. Madison looked down at her hand as it slid up the railing.

She wondered what her dad was doing, if he was still okay. She remembered coming here a few times with him, just the two of them. Neither her mom or Andrew were big baseball fans. And she had never cared that much about it herself, but she liked the atmosphere, sharing it with someone she cared about.

Please be okay, she thought.

He will be fine, young Speaker, the warm voice echoed. Just worry about yourself

That was going to be hard to do. There was so much to worry about that she could barely begin to comprehend it. And above it all, she hoped her mom was okay too, that the Controller didn't take out their escape on her. She knew there was a good chance he might. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it.

It took them a little longer to find the booth than she would've liked, but eventually they came to the door. This time, it was unlocked. Inside was a large table surrounded by dozens of tv screens and other broadcasting equipment. From there, they had a bird's eye view of the evacuation through the giant glass windows ahead of them. For a moment, she hung there, watching the events unfold. Behind her, Elena and the Regulator placed the ORCA on one of the tables, and they got to work.

Opening up the ORCA, they began hooking up cables to the stadium's speaker system, turning up the volume as high as it could go.

Looking away from the window, she found that whoever was here had left a screen on. Madison listened as the anchor droned on.

"Massive storms and other disasters triggered by the titans have forced millions to flee major cities. And with D.C. hit hard by a category six hurricane that has left the capitol completely flooded, this is the single greatest disaster in human history."

The news footage showed pure pandemonium. Dozens of tornadoes and waterspouts churned through the air and sea, sucking in everything they touched up into a sickly yellow sky. Madison could make out buildings in the distance, but it soon became obvious that only the tops of those buildings were visible, while others were completely submerged altogether. The summit of the Washington monument and the dome of the capitol building looked like they had been dropped in the middle of a lake. And all the while, lightning struck all around the area in thin golden bolts.

"It looks like the sky's alive.." Madison thought out loud.

Looking up at the screen, Elena shivered. "That's because it is."

Another chain of lightning flashed in the bruised clouds, and for an instant she swore she could see Ghidorah's demonic shadow.

"The grim search continues as people around the world sift through the debris of leveled homes in the hope of finding missing loved ones. And though this sight is heartbreaking, it is in no way unique. Cities around the globe have fallen under the wake of what many are calling 'The Rise of the Titans'."

The Regulator cleared her throat as the ORCA beeped to life, its screens flipping open.

"Should be ready for broadcasting. You know how to work it, yes?"

Madison nodded. She scrolled through a handful of signatures until she finally found one that looked familiar. Pulling up the bioacoustic waveform on the ORCA's main screen, the words 'Alpha Frequency Found' appeared beneath it.

Without hesitation, she hit the button.

Turning to Elena, the Regulator hooked up the headset to the ORCA, handing it to her in the same motion. She took it in her hands, turning it over with a contemplative look on her face before steeling herself and placing it on her head.

"Are you sure about this?" the Regulator asked.

Slowly, Elena nodded, closing her eyes as she entered the headspace.

_____

The sub continued to drift through the ghostly city at a steady pace. They were headed toward something large, far larger than any of the other buildings. At first Jodie thought it was a dead end, but as they drew nearer, she saw that it was a massive sculpture carved into a natural stone face. It was a doorway of sorts, but not on a human scale. A titanic one. Carved on either side of the structure's base were two huge three-clawed feet.

Through the chthonic doorway, lava cascaded along a tunnel that rose in a series of large steps, eventually forming a larger fall that poured into the river beneath them. At the far end of the tunnel, a faint but familiar blue glow lined the entrance into..somewhere.

"I think we should stop." Stanton said.

"Why?" Serizawa asked.

"Because I still wanna have kids one day." he said, tapping the top right corner of his screen. The geiger counter built into the drones flashed a dangerous red warning. "Preferably without flippers."

"Full stop. Hover the ship." the commander said.

The drones continued on without them, disappearing down into the tunnel as they all continued to watch their feed.

"Things are getting steamy." Stanton said. "Probes aren't gonna last long, but I'm picking up the big guy's radioactive signature up ahead. It's weak, but it's there."

He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the feed from one of the probes ceased, quickly followed by another. The third pushed forward, and a moment later it finally entered the vast cavern.

"Okay, we got O2, CO2, and methane - looks like some sort of air pocket in there." Stanton said.

As the probe rose to the surface of the cavity, the red-orange glow became more intense. Illuminated by the falling lava, a vast temple complex was laid out before them. And although the video feed was already beginning to lose resolution from the radiation, they could see him clear as day. Godzilla, splayed out on the temple floor like a fallen deity in the heart of his own temple, lava breaching up from beneath him like ichor.

"Oh my god -" Mark breathed.

"- zilla." Stanton finished.

And with that the video cut out into nothing but static. "Aaand goodnight, Grace." Stanton let go of the probe's controls, leaning back into his chair.

"Pull up the last frame." Serizawa said.

He zoomed into the volcanic vents surrounding Godzilla. It stung Jodie's heart to see the still of the titanic lizard in such a state, a powerful being so beaten like that. Helpless.

"There," he said, pointing to the glow behind his scutes. "It's the source of the radiation."

"He's feeding. Regenerating." Graham mused.

"This is his home." Serizawa said.

The two shared a look of satisfaction. Serizawa turned away, taking his notebook out of his pocket and flipping through the pages while Graham continued to stare at the frame.

"That must be how he's been able to survive so long." Mark said. "Always adapting, evolving, it's incredible."

"Welp," Stanton said. "He doesn't really need our help, dude's got it covered, right? He just needs a nap."

"No," Chen interjected. "After San Francisco he was gone for nearly five years. After the Oxygen Destroyer, this process could take decades."

"We have to proceed as planned." Serizawa said firmly.

"Hang on," Stanton objected. "We're gonna launch a nuclear torpedo in order to revive a giant monster. That's not exactly like jump-starting a car."

"We have one more complication," the commander said. "Our weapons systems were damaged during the crash. We can't launch."

Jodie's heart sank. "Shouldn't you have mentioned this a little earlier?" she said.

The commander was at a loss for words.

"Can it be repaired?" Mark asked.

"I'm afraid not." he replied.

They had come all this way, followed Mothra, journeyed into the hollow earth and found Godzilla - all for nothing. But Graham wasn't discouraged.

"Could we attach one of the warheads to a probe? Set a timer so that it gives us enough time to clear the area before it detonates?" Graham said.

Stanton shook his head. "They wouldn't handle the weight. Besides, they'll barely make it past the cave entrance before the radiation eats it."

"Okay," Chen said, pacing. "So what if we go inside, set a timer, and detonate one of the warheads manually?"

"No way," Stanton said. "If the heat doesn't fry you the radiation will. It might be good for titans but walking in there would be like walking into Chernobyl."

The sub was silent. There were no other options, none that ended in either the death of Godzilla or the deaths of themselves. Jodie bit at a nail.

"I'll go." Serizawa said, breaking the silence.

Jodie almost thought she'd heard wrong.

"What the hell does that mean?" Mark asked incredulously.

"No, I'll go - Serizawa, you're too im -" Gill started before being quickly interrupted.

"What? No, what are you -?!" Jodie was silenced as Serizawa raised a hand.

He didn't speak, but his face said it all. He had skipped to the obvious conclusion: a life for a life. And he would be the one to take that leap. Once he made up his mind, there was almost no convincing him.

"There must be another way." Graham insisted.

"There's no time for a debate," he said. "I'll go."

_____

It's cute -

             - That you think whatever trick you pulled can stop us.

                                                                                 We'd applaud your efforts, -

- But we're busy

Elena's jaw tightened, trying to push through the voices in her mind.

Don't feel so down, Speaker.

                    When we're finished, we'll leave you alive last

                                                   So that you may see our wonders in full swing.

It's going to be beautiful.

"He still talking to you?" Madison asked, startling her out of her daze.

She nodded. "He doesn't know about the ORCA. Yet. But even then he's suspicious...he thinks whatever we're doing won't work." she bristled, rubbing her arms of the sudden chill. "Let's hope we can prove him wrong."

"Look." the Regulator said after a beat, pointing to the screen.

For the past ten or so minutes they had been anxiously watching the new stream in from around the world for any sign of change. Now, it seemed, that the tables were finally turning. Madison smiled.

"It does appear as if the attacks have ceased for the time being, with the creatures going from destructive to docile within minutes. Now, no one is sure how or why but this seems to be happening simultaneously around the world."

The titans in the news footage didn't seem docile so much as they did completely dazed, if not confused. Like they had just been dropped in the middle of a city with no prior knowledge of waking up to begin with. The two conflicting alpha frequencies were scrambling their massive brains, and unable to decide who to follow, they couldn't act out at all.

Take that, you bastard, she thought with a satisfied grin.

Somewhere at the front of her mind, Ghidorah laughed. Elena would've rolled her eyes if only his signature cackle wasn't so unsettling.

This is only a minor setback.

                      They are dull, weak. This was to be expected.

                                                                               But we will manage.

You just keep thinking that, asshole, she responded.

It's funny, really.

                Seeing you try so hard.

                                            It's amusing.

But also sad.

             You can't stop a storm, -

                                                  - how could you stop us?

Nearly growling from frustration, Elena's eyes screwed shut. Why? What could you possibly gain from all this? A dead kingdom with no subjects?

There was a long, weighty pause after that. It frightened her, but she would rather die than admit that to him.

If you're so confident, Speaker, -

                                                  - Then maybe we should pay you a visit.

                                                                                            It's only polite.

Shit, Elena buried a sneer, throwing the headset onto the table in frustration.

Those self-absorbed bastards couldn't be reasoned with, that much she was sure of. But even with the titans incapacitated, it still didn't seem to sway them. She knew it was all far from over, but if the ORCA confused the titans long enough, Monarch would have a chance to do their thing. That is, if they even had a plan to begin with. Madison seemed faithful in their endeavors, and that faith was becoming increasingly infectious.

Meanwhile, on the field below, the crowd had thinned out to almost nothing. Another handful of airlifts and the evacuation would be complete. If anyone noticed the odd pulses coming from the stadium speakers, no one had come to check it out. But they weren't going anywhere. They couldn't keep the ORCA out of their sight, not now.

And even if they could leave, they didn't have anywhere to go.

_____

Captain Ford Brody helped Serizawa into the dive suit.

He had already prepped the bomb beforehand, laughing dismally at the irony of the situation. But now, as he helped prepare the doctor for what was assuredly a suicide mission, there was no sign of humor in him.

It was all happening too fast, Jodie felt like she was slipping down a slope that was now nearly vertical. There had to be some another way, it was just no one could think of anything during such a time crunch. That had to be it.

"We've removed the warhead's lead shielding and inserted a mechanical timer, so it can function in the radiation." Brody explained.

"On first contact you'll start losing your long-range vision." he said, quietly. "After you surface your motor skills will start to fade, but I added a heliox mixture to your tank. It should help keep you stable longer."

Serizawa nodded with an unreadable expression as he took in the specifics of his impending demise. The captain was trying to be precise, clinical. Jodie could see the sadness in his eyes just below the surface of professionalism.

"Once you get inside, you'll have about six minutes," he said. "Before the radiation -" he stopped himself, taking in an unsteady breath.

Jodie could feel her eyes well up with tears. Nearly losing Godzilla was one thing, but losing Serizawa? It was too much. Everyone could feel it. He was part of the very foundations of Monarch, and most of their lives. He was their heart.

Brody sent him off with a quick hug.

"It was an honor, man." Stanton said, reaching out and shaking Serizawa's hand.

Chen grabbed Serizawa in a hug, gripping him like she didn't want to let go. But she did, her arms pulling back slowly. Gill and Jodie both went in for a hug, and as they pulled away with soft pats on their backs, she could hear Gill sniffle just a bit. Mark shook his hand.

"Thank you," Serizawa said. "All of you."

He walked over to Graham, who was standing near the back of the crowd. She was trying not to let it all spill out, Jodie could tell. But as Serizawa pulled his notebook from his pocket, handing it to her, she sucked in a sharp sob.

"I couldn't." she said.

A wistful smile appeared along his face. Insisting, she grasped his notes with trembling hands.

"He fought for us. Almost died for us. He's not only proof that coexistence is possible, he is the key to it." his smile started to fade, but his eyes still held that solemn determination. "Take care of them, Vivienne."

She was fully sobbing as she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him like he was the last person on earth. He reciprocated the embrace, closing his eyes.

"Sensei, aishiteimasu." she whispered.

With that, he turned the airlock, climbing into the small sub. Giving a nod, the doors sealed and the water began to rise. Jodie and the others could do nothing but watch as he entered the fiery tunnel.

_____

Serizawa tried to control his breathing as he entered the tunnel, trying to steady the heart that wanted to jump out of his chest.

It was getting hot. The bottom of the sea had been cold, even through the walls of the sub he came from, but the river of lava flowing down from above was warming the tunnel and sub he was in now. If it got any hotter, he might not even survive long enough for the radiation to kill him.

He had to keep a calm mind.

He thought of the others - his colleagues, his friends, Vivienne - leaving them behind hurt him more than they would ever realize. But if he didn't do this, in due time there wouldn't be any of them at all.

If he turned back now they could easily turn tail and find a shelter, survive until they could come up with some other plan. But he couldn't let Godzilla die. Once Ghidorah destroyed every other threat to him in the world above, he would surely turn his attention elsewhere. With Godzilla weak, it wouldn't take much effort to finish him off. Then it wouldn't matter how well hidden the remnants of humanity were. The dragon would root them out, use his subjects to raise even more destruction. And when he was finished, even the ones that managed to escape his hunts wouldn't survive. And then, perhaps, he would then turn on the titans that followed him as well.

Godzilla was their only chance.

As he entered the tunnel, he found himself becoming distracted by its sheer magnificence. It was hard to imagine how it might have been built, but given its size, it had clearly been made for Godzilla. He wondered how many people had entered this temple. Had Godzilla even been present to see them? Did he even care? At its threshold and up its steps, the architects had carved enclosures that each held statues within them. Each represented strange creatures. Although the style was a little different, he recognized them as Sumerian in origin. The figures were spirits of protection and guidance. Some said they represented the natural order. Whoever built this place seemed to have hoped it would provide the titan solitude, a place safe from the fighting and bloodshed on the surface.

Serizawa found them comforting, encouraging even. Although they couldn't protect him, he could use all the guidance they could offer.

Sweat was pouring from him now, the interior of the sub was unbearable but it wasn't enough to kill him. Not yet.

As he passed the last of the stone guardians, he knew he was past the point of no return. He could already feel his skin buzzing from the radiation, and he knew if he turned back now he would only spend the rest of his shortened life in pain. He had seen people succumb to radiation poisoning. It was no way to die.

As he approached the foot of the long stretch of steps in the temple, the light ahead grew brighter, almost like a sunrise. He was doing the right thing, he could feel it. But he was still human, and that part of him was terrified.

The sub broke the surface of the water at last, and as he surfaced it sparked and sputtered, dying at the shore of the cavern. As he climbed out, bones aching, he found himself surrounded by majesty. The drone's video had not done this place - the palace of a god - justice. Never in his life had he seen something quite like this, and he knew that not many people would. He allowed himself a moment, paralyzed with wonder, letting his eyes drink it all in before his sight would start to fail him. Looking at all of it surrounding him, Serizawa felt small. But in that single moment - the disorientation, the nausea, the pain - all of it disappeared, and his head was right.

He continued on, and as he walked he found that part of the cavern seemed to be natural, but the handprint of humanity was everywhere. Sacred carvings, glyph-covered monoliths, temples, statues - the prototype of civilization all laid out before him. It was fitting, this amalgamation of man and nature, as fitting as the relationship it signified between man and...

Godzilla lay upon a stone platform in the heart of the temple, at the top of a very long, very broad staircase. Rivers of molten lava sprayed up around him, some falling behind him in massive flows. The glow almost gave him an ethereal look.

Taking the first step on that staircase, Serizawa felt the presence of hallowed ground, that sense of being a part of something far bigger than you could comprehend. So many years of his life had been spent searching for him, from carrying on his father's work to finding his own place in the world. And over the years, he had come to understand more and more about Godzilla's irreplaceable purpose, and his own. A purpose he was fulfilling now. Looking up at the staircase, at the pulsing light that shrouded it in a ghostly veil, it felt like ascending to the afterlife.

And Serizawa found that he was no longer afraid to die.

Carrying the bomb in its case, he started up the stairs. He had only managed to take a handful of steps and already he was beginning to feel his limbs tremble, his vision blurring. Putting one foot in front of the other had become a herculean task. Feeling the darkness closing around his sight, the bomb feeling heavier in his arms, he took a deep breath. He had to keep a calm mind, and in the back of his mind, he remembered an old Babylonian poem.

Goodbye old friend. Your peaceful breath slows, Your eyes gaze upon your world. I offer to you My strength.

The lava splashed to the bottom of the cave, and in the encroaching distance Godzilla's scutes broke the flow of the light below.

Goodbye old friend. My hand reaches forth, Striving for divinity. I offer to you My love.

His breathing was getting heavier as the radiation permeated the suit. He stumbled for a moment, tripping over his own feet before getting back up.

Goodbye old friend. At the steps of your kingdom, We become one. I offer to you My life.

When he reached the summit, he did not realize it at first. But then his eyes focused, and he saw Godzilla only a few steps ahead of him. His lungs were burning, and the steam that wafted from the lava was suffocating. With a puff of air from the titan's nostrils, the steam cleared.

Serizawa knelt down, setting the case on the platform and opening the timer. With shaking fingers, he started it. Twenty seconds was all the time he needed.

Feeling around one of the suit's pockets, he took out his pocket watch, looking at it one last time, remembering his father. Suddenly, a vast groan of pain shook the chamber. Serizawa could hardly stand again, but he fought against the ache that covered his body. Using the last of his strength, he removed his helmet.

The air was thick and harsh with burnt stone and water vapor, it was nearly too much, but that was okay.

Up close, Godzilla's wounds were terrible, spanning almost his entire body. His dorsal spines were barely flickering with his signature blue light, but he would heal. And he would fight once again, bringing balance.

Serizawa could barely breathe now, as the slightest movement he took was agony. But looking at Godzilla, he felt some of that strength return. And the titan looked back. He couldn't feel himself move, but Godzilla's form was coming closer to him. Call it a hallucination, call it projecting - call it whatever you like - but as Serizawa came within inches of the titan, there was something intelligent in those eyes. Something so startlingly human. Recognition. Empathy. Heartache.

He stripped off one of his gloves, skin stinging from the contact, and laid a hand on Godzilla's scales.

"Saraba, tomo yo." Serizawa closed his eyes.

And then there was light.

Whirlwind Romance (Part 9)

Prompt: You’re getting married to Chris Evans… Everything in your life is perfect… Except when you break the news to your two best friends: Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 2312

Warnings: language, anger, angst, adult themes??

Notes: This is for @carryonmyswansong challenge (Double Season, Multifaceted, 500 Follower Celebration, Writing Challenge!): Prompt – You’re marrying the wrong person! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes bcuz shes amazing and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo@carryonmyswansong for letting me brainstorm with them. Got this idea from @formyfandoms… Fic image made by the super bomb @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The countdown had begun for the wedding, and the engagement party. It was only two weeks away, but work right now was more important. Your film with Tom was closing in on shooting soon and you needed to make sure every muscle on your body was toned and fit. Thankfully, you had a health nut for a best friend who said he’d accompany you at the gym while he was in town for a few days.

“You excited for this new gig?” Seb asked as the two of you drove to the gym a few miles away.

“I am.  A little nervous though,” you confessed.

“Why? You’re working with Tom. Chris says he’s great.”

“No, yeah, I know that. That’s not it. We did those plays together at RADA…”

“So what’s the issue?”

“Well we have to… kiss. Like… eventually.”

“Yeeeaahh?” Seb dragged, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as he drove.

“Isn’t it weird? I know it’s part of the territory but if you and I had to kiss for a movie you don’t think it would make shit weird between us?’

He chuckled slightly, his nose scrunching as he shut his eyes briefly, his famous giggle face. “No, not really. Whether we’re strangers or it’s you and me, the kissing isn’t romantic at all.”

“Yeah, I know that. It never is. I usually just pretend I’m kissing Chris in those scenes, making sure my head is tilted right and all that jazz…”

“But you can’t do that with Tom?”

“I don’t think I can kiss my best friend and fantasize about my fiance, no,” you stated, an air of humor and sarcasm in your voice.

Seb reached over and patted your leg. “You’ll both do fine. Just don’t dwell on who it is. Close your eyes and let your lips do the talking.”

After a moment, you arrived at the gym. You got in, got your bag put away, and you were doing your warm up stretches when suddenly, Sebastian’s voice surprised you from behind.

“Look who decided to join me at the gym!” he said happily.

You spun and saw his phone was trained on him and you. He was taking a video for Insta…

“Ugh. Jesus. Sebastian. No one wants to see my ugly mug,” you complained, pushing the camera away. Your hair was in a messy ponytail and your makeup was nonexistent. You didn’t need fans (or worse, haters) seeing you like utter shit.

“Ugly? In what world are you ugly?” he asked as he peered at you with a cocked eyebrow. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him, back into the video. “What are we working on today, Y/N?” he inquired, trying to get some hype and enthusiasm from you and his followers.

“We’re working on not forcing people into social media!” you teased, shaking your head and sticking your tongue out.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a jerk,” he requested, his voice tender and pleading.

“My abs and my legs,” you informed finally, your hands on your hips as you looked at the camera, putting your feigned annoyance on it. “And you?”

“Arms and back,” he answered.

Finally, you decided to join in on the fun. “Tell us in the comments what you’re working on today or this week! Feel free to add gym and health tips!”

“What she said,” Seb reiterated with a nod towards you. “Okay, we better get to work before they kick us out!” He leaned in and kissed your cheek quickly before ending the video.

That kiss seemed to make butterflies burst in your stomach… why?

“Well, shall we get to it?” he asked as he gestured to a piece of equipment.

“Ready to get your ass whooped?” you asked, breaking free from the trance he’d put you in.

“Oh, you’re on. I bet I can bench for longer than you can,” he challenged.

“I bet you can’t even get on the bench,” you teased in a mutter.

He climbed onto the bench while you stood over him as his spotter. “Hey, I heard that.”

“Oh, really, old man? Wasn’t sure you had your hearing aid turned all the way up,” you mocked with a goofy face.

“Shut up and spot me,” he ordered playfully.

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

“Hey! Hey! So good to see you!” Chris said for probably the tenth time already. You had stressed to him that the engagement party list should be like one-quarter, if not less, than the wedding guest list, and so far, people were pouring in.

The party had started hours ago, and now it was getting a little later but the party was still in full swing as people were still showing up.

Hors d'oeuvres were being passed around on silver platters, champagne and ice water were being handed out to guests. Guests were coming in with small token gifts, hugging and kissing you, congratulating you and Chris. Tasteful metallic decorations were accented everywhere inside Chris’s home.

He’d just welcomed in someone you had never met. You think it was his cousin that still lived in Boston with her husband and their three year old. Your parents had managed to make it, Chris’s parents were there, Sebastian and Tom were there. Mackie, Lizzy, Robert, and Paul were all there. Other than your immediate family and like five friends outside of the Marvel cast, you didn’t really invite anyone to this. It was mainly Chris’s huge family and a crap ton of friends. Everyone was kind, sweet, supportive. Everyone was throwing advice your way, or asking a million questions about the wedding. Everyone demanded to see the ring, to which everyone gasped when they saw it.

“If I could have everyone’s attention for just a second,” Chris suddenly said, taking place at the entryway between the expansive living room and state of the art kitchen. His raised voice commanded everyone's attention and after the commotion died down, he continued. “I wanna thank all of you for coming tonight. It really means a lot to Y/N and me. For me, this has been a long time coming. From the moment I laid eyes on you, Y/N, I knew you were my world.”

A sound of appreciation went through the crowd, making your cheeks blaze red as all eyes shot to you.

“Of course, you didn’t make it easy though,” he remarked, a small laugh coming from him, inciting a laugh from everyone else. “She played hard to get. Now, I’d like to say it worked. But I think the truth is, whether she said yes to me the first day, or fifty years from now, I would still be chasing her. She said yes to marrying me. In a few months, she'll say yes again, I hope--” more laughter trinkled around the room “and I’m blessed to have that. Because Y/N, babe, I will say yes to you every day for the rest of my life, even if you tell me no.”

A small tear reached your eye as Chris raised his glass.

“Here’s to chasing love. May we all get the chance to find a love worth fighting for. I love you, baby,” he said with adoration.

Everyone joined him in raising their glass and then took a sip.

Chris made his way over to you as your friends and family went back to their chatting. He wrapped his free hand around your waist and pulled you close.

“You’re a sap, you know that?” you asked in a chiding tone.

“Only for you,” he cooed before kissing your cheek. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it… you know, except for the part about being in front of everyone we know,” you said, your cheeks still hot from the sudden attention.

“You’re gonna have to declare your love to me in a few months, better get used to it now,” he said in a low voice before smacking your ass. You gasped in shock and you were about to admonish his behavior, but then Lizzy, Mackie, and some of Chris’s family you had yet to remember came over.

“So how are the wedding plans going?” one woman asked cheekily, you thought it was his aunt.

“They’re going. We’re knocking stuff down,” Chris informed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his hand holding your arm, his thumb moving slightly in a reassuring motion.

For some odd reason, you couldn’t shake it, you wanted to leave. You wanted to go into the backyard, or the bedroom. You weren’t sure where, or why, you just felt like you needed to escape, like you were suffocating. It wasn’t all the attention, you were somewhat used to that in public, on the red carpet. You just couldn’t get over this feeling of needing a breather.

But why would you need a break at your own engagement party? Shouldn’t you be enjoying friends and company and food? The celebration of love?

“That’s good! So have you two decided on where you’re going to live?” she inquired. “I hear you live in LA. That might be hard on a marriage, with Chris being here. Are you going to find a new place or--”

“Boston, for sure,” Chris interjected with confidence.

“Oh good! It’ll be nice to have the family nearby!”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Chris agreed.

From there, Chris mainly managed the conversation with everyone, answering his families questions as well as Lizzy’s and Mackie’s. You just stood by his side, sipping your champagne, hoping something would happen to pull you away from this, as badly as that sounded.

Eventually, Chris steered his family away to go talk to someone else in his family, discussing something sort of personal he probably didn’t want the other two to hear.

“You okay?” Liz asked, eyeing you.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, just a lot on my mind. People keep asking all these questions about the wedding and I’m having to make all these mental notes. Like nothing too sweet for wedding favors. I can’t play this song or it’ll make Chris’s Aunt Trina sad… Just stuff like that,” you answered. It wasn’t even a lie, thankfully. You were trying to keep track of everything people did and didn’t want, and other things you needed to check on or add to the checklist.

“Okay you just seem… down?” she commented.

“Yeah, man for a party that you’re hosting, it sure seems like you’d rather not be here,” Mackie noted.

“I’m just stressed, I guess,” you huffed. “One film has started filming, I’m trying to learn this script and plan this wedding--”

“You know I’m here for that, right?’ Liz reminded sweetly, humor mixed in her voice as she reached up and squeezed your arm slightly. “Anything wedding related you need me to handle, I can do it.”

“Thanks. I may send you some stuff tonight or tomorrow…”

At that moment, Sebastian walked up, evidently drunk. He was stumbling and a little sloppy. He wasn’t so far gone that he needed a cab, but he looked like he was just past the mark of tipsy. Heading into full drunk territory.

“Hey, Seb,” you greeted, a light filling you. You should’ve just found Tom or Seb to stick around all night, maybe then you would’ve have felt so bombarded and overwhelmed.

“Hey… you know, I love you,” he said as he stood awkwardly against the built in entertainment center.

You smiled at him. “I love you too, Seb. You’re my best friend.”

Seb shook his head and said, “Not like that.”

Color drained from your face as a pit in your stomach formed. You looked to Lizzy and Mackie who had concerned expressions on their faces. This wasn’t good. What the fuck was he talking about?

Did he really confess what you thought he did? What the hell was he thinking saying that in front of everyone?

You were mortified. Half of you wanted to hit him, the other half wanted to just laugh it off.

But you took an alternative route.  

“Would you excuse us?” you requested politely with a dazzling smile as you grabbed Seb’s hand and nearly yanked him away with you. You hauled him into the master bedroom and shut the door behind you, leaning your back against it.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you demanded, staring at him.

“I’m talking about us, Y/N,” Seb said, before sitting on the bed, putting his face in his hands for a moment. He rubbed his face and looked up at you. The drunkenness had started to fade. He seemed… tired now.

“What us? There is no us, Sebastian. We’re friends,” you stated, your arms crossed as you stared him down.

“Really?” he challenged in a disbelieving tone. “Just friends? Is that all you feel when we’re together?” he asked, looking deep into your eyes.

For a moment, you just stared at him. You swam in his ocean blues while he searched the depths of your irises. What did you feel when you were with Sebastian? Did it compare to Chris? Was it romantic love or platonic love? Sure, you and Seb seemed to have more fun than you and Chris, and sometimes Seb really understood you in ways Chris didn’t yet, but that could be because you knew Seb a long time.

Yeah, you had felt some things with Seb. Ways that made you question your entire relationship and dynamic.

But right now, at your engagement party to Chris, that wasn’t one of those times.

You shook your head. “I’m not doing this… I can’t do this, not at my engagement party. We’ll talk about this later,” you said before quickly exiting the room, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind on the bed.

You made a beeline for Chris, and didn’t dare look or speak to Seb for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tags:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

@sea040561

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

Tom Hiddleston:

@camigt1999

@lenawiinchester

@esoltis280

Sebastian Stan:

@nedthegay

@lostinspace33

@alwayshave-faith

@elleatrixlestrange

@buenostardissherlock

@lenawiinchester

@the-red-world-of-jess-chibi

@memory-of-a-goldfish

@shamptain-shmerica

@crazybutconfidentaf

@esoltis280

@alwayshave-faith

Chris Evans:

@nedthegay

@camigt1999

@lostinspace33

@alwayshave-faith

@elleatrixlestrange

@lenawiinchester

@mellsstark

@esoltis280

@patzammit

WR Tag:

@gaylemonshark @tacohead13

@seabasstiantrash

I posted these as asks four years ago and never got to answer any so

THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE SEEING THESE FROM ME, DIDN’T YA? Me too, I’m so sorry

1. First thing you wash in the shower? Hair.

2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? I have like two cups of coffee a month but have only drank booze twice in the past year so coffee I guess.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Many times.

4. Do you plan outfits? Sometimes I’ll want to wear a specific shirt but it’s rarely ever clean and I never pick out clothes sooner than right before my shower.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? Tired but I still have to put the garbage out before I can go to bed and my neck and knees are killing me so I can’t get off the couch. But I’m in an okay mood.

6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red? Throw pillow.

7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body? Idk I’d like to say I’d be a badass about it but honestly I’d probs scream.

8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? I legit don’t remember. I dream every night but they usually fly right out of my head when I wake up.

9. Three of your current feelings? Tired, hungry, in pain. 

10. What are you craving right now? Cheeseburger and onion rings.

11. Turn ons? Um...intelligence, wit, shoulders, eyes, ginger beards.

12. Turn offs? Arrogance, chauvinism, people who don’t like cats.

13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? Coleslaw.

14. When was the last time you cried? Why? I was doing a concert in my living room last night, as I often do, and some of the songs got me a little emosh.

15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be? Black Widow or Loki.

16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? No but she did change the way she treated me so I’m taking that for what it is.

17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? I don’t eat ice cream because it hurts my teeth no matter which method of eating I use.

18. Favorite movie ever? Bring it On.

19. Do you like yourself? Depends on the day. Actually it changes even more frequently than that.

20. Have you ever met a celebrity? Many. None will top Jensen Ackles though. Well. Except Misha. Note the double entendre lol

21. Could you handle being in the military? I definitely could not. I’m also too old to enlist even if I wanted to.

22. What are you listening to right now? Walking Dead, season 1 episode 2. Because every time I start the series over, I pick up from episode 3 since I don’t really care about anyone but Daryl until Jesus happens. But today I felt like a refresher from the beginning.

23. How many countries have you visited? I went to Canada once.

24. Are your parents strict? They were while I was being raised. Then my little sister had like no rules.

25. Would you go sky diving? No way.

26. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush? Hell yeah.

27. Whats on your mind right now? I’m really just trying to gather the motivation to get up and pee, then take the garbage out so I can go to sleep.

28. Is there anything you want to say to someone? Ehh not really.

29. Have you ever been in a castle? No but I would tour the shit out of some if I had the opportunity.

30. Do you rent movies often? Almost never because who does that anymore? But we did just rent Mile 22 from the Redbox a few weeks ago. It was pretty meh for Wahlberg.

31. Whats your zodiac sign? Leo.

32. When was the last time you had sex? A month ago. Purely by circumstance. My husband is currently on week four of a five week work rotation in Texas.

33. Name five facts about yourself. Lord. I have rapidly deteriorating joints and it fucking hurts everywhere all the time. I’ve spent the past 48 hours going back through my entire tumblr, over 300 pages. I only make homemade mac n cheese, not boxed. I’m almost finished rereading every Desus fic on AO3 for the second time (some more than two but I mean going through literally every page). One of my cats is sitting above my head and purring really loudly and another is sitting to my left snoring.

34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened? Got caught driving in a blizzard. Spun off the road several times, including once off of an on-ramp. Like do not enter, wrong direction. If I hadn’t made it to the hotel right next to the on-ramp I really would’ve been fucked.

35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny? Not really.

36. Brown or white eggs? White.

37. Do you own something from Hot Topic? Most of my material possessions are from the hot topical, yes. Clothes, jewelry, funkos, makeup, miscellaneous other merch. It’s like a lot.

38. Ever been on a train? I have not.

39. Ever been in love? I am.

40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it? I hate this question. Of course I want a million dollars. But I’ve always wanted to stay in a haunted house anyway.

41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with? JJ Ackles. Except that I wouldn’t wish my life on her. Can we just be siblings instead?

42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to become more attractive, would you do it? I’m already attractive. And my life expectancy isn’t that high as it is.

43. Whom do you admire and why? My husband because he does crazy shit like work 35 days in a row when he’s only supposed to work 14 just to make sure all our bills are paid and we have savings because I’m too crippled to work at all right now.

44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child? I didn’t get bedtime stories.

45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do? I am literally capable of doing nothing, except maybe let her use my phone to call 911 if she hasn’t already.

46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you? No. I can’t even choose my own profession.

47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol? Idk about best but my most recent one was pretty good. I hadn’t had alcohol in over a year but a few weeks ago my sister turned 21 and we had family game night at my parents’ house so I got a little buzzed on some grapefruit White Claws and for about four hours I wasn’t in physical pain. Plus we all had a really good time just hanging out and playing games and everybody got along. That has 100% never happened in my family before. Also the last time I smoked weed, which was MANY years ago, like 6 or 7, it had the same effect and reduced my joint pain.

48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol? Worst with drugs was the night I smoked an entire joint just in my living room alone and it must have been strong shit because I threw up immediately. Worst experience drinking was probably all of 2010.

50. As you’re walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it? Probs I’m desperate and not that great of a person.

51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them? Yes? WTF kind of question is that? It’s 2019, AIDS isn’t cooties.

52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger? Depends what kind of pistol. If it’s a revolver you can see the rounds in the barrel. 

53. How old were you when you lost your virginity? 20.

54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires? Nope. Well I still haven’t ruled out ghosts but I also know how to dispatch them so.

55. If you could live forever, would you want to? HELL naw.

56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are? Janice Ian.

57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit? We love a renaissance.

58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Probably.

59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Not even for like a day.

60. If you could choose the sex of your unborn child, would you want to? Yes. I want a girl. Come for me.

61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy? I want that money beech.

Mercy

As requested by a dear friend of my, here’s an old fic I wrote about Willhelm and a few other familiar faces from the usual militia lot. I hope you all enjoy ; u ;

The sound of gunfire and canons blasted through the canvas walls of the medical tent as the two surgeons and their assistants rushed about, aiding to the wounded and the dying.  The men ran about, cutting and stitching as fast as their hands and minds could fathom, but sadly not as fast as the injured were being carried in by the minute.  The medical tent was just as much hell as the battle that raged outside.  Blood puddled on cots and soil, filling the air with its pungent, metallic miasma.  It was more than most could bare, but Percy and Willhelm did all in their power to make it work.

Usually, the two men would’ve worked separately.  Though equals in their field, the two were far from companions outside of their professional work.  A slight rivalry bloomed between them, no doubt stemming from their opposing work methods.  Willhelm was methodical and organized, although a bit too rigid in the eyes of his more radical colleague.  Much to Willhelm’s dismay, Percy was more unorthodox in his ways.  He was a brilliant man, that much the other would admit, but far too much of a maverick in his field.  The two butted heads endlessly, and they were more than thankful when their commanding officer agreed to let them work separately - Percy for the higher ups and Willhelm for the cavalrymen.  Today, however, was an exception. The sweat dripped off of  Willhelm’s forehead as he put the final stitch on yet another wounded soldier.  “Alright, take him away. Next”, he ordered, wiping away the beads of sweat that blurred his vision. The younger of the two chuckled. He barely even glanced up from his work, yet his colleague’s frenzy was as palpable as the bloody mess that lay in his hands. “Losing steam eh, Dr.Blackwood?”, he chortled. “You know, I can always take one off your hands for you. Lighten the load, perhaps?”

Willhelm rolled his eyes at the other man’s irritatingly nonchalant demeanor. He admired him for his ability to handle situations with dire stress, but he also wished he could do so quietly.  “As much as I appreciate your assistance, Dr.Hewlett”, he sighed, wiping his hands on a bloodstained rag. “I suggest you keep your paws to yourself, if you wish to keep them.” Percy guffawed as he signaled for the officer he was working on to be sent off. “Well they did warn me you were a genius with a scalpel and saw.  The offer still stands though. All this stress can’t be easy for you, old man.” A patient each was set upon their operating tables, groaning and bleeding. This was no time for levity. Willhelm simply scowled before returning to his work. “Bloody maverick.”

—————————

Hours passed and still the influx of patients continued to travel in and out of the medical tent.  There had been a slight lull accompanying news of the British forces finally taking the offensive and advancing a few meters northbound.  Nonetheless, the surgeons’ work was far from over.

A flood of wounded officers had found their way into Percy’s skillful hands, but like any surgeon, no matter the skill, he only had two. He kept his cool, but Willhelm could see a slight panic beginning to breach the surface. “Eating your words yet?” Willhelm smirked as he watched the other man toil over two patients. “You know it’s never too late. My hands are free. I could lighten the load, perhaps?”, he asked, parroting Percy’s earlier quip.

Percy felt his cheek twitch. “Well, Dr.Blackwood”, he spoke through a strained smile, taking off his spectacles as to wipe them of sweat and blood.  “That’s very kind of you to offer. Yet a tad bit unoriginal, don’t you think?” The older man chuckled. He couldn’t help but take even a little pleasure from the other’s chagrin. It seems even the great Percival Hewlett’s pageantries and medical prowess had their limits. “Come now, Dr.Hewlett”, he chided. “There’s no need to be shy.” One of the officer’s squirmed as he went under the needle. “P-perhaps Dr.Blackwood’s right”, he whinged. “Th-think of the othe-“ “I would consider it highly unwise, Mr.Parker, to question the authority of the man who holds your life in his very hands”, Percy cut off the officer with his usual strange brand of saccharine apathy. “Or in this case, your limb. Now please, do hold still.” His strange grin made the man shiver. The canons sounded off yet again, making the ground shake and the tent walls shiver.  Percy did all he could to hone himself in, to buckle down, to drown out all the chaos, all the din.  It was easy, or at least it was most of the time. Yet again, today proved to be another exception.  With aching wrists and tired eyes, the man set down his medical scissors with a defeated sigh. Willhelm simply watched, his brow raised expectantly. “Well, Dr. Blackwood. Today’s your lucky day”, the younger of the two finally admitted. “It seems I’m feeling quite generous.” The other couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s this? Am I sensing a sliver of humanity in the great Dr.Hewlett?” “Yes, well, don’t go getting used to it”, Percy retorted. He bowed his head as he focused on his work once more. “The next officer that walks through that tent is yours, Blackwood.” True enough it took no longer than ten minutes for three new patients - two officers and a private - to be lobbed into the already crowded quarters. The higher ups were split amongst the surgeons, an Officer Richards limping over to Percy’s side of the tent, while an Officer Daniels clung to his bloodied sleeve as he trudged over to Willhelm’s end.  A fourth member to the injured party joined them as well, his bespattered kilt swaying stiffly as the blood upon it began to dry. “Jesus Christ, Paddy”, Willhelm exclaimed, recognizing the man. His dark eyes shot quickly to the bloodied apparel. “Don’t tell me-“ “I appreciate the concern, Doc”, the other man panted as he practically dragged his wounded companion. “But it is not my blood. The boy. It’s the boy.” “Yes, well place him on the bench-“ “I would but I don’t think the lad’ll make it if I tried.” The young soldier groaned, his lips quivering as he clutched onto the darkened stain that continued to spread down the front of his coat. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sputter of blood. “Christ Almighty! Get him to the table. The table! Get him on it now!”, Willhelm roared over the panic. He turned swiftly, catching one of his assistants by the arm as they were about to run past. “Bandages. I need bandages, clean ones. More of them. Understood?” Percy watched silently as the other man scurried away. His usual chatter may have ceased, but his curiosity was far from ebbed. With a huff and a grunt, the young soldier was lifted onto the operating table, whimpering in pain at even the slightest movement brought onto his wounded form. Such a sign didn’t bode well. “Alright. Let’s have a look now.” Carefully, Willhelm began to take the soldier’s hand off of his gut and peeled away the blood-soaked jacket flap. “Easy now. Let’s just-“ “How dare you!”, the officer bellowed from behind him. “You put him before me?! I was here first!” “You both came at the same time, Officer Daniels”, Willhelm said over his shoulder, not even turning to look at the man. “Now if you would please wait your tu-“ “Don’t you dare turn your back to me! I’m an officer!” “Yes and I am very much aware of that. I am sure your regiment will fair fine without you even for a moment. From the sounds of it, they already are.” The man’s brows raised in shock. How dare he! How dare anyone speak to him in such contempt!  “If we lose this bloody battle because of you-“ “And if we this boy loses his bloody life because of you, then what, Officer Daniels?!”, Willhelm bellowed as he spun around to finally face the nuisance of a man. “Now answer me this and answer me quick because I have another man’s life in my hands! Can you walk?”

“Y-yes.” “Are you breathing?”

“Of course I’m-“ “Do you have a bullet lodged anywhere?” “N-no-“ “Well then, what seems to be the problem?”, Willhelm challenged Daniels. His snide tone was far from appreciated. “Are you blind? I fell off my damn horse and now my wrist-“ “Yes, the thing looks broken. Fractured at most. Now if you please excuse me, I have a man with a hole the size of St.James in his guts! I’m sure you can tell which is more dire, considering that it was your wrist that broke and not your brain.” Daniels couldn’t believe the gall of this doctor! Who did he think was? He sat there, seething as he watched the doctor walk away. “Y-you…m-my superiors will hear of this! This will not go unnoticed, Doctor Blackwood! Mark my words!” “Well, that’s if he has any tongue to tell them with”, Willhelm grumbled as he reached for his forceps. “Aye, steady on now, Will”, Paddy warned. “Believe me, there are several things I’d love to teach that man, he’s a right bugger, he is. Though might I suggest we keep things rather untroubled. For the boy’s sake.” A boy indeed. Willhelm couldn’t help but feel the twisting pang of guilt as he gazed down at the young man. He was young, too young to be here.  “He should be at home. Working. Studying”, the doctor thought to himself. His mind wandered for a moment to his students. Then to his son. Good god, the boy looked so much like him - the dark hair and eyes, the slope to his nose. Now, Willhelm was a professional, a man of method and rules. Hardly did he ever let anything move him in such a way. He was acquainted with death and accustomed to blood and pain, much more so than he would like to admit. But this, this broke him. “Well?”, Paddy asked, taking Willhelm out of his subconscious. “What do you reckon, Doc? What’s the damage?” The doctor looked at his friend, but gave no answer. With his forceps and scissors he cut away at the bloodied cloth, revealing a gaping void of viscera and tissue. The boy had been shot in the stomach. It was only a matter of time before the acids and bile began spreading throughout his body and causing an unbearably painful death. And who knows how long it had taken for them to get back to the medical tent. Willhelm had to make a decision and fast. “I-I…I need time”, he faltered. “I just need a little time.” “I’m afraid we don’t have much of it, Doc.”

More blood came up from the young man’s mouth, the dark liquid dripping down his chin and mingling with the viscera that already dampened his uniform. He could not speak nor scream, yet the flurry of fear and panic that shown in his eyes rang clear as the gunshots outside. His cheeks grew wet with tears and blood as his hand gripped onto the fabric of Willhelm’s sleeve. “Steady on, steady on lad”, Paddy comforted the boy, holding him still as he shook with each cough, “Will, we’ve got to do something! Now!” A thousand remedies ran through the doctor’s already frantic mind, and yet none deemed themselves helpful to the cause. The blood was already traveling up to the boy’s throat, the bile and acids of his stomach surely making it hard to breath. The pain, oh Christ ,the pain in the young man’s eyes. Willhelm grabbed a nearby bottle of laudanum and uncorked it. He poured the ruby liquid into the soldier’s mouth while his other hand supported his head. “Will…”, Paddy said, staring in horror. And yet he kept going. The bottle was down to half its content. “Will.” A third. “Willhelm!” A quarter. “Dr.Blackwood!”, Percy’s voice yelled from across the room. Willlhelm stopped, his hands shaking as he put down the tinted bottle. The boy’s grip upon his sleeve had grown limp. He was dead. The doctor’s gaze travelled about the tent, gathering the unnerved glances of those around him. “I-I….I need to…wash my hands…excuse me”, he slurred before turning the other way and walking out of the tent. “Please excuse me.” Paddy, Percy, and the officers simply stared in silent shock at what they had just seen. “He killed him…”, Daniels murmured. “He bloody killed him…” ————————— Percy leaned against the post of the nearby tent, the light emanating from behind him casting long shadows onto the cold ground. The night air had grown silent and still. Only the scent of gunpowder remained as a reminder of the recent battle and victory they had accomplished but a few hours ago. The quiet only amplified the shouting coming from the nearby officer’s tent.

He listened intently, gathering whatever he could from the muffled voices. “So”, Paddy sighed, taking his place beside Percy. The flickering lamplight only accentuated the worry upon his already weathered features. “Officer Daniels really did it eh? Bloody bastard can’t even keep his own boots clean, yet he can keep his word on this?” An exhale drifted from the doctor’s lips and turned to vapor. “Apparently.” The two stood still, the muffled screaming being the only other sound than the groaning of the wounded. “Did he really do it though?”, Paddy asked, his eyes fixated on the glowing tent. “Did he truly kill the boy?” “In a sense, yes. But not to the extent of which most would think.” “Aye, but do they know that?”, the Scotsman said, gesturing to the tent. Pushing himself from the beam, Percy chuckled cooly. “They will. Soon enough.” ————————— “An outrage! This is an absolute outrage!”, Commanding Officer Wesley Péche yelled from behind his desk. “Out of all the people in this company that I expected this sort of buggery from, it definitely wasn’t from you, Dr.Blackwood!” Willhelm stood silently at the front of the desk. He was usually not one to back down from a heated debate, but tonight he could barely even look at the man before him. Instead, his gaze remained fixated on a small scratch engraved onto the dark wood. “I appreciate your trust, Sir-“ “Yes, well it doesn’t seem much like it! You’ve made a mockery of it! And absolute mockery! I hand picked you myself, do you know that?! The college had recommended me your superior, Dr. Langley, but I specifically chose you. Do you want to know why, Dr.Blackwood?” “If I could please explain-“ “Because they told me of your skill, your competence, and most importantly your compliance to the oath you took when you became a surgeon!”, Wesley continued, his hazel eyes glowing with rage in the lamplight. “I thought you proficient in understanding the importance of obedience to the rules. Perhaps I was mistaken.” Though older by a great many years, Willhelm couldn’t help but feel as if he were a young child being scolded by its parent. He clenched his fists tightly, opening and closing them as he took a deep breath. “Sir, with all due respect-“ “No! No!”, the other cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t want to hear it! Daniels told me quite enough! Not only did you waste an entire bottle of laudanum, a provision that we are in low supply of, but you ignored an officer his right to medical care. And let us not forget the biggest error of all, you-“ “Good evening, Officer Péche”, Percy interrupted as he lifted the flap of the tent. “Forgive the intrusion, but we are needing Dr.Blackwood back in the medical tent. Some of the patients are getting a little fussy.” Wesley scowled. He was already upset enough at one surgeon, he did not need the irksome company of the more confounding of the two at the moment. “Yes, well I am not done with him, Dr.Hewlett. As you can see, I am having a discussion-“ “Ahh! Well then perhaps I could be of assistance?”, Percy offered, fully stepping into Wesley's quarters. The officer blinked. “I don’t see how-“ “Well considering the misdeeds and accusations that are being speculated around the camp concerning our dear Dr.Blackwood, I thought I may shed some light on the situation. I did witness the entire ordeal, after all.” Willhelm held his breath. What on earth was his colleague up to? “W-well…I…I guess, that’s alright…”, Wesley considered, turning his gaze away from the other doctor. Percy always had a habit of making him feel uncomfortable whenever he was in his presence. He would have readily shooed him out of his quarters, but what other choice did he have? The only other witnesses to the incident were Paddy and Officer Richards, the two being unreliable due to their close relations to Blackwood and their injured state, respectively. As much as Percy was far from winning any favors in Wesley’s book, something hardly ever earned by anyone according to the men, the doctor  had always seemed rather neutral to most situations. Eerily so. Neither was he close to Blackwood in any sort of the sense. “Fine. Fine. I’ll allow it.” “Perfect. Do carry on, Officer Péche”, Percy said with his usual saccharine nonchalance as he lowered himself down onto a nearby chair. Willhelm stared in horror at the other doctor. Christ, this was it. He was doomed. “As I was saying”, Wesley continued, clearing his throat. “Firstly, you ignored an officer, when according to him and other witnesses, you had promised to ‘lighten Dr.Hewlett’s load’.” “Sir, I-“ “Secondly, you not only used an entire bottle of laudanum, but wasted it-“ “Correction”, Percy said from across the desk. “Not all of it. The bottle still had over a quarter left.” Wesley glowered, his lips drawing to a thin line before he resumed his monologue. “But wasted it entirely on one man. One man! A bottle can serve almost three men if I am not mistaken. Am I Dr.Blackwood?”

“No. No, sir.” “And worst of all, you readily poured the contents of said bottle down the throat of your own patient! Choking him from the reports of the others!” A shot of guilt tore through Willhelm’s gut. “I…Sir, I didn’t intend to kill the boy-“ “Well you most certainly did, according to those present!” “I only meant mercy-“ “Mercy?! By forcing a bottle down his throat!?” “He was in great pain, Sir! There was no other way!” “If I may? Gentlemen?”, Percy interrupted yet again as he stood form his seat and took his place in front of the desk. “I would like to give my own account of this afternoon’s situation.” Wesley hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange prickle as he sat under the fair-haired doctor’s expectant gaze. “If you must…” “Thank you”, he replied with a smile. “Now, I must say that the first two accusations are sadly true. Dr.Blackwood did ignore Officer Daniels’ request, and procured a bottle of laudanum from the already dwindling supply.” “Exactly. Therefore-“ “But he did not do so without reason.” Percy squared his shoulders and calmly placed his hands behind his back, as if he was ready to lecture in front of a class. It irked Wesley to no end. Willhelm shot the other doctor a nervous glance. “Dr.Hewlett, I don’t think-“ “Hush now, I believe Officer Péche has give me the podium, so to speak”, he replied with an ensured grin. “You see, in the medical world, rank does not outweigh the dire need of medical attention. A title and commission, though magnificent in their own right, does not outrank a giant gash across someone’s chest, for example. Though the two patients did arrive at the same time, Officer Daniels’ injury was far more inferior to that of the young private.” “Well I think that’s rathe-“ “Don’t tell me, Officer Péche, that if you were to walk into the tent with, let us say, a fractured shin, yet have your good friend - what’s his name? Harold?” The officer’s ears reddened. “Harold lay bleeding to death on another cot, you would use your rank to get ahead?” Wesley froze, his face looking like a strange cross between a scowl and a grimace. He was never one who enjoyed being scrutinized, much more so when it was he who was supposed to be doing the probing. “Alright. Alright, fine! But that still doesn’t account for what happened to the private. I should have you tried for murder, Dr.Blackwood.” Willhelm felt his blood run cold. “Murder?!”, he exclaimed. “Sir, you cannot be serious!” “All the witnesses said Dr.Blackwood gave the boy a high dosage of laudanum-“ “As a means of mercy, no doubt”, Percy explained. “May I ask you, Officer Péche, if you know the Hippocratic Oath?”

“I-it’s an oath recited by doctors and surgeons as a means of pledging allegiance to their cause and calling. I’m not that stupi-“ “Yes, but do you know the words?”

The officer simply huffed as he leaned back into his chair. “No…no, I don’t.” Obviously delighted by this, Percy prattled on. “Well, then I should enlighten you!” “Please don-“ “It’s quite long, but I shall get to the stanzas that ring quite profound. At least for this situation they do.” Willhelm swallowed hard. He was already in the thick of things earlier on, and now he was just completely lost as to where Dr.Hewlett planned on taking this whole spiel. He simply braced for the worst. “How about you, Dr.Blackwood?”, the other doctor inquired as he turned to his colleague. “Do you remember the third and fourth stanzas of the oath? I’m sure you recall.” “Err, yes”, Willhelm complied, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required. I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.” An awkward silence emanated throughout the tent as the older doctor finished his recitation. Wesley simply stared in confusion. “I don’t see how-“

“I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required. Warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug”, Percy parroted. “In other words, Officer Péche, Dr.Blackwood did nothing else but his job.” Willhelm turned to the man beside him, his eyes wide behind their spectacles. “The boy was dying, and in a lot of excruciating pain from the looks of it. I may not have been by his side, but even I could see that nothing could be done for him. The laudanum allowed him even a moments peace in his time of agony. He would have died sooner or later, quite slowly and painfully if I may add. All Dr.Blackwood did was ensure his comfort as he left this world.”

The older doctor couldn’t help but stare in shock at the man before him, his mouth slightly agape. Had his ears deceived him? Had Percy truly defended him?  He quickly pressed his lips together and returned his attention to the officer. Wesley sat with his elbows propped on the desk, his nine fingers knit together as he pondered over Dr.Hewlett’s words. After a few moments, his eyes peered up at the two men before him as he reached a decision. “I will readily admit that I know not of the medical world nor its rules and regulations, but I do know of my own rules. The rules of the military. I am afraid there are some things that cannot go without consequence. I am sure you understand, Dr.Blackwood.” A sinking feeling ran deep through Willhelm as he accepted his fate. “Yes. I do, sir.” “Which is why you will be given a warning…” The doctor raised his gaze. “Sir…” “I am a reasonable man. You will receive a warning for misconduct towards an officer, and the amount equivalent to the bottle of laudanum used shall be taken from your pay.” Willhelm blinked.  “A-and what of the boy?” “Gather his belongings and give them to his best mate. Tell them to give them to his family. That is all. Goodnight, gentlemen.” A wave of shock and disbelief surged through the older doctor. Or perhaps it was the sudden depletion of his adrenaline. “Well now that that’s finished, I believe it is time to take our leave”, Percy announced as he lead his colleague out of the tent, but not before turning to the commanding officer once more. “Thank you for time, Officer Péche. Perhaps I may repay you with a check up. I do believe you are due one in the upcoming days. How is your finger, by the way?” Wesley froze and simply occupied himself with a map that lay in front of him. “I..err..p-please just go. There are things I must attend to now. I said goodnight, gentlemen.”

A wicked smile played upon the younger doctor’s lips as they exited the tent and into the cool night air. The slight layer of frost upon the soil crunched beneath their boots as the two men made their way back to the medical area.

“I know I said we needed you back at your station, but I highly suggest you get some rest, Dr.Blackwood”, Percy chuckled. “You had quite the day.”

Willhelm, still fazed by what had just happened, stopped in his tracks and stared incredulously at his colleague. “I…I don’t understand”, he muttered, his warm breath making small puffs of vapor in the night air. “I know we are not the closest of comrades, far from it in fact. And yet…you defended me. I was clearly in the wrong, and yet you insisted..” Percy halted as well. “That may be so”, he said, turning to Willhelm with his signature grin. “But I’m not heartless.”

The older of two stood silently, his legs refusing to work. Or perhaps it was the heavy burden upon his shoulders that soldered him into his place in the frosty ground. “Dr.Hewlett”, he called out. “I…you must understand. I have blood on my hands. A boy’s blood rests upon my hands, and this time I fear a rag and some hot water won’t do…” “Don’t we all?”, the other chuckled. “We are surgeons after all.” “But would you have done the same? W-would you have…put him out of his misery?”

“No”, the other said a-matter-of-factly. “Which is why I applaud you. There is little in this world that I wouldn’t do. I guess you’ve bested me in that, Dr.Blackwood. Congratulations.”

Willhelm tried to fathom something to say, but nothing surfaced except another puff of vapor. “I would say I owe you my gratitude”, he finally admitted. “Though I do not think that is enough, Dr.Hewlett. Lord knows what I would have in store for me had you not stepped in. I…thank you.”

“Like I told you, I was feeling quite generous today”, the other replied. “As you were, in your own right.” A bitter chuckle leapt from Willhelm’s mouth. “Generous? In what? Laudanum? Death?” Percy smiled once more before turning on his heel and lifting the flap of the medical tent. “Mercy, Dr.Blackwood. Mercy.” —————————

I Know

Billy Hargrove x reader

Description: another late night drive with Billy, another revelation

Word count: 16k

Warnings: swearing (I swear a lot, sorry), abuse mention

A/N: so this is my first fic! it’s based off another fic I read that I think someone wrote for Hargroovin’s 2k special but idk it may have been for someone else’s thing, if I find it, I’ll add a link. Anyway, it was really good and based off the prompt line  “Oh, I already know that you love me. “ and after I finished reading it I rage wrote a fic because the ending the author gave wasn’t the one I imagined. So, yeah that’s where all this comes from. ALSO, since this is my first fic, I have like no one to tag so I’m gonna tag some writers on here whose work I like and admire, sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged but too bad! I like you and want your support (lol seriously though if you want to be untagged, message me and I’ll do it)

Also, ignore my shitty theme on desktop, I haven’t updated it in years and i’m too lazy to bother with it now!

Oh and, because it’s necessary to say before we begin-I DON’T SUPPORT BILLY! HE’S AN ASSHAT WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE RACIST (I TOTALLY SEE IT BUT I GET THE READING SOME HAVE THAT HE ISN’T, IT KIND OF EASY TO SEE TOO)! 

TAGS (I’m tagging the writers who inspire me because...well I can and they probably won’t read it anyone):

@letmeletmetrashyourlove @dacrethehalls @upsidedown-rightsideup @hairringtonsteve @kingharringt0n @steveharringtonofficial @stevesharrlngtons @hargroovin @flamehairedwritings @lovelydacre@gutterdreams @tehnardier @stevesdacre (Dottie’s back and she has no idea who I am but I love her and want her attention in case she leaves again!)

(someone please notice me I’m desperate for attention)

You and Billy had snuck out. Again. For the third time that week alone. This was not a good habit to be getting into. But how could you say no with the king of Hawkins throwing rocks at your window? He’d just try to climb onto your roof again and he nearly died trying the first time. Besides, why would you wanna stay cooped up in your stuffy bedroom when you could be in Billy’s car speeding off to God knows where, his hand gripping your thigh, wind whipping your hair around your face from the window he always left open, even in the dead of winter.

You and Billy had been dating since October, after you found him stumbling around, looking for his step-sister. You didn’t ask what happened that night and he didn’t tell you what he saw, but he did seem to be actively staying out of his sister’s way, which seemed to mutually beneficial.

Except on nights like tonight.

Billy had starting throwing rocks at your window at ten, which was not a good sign. If Billy wanted to do something, he’d call. If he needed help, the rock throwing started. When you looked out the window, you saw his shadow, illuminated by his headlights and you could already tell that whatever happened wasn’t good.

You snuck out the back door, planning to be back before six am, plenty of time to patch up the boy and get home in one piece. Still in your pyjamas, you ran out to his car, the bottle of water you kept frozen in the back of your freezer clutched in your hand, just in case.

Billy didn’t say anything when he saw you coming up the path to him, but you could tell just by the way his posture changed from his cocky lean to a still relieved slump that he was glad to see you. He needed to see you. Desperately.

You got in the car and drove silently away from your parent’s home and into the forests of Hawkins; the quietest place in the whole town, mainly because nobody bothered to go into the forests this late at night. After all the rumors involving Will Byers and his going missing two years prior, nobody liked to trek in there unless they had to, making it the perfect place to hide out while Billy licked his wounds.

Once he parked, you reached until the passenger’s seat and pulled out the white plastic first aid kit, which you’d hidden there after you realized that the black and blue Billy wasn’t a rarity. There wasn’t a lot of light in the car, but you could make out the bruise forming on Billy’s cheek, a small cut from where Neil’s wedding band struck his cheek already crusting over, the blood long since stopped flowing. You used an alcohol wipe to clean off the crusted blood and dabbed Polysporin on the tiny cut. You hand him the frozen water bottle wordlessly, packing up the kit.

You hated seeing Billy like this, small and quiet and pitiful. He looked so tiny and lifeless, like all the life had been sucked from him. But beyond holding him and cleaning his wounds there wasn’t anything you could do. Billy didn’t want to go to the police, he didn’t want the older man to think that he couldn’t take everything that he threw at him, and he couldn’t leave until he graduated, so the options were scant.

Still, you continued to fulfill your purpose, pulling him close to you, holding him tight as though as he would disappear if you let go. It was an awkward position-Billy and you were leaning over the gear shift, which dug into your abdomen. But Billy wouldn’t change the moment. He relished in having you there, watching over him, putting him first. You never pushed him to talk about it, you made sure that he was comfortable and had room to calm down however he needed to that night. He loved that about you.

He loved you.

That was a terrifying thought to Billy, love. He’d never been in love before, not really. Sure, he’d liked plenty of girls and he’d had girls say that they loved him, but he never reciprocated. He’d always shrug it off, leave them in the dust with crumbling hearts. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t bear the idea of you leaving him broken in your wake. He wanted to apologize to every single one of them, the very idea of heartbreak scaring him so badly.

“I hate him…” Billy muttered into your shoulder. You nodded softly, humming in agreement as you ran your fingers through his greasy curls. You heard him say that so many times that it wasn’t something that even really registered in your head as meaningful words. Of course he hated his father, who wouldn’t? You hated him too, even though you hadn’t officially met him, a fact Billy was taking great care to ensure stayed that way. He refused to have that man hurt you.

“I can’t wait to leave this damn town.” He said, balling his fists into your shirt.

You nodded again “I know, it’s just a little while longer, graduation’s a month away…” The idea of graduating scared you a little. You knew where Billy was going, back to California where all his dreams lay, but you had no idea where you’d be. Billy hadn’t asked you to go with him, he hadn’t even acknowledged you as a part of his plan. But Billy didn’t always realize that he had to fill you in on the plans he made, so you held out hope that he wanted you by his side after his nightmare in Hawkins ended.

“And if you don’t go through with Tommy’s stupid plan of flashing the graduating class, you might actually get to leave this town.” You added, giggling to yourself. Tommy had gotten it into his head that he and Billy had to leave their final mark on Hawkins High and for some reason that meant flashing the people he’d known since he was in preschool, to leave a lasting impression on both his classmates and Hawkins High, though you suspected that Tommy flashing anyone would be a shock of miniscule proportions.

Billy laughed a breathy chuckle, genuine and soft, his voice quiet and gentler than usual. He wasn’t showboating like he did at school; he was being himself, the quiet, intelligent man you knew existed just beyond the mask he wore in public.

“I love you…he muttered into your neck, kissing it softly. He hadn’t expected to tell you that he loved you at all, but especially so casually. He’d hardly even noticed he’d said it until his words caught up with his brain. He waited desperately for an answer, needing some kind of reassurance, just something-anything-to tell him that he was in the right.

“I know.” You reply stoically, holding back a smirk with all your might. You were doing your best Han Solo impression, which you had a suspicion that Billy wouldn’t pick up on. But you couldn’t help it! When else would you get to use such an epic response.

Billy sat up to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in the cutest look of bewilderment you’d ever seen “What the fuck do you mean you know?” he snapped, insecurity filling his voice.

Your giggling pride dropped away when you saw and shock and worry in his face and your took his big, calloused hand in your own, rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand, a sweet smile on your face “Oh, I already know that you love me. I’ve known for awhile now.” you admit shyly, shrugging “You aren’t exactly subtle.”

Billy watched you for awhile, unsure of what to do. You hadn’t said it back. You didn’t say it back. He was certain now-you didn’t love him, this was just the gentle let down he’d been told by so many people to use with girls, a tactic he’d never used himself. It hurt more than just being told straight out that you don’t love him.

You noticed the defeated look in his eye and it confused you for awhile. What was he so upset about? You loved him. You told him…right? You thought back, trying to remember the moment that you were sure had happened. But you couldn’t. Your eyes widened as you realized you hadn’t told him. You’d just drop kicked his venerable heart.

“Shit!” you cried “Billy, I love you! Shit, sorry I forgot that I hadn’t said it before. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging there, I was just so sure you knew and oh God you probably hate me now, what a fucking lousy thing to do, Jesus why on earth does anyone let me in public?-” you were rambling now, face beet red and eyes shifting, too embarrassed to look at him.

But Billy wasn’t really listening. He’d heard what he needed to hear and his heart lifted and filled for the first time in what felt like ages and he grabbed your face, kissing you forcefully, shutting you up instantly. You were so shocked at first that you didn’t kiss back, frozen in place, but then you realized what had happened and how happy he was and you couldn’t help but kiss him back, hands tangling into his hair.

Billy pulled back first, smirking in his signature way that made your heart stop and your mind tell you delicious danger was on the way. “You’re a dork, you know that?” he asked, watching you fondly.

“Yeah, I know, but you love me, remember?” you challenged, elbowing him in the ribs.

Billy rolled his eyes “Yeah, I know princess, I know.”

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 33

Heya!

Next bits ready - i apologise now - I have no idea what i was doing when I wrote this and I feel like I went off on a bit of a tangent! haha It got a bit dark towards the end!

Maybe i should rename this fic because i really think it should just be called Reader - there is so little Joker in it!

I am really sorry - he will be back next chapter i promise and I will make sure future writing series will have much more of him in it - this is my first one so I got a bit carried away with just my general writing!

ALSO - sorry its soooooo long again - got carried away!

Anyway - hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Strong language

Masterlist

We drove in silence except for the occasional direction from Frost which was hissed out through his clenched teeth, which were bared against the pain in his neck as he kept the wound on his scalp pressed against the sodden bandage on the head rest behind him. I tried to avoid any pot holes and raised pieces of roads to prevent jolting Frost too much, but even so I could still hear the sharp gasps every now and then that he tried to stifle and I cringed in apology.

Several times throughout the journey I had to double check my mirrors, convinced I had caught flashes of purple behind me or in the street across from at crossroads.

Maybe it was paranoia. Whenever I had glanced back there was no colour to be seen - just the usual grey tones of Gotham. But even if there had been a car was that really unusual? People were allowed to have coloured cars. I wasn’t even completely sure it had been purple – maybe it had just been an odd shade of blue?

When we finally reached the old derelict neighbourhood where Marv resided I couldn’t help sinking down into my car seat slightly - now feeling even more vulnerable than usual as I was in control of the car and my protector was badly wounded and losing a lot of blood.

I pulled up outside the same run-down house as we had earlier that same day and I hesitated as I went to open my door - checking both ways down the street for signs of anyone I would rather avoid. There were 3 men loitering around another house down the street but they were quite far away that I didn’t feel too worried about them, however I still tried to make as little noise as possible as I slipped out of the vehicle – not wanting to draw too much attention to myself and the SUV which was probably the most expensive car around here. I made my way round to Frost’s side and offered him a hand as he opened the door. He completely ignored my aid and I scowled at his stubbornness as he moved past me and towards the chipping door. I followed behind him as usual and stuck close to him, glancing nervously around the area, as he knocked and waited for a response. After a few moments I could just make out the creaking of floorboards as someone made their way down the corridor. Then they stopped, yet the door still didn’t open.

“Marv.” Frost called out in an almost bored tone - like he had the last time we’d been here – maybe this was some sort of security measure?

There was a moment of hesitation after Frost spoke and then the door swung inwards to reveal Marv once more. “Frost!” He exclaimed in surprise, “Back again? Did Jake not-“ Then he took in Frost’s appearance, noticing the makeshift bandage wrapped around his neck and the blood splatters on his shirt. “Jesus.” He breathed, “What happened?!”

“Do you mind if I come in?” Inquired Frost bluntly, ignoring the questions.

“Damn Man, sure.” He muttered glancing into the back of the house and stepping to the side, ushering Frost through. Frost stepped forward so that Marv suddenly caught side of me, no longer hidden behind Frost’s bulky frame.

“Oh – uh – you too?” he directed at me, gesturing into the house with his thumb.

“Uh…” I hesitated on the spot, looking at Frost as he stopped in the doorway and turned to me, trying to figure out what was best to do, “Uh – No. I’ll just – I think I’ll go.” I stammered, suddenly feeling very out of place among the two large henchman in this rather dodgy area.

“You sure?” Asked Frost

“Uh… Yeah.” I said - sounding anything but sure. I was very aware of my situation at the moment. Here I was a tiny little girl stood before these two huge intimidating men, one of whom was offering his house to me. Sure I had come to see Frost as almost a friend, but now I was brought sharply to the realisation that he wasn’t really – I barely knew the man – I had just been following him around like a lost puppy.

Marv was his friend. They were both terrifying criminals to anyone else - and they should be to me. I didn’t belong here and I wasn’t going to force my company on them anymore than I already had. Marv could take care of Frost much better than I could – and Frost was less likely to refuse his aid It was time I returned to normal. No longer pretending to be something or someone I wasn’t.

“Here.” I said holding out the keys to the SUV to Frost. He didn’t move, just looked at my hand, I frown of confusion on his face.

“No.” He said, shaking his head – soon regretting it and wincing at the pain. “You keep it.” He told me eventually when his face had relaxed slightly.

“I don’t particularly want a stolen car traced back to me thanks.” I reasoned, not withdrawing my outstretched hand, instead shaking the keys at him in insistence.

“And you don’t want to be wandering alone in this neighbourhood.” Argued Frost. I wavered a bit then, slightly lowering my arm as I looked down the street either side of me. It was true. The sun was already fading in the sky as we spoke and the place alone was enough to unsettle me in broad daylight. “Take it at least to get out of here. Then do what you want with it – dump it somewhere and forget about it.” Frost advised and I thought this through before nodding in agreement and pulling my hand back.

I dithered for a moment – unsure if I should just leave or if Frost was going to say anything else. I wanted him to say something. I wanted him to insist I stayed with him – though I wasn’t sure why he’d want me to. I had gotten used to having him around, having someone to look out for me, a friend. It was actually hard to think about the fact that we were going our separate ways - I had no plans to ever see him again. There was no need anymore.

I forced a smile at him, “Well, good bye Frost.” I mumbled, suddenly feeling very awkward and shy. This was hard. He didn’t say anything so I turned and began to walk back to the car.

“Y/N!” He called after me. I looked over my shoulder at him in surprise; he had stood fully in the doorway now, facing me directly. Marv had left us to it and gone back inside – whether of his own volition or by Frost’s command, I wasn’t sure. “Where do you plan to go?” he asked

I was surprised at the question – not what I expected to hear. “Uh – I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

“Are you staying in Gotham?” he asked, his face a calm mask but I thought I caught of glimmer of something in his stony expression.

I paused as I thought about this.

“Yeah.” I admitted. “I think I’ll stay.”

We had parted soon after I had confirmed I would remain in Gotham. I did as Frost had suggested, taking the car back towards the centre of the city and parking up in a small alley along the boundaries where the buildings were mainly warehouses or old seedy businesses. Still not the best area, but somewhere that a stolen car would be expected to be found and only a short walk – or an even shorter run – to get to a more populated area. Either way I still gripped my newly acquired knife in my hand as I moved through the darkening streets back to the still-bustling centre.

As the streetlights began to flicker on overhead I caught a bus to take me to the nearest affordable hotel where I soon collapsed onto a lumpy single-bed mattress - the exhaustion of the day finally hitting me full on.

It had been a long day. A really long day. I thought as I lay led out on the thin duvet, realising I hadn’t stopped all since I had left with Frost late this morning.

I closed my eyes, drinking in the fact that I was finally alone, allowing the tension from my face to release so that I was fully relaxed for the first time in a very long time.

I was back home. Gotham.

If only I had a home though. I thought glumly, not just this dingy little room. I frowned as I looked around at the drab décor, wrinkling my nose at the musty smell that seemed to hang in the air. It would have to do for tonight. Tomorrow I could get my life together. It wasn’t worth worrying about tonight.

And so it was like that – fully dressed and spread out on top of the covers of the tiny hotel bed – that I fell into an exhausted sleep.

It wasn’t a restful sleep however. I never truly awoke in the night, only tossing and turning, continuously haunted by the Joker’s unsettling smile, his gaunt, hollow face and his ringing cackle. Every time I was close to consciousness I would be dragged back down by him until I once more stood before him, my gun in his hand, aiming at my chest.

Each time I would turn to run and see Jake Riggens stood across the room and I would run to him, grabbing his arms and pulling him with me as I tried to run past, screaming that we had to run. Instead he would hold firm to his spot, not speaking a word and grab my arms, twisting them behind my back, so I was trapped in front of him, as the Joker stalked towards me, now holding his knife once more that was supposedly in my pocket.

He grinned at me like the devil himself as he prowled towards me, tossing the knife between his hands, the pointed tip never leaving my direction. Behind him I noticed Penguin just stood there watching the whole scene, a devious smile on his face like this was his favourite past time. 

I was grateful when I finally woke up at 5am. Deciding this was a suitable time to call morning as I rubbed dried tears from my face and breathed hard from the night terrors.

I sat in bed for a long time, staring mindlessly at the ceiling as I ran over the events of the day before – not truly believing I hadn’t just dreamed that up as well.

How could one person be so idiotic?!

Why had I just up and left my new life? Why did one murderous lunatic warrant me travelling hundreds of miles without even a spare change of clothes? And – surprise, surprise – upon finally seeing me again he had threatened to kill me!

But then he had kissed me. And boy had he kissed me.

I was content then to just lack back on my lumpy mattress in the middle of that dank hotel room reliving those few seconds over and over - trying to remember every detail, every movement, every feeling. Hell I couldn’t feel guilty loving every second of it if no one ever knew.

But it had been too short, too fleeting.

And then he had gone.

Just like that.

Why?

Had he heard Frost coming and thought it best to just leave? It didn’t seem like something he’d do - but then he didn’t seem completely himself recently.

It had felt like something had snapped in him in the kiss though. At the start it felt like any other – wonderful, but nothing compared to a few seconds later. It was like something had suddenly flared up, like he had suddenly realised he wasn’t dreaming - that I was real and he was going to make the most of it.

But that would mean he’d have to care about me. And he didn’t. The Joker didn’t care about anything.

I shook my head. That was enough with that. Talking myself around in circles was not going to get anything productive done – it was just going to give me a headache.

It was time to starting living in the real world. I needed a house and I needed a job.

So I spent the rest of the day traversing Gotham for jobs, cycling through newspapers, websites and wanted ads for anything I could apply for. First and foremost I hoped to return to what I truly wanted to do – my singing. I missed it more than I realised and now that I was back in Gotham I felt a new inspiration to continue it - though beggars couldn’t be choosers, so in the end I would happily take anything.

I ended up applying to 4 clubs that had openings for entertainers. Most of the city was owned by the various crime lords – they seemed to particularly favour the nightlife professions – so I was careful to do my research on each application so that I didn’t find myself working once more for one of the big criminal groups either directly or indirectly.

I was surprised when all 4 of them offered me the job – had they known me from when I had worked for Penguin? I eventually chose the smallest, most inconspicuous club, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself than necessary in anyway.

I managed to find a small one bed flat, not too dear and not too far from it either. For the first time in a while I finally felt like my life was getting back on track and in some state of order. I was going to be fine.

And I was for the first few weeks.

I soon discovered that – apart from my boss – most people at my new job hated me. It was a weird feeling – I’d never had such a large number of people dislike me for what seemed no apparent reason and I often felt like I had a million holes in me from the amount of dagger-eyes the other entertainers shot at me.

My boss – Darren - soon enlightened me on their resentment. “They’re all jealous really.” He explained, “You’re a really good singer and they resent you showing them all up.” I was shocked at this but Darren wouldn’t take my modesty as he explained how surprised he had been when I took his offer as I was rather overqualified for the position in such a small, relatively shabby little club.

But it was what I needed right now. I didn’t want to be in the limelight, I didn’t want to be a huge well-known entertainer. I just wanted to make enough money to live off and do the thing I loved. So this place was perfect.

Darren didn’t complain, even if I didn’t want to famous I still had managed to increase the patronage of the club and was quite glad really because the place sure needed the money – it had definitely seen better days and could use with a new lick of paint here and there. I guess that’s what you got for being one of the only clubs not to be owned by a millionaire criminal.

Darren was even more surprised I stayed because of the way the others treated me. He never did anything about it – though I didn’t blame him for that – I could understand why, what was the point in possible losing everyone over just one employee? Even if I was a good singer.

But I stayed anyway. It didn’t make my job the best place in the world, but I wasn’t there to make friends, really, and I didn’t bother trying. At the moment I was just trying to get a handle back on my life once again.

And so we all got on as well as we could. I knew they spoke about me behind my back and often tried to make my life as hard as possible, but I dealt with it. I didn’t protest when I was the one that suddenly got stuck with all the knitty-gritty jobs or when the room fell into a silence when I walked in. I generally ignored them and in return they eventually ignored me.

That was until one night - just after all the live entertainment for the evening had finished – I was in the changing room/general staff room getting change out of my performance attire. Because the club was so small there were two ‘backstage’ rooms – the slightly larger room I was in now which had a couple of wardrobes and dividers in the back corner and a few sofas, desks and cupboards – and a small office leading off from it which belonged to Darren.

I was currently behind one of the dividers, pulling on my last trainer as I got ready to head home when I heard people moving down the corridor. I recognised the high voices and girly laughs quickly and – sure enough – in walked Netty and Rebecca. They were both performers who did and act with a couple other girls and had just finished their set which went on after mine. I watched them through the gap between the panels of the flimsy partition as they paused in front of one of the sofas, not realising I was in the room and so carrying on their conversation without hesitation.

“I mean I knew she was a slut by the way she dresses but I would never had thought little [Y/N] would do that!” Rebecca cackled. I could guess she was talking about me before she had even said my name and I brushed off the ‘slut’ insult without a care, thought I was intrigued by what I had supposedly done that was so shocking to her.

“I honestly can’t believe it.” Said Netty, tittering away with her.

“Wait till I tell Darren – he won’t want her hanging around here anymore.” Rebecca giggled maliciously. I frowned through the fissure at them - what was she going on about? I wanted to reveal myself and confront them but I knew that they might not tell me what this secret of mine was if I gave myself away too soon.

“Whatta’ya gonna tell him?” Asked Netty in awe of Rebecca and her scandalous behaviour – honestly she was like a little child following the ‘cool kid’ around. I rolled my eyes at the pure desperation in front of me.

“The whole thing.” Stated Rebecca importantly, “He’s got a right to know that he hired the Joker’s little whore!” she explained.

That was it. This comment caused something to snap in me and I strode out from my hiding place making both girls jump at my sudden appearance. Netty’s face remaining worried, but – upon recognising me – Rebecca grinned deviously at me. “And here she is now – spying like the little snake she is.” She said snidely.

“Shut up” I growled at her, my face stormy and my jaw clenched against my growing temper – all the anger I had suppressed over the last few weeks at these people that had derided and mocked me finally bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, but I don’t think I will.” She sneered. “Bitch.” She added on for good measure, happy to outright insult me now she was so certain she could get me fired. Her pure attitude infuriated me and if looks could kill she would have been lying bloodied on the floor.

“If you don’t -“ I started but she interrupted me again as Netty watched on.

“You’ll what?” She asked rhetorically, “Cos you see my dear,” she patronised, stepping towards, her heels clacking on the laminated floor, “I know you’re dirty little secret`” She purred, pointing her manicured finger at me “– you’re little exploits with that psycho clown that runs around town.” You really think Darren’ll want you around when he finds out the kinda crowd you attract?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at me like the idea was completely ridiculous.

“I have nothing to do with the Joker anymore.” I told her through gritted teeth, her words starting to eat at me. “I haven’t seen him in months.” That was a lie, it had only been about 4 weeks, but the meeting had only been for a few minutes.

“Yes dear,” She said stepping closer so she was invading my personal space in an attempt to intimidate me. “but we all know that the mad little clown doesn’t forget his toys.” Rebecca cooed, pouting and tilting her head in pity at my apparent stupidity, “He doesn’t leave them alone till they are dead does he? No matter how many people he takes out in the process.” She explained. “And we all know what happened at the Purple Umbrella don’t we?” She asked turning to Netty who faltered - too wrapped up in the dialogue of her heroine to realise she had been addressed – before she eagerly nodded in agreement. “So why,” Rebecca snapped, spinning back to me, “would Darren wanna risk that, hmm?”

Maybe she was right, I thought as I looked away from her hard, cold eyes. The Joker didn’t just leave loose threads around. People who dealt with him always had one final ending – corpse or missing corpse. It was always just a game as to how long you could last.

The Joker had yet to come looking for me once more, but surely it was just a matter of time before he turned up again – whether to continue our weird little relationship or to finally end it completely. Would he find me here? Could I risk it? If he did I might well be threatening Darren’s business and livelihood? He was a good guy - who was I to risk ruining his life just because I needed a job?

“You know what I don’t get?” Piped up Rebecca once more, breaking through my panicky thoughts, “What did you even see in that creep? I mean sure he’s fit for a freaky jester,” She admitted flicking her hand in the air, far too close to my face. I could feel the temper that had simmered down from my sobering thoughts begin to bubble once more – even stronger than before.  “but the guy’s an insane murderer who dresses like a clown – I mean how desperate were you to sleep with him?”

I was sick of hearing her talk like this about me or him. Sick of holding back my fury that prickled my skin and tensed my muscles.  She wouldn’t have the balls to talk like this if the Joker was in the room with her – she was only brave behind people’s back when she knew she wouldn’t get the consequences of her actions.

“Do you share lipstick?” She continued babbling on in her condescending tone.

“SHUT UP!” I roared at her.

“I mean is it some weird kink you have?” She continued, not listening to me.

The next thing I knew I had launched at her, shoving us both across the room and up against the opposite wall, my left arm against her chest, pinning her up whilst, my right hand held the Joker’s blade up against her neck, “Will you just shut your bloody mouth!” I yelled at her. It felt so good to finally let that out I couldn’t help chuckling to myself.

Her eyes were wild with fear and she kept glancing between my enraged face and the knife pressed to her skin. “YOU- YOU’RE CRAZY!” She screamed at me. “NETTY! HELP!” She called at the petrified girl behind me. Netty looked at Rebecca’s beseeching face before glancing at my somewhat manic face and the knife in my hand, the fear clear and evident in her eyes as she choose to remain in place.

I smirked wickedly in triumph before turning back to Rebecca. “No help now.” I told her leaning in so I was close to her cheek, “Bitch.” I mimicked in a whisper, glad to be returning the same invasion of space she had to me, and upping it somewhat. I leant back and noticed how erratic her breathing was under my knife and it pleased me, feeling the grin spread across my face. Her eyes were looking at me in horror like she was seeing a demon.

“Please! Stop!” She begged, her chin tilted up away from my weapon and her eyes scrunched in anguish.

“Nah….” I muttered, “People shouldn’t make nasty rumours…” I cooed, mocking her earlier attitude to me and applying more pressure on the blade as her throat continued to rise and fall in large waves of her gasps. I was adrift in the thrill of what I was doing - all compassion and sympathy lost beneath the freedom I was allowing myself.

“PLEASE!” She cried out, beginning to sob as water ran from her closed eyes. “PLEASE! It wasn’t me!” She whimpered. This caught my interest and I tore my eyes away from the red tear of blood forming under the steel to look into her watery eyes.

“What wasn’t you?” I asked, indifferent to the water on her cheeks or the red now slowly trickling down my neck.

“THE RUMOUR!” She yelped before she fell back into her sobs as her movements caused the knife to dig further into her skin.

“Who was it?” I asked calmly, not relaxing the pressure.

She didn’t answer straight away; too busy gasping for air between her blubbering. I twisted my hand  into her dress, grabbing a fistful of material before pulling her towards me and then violently shoving her backwards into the wall. Her head smacked back against the brick behind her, causing it to rebound forward and fall slightly against the edge of the knife - the contact of her skin on the cold steel causing her to shoot back upright. Her face was contorted in pain, but at least she had shut up. “Who was it?!” I spat at her again.

“J-Jake!” She snivelled.

“Jake who?!” I snarled, shaking her slightly as a threat that I wasn’t afraid to repeat her treatment again.

“Jake Riggen!” She cried out hastily before she broke down into tears again.

I released some of the weight I had on her, dropping the knife from her throat in my shock.

Twice. That was twice now that rat had betrayed me.

I felt Rebecca relax slightly under the grip I still had on her dress now that I had removed the weapon. That disappointed me.

I threw my weight back on her so she was shoved tightly up against the wall again, the knife-edge once more pinching into her throat.

“Where is he?!” I snarled.

Fic: Backward Chaining

AO3: x

Summary: 479er and Caboose are siblings. it makes more sense then you might think

This edition: Freelancer always had a cruel sense of humor. Neither Niner, nor Caboose will ever truly know how far that sense of humor extends. 

Takes place near the tail end of BGC. 

Characters: A Caboose sibling, Price. 

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: BIG THANKS TO STEPH FOR BEING THE MVP BETA.

Over the years, Professor Taylor Caboose has made no effort to hide their utter loathing for the UNSC. A sign on their door encourages students to talk to them about financial aid before signing up with the guard, newspaper clippings about the UNSC’s war crimes are prominent on their corkboard, they dedicate one lecture a year to the UNSC’s gruesome history with AI. Every single student who has taken one of their classes knows not to debate them on such matters unless they have the facts to back it up, and even those who do usually don’t bother.

College students can be particularly dense, but none of them miss the small table in the corner of Professor Caboose’s office. It’s bare except for three things; a picture frame with two photos in it, a candle and small vase containing a fresh flower. None of them miss the two figures in the picture either, dressed in full military regalia and covered with the same freckles that cover their professor’s face.

So when Professor Caboose sends out an email to let their classes know they’re canceling office hours to talk to some UNSC agents, everyone knows it won’t end well.

Professor Caboose’s office is just big enough for himself and the three agents. Two of them look to be bodyguards for the more official looking one: a black man with a balding head and a strained smile. Counselor Price, or so he says. In his hands is a folder and he looks towards the table in the corner. There is no surprise in his eyes when he takes in the pair in the photos.

“You have family who serve I see?”

“Who served.” Taylor responds, making room on their desk. It’s full of papers and research, and Price doesn’t miss how they tuck it away to places he can’t see. Clever. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You don’t seem the type not to run a background check.”

“You would be correct. I apologize; I thought it rude not to ask. Michael and Andromeda, correct?”

“Yes.” Taylor shot a glance at the photographs then looked away.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Taylor put another folder away before they responded. “Andi died a few years ago. A crash they said. Mikey died last year. Didn’t get a body for either.” With that Taylor levels their gaze on price, a sharp glare that makes them look twice their age. It’s an indictment, Price knows that, of the people he represents. He ignores it.

“You have two still serving, correct?”

Taylor puts away the last of their folders before they respond. “Yes. Rose and Lily. Rose is a Lieutenant somewhere and Rose is a doctor on some outpost.”

“Do you talk to them often?”

Taylor sat down and met his gaze again. “Does that matter?”

Price shook his head. “No, no it does not.” He put the folder he was holding on Taylor’s desk. It was sealed shut, and marked classified in bold letters. Taylor looked down at it with a expression of disgust.

“If this is a job offer, my answer is already no.”

“It’s not a job offer. More a consultation.” Price leaned back in his chair. “You are a remarkable roboticist for your age.”

“Flattering me won’t make me help you.”

“It is not flattery if it is the truth. Your paper on rampancy was incredibly informative.” He pushed the folder forward another inch. “We have been contacting experts on A.I and human interaction.”

“Why? To kill people faster?”

“No. To heal damage already done.” Price sat back in his chair. “A few of our troops in a smaller sector ran into hostile A.I. We’re not sure the source; alien perhaps, maybe a small colony in rebellion. Either way, the damage they caused to the human brain; well, we need an expert if we have any hope of trying to treat them. We think your skills could be of use.”

Taylor reaches for the folder, but they don’t open it. Their fingers glide across the text that says classified in all caps. The printed ink has a different feel than the stiff envelope. “You don’t know the source of the A.I?” They looked up eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes. And if you don’t, that is of no concern to me. All I am here for is to assist these soldiers and their families.”

Taylor is silent before they turn the envelope over. They open up the envelope and peer inside, mouth turning into a grimace. Then they look up. “Brain scans? I’m not a neurosurgeon.”

“We’ve already talked to a neurosurgeon. Their feedback was useful, but lacking on the subject of A.I interactions-”

Price stops talking as Taylor pulls out the scans and gasps. They recover their expression quickly, but the horror in their eyes is obvious. As they lay out the brain scans onto their desk, it’s easy to see why. On all of the scans, there are clear signs of brain damage, small white dots to mark lesions, other sections highlighted like that of stroke victim. Taylor looks at each for a long moment, their pointer finger following each mark and irregularity.

“An A.I did this?” They say, incredulous.

“Yes.” Price points to the one on their far right. “This was done by an A.I on a soldier in his twenties. So far he’s shown signs of extreme memory loss, confusion and exacerbated anger issues. We believe the A.I tried to destroy itself in his head.”            

“It tried to destroy itself?” Taylor says, eyes wide. “Was it rampant?”

“We do not believe so.”  

“And it was a smart A.I?”

“Correct.”

“Jesus.” Taylor looked over at the next scan and read the information of the patient on the top. “This kind of damage; it looks like a stroke.”

“One full A.I. They’re still there; we believe they are controlling him.”

“Controlling him?” Taylor almost dropped the scan. Such a thing was theoretically possible with smart A.I and implantation, but they’d never heard of an actual case. “And you haven’t pulled it?”

“We are worried it could cause more damage.”

“Better than leaving it in,” Taylor said pointing to sections of the brain that looked off on the scan. “With implantation, there’s a bleed between an A.I and its human partner if you’re careful. And this job was absolutely not careful.” They pointed to various sections about the scans that looked to be reaching out. “From what I can see, the A.I is the dominant force in this implant, not the human. The longer you leave it in, the more sections it might control or shape. Let it stay that way, the brain itself might not be able to use to same functions on it’s own.”

“We are worried if we pull it they might have the same effect as well.” Price pointed to the last scan on the table. Taylor looked at it, taking in the damage. It looked like the result of a catastrophic brain injury, not an A.I. “Three A.I attempted to control this man at once. While they were able to be removed the damage-”

Taylor was already speaking. “Trouble with motor functions, lost of attention span, severe if not total memory loss, damage to linguistic centers, impairment to problem solving functions.” They looked at Price. “What did these A.I do? Have a fight in his head?”

“We believe so.”

“Well shit.” Taylor took each of the scans and placed them on top of one another, putting them back in the folder. “Can I keep these? And have any data on the A.I themselves if you have it.”

“Of course.” Price stood up and the agents next to him stood up as well. “So you agree to consult us on this matter.”

“Only because of the ramifications it has to my research. And the chance to help the poor bastards whose scans you brought me.” They tucked folder under their arm and opened up their computer, typing with one hand. Price headed for the door, but Taylor spoke up right before he opened the door.

“Counselor Price?”

“Yes Professor?”

Taylor was quiet, pressing their lips together. They glanced at the photos on the long table, then looked at Price. “I request you tell the families what really happened to their loved ones. None of this classified bullshit.” They looked down at their nameplate on their desk. On the side that was blank, a small medal hung. One won by a pilot who’d gone down with her ship. They met Price’s eyes. “They deserve to have answers.”

Price’s face showed no emotion as he replied. “They have already been told, but I appreciate your concern.” He opened the door and stepped outside. “Have a good day.”

Taylor watched the door close behind him and got up, walking up over to the table where they kept their photographs. They reached for the one of Michael and sighed. It was taken right before his deployment, right when he’d been 18 and convinced he would be better in the army then at school. Two years later they were informed he died with the barest of information. Classified they said. Taylor would likely never have their answers on what exactly happened to him.

“At least they’ll know,” Taylor said, patting the file folder under their arm. The records of three men were contained inside, two of them the ages Michael would have been. Taylor might hate the UNSC but not enough to deny those families the same answers they’d been denied.

“Bye Mikey. Bye Andi,” Taylor said, leaving their office for their robotics lab. As the door closed, a sliver of light fell on the two photographs, a fleeting moment of sun. And in the same instant it appeared, it was gone.