#uh nothing i drew or said in tags should be a spoiler since it's all introduced in the prologue
Text
i think the fast travel in this game is very cool 👍
#ghost trick#ghost trick phantom detective#sissel#my art#fanart#comic#pov the ghost you just met after dying can travel through telephone lines (he is breaking privacy laws and you work in law enforcement)#look i know the phones are more like level select but they're also narratively fast travel#and i know sissel doesn't have a corporeal body but work with me here#sissel can just Say Things and the souls he talks to will just have to accept that because they're Level 1 Dead#what they don't know yet is that sissel is only Level 3 Dead with a severe No Context debuff#uh nothing i drew or said in tags should be a spoiler since it's all introduced in the prologue#knowing the ending of this game it's actually hilarious that sissel can go anywhere he wants to mess with every object in the vicinity#but only if he can reach it.#no watermark or signature do you see how low quality that sissel is#don't repost or i'll {Trick} your kneecaps next
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
By Your Side - Chapter 1/3
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham
Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, No Game Spoilers, Coming Out, Other Tags To Be Added
Summary: The epilogue of Aid, in which Soda finally comes out to those around him, and accomplishes a goal he's had ever since that fateful day in the beach house.
Chapter: 1, 2
Read on Ao3
This Chapter: Soda remembers some important moments with his friends while enjoying a morning with the love of his life.
_____________________
Soda woke to the faint sound of a hamster wheel and squinted at the bright sunlight filtering through the window. He groaned and stretched out his arms while rolling onto his back to take in the beautiful sight behind him. A soft smile found its way to his lips.
Gundham was sleeping soundly, hair messy and face peaceful as he breathed deeply.
Soda couldn’t resist, he rolled to his side and pulled his boyfriend to his chest, just because he could. Gundham grunted, but shifted closer in his sleep. Soda pressed his face into his hair and smiled.
He would never get tired of waking up like this.
It had been eight months since the end of their beach vacation, and so much had changed. It had been a little stressful at times, but, despite that, Soda could definitely say he’d never been happier.
He felt more content and more loved than he ever had before, and he felt free now to just be himself.
–
Coming out to their friends had been… weird. It wasn’t some big dramatic event the way Soda had pictured it in his head, hell, it wasn’t even an event, more of a series several quick conversations and supportive gestures spread out over a couple weeks.
Hajime was the first to know, obviously, and Nagito had been included in that conversation because it just made sense.
It happened the day after Soda had finally stopped being such a dumbass and actually managed to tell Gundham how he felt. Hajime had raised an eyebrow at him over breakfast, glancing meaningfully between him and Gundham, and Soda responded by asking if he and Nagito wanted to hang out in his cabin later. Nagito had made a remark about how rare it was for Soda to want to spend time with him, but Hajime had cut him off before he could ask for a reason and agreed for the both of them.
Gundham said nothing, but placed a hand on Soda’s knee below the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Later, once the four of them had entered Soda’s cabin, Hajime took Nagito’s hand in his, confirming what Soda had already known. Despite knowing no one in the room would have a problem with it, Soda had still felt embarrassed when he reached out to take Gundham’s hand in his own.
There had been a few moments of silence, before Nagito broke it.
“Ah, so that was what we heard yesterday, Hajime. You’re so perceptive.”
Soda’s face drained of color and Gundham blushed deeply.
“W-what do you-” He looked at Hajime, who was covering his mouth and trying not to laugh. “You heard?”
“Unfortunately.” Hajime tried to look upset, but his laughter won out, and pretty soon he was grinning broadly at Soda. “Happy for you, dude, even if I am gonna need so much therapy to get the sounds of your boning out of my head.”
“Fuck you, man.”
“I don’t think Gundham would appreciate that.”
After the laughter died down, they had spent a good part of the morning just hanging out in Soda’s cabin. Sure, the experience had been mortifying, but not for any of the reasons Soda had previously worried it might be.
No shouting, no violence, and no lost friendships.
Once his embarrassment passed, he just felt happy and relieved. He relaxed into Gundham’s side and made as many jokes at Hajime’s expense as he could while his soul friend did the same to him.
It had been so easy. It had felt so good.
Soda and Gundham were careful to be a little quieter at night for the rest of the trip.
–
Gundham began to shift in his arms, burying his head into Soda’s chest in an attempt to convince his body to remain asleep.
Soda held him a little tighter and pressed a kiss to his brow, not quite ready to start their morning either.
–
Sonia was the only other person they had told before the trip ended.
It hadn’t been on purpose, they had agreed to wait until they were home to tell the rest of their friends to avoid creating unnecessary tension on their vacation.
Or maybe Soda just wasn’t ready to be out yet, and Gundham had just gone along with that story so Soda wouldn’t feel pressured.
Either way.
It was a few days after telling Hajime and Nagito, and they had been having tea with Sonia out on the patio of the hotel’s restaurant. Gundham had suggested the three of them start spending time together as a way for Soda and Sonia to build a better relationship, and afternoon tea had quickly become a regular thing for the three of them.
Soda and Sonia really had been getting along better. They only really hung out together in groups, but most of the weird tension between them had been lifted.
That day, the topic had somehow shifted to space, and Soda couldn’t help but mention his dream of building a rocket ship. He was surprised when Sonia had been interested, and elated when she had started prodding him for more information. Before he knew it, he was rambling away about all his different ideas and dreams for the rocket he hoped he could one day build, and was hardly even paying any attention to Sonia and Gundham anymore.
Sonia, however, was paying attention. She had seen the way Gundham’s face softened as he watched Soda speak so openly about his dreams, noticed the way he shifted and slid a little closer to Soda when he ‘secretly’ pressed their knees together below the table. Noticed the way his eyes had drifted to Soda’s lips as he spoke.
She apparently hadn’t planned on saying anything.
But then Soda stopped talking, and Gundham, lost in how much he loved to see Soda happy and excited, had leaned in and gently kissed him. Soda kissed back, just for a second, before they both remembered Sonia was right there. They froze and turned to Sonia, who had gracefully hidden her surprise by sipping her tea and averting her eyes.
She had looked down at her cup for a moment before looking back up to them and smiling.
“I did not realize you two had become a couple.” Her smile widened, and both of the boys relaxed a little. “Congratulations are in order! We should organize a party to officialise your courtship!”
“Ah, Miss Sonia, that’s kinda…” Soda had panicked a little, he really hadn’t been ready for everyone to know yet.
Gundham had just gently placed a hand over one of Soda’s own and smiled at him.
“That is a most gracious thought, dark queen, but my consort and I are trying to be… discreet about our new bond.”
“Oh! I apologize! If that is the case, then I understand. I will be most inconspicuous about this matter, no one will suspect a thing!”
Soda was glad Sonia understood, but he was a little worried about her ability to keep things “inconspicuous”…
To his surprise, though, she had no trouble acting as if she didn’t know they were dating around their other friends, staying true to her word and never giving anyone any reason to suspect they were a couple.
She even covered for them when they had not so subtly shown up late for breakfast one morning, clothes rumpled and faces a little flushed, by asking if they “had managed to recapture the dark beast they had been chasing” before anyone could get any less innocent ideas.
Soda was once again surprised by how easy coming out had been, and how well it had gone.
Once again relieved that he didn’t have to choose between being himself and being happy.
–
Gundham heaved a sigh against Soda’s chest and groggily drew himself back. Soda leaned in to kiss him.
“Mmm. Good morning, my consort.”
Soda smiled as he moved back to look at his sleepy boyfriend.
“Morning babe.”
They kissed again, only to be interrupted as one of the Devas squeaked loudly, apparently realizing they were both awake and thus demanding to be fed. Soda groaned in protest as Gundham slowly got out of bed to feed his hamsters.
–
Fuyuhiko had been the next to know they were dating, as well as the last of their classmates that Soda had to tell directly.
Soda and Fuyuhiko had been eating lunch together at a cafe, just the two of them, when Gundham texted him. He had sent a photo of himself with the puppies his mother’s dog had given birth to that weekend, and Soda couldn’t help but smile goofily at it.
“The fuck you smiling at?”
Soda just smiled wider and turned his phone to show Fuyuhiko the picture.
Fuyuhiko glanced at it and rolled his eyes. He had been getting pretty sick of watching Soda fawn over Gundham when he thought no one was looking.
“So when’re you gonna stop being such a pussy and ask him out?”
Fuyuhiko smirked and watched as Soda blushed and stuttered, feeling smug until-
“Um… like a couple weeks ago?”
There was a long silence.
“The fuck?”
Fuyuhiko had looked so pissed that Soda had actually considered running.
“And what? You just weren’t gonna fuckin’ tell me?”
“I, uh-”
“Thought you could just keep that shit a secret forever?”
“N-no, I just, um…”
“You what?”
“I was… look dude, I was just kinda scared to tell you, alright?”
Fuyuhiko had sat back in his chair after that, still looking pissed as hell, but there was something else in his expression as well. Eventually he sighed.
“You were… scared? Did you think I was gonna beat you up or some shit?”
“I mean-”
“Fuck you man. Thought we were close, you should know I’d never fucking hurt someone over dumb shit like that…”
Soda had been surprised by how upset Fuyuhiko had sounded. He really had been worried Fuyuhiko would hit him, not because he actually thought he was the kind of guy to get violent over who someone dates, but because his stupid brain wouldn’t let him not worry.
They had a long conversation after that. Soda did his best to explain to Fuyuhiko how his shitty brain worked and that he didn’t actually think he was a bad guy, while Fuyuhiko did his best to pretend like he wasn’t hurt by the fact Soda had been so hesitant to tell him about him and Gundham. By the end of it they were both feeling a little more awkward and a lot more vulnerable than they were used to around each other, but looking back, Soda was glad it had all gone the way it did. It had strengthened their friendship in the long run.
They ended up parting ways once they finished eating, but not before Fuyuhiko ad asked Soda if he wanted to hang out later that night. Soda had told him he couldn’t because he was going to help Gundham with the puppies, and Fuyuhiko had just rolled his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fucking helping him all right. Just make sure you put the dogs in another room, they don’t need to see that shit.” He smirked at Soda’s blushing face and turned to leave with a wave.
Despite the embarrassment, Soda had been relieved that Fuyuhiko was back to being his snarky self. Maybe it hadn’t been the smoothest of way to come out, but overall, it had still gone pretty well.
Later that night, Soda was sure to lock the puppies out of Gundham’s room, just for Fuyuhiko.
–
Soda watched as Gundham fed the Devas, making sure to give them all a few gentle pets as he did, mumbling away about keeping up their power levels and checking them for any signs of “evil spirits”. As Soda watched, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander lower.
Gundham rarely wore anything to bed, especially when Soda was over, so his ass was on full display for Soda’s wandering eyes. He chuckled sleepily to himself when he found the still healing bite mark on one of Gundham’s cheeks.
Maybe not the best decision he had ever made, but Gundham had seemed into it, so no harm no foul, right?
When he finally stopped staring at Gundham’s ass and let his eyes wander back up, he noticed he’d been caught. Gundham smiled coyly at him.
“Were you not satisfied by last nights activities, dearest paramour?” Gundham carefully closed the Devas’ cage before turning and slowly climbing back onto the bed. Soda took his time responding, letting his eyes travel up and down the front of Gundham’s body as he straddled his lap.
“Hmm. I’d say it’s less ‘not satisfied’ and more ‘looking for a repeat.’” He smiled as he slowly sat up and brought his hands to Gundham’s hips, before leaning in to kiss him.
It was so easy now. So easy to just let himself be with Gundham, to kiss him whenever he felt like it, to tell him how he felt, tell him what he wanted.
He wished he hadn’t been such a coward on their vacation, wished he had just confessed right away and spared them both a lot of pain.
Wished he had known how easy it could be, how right it would feel.
_
After Soda told Fuyuhiko about their relationship, they had agreed to stop trying to hide it from their friends. It was slow going at first though, as neither of them were entirely comfortable with public displays of affection.
Soda was pretty sure Chiaki had been the first to notice. They were all at Ibuki’s house drinking, and Soda had been feeling a little jealous while watching Hajime and Nagito cuddle on the couch. He had grabbed Gundham’s hand and tried to act casual about it. If they had been sober, everyone in the room likely would have noticed they way both his and Gundham’s faces suddenly flushed, but, as it was, only Chiaki seemed to notice.
She had looked up from the game she was playing at just the right moment and happened to glance at their intertwined fingers. She had just looked up at Soda’s face, smiled, and returning to her game.
That had been it.
When Chiaki had found Soda looking for snacks in the kitchen later and they started chatting, she referred to Gundham as his boyfriend without even hesitating. Soda had to wonder if maybe Hajime had accidentally told her they were dating before hand. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around how well things were going.
He wasn’t really sure if anyone else had noticed that night.
Ibuki had definitely figured it out the next morning when she found them cuddled up half naked in her guest room, though. Soda’s hungover brain had processed the volume of her voice before the words, and he had just tried to muffle the sound by burying his face into Gundham’s chest.
Then a second later he realized she was yelling “You two better not have fucked in Ibuki’s guest bed!” loud enough for anyone else in the house to hear.
He jumped out of bed and managed to get her to quiet down by assuring her they didn’t fuck.
He didn’t mention that it was only because neither of them had thought to bring lube, or that they had absolutely blown each other in her guest bed, but really, she didn’t need the details, and they still technically didn’t fuck, so it was fine, right?
She had been happy enough with his answer and left the room, closing the door behind her. A few seconds later he got a text from Teruteru asking who exactly he had fucked in Ibuki’s guest bed. He was too tired to deal with him at that exact moment, so he just responded with a hamster emoji before climbing back into bed and snuggling up to a half awake Gundham.
They slept off their hangovers for a few more hours, and when Soda woke up he had a phone filled with texts from Teruteru. In the first message he congratulated Soda and wished him happiness in his relationship. It was actually pretty heartfelt and sappy, but the effect was immediately ruined by the next twelve messages where he asked for details on exactly what they had gotten up to the previous night, then made several animal-based sex jokes.
He had also received a single thumbs-up emoji from Byakuya. Somehow it was equally mortifying.
Soda was embarrassed to learn a few of their other friends had stayed the night as well, and almost certainly heard Ibuki yelling, but no one else said anything.
Hiyoko had definitely tried to say something when she caught Soda and Gundham leaving the guest room together, but Mahiru had been there to shush her before she could get out more than a teasing “Oh?”
Soda hoped the look on his face had told Mahiru exactly how grateful he was to her.
After that, he wasn’t really sure who told who, but it seemed like all their friends were aware they were dating.
And not a single one had and issue with it.
Soda couldn’t believe it. He spent so long worrying about how other people would react, and then they just… accepted it, accepted him, without so much as a disapproving look.
He might have cried about it one night after he realized it, but that wasn’t something he was ever going to admit to.
Coming out had been so easy, so freeing.
If only it had stayed that easy.
_
He looked down at Gundham as they both caught their breaths. He seemed so content laying on Soda’s chest that he almost didn’t want to move him, but he was heavy and Soda’s legs were falling asleep. Soda carefully rolled onto his side as Gundham let out a sigh.
He was surprise when Gundham just readjusted and cuddled closer instead of getting up. He was usually very strict about waking up early to take care of all his other animals.
Soda wasn’t about to complain though. He loved the mornings where Gundham decided to spend just a little more time in bed, and he was going to cherish it.
He pressed a kiss to Gundham’s slightly sweaty forehead.
He was going to cherish every second they had together.
Next Chapter
#Soudam#Soda Kazuichi#Kazuichi Soda#Gundham Tanaka#Soda/Gundham#danganronpa#danganronpa 2#fic#My writing#Fic Aid#Happy 6 months of Aid y'all
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 12: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 3)
Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 12: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 3) by C_R_Scott
Chapters: 12/?
Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius
Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric
Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter
Summary:
Tim and Lucien reach the draugr crypts.
-------------------------
"It smells of death down here."
Tim couldn't disagree with Lucien as they slowly made their way into what was clearly the crypt portion of the Barrow. The scholar had said earlier that these places were often where the ancient Nords of the Dragon Cult buried their dead. There was a strong miasma of decay and rot in the air, overlaid with an aroma of some kind of pungent piney incense that made his head hurt. He wondered if there was something mixed in with whatever was burning in cauldrons that illuminated the crypt. Tim didn't think he smelled anything like it in the halls before reaching this place.
Then Tim caught sight of the nearest body on one of the stone slabs of the crypt and froze as he took in their sight.
"Lucien?" Tim asked. "How old are these bodies supposed to be?"
"Well, considering they've likely been entombed since at least the First Era, probably two to three thousand years old. Why?"
Tim looked at one that was wrapped tightly in linen cloth, with only their head exposed. Their skin was grey, leathery, and seemed to be stretched tightly around the mostly desiccated muscles and bones of the corpse. "It's just... Clearly there's some sort of mummification process that was used to preserve the bodies. But..." He looked to the next couple of nearby slabs. One upper slab held nothing but a skeleton. Any flesh that had been on the body had long since decayed away to dust. On the other lower slab, though, was a completely exposed and perfectly preserved mummified corpse. Any clothing had deteriorated away to nothing, but the rest of the body was left behind. A little further down, Tim noted that some corpses appeared to have been preserved with both their bodies and ancient armor intact. "...There's so much inconsistency with their states of preservation and decay. And shouldn't exposure to the air have caused the rates of decay to increase in all exposed bodies, not just random ones?"
For a moment, there was no response from the normally chatty scholar. Tim lifted his gaze from the corpse he'd been studying to find that Lucien was studying him again. The younger dark haired man suddenly felt very self-conscious. "Wh-what?"
"You're.... familiar with mummification processes and their intended results?"
Tim felt his ears begin to burn and his face felt warmer. He turned away from Lucien's curious gaze. "I... uh... That is, my parents were archaeologists," he admitted hesitantly.
That piqued Lucien's interest immediately. "Really? With which university or museum were they tenured?"
Tim shook his head. "Not important. Let's keep moving."
Lucien frowned and stood his ground. "No. I'd like to know. Where do your parents work. Perhaps my family knows them? The Flavius's are quite well-known to the archaeological circles throughout Cyrodiil. "
Silently Tim cursed his luck as he tried to move further into the crypt. "No. They wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because they're dead!"
Tim hadn't meant to shout, and he winced as his words seemed to be amplified in the cavernous stone room.
Lucien stared at him with wide-eyed surprise before casting his gaze off to the side guiltily. "I- I'm sorry."
Tim took a deep breath and closed his eyes to steady his nerves. He raked his fingers through his hair. "They died a long time ago," he said in a more quiet tone. Then he slowly opened his eyes. "Now can we drop this please and keep moving forwa--" There was a movement behind Lucien that immediately drew his gaze, and Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. Immediately he drew up his bow with a nocked arrow and shouted, "Lucien! Get down!"
"What?!" Instead of getting out of the way like Tim had ordered, Lucien reflexively jerked his head around to see what had alarmed his bodyguard so much and froze in fear. While the pair had been bickering, one of the preserved corpses clad in armor had moved themselves off of their stone slab and had risen up behind the scholar, a large ancient broadsword in hand. From the sockets of where the corpse's eyes had been were two glowing blue lights.
"Damnit Lucien! Move!" Tim cursed as he changed his tactic immediately upon seeing Lucien freeze. He rushed forward and put himself between the man and the corpse, shouldering Lucien out of the way while using the wooden length of his bow to try and block the blow from the sword.
Fortunately, while the sword bit into the bow, the wood held firm and did not break. Tim noticed how the sword was now stuck in his bow, so he used this to his advantage. He twisted his bow hard to the right and managed to twist the sword right out of the hand of the undead monster. As the creature was disoriented, Tim swept its legs out from under it with a low spinning kick that sent it crashing to the floor. Then he pulled out one of his steel daggers and plunged it into the zombie's skull. Tim watched as the blue glow from the corpse's eyes faded back into darkness.
Before Tim could even consider his victory over the creature, he heard Lucien give out a cry of warning. The young man shifted his gaze just in time to see another zombie swinging a spiked mace at him. The weapon caught him on his left side and flung him across the room. Tim screamed in pain as he clutched his injured left upper arm, blood pouring profusely through his fingers. Pain also raked across his back from where it had collided with a stone pillar.
Tim could hear the zombie shuffling towards him with a growl, but he could barely move. He struggled to push himself up with his good arm, but his hand kept slipping in his own blood and his torso just didn't want to bear his weight. His vision was also blurring in and out.
"Lucien, run!" he cried out as he tried to drag himself in a direction that would give Lucien a clear opportunity to escape the way they'd come in. He turned his head to face the zombie, so he make sure the creature had its undead eyes on him only.
Suddenly, flames flew across Tim's vision. His blue eyes widened in terror as he felt the heat of the fire warming his face and the zombie seemed to ignite right in front of him. The way the flames climbed across the body of the zombie... The smell of burning flesh...
In that moment, Tim was transported back to Helgen. Screams of townspeople and soldiers running in terror... A black dragon scorching everything in sight... The feeling of greedy flames scorching his own flesh...
As the zombie's body fell, lifeless and burning, Tim barely registered the sight of Lucien stepping into view, tendrils of residual flames dancing around his fingers and dissipating into the air.
"Timothy! Are you alright?!" Lucien was right in front of him and calling out to him, but to Tim it was as the scholar's voice was very far away. "Timothy!"
Tim's vision blurred again, and this time all sight faded as he felt himself fall into a blissful quiet darkness.
***
Pain was the first thing Tim felt as he came back to consciousness. He felt he was lying on his back, head supported by something soft, but everything from his waist up seemed to be throbbing with pain. Tim groaned softly as he tried to open his eyes, but couldn't.
"Oh thank the Eight," Lucien said from somewhere nearby at his side. Tim felt himself being gently propped up. He felt a small glass tube being pressed to his lips. "Drink this, slowly." Lucien instructed.
Tim tried to do his best to comply, though he felt some of the liquid escape the corner of his lips, most of it did make its way down his throat. He coughed a little and the tube was pulled back. "Easy, easy... It's ok... We're safe. There aren't any more draugr here. Just rest and let the potion do its work."
He felt himself being laid back down again. Tim let his head turn to the side where he heard Lucien's voice, and he felt fur beneath his cheek. Silently, he guessed his own fur cloak had been turned into a makeshift pillow. Slowly, Tim attempted to open his eyes. It took a bit, but his blurry vision cleared and he could see Lucien sitting next to him, a deeply worried look on his face as the scholar was watching something on his upper left arm.
It was only then that Tim realized that his upper body was bare. His leather jerkin, his gloves, and the undershirt he wore beneath them had all been removed and set into a pile beside him. Slowly, Tim realized that Lucien was studying the way the new wound from the spiked mace's blow on his left arm was healing. Based on the way the scholar was frowning, Tim guessed it wasn't healing well.
"Mara's mercy," Lucien murmured with a sad shake of his head. "These burns are terrible. The potion is trying to heal the new mace wound, but it's so sluggish. The already damaged flesh just doesn't want to mend." Lucien's gaze traveled up to Tim's face, his expression full of concern. "You shouldn't even be here. You should be in a healing temple. Fighting with these kinds of injuries... you could cripple yourself or worse."
Tim felt awful at the look Lucien was giving him. He closed his eyes and turned away slightly. "I know. I'm sorry."
"I just want to understand why," Lucien said gently. "Why would you take a risk on such a mission to a place like this? Why did you agree to be my bodyguard knowing you were hurt?
"I... I have nothing left," Tim choked out. "I lost everything I had at... at...."
Comprehension dawned on Lucien. "You were at Helgen," he whispered. "These burns were from that dragon, weren't they?"
Tim nodded.
Lucien sighed. After a long moment, he spoke up again. "There's more to your story than just surviving Helgen, isn't there?"
"There is..." Tim revealed reluctantly. He opened his eyes but didn't look at Lucien. "But you won't believe me."
Lucien's curiosity rose up again. "You're so sure about that?"
"Mostly. For people here, I think my story might be impossible to believe."
"Hmm... I don't know... I tend to believe in some rather impossible sounding things."
Tim's lip quirked a little. "Like what?"
"Like... I believe an entire race of people disappeared without a trace one day, leaving behind underground cities and settlements full of metal automatons that still run to this day thousands of years later."
Tim stiffened and blinked in surprise as Lucien continued.
"I also believe that there exists powerful mystical scrolls that are simultaneously archives of both past and future events, but that reading such scrolls can cost a person both their sight and possibly their sanity."
Slowly, Tim turned his head back towards Lucien as the scholar continued.
"And, I also believe that at some point between the end of the Second Era and the beginning of the Third that there was a period where time itself 'broke' into multiple paths and all contained different parallel realities where similar events had different conclusions... or didn't happen at all... before converging back upon itself to form the current timeline we are existing in now."
Tim finally looked at Lucien with a confused, intrigued, uncertain look upon his face.
Lucien smiled at him reassuringly. "If you'd like me to go on, as a scholar of Tamrielic history I can tell you this world is honestly no stranger to impossible sounding things. While I do admit most of the general population can be rather closed minded to anything that might disturb their day-to-day world-views, as a scholar I can promise you that I will listen to your tale with an open mind. That way, if there is something that is greatly troubling you, as I have been suspecting since we started this journey together, I'll do my best to help find you a solution you can live with."
Tim felt his eyes whell up with unshed tears, but rubbed them away with the heel of his good hand. "I think... I might take you up on that offer," he finally relented, his voice a touch thick with emotion. "But not until we get out of this place. If I start down my rabbit hole now, we're liable to have another draugr ambush us."
"Fair enough... But really Timothy, how can we continue forward? You're hurt very badly. Perhaps we should just go back the way we came?"
Tim gingerly began to sit up, using his right arm for support. Lucien helped steady him as he shook his head. "No. I can't leave here without that Dragonstone Jarl Balgruuf's wizard send me to fetch. It could be a key to figuring out why that dragon attacked Helgen and maybe how to stop it."
"I see."
Tim motioned for his bag. When Lucien pulled it within reach, he reached inside and fished out the jar of ointment and some linen wraps. "If you can help me with this, it numbs the pain from the burn and keeps it from getting worse. If I can just avoid direct hand-to-hand combat as much as I can through the rest of this place, I think I'll be ok."
"I'll help with my magic as much as I can as well," Lucien added.
While Lucien helped him with the ointment application, Tim grabbed another healing potion and drained the vial. While the healing of the mace wound was slow, it was better than nothing. They both also took some time to eat and drink. Once they'd finished their meal and Tim had his armor back in place over the thick layer of ointment Lucien had applied, Tim felt worlds better.
"Alright," Tim said has he grasped his bow and stood before Lucien. "Let's track down that elf and find that 'Hall of Stories' he was talking about."
-------------------------
Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.
Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.
Note2: If it's a little unclear, the three impossible-sounding things Lucien believes in are (1) the mass disappearance of the Dwemer/Dwarven race, (2) the existence of Elder Scrolls, and (3) the event known as a Dragon Break, which are all canon things in Elder Scrolls lore.
Also, Tim's burns and how they're negatively affecting his healing. The concept I'm imagining is that while he was at Helgen, he was very badly burned during Alduin's attack. However, at no point did he get enough potions to heal that massive a burn completely. Like, imagine if his HP in game was dragged down to a sliver, but he was only able to consume enough potions to bring him back up to 10% HP.
So the burns never completely healed, and Tim has very little knowledge of the options available to him to treat them in this world.
I have a headcanon about this verse that people get scars when they get injured, but the healing they receive (potions or spells) is not enough to heal it completely. It either ends up leaving a scar through healing naturally over time, or being completely healed far later (days or weeks) after the initial injury took place.
So while Tim's burns are only partially healed, they're in a really sensitive state. If he gets new injuries on those burned areas, they won't heal right with either potions or magic, which are a huge risk to his overall health. When they are eventually healed completely, he will be left with massive scars for the rest of his life.
#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas
#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life’s Like That
Matt Murdock (Daredevil) One-Shot from prompts
A/N: I received a request from the lovely and incredibly patient @givemeabite for a Daredevil story with the prompt “I thought you were happy, I’m sorry”. Right off the bat, while I dig this little story, I may have missed the mark you were hoping for (I mean, I went with lawyer Matt vs Daredevil...) so please let me know if you want me to go for an actual Daredevil story with the same or different prompts!
You find yourself turning to Matt Murdock, and old friend from college when you realize that, not only are you getting a divorce but you might lose everything.
Warnings: This is a female reader pov. I try to keep things as neutral as possible, but it was too awkward. I left the husband and company nameless so you can at least fill in some blanks. Otherwise, it’s spoiler free.
If you want to be on my tag list for this or any character just let me know!
Nelson, Murdock, and Page.
You read the name a dozen times as you stood outside the door. This was it; it was definitely them. It was definitely him.
Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open to see a blonde-haired woman behind the only desk in the room. Her eyebrows raised as you came in, but her smile was warm. “Mrs. McKay?”
Blinking, it took a moment to realize she was addressing you. “Oh, uh, no..”
The woman's eyebrows creased lightly as her smile grew smaller. Dropping her gaze down to her desk, she started rifling through an open file. "Oh, my apologies. You are...?"
“Ms L/n. I just...was hoping to see Mr. Murdock? If that's possible?”
Your nerves knotted violently as you watched her go through several stages of confusion. “Uh, do you have an appointment?”
Hesitantly, you looked around the empty waiting room area before turning back to her. “N-no?”
“Y/n?”
Following your name, you turned to see Matt Murdock poking his head out of one of the connecting rooms.
Relief rushed through your body, the knots immediately dissolving. “Matt!”
A wide grin spread over his face as he stepped out of his office, running his hand down his tie and smoothing it against his slightly wrinkled shirt. “Wow, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard your voice. How have you been?”
Tucking your hair behind your ear, you chewed your lip for a second before finally smiling. “Uh...good.”
Matt paused. “That bad, huh? Why don't you come in and tell me about it?”
Hesitating you glance back over at the woman behind the desk. Her smile was tight as her eyebrows creased together.
Before either of you could say anything, Matt nodded her direction. “Uh, Miss Page? Foggy can start with Mrs. McKay if she arrives for her appointment...actually, do you mind sitting in with him? That might be safer.”
Despite trying to pinch her lips together, a smile broke free and Miss Page looked towards the door labelled Nelson as though she expected him to pipe up at any second. “Yes, that's no problem.”
Waving you over, Matt's hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you into his office. As you took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, you were surprised when he took the other After he turned it slightly, your knees were almost grazing when he leaned forward.
After setting your purse down, you glanced around the room. “You and Foggy have a nice setup here. You guys really did it.”
His dark glasses reflected the sunlight from the window behind you as he let out a soft chuckle. Shooting you a lopsided-grin, he shrugged. “Well, I'm told it's simple but professional enough to inspire a bit of confidence at least.”
Barren was a better way to describe it. Other than his license, the walls were only broken up by the cheap, plastic blinds over the windows.
“Or maybe confidence is too a strong word?”
“Oh no, it's good, it's nice and...clean,” you said in a rush as you tried to make up for your brief silence.
“Wow. So I guess I should probably agree to Karen's constant requests to spruce up the place.”
A nervous laugh was your only reply as you felt your cheeks grow warm. Your gaze briefly skimmed over him. He was still the same, warm Matt you remembered from college, but his button-up shirt did little to hide his muscular chest. Although you always thought of him as a good-looking man, you didn't remember him being in quite so good of shape.
It was surprising how flustered it made you, considering everything you were drowning in.
Slowly, his smile grew more sombre as he cleared his throat. “Well, if I recall correctly, you weren't any more into small talk than I am, so I hope you don't mind if I just get right to asking what brought you here? Is everything okay?”
Although it was the obvious question, a sudden wave of guilt rolled over you. You hadn't seen him since school. Sure, life carries on as it does and everyone has their own shit to focus on. But it didn't feel great that, after all these years, the first time you finally reach out is because you need help.
“I, uh, I'm going to need to hire a lawyer. I'm not sure it's your field of expertise, but I might end up losing everything and I thought, if nothing else, you could point me in the right direction.”
The last of his smile dropped and his voice gained a sharper edge. It was a noticeable shift from old friend to lawyer. “When you say lose everything, what do you mean exactly?”
Nervously running your finger under the edge of your thumbnail, you frowned. “Possibly everything – my home, my car, my money, but most importantly, my business.”
His head bobbed slightly as his eyebrows drew together. “And why is that?”
Pausing your fidgeting, you let out a soft sigh. “Divorce.”
The word hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity before Matt finally cleared his throat. Nodding, he sat forward and leaned over you to grab the box of tissues from the corner of his desk. As he moved, his fresh aftershave mixed with a warm, earthy scent seemed to float around you. It immediately brought you back to the time you spent together, back before everything started heading in the wrong direction. A longing gripped your chest, a desperate need to turn back the clock, and you had to resist the urge to inhale deeply.
“I'm sorry to hear that, Y/n,” he said as he set the tissue box near you.
Letting out a soft, bitter snort, you shook your head. “It's fine. We can't all be you and Elecktra.”
He only froze for a moment as he settled back in his chair, but it was enough to tell you everything.
Before he could talk, you already started apologizing. “I'm sorry, I didn't know. I mean...it's just back in the day you two were so...I thought you were happy, I'm sorry.”
Huffing a sigh through his nose, his tongue darted over his lips as he waved you into silence. “It's okay. I mean, you're right, we were happy once, but it was a long time ago.”
A faint smile ghosted your lips as you let your gaze trail across his desk and towards the small window. The cramped city view past the blinds didn't provide much of an escape.
“Yeah...I guess life's like that.”
From behind you, you heard the outer door opening followed by muffled voices. Probably Mrs. McKay, Matt's next appointment. You kept your focus on the window. Maybe you were going to need those tissues...
The feeling of Matt's fingers lightly resting on your knee brought your attention back. His head was tilted – a move you've seen so often after your friends find out you're getting a divorce. But, somehow, you didn't feel the same overwhelming pity from him. “I know it's been a long time, and I'm not a divorce lawyer, but I am here for you. I'll need some more details before I can offer any suggestions though...can you tell me why you think you're in danger of losing everything?”
“Because he's hired Desmond Tobey to represent him...”
Wordlessly, his lips parted for a moment before he tried to find his words. The small gesture made your heart drop. “Hogarth's guy? That's uh...that's...”
“Bad,” you finished.
Leaning back in his chair, he adjusted his glasses and lightly bit the edge of his bottom lip. “Uh...yeah. It's not great. I hate to ask this, but what, uh...what are the circumstances of the divorce?”
Crossing your legs, you hugged your arms over your chest and sighed. “He cheated on me.”
Slipping back into lawyer mode, you noticed a drop in his gravelly tone as he straightened in his chair. “Did he admit to that?”
Looking at your sleeve, you unfolded your arms to pick at a small piece of fluff on the fabric. “He did. After I confronted him with the evidence.”
“Evidence?”
His all-business demeanour made it easy for you to do the same. Besides, you hadn't had much time to process your feelings anyhow. "Yes. After seeing purchases and motel room costs show up on his credit card statements, I actually hired a private investigator. So now I have photos too."
“And you've kept copies?”
“Multiple. In various safe spots. Look, he's got money. Serious money. So I understand why he would want to get the best lawyer he could so he doesn't get cleaned out. And frankly, I don't care. He can have the clothes off my back if he wants...but he threatened my company. That's the only thing I want to fight for. It's mine. I built it from the ground up. Myself.”
Matt's lips pulled together in a tight line as his face pointed away from you slightly as though he were looking to the side. “And does he have any claim to this company?”
Staring at the fluff, you balled it up between your fingers before letting it drop in the small garbage can beside you. "No. Well...I mean he gave me the startup money. Which I paid back. With interest. We even did that all through contracts so it was all legal. I don't understand what ground he thinks he has but...I don't want to lose this. Matt, I'm scar-"
Your voice hitched.
Turning back to you, Matt's hand reached for yours and he tightly squeezed your fingers. Holding your breath, you refused to crack as you squeezed back.
“I'm going to help you. Foggy and I, we've got you. Karen too. She's the best investigator I've ever met so if anyone can uncover whatever ace he thinks he's hiding up his sleeve, it's her,” he said firmly, although his voice softened considerably.
Gritting your teeth, you looked upward as though it could force the moisture back into your eyes instead of falling onto your cheeks. Quickly, you brushed along your bottom eyelashes, whisking the potential tears away. Matt's grip on your hand tightened.
“Thank you.” It came out as a whisper.
“We'll set up an appointment for tomorrow and I'll need you to bring in everything. Everything you have against your husband and all of your financial statements, both personal and for the business. And, as soon as you leave here, you need to freeze everything to do with your company in terms of assets and expansion plans. If you were even looking at buying a new office chair – it's on hold, got it?”
“Yes,” your voice was still unsteady.
Hearing how shaken you were, his face fell slightly. “Y/n, he's not going to get your company. I promise. We'll look over everything to make sure your case is iron clad. And if there's even any doubt, there are some legal, if shady, options we can look into as well. It's going to be okay.”
The relief of having someone on your side cracked your hard shell. Swallowing heavily, you finally reached over to grab the tissues.
“Thank you.”
Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami @kingccbsblog @natsukitakama @jobean12-blog @fiction-is-the-new-reality @mysteryoflovve
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
Madness | Chpt. 13
Requests are Open
Chapter Title: “Once Upon the 40′s”
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character
Word Count: 6,850
Warnings: ???
Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”
Summary: Eva recalls her past with Loki and runs into some very familiar faces along the way, faces she’s never been able to forget.
A/N: Like I’ve stated previously, I’m taking a lot of creative liberties with this fic, and I hope you understand. I’m definitely taking more within the following chapters. Thank you all for being so patient. Once again, I’ve heard a lot of really good theories about what might happen next, so I’m definitely excited to hear what you guys think of the story going forward. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this fic, and all I can do is hope that it shows. You’re all so phenomenal. I love all of you so, so, so much. PLEASE NOTE: this will likely be my final time posting an update for this fic before Endgame is released. I have a few other oneshots that I will release throughout the week before Endgame. I know everyone has said it at this point, but PLEASE if you see the movie, do not spoil it for anyone. I heard about the recent leak, and I refuse to scroll through any forms of social media at this point. I got on here just to post, and I’ll be getting right off. If you do have spoilers already, I ask that you please not share them here <3 -Ellie
Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)
“We’re still going dancing after this, right?” I asked, gazing up into his blue eyes that matched the color of the sky. Midgard was beautiful as it was, but he made the world around him that much more beautiful in my eyes. My dress-a material that matched the color of his eyes-swung around my knees as we walked toward the expo that Loki had been speaking of for weeks since our last trip to Midgard. He smiled down at me, his eyes still glistening with a hint of excitement that he always tried to hide whilst in the midst of his father. Odin never treated him fairly and always scrutinized when Loki was happy “for no reason.” He knew that he never had to hide any piece of himself from me, though, and that he need not even try. We had known each other for nearly a thousand years, ever since I could remember, and I knew everything there was to know about the young prince of Asgard.
He snickered, “would it be a trip to Midgard without a little dancing?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. Dancing was something we always did when we made any trips to Midgard, regardless of what our trip was for in the first place. Loki was born with a grace and talent for dancing, and it showed in the way he moved. He walked with the same purpose and grace as he did when he danced, and that paled in comparison to the way he held me when we danced. The only thing it could be compared to was the way he held me at night after we spent hours rediscovering one another in the most intimate ways. Those were some of my favorite moments with him, when we were both so vulnerable to each other, but we were comfortable with it because we knew that our insecurities, our fears, our needs would never be exploited by the other. We trusted each other implicitly, and that would never change.
I smirked, remembering the one time that we didn’t go dancing. Loki had been so tired after the full day of mingling and running about the garden with me that we cancelled our plans to be at the wedding and celebrations of Mary, who I had taken a liking to for her fiery attitude, and Francis. Mary was beautiful and gentle, but she was also regal with a sharp-tongue, which was something I admired her for greatly, especially as she grew older. I visited her often with Loki, looking after her as if she were my own. Loki often admired her for being powerful in the face of adversity. People were reluctant to seeing a woman upon the throne, but Loki and I had seen too much to hold prejudice against someone simply because she was a woman. It was a terrible shame when we discovered what happened to her. Still, she had never let us forget that we missed her wedding, often bringing it up lightly to tease Loki and I, “do you remember the 50’s?” I asked, reminding him of a time that didn’t seem that long ago, a time that felt simpler in a way. We could spend hours running through the courtyard of the tudor style home Loki had built for us. It was our place to escape to when we left Asgard.
“Almost 400 years, and you still bring up that one time,” he reminisced, a smile breaking out across his face. I watched the memories dance across his mind, gazing up at him as I longed to revisit our old life. We had always been happy, but the days seemed to move slower then. We could just exist together. He drew himself closer to me, his face growing closer and closer to my ear. I could feel his warm breath cascade across my neck, “perhaps I can make it up to you later tonight?” he whispered, his voice low and smooth as velvet.
“Loki!” I gasped, pushing his chest in a playful manner. He began laughing, and the sound was like music to my ears. There had never been another song more beautiful than the laughter of my love. I stifled my own laughter, not wanting to draw attention from the passersby, but I couldn’t help the smile which tugged at my lips. I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing that he wanted to get that reaction out of me, “you won’t have any of your fun unless you take me dancing. If you back out, you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” I teased him, accepting the challenge to see which one of us would back down first. He rarely brought it up if he wasn’t fairly confident that he would win, but I knew how to beat him, how to make him tick. I loved winning for the simple fact that I loved watching Loki blush.
“I know what to do to get you to sleep on that couch with me, darling. I know how to make you quiver,” he murmured, his voice resembling a growl, causing my most primal urges to bubble up to the surface. I gripped his arm tighter as we continued to walk. He traced a slender finger of his free hand along the skin of mine, and I shivered beneath his touch. I found his eyes once more to see that he looked hungry, as if he were eyeing his prey, “you should enjoy that pretty blue dress because I’m going to have fun tearing it off of you later,” he remarked as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.
“Watch what happens to you if you tear my dress,” I challenged him, cocking my eyebrow at him.
“You should watch your tongue, my love,” he chuckled, thinking that he won the unspoken challenge, that I had somehow run out of ways to make him blush.
I didn’t.
Without missing a beat, I veered off into an alleyway that left us barely visible to the passersby. No one would take notice of the two of us, especially since we knew how to blend in with the general public for the time period we found ourselves in when we travelled to Midgard. I pressed Loki against the stone wall, taking care not to hurt him as I held him against the cool surface. I leaned in close to him, allowing him to shiver with anticipation. I brought our faces as close together as they could be without partaking in a kiss that would relieve so much of the tension we were both feeling. I leaned into his ear, my breath hitting his neck. I grew close enough so that my lips brushed ever so lightly against his ear, and I felt him tremble beneath me, “you want me to watch my tongue? Make me,” I whispered before removing myself completely from his space just in time to see the color rise to his cheeks.
I won.
The moment he lunged for me, ready to admit defeat and ravage me with kisses, I pulled away from him and walked back out toward the street. That was part of the fun. We knew each other well enough to know what made the other tick. I knew how to get under his skin, and he knew how to get under mine. I knew that not allowing him to kiss me was my way of building up that tension. The lust within him would continue burning until we were alone that night, until I was able to lose myself in him and him in me. Before I could walk along the sidewalk alone, he resumed his place by my side, and I looped my arm through his once he offered it to me. We walked along, falling in perfect stride with one another, as if nothing had happened, but we would remember it later. The tension never died, but it just became like a smoldering fire, which would continue to burn until we extinguished it.
As we walked, we passed by a man and woman, and I noticed the rings on their fingers, symbolizing their eternal love, which was something Loki and I had talked about from time to time. The woman was pushing a baby carriage, and within it, there was a baby who looked no older than 3 months. He was dressed in a little blue outfit that matched his blue eyes. His hair was light, and his skin was fair, much like Thor’s. I smiled into the carriage, feeling my heart flip within my chest as my sudden urges came to light once more. I could feel Loki tense up next to me, and I knew why. It was something we had only talked about briefly, but I knew he wanted that life just as much as I did. His grip on me tightened, and I could feel his eyes lingering on me, so I turned my gaze up to meet his. He smiled down at me so sweetly, just like he used to when we first fell in love. The thoughts crossed his mind, and he didn’t even need to say a single word because I could always read him like an open book, “You know what my answer would be,” I stated, grasping his arm with my free hand. We had already been in the stage of our relationship where we wanted to get married, but we were also coming to the stage where we were both thinking about what would come next: a family.
He sighed, gazing once more at the baby in the carriage before gazing back down at me, “father has always treated me poorly, and he’s never been particularly kind to you. I can’t imagine what he would think of our…” he trailed off, his eyes beginning to water as soon as he even thought of the word. It was a difficult thing for either of us to think about. I was abandoned by my parents, and Odin never treated Loki as one of his own from the very beginning.
“Children, Loki,” I finished for him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze to regain his attention. Once his mind wandered, so did his eyes. Once our eyes locked, I knew that he was focused on me, “they would be our children and ours alone,” I reminded him, wanting him to understand what I had already accepted. I didn’t have to follow in my mother’s footsteps, and I wouldn’t. I would love my children endlessly, and I would never abandon them, not like my parents did to me. Loki’s fears and insecurities were justified because he was terrified of being the father to our children that his father was to him. As upsetting as it was to think that he was self-conscious about failing our future children, I always silenced his doubts about everything as soon as they arose, “you would be the most incredible father, in spite of how you were treated by your own father.”
Once I said my piece, he fell absolutely silent. I gazed up at him, trying desperately to decipher him. There were moments when he was an open book to me, but there were others where he was like a puzzle with dozens of pieces missing, and I became more and more stressed because I couldn’t figure it out. There was the alternative method of reading his mind, his thoughts, but that was something I saved for only the most dire circumstances. He was my lover, my soulmate, my best friend, not my experiment. I couldn’t just pull apart his mind whenever I felt like it to get answers to a question I didn’t want to bother him with. It was my job to read him as any woman would read her love, the way I had read Loki all along. When our eyes met, I knew exactly what he was thinking, as if it were painted across his blue eyes. He was picturing them. A wide smile spread across my face, “the first one would be a little girl, a little princess. I imagine her with your hair, wild and unruly and black as a shadow at night,” I murmured, my eyes flickering between his.
He snickered, “my hair is not unruly!” he defended himself, acting as if he had been terribly offended at my comments about his wild and unruly hair, which it was.
I cocked an eyebrow, ready to challenge him, “have I simply imagined the times when you struggle to brush it out and keep it in place in the morning?” I asked, a sly grin taking over the smile on my lips, “have I imagined the dozens of times when you beg me to brush it because only I can undo the tangled mess that you manage to get it into throughout the night? You always go to sleep with perfect, silky, beautiful hair-and I know because I brush it and look after it-but you wake up the next morning as if you fought four wars all on your own in the middle of the night,” I teased him, grinning up at the man who owned every piece of my heart. We hadn’t lost that spark between us. Sure, we argued with each other and had our fair share of disagreements, but we had been together for hundreds of years, so we knew how to make it work through all of that. Still, no matter what, I always looked at him as the boy I fell in love with. I still got butterflies when I talked to him. I still blushed when he paid me a compliment or looked at me for a prolonged period of time. I still giggled when he called me beautiful.
“That’s only because of you!” he argued, raising his voice only slightly. He wouldn’t yell at me, but he was clearly trying to defend his wild and messy hair. Whenever I closed my eyes and imagined our future children, though, they always had his hair. My hair was dark, but his was exceptionally dark. His hair was darker than the forest on a dark night when the stars didn’t even shine through the trees. The darkness would envelope me, and I wouldn’t be able to see my hands had they been directly in front of my face. Each of our future children, as I saw them, had his wild hair. It would fall in curls, and they would all wear it the way he did: long. His light chuckle pulled me from my daydream, “you keep me up far too late, or have I simply imagined the times I’ve nearly fallen asleep at the breakfast table with my mother?”
My mouth hung agape as I recalled one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, “that-!” I stammered, trying to find a way to defend myself. It was true that it was my doing which left him embarrassed at the breakfast table with Frigga, and it was the moment she understood how deep our relationship was, how serious we were about each other, “that happened one time, and it was only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me the way you are right now!” I blamed him with a smirk as our eyes met once more. Mine danced along his face before I lost myself in the oceans of blue that pooled up against the dark pupils of his eyes, like land masses that felt like home.
His eyes flickered between mine, and his smile fell. The solemnity that overcame his feature worried me for a moment as I wondered if I had gone too far; however, when I saw the tears well up in his eyes, I knew that he was thinking about them. He thought about them just as often as I did, even though he didn’t like to admit it, “they would have your eyes,” he murmured, pulling me closer to him, “a green that matched the colors of spring when the land is reborn after the cold winter, a green that feels like the warm breeze in the middle of the forest when it ripples through the leaves, a green that feels like home. They would wear that same look in their eyes, too. They would have that determination and ferocity but also the love and appreciation of life and all living things. They would have your nose, your cheekbones...your laugh because Gods know there is nothing sweeter or more poetic and beautiful than the sound of your laugh,” he said, tearing up at the thought of our future children. I knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that he would be the best father to our children, and I knew because he loved them already, just like I did.
I stopped completely, not wanting him to focus on anything but me. I reached up and grasped his chin in my hand before turning his head until our eyes met, “I have told you for hundreds of years that all you have to do is ask me, and I’ll be yours for the rest of eternity, Loki,” I reminded him, knowing that all he would have to do is ask for my hand, and I would accept his offer in a heartbeat. He didn’t have to write a speech or plan an elaborate proposal because he was the only thing that mattered.
“I’m just worried that I could never be able to offer you all that you want in life,” he murmured, his eyes acting as windows into his very soul. I knew that he always felt unworthy of me, of the love I gave to him, like he didn’t deserve me. It was the same way I felt at certain times in our relationship, when I wondered why someone who could have anyone or anything he wanted would choose me. He always silenced those doubts, and I did the same with him.
I shook my head, “all I want is you,” I insisted once more, grasping his hand in my own as I gazed up into those uncertain blue eyes, “I want to marry you and start a family. I want to see you with our baby, to watch you hold him or her, to watch you fall in love with the way they laugh, the way they dance, the way they look at you. I want to raise children with you, however many we decide. I want to get up early in the morning and rock our baby to sleep and be reminded that they are the product of the two of us, that we created something that was bigger than ourselves, that our love created life,” I reminded him, my eyes stinging with the hot tears as I thought of a life we had yet to begin. I watched as his eyes brimmed with tears, and I gave his hand a gentle squeeze “we’ve been together for hundreds of years, and you have given me all that I could ever want and all I could ever need, but that is the one thing that’s missing. I want that life with you and no one else,” I finished, stepping closer to him.
“That’s what you want?” he asked, his focus becoming firm, and I knew that he would be focusing on picking out any hints that I was being dishonest, as if I would even try to with him after so long together.
I nodded, “it’s what I’ve always wanted.”
He nodded once, continuing to gaze down at me. Upon seeing that I wasn’t trying to mislead him, his gaze lightened, and he gathered me in his arms in one swift motion. I gasped at the sudden and unexpected action, but before I could speak, his lips crushed mine, silencing whatever words I was about to utter. He kept my body pressed to his firmly but not aggressively. His hold on me was all encompassing as his right arm snaked around my waist, arching my body into his. The fingers of his left hand caressed my cheek and jaw, holding me steady as we kissed. The moment he pulled his lips from mine, it was as if my very breath left with him. Luckily, he didn’t let go of me, or I was sure I would have fallen to the ground. He pulled his head back only slightly to take in my reaction to what just happened, but I had no words, no emotion to give. He took my breath away with that kiss, and it felt like we were at the very beginning of our courtship once more, like we were still naive lovers who saw nothing but one another.
Without warning, he began laughing lightly at what had just transpired. Had we put our love on full display in the streets of Asgard, Odin would have forced the two of us away from each other. It would have been improper for him and unladylike for me. However, on Midgard, people seemed to pass by without taking much notice. Of course, I could still feel eyes on us because it was still a rarity, but we would not be punished for a kiss. I saw, once more, the boy I fell in love with, my Loki. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to contain my laughter once he began laughing. Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heel and pulled him along, “come on, love. We don’t want to miss the expo. It’s the whole reason we came here,” I reminded him as we walked toward the crowds of people.
Upon reaching the large groups of people, we began making our way to the front of the stage in the pavillion where we saw the most commotion. Everyone was talking, and the buzzing of life around me left me with a euphoric feeling in my chest. Warmth spread from the depths of my chest all throughout my body, leaving me gasping for the sweet air to fill my needy lungs. I loved the sensation of life, the vibrations of the energy around me. Loki’s hand found mine, and he intertwined our finger, his fear of large groups becoming more and more clear. Whenever he needed to find his footing once more, he reached out to me, and I was always there. His grip on my hand tightened whenever the noise in the pavillion increased, and I accommodated it by pulling the two of us closer together. I knew where his fear and anxiety stemmed from, and I would always comfort him when that was what he needed.
Once we reached the front of the stage, we watched as young women in matching outfits lined up in front of a car. Shortly after Loki and I took our place, another man with two young women at his side broke through the crowd and stood beside Loki and I. The man in the group was tall and built like a warrior. I took note of the uniform that seemed to hang from his broad shoulders and knew that he was one of Midgard’s soldiers. He smiled up at the stage as the two girls beside him began conversing amongst themselves in their excitement for what was to unfold. Trailing behind them was a smaller man, but I could feel the vibrations within me begin to grow stronger and stronger the closer he grew to me, and I just knew there was something about him, something I couldn’t place my finger on. Our souls were connected somehow, similarly to how mine was connected to the souls of Loki, Ephinea, Hjalmar, and my father. I didn’t even know his name, but I knew his soul.
The taller of the two men glanced over at me, a playfulness in his eyes that matched Loki’s, and I knew that it was a light the world so desperately needed. He smiled down at me, though I was only slightly shorter than him, “good evening, ma’am,” he greeted me with a tip of his hat before turning his attention to Loki and doing the same, “sir,” he greeted politely, causing the God of Mischief to bow his head in a friendly greeting.
I stepped closer to the young man, breaking away from Loki’s side and feeling a chill run through my body at the sudden lack of warmth he brought me, “you can call me Eva, and this is Loki. He’s not much of a talker until you mention literature,” I laughed, gesturing over to Loki before offering my hand.
The soldier took it and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my hand. I knew it was what was considered respectful and courteous at the time. Loki still did it to me when we were in the company of others. The soldier lifted his head and released my hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Eva,” he stated before turning his attention over to Loki once more and sticking out his hand for him to take, “Loki...that’s not a common name,” he noted, trying out the name on his tongue.
Loki chuckled, “I’m not a common man,” he replied as he took the soldier’s hand and shook it.
“The name’s James, but most people just call me Bucky,” the soldier finally introduced himself before turning to the shorter man beside him, “and this is Steve, he’s like my unruly, rebellious sidekick who likes to look for trouble,” he teased his friend with a wide smile.
I smiled and stepped closer to the newly introduced stranger, “it’s nice to meet you, Steve,” I replied, reaching my hand out. Instead of taking it and kissing it, he just gave it a quick shake, and I could tell that he was nervous about the sudden introductions. The moment our hands touched, an electric current surged through my body, as if a piece of his very essence was transferred to me and a piece of mine was transferred to him. It was a strange occurrence, an event that had only happened a small handful of times in the past, but it always forged a powerful connection to the person it happened with. The energy surged through me as I felt his essence intertwine with mine, pieces of our souls coming together to form one. I wondered, for a moment, if he felt the same thing or something similar, and the sudden wonder in his eyes told me that he had experienced it as well.
He tried to shake off the awkward silence between us, his cheeks becoming flushed, “So, where are you two from? Your accents sound...foreign,” he asked, trying to propel the conversation forward after a powerful experience we both shared.
“Smooth,” Bucky teased him as he gazed up at the stage that was continuing to be prepared.
I smiled, “it’s alright. We’re from Westminster in England,” I lied, recalling a place Loki and I had visited dozens of times in the past. It’s not like I could tell him the truth, that Loki and I were from a completely different realm altogether, that there was life beyond Midgard. They would discover our existence at some point during the course of humanity, but it didn’t need to be today, “what about you? Where are you from?”
“Brooklyn,” he answered with a kind smile. It was clear that not many people gave him the time of day, but I wanted to. I wanted to learn everything about him because I was certain he would play a large part in my life. He gestured between Loki and I, “and you two are...married?” he asked, and I could sense the boyish bashfulness rising within him.
Bucky snickered, “wow, how subtle,” he teased Steve again.
“Not yet,” Loki answered before I had the chance to speak.
I furrowed my eyebrows at his confession, taken aback by his answer. Steve and Bucky raised their eyebrows as well, but I knew that their surprise came from the forwardness of it. They didn’t know Loki like I did. I knew that he was rather bold, but I just never expected that answer because I didn’t know if he truly wanted to marry me the same way I did him. We had been together for hundreds of years, the better part of a millenia, and he still hadn’t asked me to marry him. I cocked an eyebrow, “should I be expecting a question soon, or will I be waiting another thousand years?” I asked, teasing him about how long it had already taken him.
Bucky and Steve both laughed in unison, thinking that I was exaggerating the length of time I had been waiting. It was only slightly exaggerated, since our thousand year milestone wouldn’t happen for another 67 years. Loki’s grin at me caused my heart to flutter as I thought of how and when he would do it. After a short amount of banter between the four of us, Loki and Bucky began having their own conversation, leaving Steve and I with a comfortable silence that fell between the two of us. As we gazed up at the stage together in anticipation for the upcoming show that was sure to be put on, I could feel his eyes on me. Loki made a habit of doing the same thing early in our childhood, before he even began courting me, but it remained something he did even after so long together. He would always watch me. It was never in a way that made me uncomfortable, but it was the same reason I watched him, to memorize every little piece of him, how the rays of the sun sat so delicately upon his eyelashes, how his slender fingers would swim through his raven black hair when he pushed it back into place, how every smile started at one corner of his mouth, how the tears rimmed his perfect blue eyes whenever he read something I wrote for him, or how his eyebrows pulled together in fascination whenever he looked at me. I committed every piece of him to memory just in case there was a day when he wasn’t mine, when his body returned home. Though I wished for us to meet our end together, I knew that one of us would outlive the other, and my selfish dream was that he would be the one to do so. I couldn’t bear a life without him, so even if he went before me, I wouldn’t be far behind.
As I felt Steve’s eyes on me, I also felt the familiar warmth of Loki’s gaze as well. His conversation with Bucky had become a conversation about me, and my suspicions were confirmed when I felt the unfamiliar eyes of the soldier on me again. I glanced over at Steve in an attempt to keep myself from blushing at the attention that I was getting. As soon as I turned my head to interact with Steve, our eyes connected, and a blush rose to his cheeks almost immediately. It was exactly what happened when Loki and I first began our relationship. He would be caught in the act of studying me, and his cheeks would flush with color in his bashfulness. It became less of an occurrence the longer we were together, but there were times when it presented itself once more. Steve glanced down at the ground, trying to seem like he wasn’t watching me only seconds prior. I smiled to myself, thinking about how endearing it was, but what he did next was even more shocking and endearing. He extended his hand with the paper bag filled with popcorn in an attempt to offer some to me.
That was the moment I knew.
That was the single moment I figured out exactly who Steve was, almost as if I could see straight into his very soul. It was one of the purest, most beautiful things I had ever seen in all my life. The innocence and innate goodness he had within him made me want to cry. There were only a handful of moments in my life that left me so emotionally overwhelmed, whether by the sheer beauty I witnessed or sorrow I felt, that left me unable to contain my tears. That was one of those moments. It felt like Steve and I were just made to find our way to one another, like we were created for the soul purpose to run into each other at some point, but the reason was unclear. With Loki, our bond with each other was clear, but with Steve, I didn’t understand it. Why us? Why him? As I tried to sort through it, he maintained his outstretched hand. I gave a polite nod and collected a few of the pieces of popcorn, maintaining eye contact with him and trying to suppress the smile that only continued to grow on my face.
Knowing that the only way to silence the parade of questions through my mind was to talk to him, I ate the popcorn in my hand and spoke, “what are you doing out here on a night like tonight? What brings you to the expo?” I asked, looking for any way to stop falling into a platonic type of love with him. It was the strangest, most unexpected feeling, but I could feel the love within me growing for him with every passing second. It was as if my soul recognized his, and I couldn’t help it.
He shrugged his shoulders, “well, it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man before he ships out. You know, he’s my best friend in the world, so when he wanted me to come out, how could I say no?” he asked, trying to minimize his act of kindness toward his friend. He forced himself to be uncomfortable just to make his friend happy. That was love, pure and untainted love. I smiled as he continued, “it’s not really my cup of tea, though. I’m not really into crowds, but I know it’ll make Bucky happy.”
Nodding my head, I reached out and grasped his arm, “everyone needs someone like that in their lives. He’s lucky to have you.”
He shook his head, not fully convinced by my words, “I think it’s the other way around. I’d be nowhere without Bucky. He’s the only family I have left after my mom died. He’s like a brother to me. I owe him everything. The least I could do was come out with him tonight,” he spoke, his voice soft and full of sincerity. Suddenly, a wide smile formed on his lips and he cast his gaze to the ground once more as a blush overcame his cheeks, “I mean, I got to meet you out of the deal, so it wasn’t all bad,” he complimented me with a quivering voice before trying to laugh off his clear embarrassment. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I realized just how genuine the compliment was, and I couldn’t help but step closer to him. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, and I didn’t take his compliment as a flirtatious one; all I wanted was to feel closer to the warmth his very essence provided. He was like the light of the sun-all encompassing, bright, and warm.
Before I could respond to Steve’s remark, the voice of a female announcer silenced the crowd, “ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!” she announced, her voice leaving the audience even more lively than before. As the crowd began to cheer and applaud, the man who I presumed to be Howard Stark, the man of the hour, sauntered onto the stage wearing a tuxedo, a top hat, and a grin. The women on the stage all presented him, holding their arms out as he passed by them. One of the brunette girls stepped out of line to take his hat and trade off the microphone she had in her hand. As he took it, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her close before pressing his lips to hers in a quick, suggestive kiss. Once he wiped the lipstick from his lips, he spoke into the microphone, his voice echoing throughout the calming crowd, “ladies and gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
The two girls Bucky and Steve arrived with were two of the many people in the audience who covered their mouths and gasped. Loki and I shot a knowing glance at one another that this was no new technology to us, as Asgardians had perfected similar technology so long ago. However, it was a remarkable achievement for Midgardians to be making. I turned my gaze back at Howard Stark as the women who once stood in front of the car pulled the wheels off of it and walked away with them. He glanced out at the audience, holding the microphone up to his lips, “with Stark gravitic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that,” he promised before stepping aside and allowing everyone in the audience a clear view of the spectacle that was about to take place. With the flip of a switch and the press of a button, the car began hovering above the stage with a gentle hum. I glanced around at the small group I was with to see that everyone wore looks of pure astonishment at the idea of flying cars. No matter how advanced our technology was, Loki was still impressed by the humans, just as I was. They showed great promise, and that was one of the many reasons why we swore to protect them.
Howard’s eyes scanned the crowd as he looked truly proud of what he had accomplished. I watched him intently as everyone else watched the car. All I could do was study how his pride grew more and more as he witnessed what kind of reactions he could elicit with his own genius. Suddenly, without warning, his eyes connected with mind, and his scanning of the audience stopped as those brown orbs focused on me. They felt familiar, like we had met before, like I knew him from another lifetime. I sensed something within these humans that felt surreal, like I could have been dreaming it. I had such an intense connection already to Steve, and I knew Bucky on a level that should have been impossible, given that we had only spoken a handful of words to one another. Then, there was Howard. All we shared was a prolonged moment of eye contact, but something within me came to life in that moment, and I knew that this would be the beginning of something. What that something was, though, I had no clue. All I knew was that Howard and I-like Steve and I, or like Bucky and I-would be bound by a silken cord that was strong as a chain of steel that would never break.
The one thing that pulled our gaze from each other was the sudden crash that came from behind him, and my eyes found the car now on the floor where it had once been hovering over. The crowd gasped but slowly started to clap, and I did the same. It was a true accomplishment, regardless of how long the car managed to hover. He was the first Midgardian to discover that technology, and while there was no way he would be the last to tamper with it, he made waves on that night. He chuckled into the microphone, laughing off his “failure” before speaking, “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” he asked, his eyes flickering to mine again before winking at me.
As the expo continued, Howard showed off more impressive technology that he was working on, but nothing was more impressive than his persistence, considering he didn’t even know who I was. Every chance he got, it seemed like he caught my gaze, and the playfulness would sneak into his brown orbs. I could sense a childlike wonder about him, something I hadn’t experienced much, especially not with the Midgardians. However, Howard seemed to exude those playful, childlike qualities just as much as his confidence and self-assured attitude. Once Howard’s portion of the expo was finished and the crowd applauded him, I felt the sudden absence of Steve’s warmth as he broke away from the group without a word. I wondered to myself if something had happened that upset him, or if he just needed to be alone. Bucky smiled to himself, “hey, Steve, what do you say we treat these girls to…” his voice trailed off as he turned around to see that Steve was no longer present. He sighed to himself, and I could sense his distress. I knew that he only wanted a night with his friend, especially considering the hell he was about to walk into.
Then, there were screams.
#loki#loki imagine#loki imagines#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston imagine#marvel mcu#mcu imagine#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#ofc#original female character#original character#oc#angst#love#thor#thor odinson#fanfic#marvel fanfiction#long fic#mcu fanfiction#fanfiction#marvel fanfic#madness#madness fic#tony stark#howard stark
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
By No Constraint: Epilogue
SS x Danse
Chapter List
Thanks to my amazing beta, @waiting4morning, for her wonderful work!
Tumblr has apparently changed its linking rules, meaning I can no longer externally link my FFnet or Ao3 accounts if I want my story to show up in the tag search on tumblr. If you want update alerts, please search ‘quinzelade’ on either of these sites and follow me there.
I released chapter 72 on the 8th. Since I’ve posted this so close to the last chapter, I felt it was only fair to let you guys know there’s a chapter before this one that you might want to read. Check the chapter list above for the link.
Major Brotherhood/Danse spoilers.
--
Peaceful Futures
--
“So what makes you think you’re suitable for this position?” Danse said, scribbling down a few sentences on his form. It was uncomfortably hot in his office, and Danse was tempted to close the interview now. He already knew the outcome. But he’d be damned if he put minor discomfort before proper procedure.
By the book. Always by the book.
“As I said, sir, my dad is the best shot in Sanctuary.”
Danse looked up from his notes and raised his eyebrow. “I’ve known Robert almost twenty years now, and he is a brilliant shot. But you aren’t your father. Tell me about you, Duncan. Why should I be putting Sanctuary’s safety in your hands?”
Duncan went scarlet. Danse almost relented there and then, but MacCready had been very specific with his instructions.
“Dunc’s more than capable, but he’s had it easy. Ridden on my reputation. One day I won’t be here, and then what? Make him work for it, Danse. It’ll do him some good.”
Danse stayed silent and waited.
“W-well,” Duncan managed eventually, fidgeting under Danse’s desk. “I, uh…”
“Do you have a tutor?” Danse said, deciding to offer some kindness. “Have you won any competitions or been in any combat?”
“Oh yeah!” Duncan said at once, seizing the opportunity. “My dad taught me! Ever since I was a kid I could shoot! And I’ve every shooting competition in the settlement in the last five years! And—”
Danse let Duncan rattle off his many achievements, holding back a smile. He’d always intended to give this job to Duncan, had been leaning on MacCready for years to let his son leave his cleaning post and move onto the security team. But MacCready was adamant Duncan worked his way up first.
“We all had to do it. It’s the only way he’ll learn.”
Duncan paused to take in a breath, and Danse held up his hand. Duncan stopped, looking worried.
“I’ve heard enough,” Danse said, straightening up his papers and keeping a straight face. He leaned back in his chair and met Duncan’s eye. He hesitated, then said, “You’ve got the job.”
Duncan made a noise of shock, and a wide grin split across his face. “Really?”
Danse nodded, leaned forward, and held out his hand. As Duncan shook it vigorously, Danse said, “I want you at the barracks 5am sharp tomorrow so we can fit you up in a uniform.”
“Yes, sir,” Duncan said, getting to his feet as Danse did, still grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, sir! Thank you so much! My dad’s gonna be so impressed!”
“Best go tell him quick then,” Danse replied, and smiled as Duncan nodded and hurried from the room. As soon as the office door shut behind Duncan, Danse walked over to the window shutter and cranked it open. Cool air seeped in, and he gave a sigh of relief. He didn’t like having it open when he was interviewing people. Everything in his office was a private affair.
Some affairs more private than others, a mischievous voice said in his head, and he glanced at his desk with a guilty grin, thinking of Quinn’s last visit here. The memories made his heart beat faster, and suddenly he was eager to go home. Danse opened a button in his collar as he walked down the stairs, still lost in his thoughts. He wondered if Quinn would finish early today, but as he reached the door leading out of the building—mumbling some response or other to the guards acknowledging his departure—he remembered they were due to have dinner with Josh and Emily tonight, on top of everything else he still needed to prepare for work tomorrow. Weariness hit him like a ton of bricks.
I’m not as young as I used to be.
If it wasn’t his back twinging every time he tried to lift something heavy, it was his knees aching during his morning run. He was still in top shape, and proud of that fact, but pride couldn’t stop the effects of age. At least he was aging, though, unlike other synths. A blessing compared to Sturges, who only discovered the truth when it became apparent how young he still looked next to Preston.
Not that Preston cared. He helped Sturges through his identity crisis the same way Quinn helped Danse through his, so many years ago.
“Hey boss,” rasped Mordecai, a tough old ghoul who was a permanent fixture in the security team, “so am I fitting up body armour for the kid tomorrow or not?” Danse nodded, and Mordecai grinned. “You were always gonna—”
“Keep your voice down,” Danse said quietly, glancing around. “I don’t want to knock his confidence.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Mordecai motioned zipping his mouth shut.
Danse nodded, glad his friend had some tact. It was for this reason—and also because Mordecai could swing a bat like nobody’s business—he was Danse’s right hand man.
Danse walked on, responding to countless greetings that always accompanied his evening walk home. As head of security, he’d personally assessed each and every one of them before they’d been given a place in the city—ghoul, synth, and human alike. The result was that everyone knew his face.
It was a nice feeling, being known and respected, although it did add an extra half hour onto his journey wherever he was going.
He walked past the Sanctuary branch of the Valentine Detective Agency, the red, glowing sign just as tacky as Nick’s head office over in Diamond city. Danse squinted at the neon sign and grinned. Piper always complained about it whenever she visited, loudly grumbling to the homeless ghouls she often escorted to the city.
People from all walks of life flocked to Sanctuary these days. People wanting to make a fresh start. People who were outcast from their own settlements for not being ‘human’ enough, or for sympathising with the ‘others.’ People who were simply curious about the settlement open to everybody, and decided to stay.
Quinn had been careful, so careful from the beginning. All were welcome, but that would make Sanctuary a target. And yet, aside from a short-lived conflict with Diamond City, no one ever bothered them. Even the Brotherhood kept away, though Danse couldn’t understand why. After a few years, he stopped questioning it, but always kept himself and his men on guard.
The medical clinic came into view, conveniently down the road from Josh’s home. Josh’s tendency to abandon dinner or run out in the middle of the night sometimes caused bickering in his household, but nothing serious. Emily knew what Josh was like.
So did Danse—Josh was as stubborn as Vivian and Quinn combined, something Quinn seemed almost proud of, despite it causing numerous arguments throughout Josh’s childhood. When both Josh and Charlie had dug their heels in together, it was like a bomb being dropped on the house. Although Danse missed the boys when they eventually moved out, he did love the peace and quiet that came with their absence.
Finally, Danse reached his destination. He paused, listening to the muted voices inside, and then knocked on the front door. The voices stopped at once, and footsteps drew near. The door flew open, and a bear of a man stood in the doorway, with long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, and kind, crinkled eyes.
“Danse!” Josh exclaimed, dragging Danse into a tight hug. Danse hugged him back, smiling to himself. Josh had never called Quinn and Danse ‘Mom and Dad,’ and they had never pushed him.
Danse grinned up at his son as they broke apart, and turned to see Emily standing next to her husband. She smiled at Danse and kissed his cheek, before beckoning him into the house.
It was clean and tidy, as always. Emily’s work—any surface Josh went near inevitably ended up an explosion of doctor’s tools and patient notes, much to Quinn’s horror. Quinn herself was sitting in the antique armchair near the back wall, directly under the display plaque that held Vivian’s old rifle. Seeing the rifle always gave Danse a twinge of comfort and regret.
Brotherhood through and through.
Quinn got to her feet as he approached and kissed him, resting her hand on the back of his neck. “How was your day? And how did Duncan do?”
“Fine,” Danse replied, dropping himself down onto the sofa in the centre of the room. “On both counts. He starts tomorrow.”
“Like there was gonna be any other outcome.” Charlie walked into the room carrying an armful of Nuka-Colas and wearing a smirk. He moved the bottles around and held one out to Danse. “Here, Dad. Glad to see Mom’s not working you too hard.”
Quinn settled down next to Danse with a roll of her eyes as he took the bottle, and accepted a drink of her own from Charlie. “Always the smartass.”
“Of course,” chipped in Josh before Charlie could answer. “Look who raised us—ow!” Josh was interrupted as Emily whacked him across the arm.
“Don’t speak to your mom like that!” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching as she gave him a forced glare.
“Thanks, Em,” Quinn said, not bothering to hide her smirk.
“No problem.” Emily turned back to Josh and pointed to the kitchen. “Go get dinner, Darling.”
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, pretending to be annoyed, before kissing her on the nose and smiling. He left the room as everyone made their way over to the table.
Emily was a fantastic cook—better than Quinn, though Danse would never tell her. Not that she’d disagree, but some things were better left unsaid. Danse ate his stew while everyone else chatted away. He didn’t really talk at meals, preferring to listen to the conversations of the others and join in only when he had something to say. It was a quirk his family accepted, and when they were at the dinner table, it was rare for someone to speak to Danse first.
Quinn and Emily discussed recipes, while Josh and Charlie went over the plans for the clinic. Thanks to Sturges’ tutelage, Charlie was a fine handyman in his own right, and often filled in for Sturges when he was busy. It meant Josh could get almost any addition he wanted for his building, turning the clinic into a place capable of housing a good chunk of the city all at once. With Quinn’s blessing, Josh employed more staff to help him run it, and eventually hired Emily.
Danse glanced at Emily and smiled. Young love. He remembered being that age, and finding the right person. His eyes trailed over to Quinn and he watched her for a little while. Age hadn’t dampened her fire, and she still looked as beautiful as ever. Aside from the wrinkles, the only real difference was the streaks of grey in her hair. Maybe she had changed more than that, but Danse knew he’d never see her any differently.
When everyone finished, Charlie and Josh cleared the plates away, Josh flapping down Emily’s help and insisting she stay seated. Danse raised an eyebrow at this. Normally Emily bit Josh’s head off at being told to sit down and be waited on, but instead, Emily sat. He caught Quinn’s eye, and she mirrored his surprised expression.
Josh came back into the room and handed out drinks to everyone. But instead of sitting down, Josh rocked back and forth on his heels, playing with the label of his bottle. Emily nudged him with her elbow, and he said, “Uh, I have an announcement to make.”
He stood there for a few seconds, getting redder with every passing moment, until Emily rolled her eyes and said, “I’m—”
“Emily’s pregnant!” Josh blurted out.
Stunned silence. Then Quinn jumped to her feet and shrieked, “Oh congratulations!” She hugged Emily and peppered Josh with kisses, while Charlie leaned over the table and shook his hand. Danse did the same as Charlie walked over to Emily and kissed her on the cheek.
Josh still looked nervous, though. He coughed awkwardly and said, “I know I’ve never called you my parents, but…”
The room went quiet again. Charlie glanced from Josh to Quinn and Danse uncertainly, and Emily took hold of Josh’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Josh nodded, took a deep breath and said, “Well...you’re the closest thing I have to parents. And I’d love for you to be my baby’s grandparents, if...if you don’t mind.”
Danse blinked. “Josh,” he said incredulously, “you don’t even have to ask. It would be an honour.”
“‘If you don’t mind,’” Quinn said with a snort, and hugged Josh tight. Danse saw Josh give Emily a look of relief over Quinn’s shoulder. Emily smiled back.
“Does this mean I get to be the cool uncle?” Charlie piped up, grinning.
“Only if you promise not to teach my kid how to make a gun from scratch,” Josh retorted, shaking his head.
“Well that’s boring.”
“I still remember what happened the first time you made a rifle.”
“I kept all my fingers, didn’t I?”
“Any names?” Danse asked loudly.
“Yes,” Emily said quickly, shooting Danse a grateful look. “Cade if they’re a boy, Yara if they’re a girl.”
“Not gonna name them after your mom or dad?” Charlie asked. Everyone looked from Josh to him, and both men went red. Charlie quickly said, “Sorry, I didn't think—you don't have to answer that.”
“It’s alright,” Josh said with a shrug, not looking at Quinn or Danse. “I just...it didn’t feel right.”
“I’m guessing ‘Cade’ after the Knight-Captain?” Danse said, trying to move the subject on. Josh had always been conflicted when it came to his parents and Quinn and Danse.
“Yeah.” Josh stared at his feet. “You know why.”
Danse did know why. He’d always thought that Josh would follow in Vivian’s footsteps, become a soldier or a security guard. Instead, as he hit his teenage years, he began studying medicine instead. One day, Danse asked why.
“I remember what Cade did for my dad. And my mom. I'll never forget that.”
Danse never forgot it either. He shook son’s hand again, gripping a little tighter this time “You’ll be a fantastic father. You’ll make your parents proud.”
“Thanks,” Josh said with a small smile, finally meeting his eye again.
“But more importantly,” Quinn said, eyeing Charlie shrewdly, “when are you bringing home a nice girl for me to meet?”
Charlie went from red to beetroot. “Mom, I’ve been busy. Sanctuary isn’t going to build itself.”
“Sturges can pick up some of the slack.”
“I have different projects than Sturges. Haven’t worked with him for years.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “You know that.”
“Don’t you raise your eyebrows to heaven at me!”
Josh snickered. “Busted.”
Charlie punched him playfully in the arm. Danse smiled at his sons. Josh was a talented doctor, but none of Quinn’s ambitious plans for the city would have been possible without Charlie. Despite being grounded repeatedly as a child, mini-structures kept appearing in the living room, or Danse’s guns suddenly had new, mysterious ‘modifications.’ Finally, when Charlie tried to upgrade Danse’s X-01 helmet and broke it, Quinn shouted herself hoarse at her son, and then asked Sturges to train him and find a new outlet for his uncontrollable tinkering. The result was Sanctuary’s progress jumping ahead of schedule.
Now Charlie ran his own workshop, and spent most of his time designing new buildings and finding new ways to make every resource count. Sturges still did a majority of the repairs, but the two of them shared ideas, problems, and staff regularly, combining their strengths to keep the city going.
The laughter and talk continued, Josh bringing out a bottle of whisky to celebrate the occasion. Only he and Charlie drank, Emily looking on wistfully with a hand on her stomach while Quinn and Danse politely declined. Quinn drank one shot of Bowmore a year from her now dwindling bottle, around the date she first came into the Commonwealth. Other than that, both she and Danse stayed away from drink.
Finally, Charlie staggered out for some fresh air, and when he didn’t come back, Danse offered to check on him.
The night was balmy, the day’s heat still clinging to the air. The road was lit by the streetlights, but still dark enough that Danse had to squint. He spotted a figure sitting hunched over in the doorway to the school, and went over to investigate. It was Charlie, sitting with his head in his knees.
Had he passed out? As a family, they didn’t drink much—alcohol had been banned in their house until the boys reached twenty-one. Danse crouched down and gave Charlie’s shoulder a little shake, and he immediately looked up, his eyes unfocused.
Danse grinned. “Had enough?”
Charlie blinked up at Danse, and then stared at his hands in his lap. Danse felt the grin slip off his face. Something was wrong.
Ignoring the clicking of his joints and the pain in his back, Danse sat himself down next to Charlie. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Charlie swayed slightly where he sat, and then said in a slurred voice, “No, not nothing. Everything’s fucked up.”
It was rare for Charlie to swear, but Danse didn’t comment on it. Instead, he waited for Charlie to speak again.
Charlie glanced at his father, and then back to his hands. “I guess...I’m just wondering what I’m doing with my life. I’m nearly thirty, and I have nothing to show for it.”
Danse raised his eyebrows. “Nothing to show for it?” He gestured to the pre-war street lights Charlie had personally set up only two years ago, to the school he and Sturges constructed together. “What do you call all of this?”
Charlie shrugged. “That’s just work.”
“Important work.”
Charlie shrugged again in response.
Danse shifted in his seat and frowned. This wasn’t right. Charlie had always been happy and invested in his job, and took Quinn’s teasing about being single in his stride. Danse opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words. “I don’t...you always—”
“Josh has a wife and a kid on the way. I have no one.”
Ah.
“I know I can’t have kids. I’ve accepted that. But still…” Charlie bowed his head, shutting his eyes.
Danse glanced over to the house. With any luck, the others would stay inside. He turned back to his son and clamped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You can’t rush these things. Some people find the right person early on. Others, it takes years. A relationship isn’t the be-all and end-all, and it won’t always bring you happiness.”
Charlie didn’t reply.
God damn it. Quinn is better at this than me, Danse thought. He tried again. “When I found your mother, I thought I was well into my thirties. She thinks she was at least twenty-nine. Just because Josh managed to convince his poor, unfortunate wife to marry him doesn’t mean you’re falling behind.”
This earned a laugh from Charlie, so Danse pressed on.
“And we were friends first. We both went through hell and back before we finally realised we were right for each other. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t want to rush me.” Danse gave Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You might have already met the right person, and you just don’t know it yet. Give it time. When you find them, you won’t care how long it took.” He paused. “As for children...I think we’re proof synths can raise a family just fine.”
Charlie looked up sharply, staring at Danse. Danse smiled at him. After a few seconds, Charlie’s gave a lopsided grin back. “Thanks, Dad.”
Danse nodded. “No problem.” Slowly, he got to his feet, wincing as his limbs clicked and ached again. He held his hand out to Charlie and pulled him to his feet.
Charlie staggered, nearly knocking them both over, and leaned on the school wall. “I think I should go lie down.”
“I think you should,” Danse replied, biting back a laugh. “Stay here. I’ll just tell your mother I’m taking you home.”
“I can walk—”
“Stay here.”
Charlie grumbled, but nodded, so Danse quickly ran across the road and stuck his head through Josh’s front door. Josh was snoring on the sofa, while Emily and Quinn were now talking about babies and pregnancy. Emily seemed nervous about the thought of mood swings and cravings. Danse quickly let them know where he was going, and returned to Charlie.
The journey was difficult, not helped by Charlie’s inability to walk straight, and also being half a head taller than Danse. Eventually, though, Danse managed to deposit Charlie through his front door. Charlie mumbled a thanks, and fell face first on his bed. Seconds later, he was asleep.
By the time Danse left the house, Quinn was waiting for him outside. He considered telling her about Charlie’s worries, but then decided against it. The conversation felt private, something Charlie might even be ashamed of. He could confide in his mother later, if he wanted to. Instead, Danse took Quinn’s hand, and they walked through the silent, deserted streets of Sanctuary all the way home.
When they reached it, they both stopped dead, staring at the front yard. Outside the house was a huge mound of dirt, the back end of a brahmin corpse sticking out of it.
“Oh for the love of…” Danse glared at Quinn. “That’s the third time this week! I’m not cleaning this up!”
He knew damn well he would be the one cleaning this up.
Quinn frowned and investigated the dirt pile, before shaking her head. “I think I need to do some more training with Spuds.”
“You think?”
Quinn kissed him on the cheek. “We can worry about it tomorrow.”
Danse eyed the half-buried brahmin corpse with apprehension, wondering how long it would take for it to smell, and then followed Quinn inside.
“I can’t believe Josh and Emily are going to have a baby! I’m so happy for them,” Quinn said when they reached their bedroom. “And I’m going to be a grandmother. Good god.”
Danse nodded, but the night’s good news was driven from his head as she turned her back on him and removed her pants. His eyes trailed to her lips, her neck, where she loved to be kissed. The curves of her waist and hips, only half hidden by her loose shirt.
She began to talk about work and her plans for the settlement, but Danse was barely listening. He was supposed to be preparing for his own work tomorrow, too. He still had to arrange things for Duncan, sort out the change in the shift pattern, let Mordecai know about...
Danse walked over to Quinn as she continued to talk about her duties, and stood behind her. “Work can wait,” he said, and started slowly kissing her neck. Quinn stopped talking at once, tilting her head to the side as he nipped gently at her skin, his hands sliding up the front of her shirt. She leaned back against him and ran her hand along his thigh, but not venturing any further.
“Tease,” Danse murmured, lifting her shirt up and pulling it carefully over her head. Quinn shivered, and then whipped around, pushing him back. He cried out in surprise, his legs hitting the edge of the bed so that he toppled backwards onto it. Before he could ready himself, Quinn was upon him, straddling him and unbuttoning his shirt, pulling impatiently at his belt buckle until he moved her hands aside and tried to do it himself. This proved difficult, as she began massaging his crotch. She laughed when he gave up, leaning his head back, and closing his eyes.
Quinn undid the damn belt, but then took her time undressing Danse, pushing him back down when he tried to sit up and help. The look in her eyes said ‘wait,’ so he obeyed, trying to control his cravings.
She took him into her hands, moving up and down, her tongue trailing after her fingers. All Danse could do was hold onto her hair, wanting to give something in return, but not wanting her to stop. Eventually, though, she did stop, and Danse took the opportunity to drag her onto the bed, pulling off her underwear and slipping his hand between her legs.
Work could wait, Danse thought idly as Quinn’s breath grew heavy in his ear. For one night, it could all wait.
--
Danse stirred from his sleep. He blinked a few times, staring up into the darkness, and then reached out to Quinn. His hand fell into an empty space, the bed sheets still faintly warm. Danse frowned and propped himself up, squinting. No sign of her. He glanced down to the floor and saw her clothes and shoes were gone. Danse hesitated, wondering if he should just go back to sleep. She’d return. But something didn’t feel right, so he slipped out of bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs. As he suspected, she wasn’t there, and the front door wasn’t locked. There were a few places she might visit without telling him, but only one at this time of night. Biting his lip, Danse picked up his keys, locking the front door as he left, and striding off towards the graveyard.
Since the restructuring of Sanctuary, the pre-war buildings been demolished, including Quinn’s old house. The city’s graveyard stood on the foundations of her destroyed home. Quinn never really said anything about it and avoided the area, except when she went to visit Nate.
The air felt heavy in the graveyard, betraying Danse’s every move. He walked slowly and carefully, weaving in and out of the graves of all those who fell in the battle against Sanctuary. It was pitch black, and the ground was pitted and uneven—one bad step and he could break his ankle. No one would likely find him until morning. With this sombering thought in his mind, he took extra care, heading to the back of the graveyard, where Nate lay.
And Marguerie.
Danse hesitated and shivered. He hadn’t thought about her in over a decade. Old feelings erupted up in his chest, the shame of his failure gripping at his heart. He’d searched for Sarah for months. Years. Went as far as the Glowing Sea and the edges of the Commonwealth, before Quinn finally put her foot down.
“Arlen Glass is no combatant,” she’d said, “and Sarah is a child. If they’ve gone that far, they’re already dead.”
As much as he hated it, Danse agreed with Quinn. And so he’d stopped.
Failure.
He’d promised Marguerie and let her down. Danse visited her grave when he gave up and tried to explain, but it sounded like nothing but weak excuses to his ears. Quinn insisted if Rachel was alive, she’d understand he tried his best. Danse thought if Marguerie was alive, she’d tried to kill him. He kept her holotags and journal, though. Just in case.
Danse shook his head and moved on. Now was not the time to be lamenting over the past. He had to find Quinn. He stumbled and groped his way through the darkness, until he heard the sound of lapping water. He was close. “Quinn?”
“Danse?” she sounded surprised, and he followed her voice until her hand was in his.
“Everything okay?” he asked, squeezing her fingers. Now he was close to her, he could just make out her face.
“Yeah, I just…” She bit her lip and looked down at Nate’s grave. “I had a nightmare about Nate and Shaun, and I just...Shaun never had children. Nate never became a grandfather. And I…” Her voice cracked. “I wanted to visit him. It’s been a while.”
Danse glanced at the grave and back to her. “Do you need to be alone?”
“No.” She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him, still looking at the grave. “Stay. Please.”
He stayed.
They stood in silence for some time, Quinn sniffing a little in the dark. Then she squeezed his hand and they carefully picked their way back to the graveyard entrance together. She turned and hugged him, resting her head against his chest. He held her tight, the shaking of her shoulders telling him he should wait. When she pulled away, the street lamps showed the wet streaks on her cheeks. Danse wiped them away with his thumb and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home. I’ll make you a drink and we—”
In the distance, an alarm sounded.
Quinn and Danse looked at each other. Then, without another word, both of them sprinted to the guard tower. Danse forged ahead, leaving her behind, and raced up the stairs to where MacCready was sat, rifle in hand, Mordecai next to him and peering at a nearby terminal.
“Brotherhood,” Mordecai said before Danse could speak. “They signalled ahead to let us know they were in the area. They’re asking for permission to approach.”
“Permission?” Danse asked, feeling sick to his stomach. Had they been discovered after all these years? The Brotherhood could wipe them off the map without lifting a finger, without batting an eyelid. “It’s odd they’d give away their location to ask us for permission.”
“Permission?” Quinn said as she burst into the room. “Who’s asking for permission?”
“Brotherhood,” said MacCready darkly, returning to peering through his rifle.
Quinn’s face drained of colour. “Brotherhood?”
“They haven’t attacked,” Danse said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “They’re asking to approach. They wouldn’t do that if they wanted to kill us.”
“Well maybe their tactics have changed, Danse!” Quinn snapped, her voice edging towards hysterical. “It’s been nearly two decades since you were with them!”
Danse agreed with her, but he needed to keep his cool. He turned to Mordecai. “How many?”
“Just the one vertibird that we can see,” Mordecai replied.
“Give them permission to land. Let’s see why the Brotherhood wants to visit our city.” Danse picked up a rifle from the gun cupboard, a visored helmet, and made for the door leading to the city entrance. A few seconds later, Quinn was at his side, a pistol and holster in her hands.
Danse glanced at her as he wedged the helmet on, the darkened visor making it difficult to see in the low light.
“I’m their sentinel, remember?” she said, answering his unspoken worries. Quinn put on the holster and slipped the gun into it. “Who better to talk them down than me?”
She was right of course, but that didn’t soothe Danse’s nerves. Once she’d set her mind to something, though, there was no point dissuading her. He lifted the visor up, leaned forward, and kissed her. “Be careful.”
Quinn smiled. “If they try to force their way into our city, we’re going to throw them out on their fucking asses.”
--
The distant buzz of the vertibird grew louder with every passing second. Quinn stood at the gates of Sanctuary, Danse next to her, her nerves cutting into him like broken glass. She remembered the day the Prydwen left the Commonwealth, and how she’d stood hand in hand with Danse on a bridge into the Boston ruins, watching it go. He’d said very little at the time, and even less afterwards, but Quinn knew what he’d been thinking. His first real home was flying away without him. He had been abandoned. The recovery after that blow had taken some time, even though Danse expected it.
Now the Brotherhood were back, and once again the old pains were returning to Danse’s handsome, weathered face. Quinn stared out into the darkness, hating the Brotherhood. Hating that they could drag up the past with just their mere presence. Danse had worked so hard over the years to get to where he was now, and they could undo it all in just a second. He didn’t deserve this shit.
Finally, the vertibird came into view, dazzling lights scanning the horizon, before settling in a neat spot some way from Sanctuary. Quinn felt herself tense. A figure in power armour got out, landed with a heavy ‘thud,’ and began to walk over, their hands raised in the air. Quinn and Danse glanced at each other. They’d never seen a Brotherhood soldier with their arms held up in surrender before.
As the soldier approached, Quinn recognised the paint work as a paladin’s, which made their behaviour even more peculiar. They slowly put their hands to their head, making sure Quinn and Danse knew exactly what they were doing, and carefully took their helmet off. Underneath was a dark skinned man with a scarred face and a big, bushy beard.
“Sir,” the man said, nodding to Danse. He looked at Quinn with a serious expression. “Ma’am.”
Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “Carson?”
Carson broke into a wide smile and began laughing. “Thank fuck you’re quick on the uptake. I couldn’t keep a straight face for much long—” He broke off as Quinn shoved her pistol into her holster and ran to him, jumping into a hug. He flinched, and then very gently hugged her back, compensating for his armour. “Hi,” he mumbled into her ear.
They broke apart and beamed at each other.
“You look like shit,” she said, tugging at his beard. “Forget how to shave or something?”
Carson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tom says the same. I think it makes me look manly. Besides—” he carefully flicked at her hair, “—at least I’m not going grey.”
“Tom?” Quinn said, ignoring his jibe. “You’re still with Kapraski?”
“You sound surprised, ma’am!” came a voice from the vertibird. A tall, stocky man stuck his bald head out from the cockpit and waved enthusiastically.
Quinn waved back, feeling like she was in some sort of dream, but then frowned at Carson. “You brought Kapraski with you? But what about Danse?”
Carson shrugged. “Tom’s known about Paladin Danse the whole time. I told him what happened a few days after you left the Brotherhood.”
“You told him?” Quinn hissed, suddenly angry. “What if it had gone wrong? What if you and Kapraski fell out? What if—?”
“You told Elder Maxson about Rachel,” Carson said coolly. “You told him I knew about Paladin Danse. That could have gotten me and Kapraski killed, or worse. I decided if you could trust Elder Maxson, I wasn’t going to lie to Tom about Rachel. I won’t lie to him. Not even for you, Quinn.”
Quinn stared up at her old friend. Time had given him a backbone. He would never have been so decisive when they’d been on the Prydwen together. She smiled. “It seems being an officer suits you.”
Carson grinned back at her, and the tension passed. “Yeah, I think so too. Damn near shit myself when Maxson brought me into his confidence, but I reckon he only did that so he could keep an eye on me and make sure I wasn’t going to spill his dirty secret on Paladin Danse. Except we both realised I was actually competent when left to my own devices, instead of under someone else’s command. He made me a paladin shortly before he left the Citadel.”
“He left the Citadel?” Danse said, his tone full of shock.
Carson glanced over at Danse and nodded. “Yes, sir. Disappeared for a good while, too. Asked me to help keep things in order during his absence, because he said he would return. He just wanted to make sure power struggles were kept to a minimum, and no radical redirecting of the Brotherhood’s agenda.” Carson pulled a face. “Good thing he thinks ahead. Second he left, all sorts of opportunists came crawling out of the woodworks.” He paused, tilting his head. “Not Kells, though, oddly enough. He didn’t care who was in power, just so long as he could keep flying the Prydwen.”
Carson looked back at Danse—who was still wearing his helmet—and said, “There’s no one else in the area, sir, I promise. You’re safe. We made a solo trip.”
“You would need to refuel,” Danse said, taking off his helmet anyway and scowling suspiciously at Carson.
Carson shook his head. “Doctor Li’s been doing wonders with alternative fuelling methods for the vertibirds and the Prydwen, with the help of the integrated scientists you made Maxson rescue from the Institute. Some nuclear shit I don’t understand, no matter how many times Li explains it to me.”
Quinn blinked, trying to take it all in. Carson was a paladin. Li was still with the Brotherhood, and more importantly, so were the Institute scientists. Kapraski was flying again. Maxson left the Prydwen. Did he really take her advice on board all those years ago?
“I think we need a proper catch-up,” Quinn said, motioning for her guards to stand down. “Come on. We’ll go to my office.”
They waited for Kapraski to wriggle his way out of the vertibird and stump over to them. Quinn saw he had a mechanised prosthetic leg, and once again marvel swept over her as he walked freely to them. His pace was a little unsteady, the weight of his new leg obviously making things unbalanced, but he reached them just fine and grinned.
“Would you mind if some of your men just keep an eye on my ‘bird, please, ma’am?” He looked over his shoulder at the vertibird the same way a father would look at his newborn child. “Don’t want anything happening to her. She’s valuable equipment and our only way home.”
“Sure. Danse, would you…?”
Danse nodded and signalled up for two of the guards to come down to the gates. Carson rolled his eyes. “Everyone used to ask if we were ever gonna adopt one of the squires that lost their parents, but the way I see it, we already have a child in the family.” He looked from the vertibird to Kapraski, and the two of them chuckled.
Quinn smiled, remembering how nervous Carson used to be around Kapraski.
Once the vertibird was secured, the four of them made their way to the mayoral office, Danse keeping unusually close to Quinn and glaring at the two soldiers whenever he thought she couldn’t see him. As they went inside the building, she put her hand on his arm and gave it a small squeeze.
“Relax,” she whispered.
“I’ll relax when they’re gone,” Danse muttered back. If Carson and Kapraski heard him, they didn’t comment, following Quinn and Danse in silence upstairs. Carson got out of his power armour, and they all settled into chairs in her office, while Quinn handed out drinks.
“So what happened with everyone?” she asked as she sat down opposite Carson. “How is Casey?”
“Head of the scribes. Proctor Shingler now,” Carson said, leaning back in his chair. He raised his eyebrow at Quinn’s shocked expression. “What, you never suspected she was a high flyer?”
“Well no, I knew she was smart but…” Quinn shrugged. “The last time I saw her she was barely alive. Even when she woke up I wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the same again.”
“She’s kicking ass at her job. Quinlan was right to pick her as his protégée.”
“Is Quinlan still helping her adjust?”
“No. He died about—” Carson paused, his brow furrowing. “—seven years ago. Suspected heart attack.”
“Oh.” Quinn blinked. She hadn’t particularly liked or disliked Quinlan, but the news wasn’t welcomed all the same. “I’m sorry to hear it. What about the other proctors? Are they okay?”
“Let’s see…” Carson began counting them off on his fingers, one by one. “Ingram’s the same, scary as ever. Working closely with Doctor Li, even after Liberty Prime went bust and no one could fix it again. Kells is still running day to day stuff on the ship, but he’s under Maxson’s thumb now rather than the other way around, and Teagan…” Carson trailed off, biting his lip. “Teagan started drinking when we got back to the Citadel. Died a few years later. He was one of Cade’s last patients.”
The news of Teagan stung a bit more than Quinlan’s, but the mention of Cade took priority. Quinn had been fond of the Knight-Captain. “Cade’s last…?”
“Oh, he’s not hurt!” Carson said quickly, flapping his hands, his eyes wide. “I think after Teagan went, Cade just had enough. Stepped down from his position and began training Field-Scribe Haylen to take his place. She pretty much runs the sick bay now, but Cade advises her from time to time, when she needs him.”
Danse sat up straighter in his seat at the mention of Haylen. “How is she doing? Is she well?”
Carson smiled and nodded. “Yeah, she’s doing fine. You couldn’t ask for a kinder doctor. Knight-Captain Cade seems fond of her—very protective, like she’s his daughter or something. He was with her when she got married ten years ago.”
“Married to who?”
“Knight-Sergeant Karl Hewer. We all still call her Haylen, though.”
The name felt familiar to Quinn, though she couldn’t place why. She looked at Danse, who seemed surprised at this revelation. She saw his lips silently form the word ‘Rhys?’ before he gave a little shrug and sat back in his chair again.
“But things have been really moving forward in terms of technology,” Carson said, swigging from his bottle and grinning lazily. “We’re managing to keep all the dangerous tech under wraps, and the tech that can help improve people’s lives—including our own—is being constantly developed. The Institute scientists have been a great help.”
“How on earth did you manage to keep them?” Quinn asked, still not able to wrap her head around this. “And Li, too? She made it clear the Brotherhood pissed her off.”
Carson simply said, “Maxson.” There was a moment of silence, and Carson went on. “He put his foot down and made sure they stayed. Didn’t make them or anything, but basically persuaded them it was safer working with the Brotherhood than roaming alone in the wasteland. Most of them had never survived in the open before, so they were just grateful for a place to live. Doctor Li and Doctor Virgil took them into their care, closely monitored, and began working on approved projects.”
“Bet the others didn’t like that.”
“Oh god no. They had to have trusted guards assigned to them for their own protection in the end. But over time, things changed. Maxson is a force to be reckoned with, and when the scientists began working wonders for the Citadel and the Capital Wasteland, the mood changed pretty quickly.”
“But you said Maxson disappeared,” Danse interjected, looking interested again. “That he left. What happened to the scientists then?”
“They became my responsibility,” Carson replied. “I made sure they stayed safe, just like I was asked. And to be honest, people were more concerned with Maxson’s absence and the power vacuum left behind than a small group of eggheads. He didn’t tell anyone beforehand. Just sent out some scheduled messages saying he was going to do some private work somewhere, and gave a list of people to run the show while he was gone. I was on that list, along with a few others. But people fought amongst themselves, of course.” Carson grinned. “Lucky for you, really. Everyone was so focused on finding a leader, they disregarded the reports of a potential synth settlement in the Commonwealth.”
Quinn went cold. The Brotherhood knew about Sanctuary?
“Are we at risk of an attack?” Danse said sharply.
Carson shook his head. “If you were, an attack would have happened years ago. But when Maxson came back, he was...different.”
“Different?” Danse leaned forward and frowned.
“I can’t explain it, sir. Just...different. He looked lighter. Like some weight had been pulled off his shoulders. And the first thing he did was drag us all away from hunting down synths and treating civilised ghouls like shit. So, naturally, a mini civil war broke out amongst the ranks. All the hardcore Brotherhood traditionalists claiming Maxson was leading us down a dark path.”
“Like when Owyn Lyons decided to help the common wastelanders?” Danse asked, raising his eyebrows.
Carson nodded. “Yeah, like that. Except Maxson has the power of persuasion that Owyn didn’t. Used the Maxson name and influence to his benefit, and pointed out the codex doesn’t say we have to distance ourselves from ghouls and synths. He said he destroyed the Institute, and that the synths were free of being controlled. They could live their lives like normal humans. Without orders, they were no longer technology being used for experiments and weaponry, just people trying to get by.”
“Did that work?”
“It shut a few of the traditionalists up, but more importantly, the neutral majority were convinced, and they kept the more radical people in line. Maxson was careful after that. He went over plans with me, and across the years we’ve been slowly changing things to match Owyn Lyons’ way of thinking—helping out wastelanders and building good relationships with them, y’know? People grumbled, but Elder Maxson convinced them mutual aid were worth the hassle. We protect them, they supply us with food and other things we can’t get ourselves.”
“It didn’t work when Elder Lyons tried,” Danse said, frowning. “Why would now be any different?”
“The change was so gradual, no one really noticed at first,” Carson replied with a shrug. “And when they did, most didn’t care because they were used to it. The ones who protested, Elder Maxson accused of being no better than raiders, stealing from the helpless. He said the Brotherhood were above that: an organisation with a noble cause. But if they wanted to be common raiders, they were welcome to leave.”
Quinn snorted. Carson grinned at her. “Yeah, it’s a load of shit, but sometimes using the right rhetoric works wonders. Our chapter didn’t splinter like Owyn’s, and even the naysayers eventually came around. The only real concern we have left now are the elders in the west.”
“They’ve always been a concern,” Danse said, looking annoyed. “Interfering where they weren’t wanted or needed, causing more turmoil than any other threat in the wasteland.”
Carson nodded. “They’re still an issue, but for the moment aren’t actively working against us. They’re unwilling to openly stand against the last descendent of Maxson, so Elder Maxson is pressing hard on that point to keep things in his favour.”
The news was troubling, but in all honesty, it wasn’t Quinn’s problem. Maxson wasn’t a young man anymore, and the strife within the Brotherhood was his responsibility. The very concept felt liberating.
“And speaking of Maxson,” Carson said, standing up and walking over to his power armour. “He wanted me to give you this, sir.” Carson removed a package and an envelope from the armour, strode towards Danse, and held the package out to him. Danse took it warily, never taking his eyes off Carson. He opened it with great care, and then drew in a sharp breath.
Quinn straightened up and saw a red book and a set of tarnished holotags in Danse’s lap. He picked up the tags, grief rippling through his expression as he held them up to the light. Then his fingers closed around them, and he clutched them tight to his chest, bowing his head. An old memory surfaced in Quinn’s mind like a shipwreck dragged from the depths of a murky lake.
“He kept it?”
Elder Maxson ran his fingers over the deep red book, embossed with peeling silver letters. He picked it up and tucked it carefully under his arm, his expression pained for a second, before a forced blankness took over. Then he took hold of the holotags, glaring at Quinn as she begged to keep them.
“Tags go to the next of kin. These should never have been kept.”
Quinn snapped back to the present as Danse opened the book, the silver embossed letters catching in the low light just long enough for Quinn to read ‘The Tales of King Arthur.’
Danse scanned the page, eyebrows knotted together in concentration as his free hand slowly slid down the open page. Then the his face lit up with something Quinn couldn’t place, and he gave a low laugh before looking up at Carson. For the first time that night, Danse smiled at the Brotherhood soldiers. He closed the book and said, “Tell Elder Maxson thank you, and…” he hesitated, that strange look crossing his features again. “Tell him I have reconsidered. He will know what I mean.”
Carson appeared as confused as Quinn felt, but he nodded and agreed to pass on the message. Then he turned to Quinn. “The Elder has something for you as well.” He held out the envelope to her.
She took it, her confusion mounting, and opened the envelope. Inside were detailed blueprints, far beyond her understanding. She wouldn’t have been able to deduce them at all, if it wasn’t for the fact ‘WATER PURIFIER’ was written across the top in big, bold letters. Quinn blinked, holding them aloft, and looked back to Carson. “I don’t understand. We have plenty of industrial purifiers.”
Carson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. This is the mother of all purifiers, decades worth of research from Doctor Li, built upon the back of the original purifier in D.C. This baby is efficient, powerful, and most of all, has low fuel consumption for its size. Elder Maxson thought it might help your thriving community stay self sufficient, and benefit the rest of the Commonwealth in the process.”
Quinn stared at Carson, and then at the blueprints. Her chest felt tight, but it wasn’t with fear or anxiety. She remembered Maxson as he was, an angry, sheltered young man with too much grief and burden on his back, oblivious to his own ignorance. She glanced up at Carson and said, “How long has Elder Maxson known about Sanctuary and the people who live here?”
Carson smiled. “Years.”
Quinn and Danse looked at each other, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Quinn put the blueprints back in their envelope.
Sanctuary was safe.
--
Paladin Carson and Knight-Lancer Kapraski left not long afterwards. Quinn argued with them, trying to get them to stay longer, but they both insisted they needed to return back to base. Eventually, she relented, hugging them both and telling them to stay in contact. That they were welcome any time.
Danse agreed. He even shook their hands.
Danse stood with Quinn and watched the vertibird leave, their fingers entwined, like the day the Prydwen departed the Commonwealth. Back then, it felt as if a knife had been run through his chest. Now, the wound had finally healed.
When the light of the vertibird disappeared into the darkness, they walked back through the streets of Sanctuary, ignoring the curious faces silhouetted in the windows. The lights went out one by one, and soon the city was asleep again.
Danse turned over Cutler’s holotags in his hands. The book was a treasure, but the tags? After twenty years, he had been reunited with Cutler. The gratitude Danse felt was inexplicable. He had Cutler back.
He had Cutler back.
Quinn stayed quiet the whole way home. She understood. He needed this moment for himself.
When they reached their bedroom, however, she looked at him and said, “I don’t get what you said to Carson. About reconsidering. What does that mean?”
Danse grinned, amused. “Maxson added a personal note inside the cover. Here.” He passed the precious book to Quinn. She hesitated, and then accepted it, opening the book and reading the note aloud.
“Twenty years have passed since we last spoke. Two decades to think over mistakes and regrets, and what could have been. Apologies that were never uttered. Wrongs that were never righted.
In that time, I hope your stance over Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere has been reconsidered.
May the rest of your days be peaceful.
Arthur.”
Quinn looked up at Danse and frowned. “I don’t get it. Is he apologising to you?”
“As best he can,” Danse said. When Quinn still looked puzzled, he laughed, taking the book from her and shutting it. “An old joke between distant friends. Don’t worry about it.”
Quinn shrugged and began getting ready for bed for the second time that night, while Danse strode over to the shelf opposite him, where Marguerie’s journal lay. He looked at the old, battered book for a moment, her holotags and Zippo lighter neatly placed atop the worn leather. With the greatest care, Danse set ‘The Tales of King Arthur’ down next to the journal, and put Cutler’s tags down onto the red cover.
Some things didn’t work out. And some things did. Danse hoped wherever Sarah was now, she was happy.
Danse changed for bed and settled down with Quinn, his mind buzzing with the night’s events. He heard her say something about how Hancock was arriving first thing in the morning with his newest bodyguard, but Danse couldn’t focus on the words. He mumbled a response, still wrapped up in Maxson’s gesture, and put his arm around Quinn as she snuggled up to him.
Danse gazed at the ceiling, only faintly aware of the orange shafts of light creeping through their room. His thoughts were a tired, blissful haze. The absence of guilt, it seemed, was a hell of a sedative.
A small, snuffling snort drew his attention back to Quinn. He glanced down to see she had fallen asleep, her breath fluttering softly against his chest. Danse smiled to himself.
“May the rest of your days be peaceful.”
Somehow, he suspected they would.
--
A/N: And that, as they say...is that.
As I’ve said often, I only ever intended for this story to be ten chapters long. Then it took on a life of its own, and suddenly here we are, a year and eight months later, finally at the end. Some might say I took too long, but I honestly don’t care. I set out to rewrite the narrative of Fallout 4, and I’m damned please with the result, and surprised I managed to actually stick to it.
Thank you to all my readers, especially those who left comments. Without you, I probably would have stopped early on. It’s hard to stay invested and motivated without any feedback.
Thank you to one particular reviewer, who helped me fine tune my research on PTSD. You were extremely helpful.
Thank you to all the people who helped me with other research, such as Spanish translations, American police stories and habits, and general betaing.
But the biggest thank you goes to my consistent beta, @waiting4morning. This story would not have taken the directions it did or be of any good quality without her.
And let’s say a congratulations to one of my reviewers, ‘Dodo,’ who recently had a cute lil’ baby girl called Yara! ;)
And finally, if you’re sad about the end of BNC, then fear not. I have other fanfics in the works set in the BNC universe. They won’t be centred around Quinn and Danse, as their story is now over. But Quinn and Danse will crop up and be alluded to. Just not as main characters.
One fic is going to be based around Nuka World and Gage. The other will be based around Hancock himself. I will be writing these fics slightly differently to BNC, in that I’m going to write out the entire fic first and then update on a weekly basis. This will prevent inconsistent updates and save me a great deal of stress. I will be posting the first chapter of my next fic so that you can ‘follow’ it for updates, and then I will begin updating it when I finish writing it.
I deliberately left a few loose ends in BNC to allow me to explore certain characters without revealing what happened to them.
So without further ado, I present...
Making One’s Bones
Read on...
#Fallout 4#Paladin Danse#ss x danse#sole survivor x danse#fallout 4 fanfic#by no constraint#story#writing
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Huntress- Part 12: Ramiel
Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E12 so warning: SPOILERS
Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Lying awake in a motel, you breathed in and out. Sat upright and facing the window, where a few muffled shouts of drunk people occasionally sounded. You sighed, glancing at your Uncle and Dad who were both fast asleep.
Dad wasn’t overly keen on the idea of you tagging along to hunt a demon, especially since that night...
But you insisted on him at least taking you. He gave in, most likely not wanting to fight over it rather than agreeing with you. You hadn’t thought about Max for a few days. You still missed her. Of course you did. Seeing your Dad and Uncle together, as siblings, it reminded you of her. Especially with their Mum back.
You were staring absentmindedly at nothing in particular when your phone buzzed on the bedside table. Swiping it away before it woke anyone up you looked at the caller ID and sighed.
He was calling you again, the last voice mail was supposed to be the final one. He told you he’d leave you alone. He told you-
‘1 new voice mail’
You read the words on the screen, again for safe measure.
Your finger hovered over ‘play’ as you reached for your headphones. Only, something made you stop. Realisation perhaps,you were a curious person, but this wasn’t right. It’s not lying if you don’t listen to the messages.
‘message deleted’
When your Dad and Uncle finally woke up you were fully dressed, reading through some articles on your phone. Dad’s eyes landed on you, then fell to the barely creased duvet and he sighed, perching on the edge of the bed next to you. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” He asked softly, not giving you room to escape the question.
You shook your head, not looking at him. “You’re gonna need energy if you want to help on this hunt.” He subtly lectured you.
“I know...”
“Y.N, I know it’s hard. But you’re going to have to focus for me, focus on the hunt and nothing else...Just, try not to get too worked up, love.” He gave you a quick side hug, holding you close to him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. When he stood up, he held his hand on your shoulder for a second before going to the bathroom.
“Hey, Kiddo.” Uncle Dean sat down next to you this time. You felt stupid, like you needed some kind of constant reassurance. “You okay?” He asked, nudging you with his elbow lightly.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” You nodded, smiling lightly.
“As crazy as this sounds, Sammy’s died before. I know what it feels like to be without your sibling. I know how tough it is.”
“But he came back.” You fiddled with your thumbs.
“Yeah he did...But it’s the same pain you’re going through.”
“Not if they didn’t come back it isn’t.” You chuckle bitterly, not sure whether to laugh or to cry.
”Your Dad; struggling as much as you are, Y/N. He’s lost one of his Daughters. I’ve lost one of my Nieces. Yeah, we didn’t meet her, but she was still our family....I’m sorry, kid...” At that moment your Dad wandered back into the room, Uncle Dean looked up before saying “Come on, let’s meet this Hunter. That should take your mind off things.”
“I’m not mourning her.”You said, putting your phone in your pocket and rising from the bed to gab your jacket. “I’m just...so much has changed for me. When too much happens and I get overwhelmed my go-to is...was...my sister. I’m not mourning. I’m just trying to cope.”
Your Dad nodded seriously, doing his best to understand your situation. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot, kid. You are coping.” He ruffled your hair when you walked past, making you crack a smile.
“See?” He noted your smile “You’ve just gotta keep doing that.”
“Mandy?” Uncle Dean read the Waitresses name-tag “That short for Amanda?”
“Obviously.” You mumbled, realising she’d said it at the same time and sharing a smile with her.
“Can I get you anything?” She asked, smiling at you.
“Just a tea, thanks.” You smiled, ignoring Uncle Dean’s offended stares.
“Hey uh, what’s the wifi password?” Your Dad looked up from his tablet.
“Extra cheese.”
“No thanks I’ll just have normal.” Uncle Dean butted in, not understanding.
“No..that’s the wifi password.”
“Oh...”
“And anything for you, handsome?” You almost laughed out-loud when she flirted her way through to Cas, noting down his meal as slowly as possible while she thought of something to say.
When she walked away you chuckled, eyeing Cas’ confused face. He shot you a frown, but you didn’t say anything as you continued to smile. You got your phone out, typing “extra cheese” before...one bar??? You scoffed at the awful wifi,putting your phone away. You wouldn’t get far with that.
“The internet here sucks, but I’ve found some things that might help us with the case. So-” Your Dad began, only to be cut off by Uncle Dean.
“Yeah no one cares. Okay Cas, you’ve gotta get in there. This good be some really good practice for you.”
“Kill me.” You whispered to yourself, sinking into your chair, making your Dd chuckle.
“And the upside? They always smell like food.” Uncle Dean declared, making you grimace: “That’s disgusting...in what uncultured alternate universe is that an upside?” You questioned.
“Food?!” Uncle Dean couldn’t possibly see how it wasn’t an upside.
“Upside? That they smell like food?” Your Dad scrunched up his face in disgust, joining in with your side while Mary sat in between, watching with a tolerant stance.
“Okay, screens down. Eyes up!” Mary declared, almost making you jump.
“Sorry...” Everyone looked down, sat up straight and shifted awkwardly in their seats.
“Okay. Good.” Mary nodded.
“So uh...You guys have met those fancy Men Of Letters?” Wally asked, although he seemed to be aiming the question at you. Wally was the Hunter who asked for help with the case, he’d contacted Mary who’d brought the four of you into it.
“You mean the British Men Of Letters?”
“I lived with them. So yeah.” You nodded, raising your eyebrows.
“And yet your Dad’s a Winchester?” he was curious, not rude, so you answered him.
“Yeah...My Mum was English so I grew up in Europe.”
“In London?” He seemed fascinated.
“Yep. It’s pretty dull, but foreigners seem to like it.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Yeah...”
“Those guys have gadgets, but they kept my Niece from me and they tried to kill my Brother.” Uncle Dean grumbled, you gave a tight smile, feeling like a slight outcast as they spoke about American Hunting as though it deserved it’s own trade mark symbol. You hadn’t realised, but your Dad was eyeing your reactions.
Spraycan in hand, you drew out a circle, adding in the runes and symbols to trap the demon that would hopefully fall into it’s centre. When you stepped back your Dad threw a rug over it and watched as you tied your shoe laces, wondering if he should bring it up or not. To his surprise, you said it instead: “Stay behind me? Don’t do anything stupid? Be safe?” You guessed his words, crossing your arms slightly.
With a disapproving look, he nodded. “What? You say it every time!”
“And I mean it every time!” He retaliated. Only, his voice was more harsh than you thought it would be. You backed up slightly, aware you’d crossed some sort of line.
“...Y/N, I’m sorry...I’m just worried about you...” He looked down guiltily.
“I know...I’m sorry too. I’ll stay behind you guys.” You exclaimed, offering a tight smile. He nodded before saying “Okay, everything’s gonna be just fine.”
But, it really wasn’t.
After a few minutes of positioning yourselves you decided on your stations- Wally was outside in case he came from a different entrance, Uncle Dean was in the doorway, his gun aimed towards the front door, fully loaded with demon-trap bullets, Dad was at the side of the front door, prepared for a different angle of attack, Cas was behind and Mary to the side. You were next to Mary where she had hand out to stop you from going any nearer towards the door. As much as you appreciated their determination to keep you out of harms way, you were a little irritated by the over protectiveness of everyone. However, you’d told your Dad you’d stay back so that’s exactly what you did.
Seconds after you’d sharpened your knife, a faint whistling could be heard. Everyone shared a look and you all prepared for impact.
The whistling grew louder and you knew something was wrong. The way he seemed to whistle was too confident, too repetitive. He knew- you were sure of it -he knew you were in there.
Before you had a chance to test this theory, he opened the door, tilting his head at Uncle Dean. “Why the hell are you in my house?” The demon snarled.
Uncle Den fired, ignoring the question, yet, despite the bullet going straight through him, he didn’t seem at all phased. Chuckling slightly he stepped forward, Uncle Dean shot again but nothing happened. There were no signs of pain let alone death. The demon kicked away the carpet, revealing the devil’s trap you’d spray-painted earlier. “Hunters.” He spat.
In an attempt to rid of the demon, your Dad attacked from behind, digging his demon-blade into the back of his vessel. Again, no result.
The demon opened his mouth to speak, but he changed his mind when his eyes landed on Cas: “Angel”. With a deathly stare he marched straight for Cas, pushing Uncle Dean and Mary out of the way.
He threw Cas to the floor and a fight kicked off. You weren’t sure what was going on with your Dad and Uncle, but by the sounds of it they were occupied with demons of their own.
Focusing on the demon in the room with you, you swung your blade at him, dodging when he tried to hit you back. He threw you to the floor without making contact, a thrust of his hand and you were down. Mary raced over to you, trying to help you back up only soon she was sent backwards as well. “Hiya sweetheart.” The man grinned, his eyes flashing a flaming yellow as he stared down at Mary.
With Cas back on his feet he distracted the demon, giving you and Mary time to recover. Rising from the floor and ignoring the pain in your hand, which must have been a broken wrist or something, you raced reached out for your blade which had fallen from your grip.
As you managed to grasp hold of it you heard a deafening smash to see Cas being sent crashing through the window out on to the garden. “Run!” Cas managed, shouting at you and Mary.
Mary nodded and grabbed hold of your upper arm, dragging you away from the scene.”I’m not leaving him.” You bitterly declared as you tugged yourself away from her grip, chasing after Cas.
As you raced down the stairs, just dodging a demon as they tried to shove past you. You ignored the shouts of your Dad and Uncle, determined to get to Cas in time.
“Hey!” You shouted. The demon was stood above Cas, holding some sort of spear. When he lowered it towards his body you practically screamed at him to stop, sprinting towards the scene. The weapon stabbed through Castiel’s body, making him cry out in pain. You raced over, attacking the demon with the same defenseless blade because that was all you had- and you had to do something.
“Y/N...” Cas managed before the sound of a car cut him off. You looked up to see Mary coming to a halt and leaping out of the car. “What happened?” She asked, kneeling down next to you and Cas.
“He stabbed Cas with...I don’t know what it was.” You shook your head, looking about the place in case he was coming back.
“We need to go, we can’t stay here.” You insisted.
“Yes, go” Cas nodded in attempt to keep you both safe. Mary shared a look with you and you grabbed one of Cas’ arms each, heaving him off the ground and into the car.
You sat in the back with him, blood was pouring on your hands, but you kept pressure on his wound, ignoring the river of red. Cas was shivering in your arms, his whole vessel breaking up. “You’re gonna be fine.” You assured him, changing hands on the wound. Orbiting the gash were lots of vein-like black lines slowly seeping their way along his skin. You watched in shock, having never seen anything like it, but made sure your face didn’t show it as not to frighten him.
“Let’s go in here.” Mary suggested, parking just outside some sort of barn house. You nodded, trying your best to help Cas out of the car while still keeping the cloth on his wound.
You and Mary helped Cas into the barn-house, an arm each round your shoulders as you gently laid him on the floor, leaning against an old trough. “Cas, hey come on. Stay with me.” You held his face, looking into him desperately as he struggled to fine his bearings. Mary’s phone rang so she stood up away from you both: “Yeah...take a left and keep going...we’re at an old farm house...yeah she’s with me....she’s fine, but....it’s Cas...”.
Your wrist had bruised slightly, swelling a little. You grimaced slightly at the pain, but focused on Cas. Kneeling down next to him, you felt helpless, you didn’t know what kind of magic that was, but it wasn’t a regular wound.
“Y/N, come here.” Mary’s stern voice made you pull yourself away from the injured to see what she wanted.
You both turned away from Cas and spoke in hushed voices “How bad is it?” She asked.
“Pretty bad...I’ve never seen anything like it...It’s some sort of magic that’s for sure.”
She sighed and looked down “We need to do something.”
“I know...I just don’t know what.”
At that moment the door swung open and your Dad and Uncle walked straight over to you both. You pulled your sleeve down over your wrist as not to worry anyone and slipped away from the huddle to check on Cas.
“Hey, love.” You whispered, feeling your eyes want to cry. You blinked away the urges, smiling comfortingly at him. “Y/N...you’re hurt.” He nodded at your wrist and you almost laughed.
“Cas, that’s the least of my worries right now.”
He cried out, shouting in agony, his body jolting a little.
“Cas?!” Uncle Dean’s worried voice grew closer as he knelt down opposite to you. You looked at each other with worried eyes.
“Sam.” He ordered, clearing his throat before adding “Sammy.”
Dad looked towards where you were both crouched over Cas’ wounded body and hurried over. He knelt down next to you, placing one hand gingerly on your back. “Cas..?” His tone of voice said it all. It was bad. And there was nothing you could-
“You idiots. You’re all going to die.”
Looking up, you frowned at the man. It was Crowley- King Of Hell. He stepped forward and looked down at Cas with an unreadable expression. “What happened?”
“He got stabbed with some sort of silver-tipped spear thing.” You said, not taking your eyes away from his wound. The vein-like structures had grown in length significantly, now curving towards his face along his neck. It was apocalyptic.
“Not a spear, a lance.” Crowley corrected you.
“Hold on a second,” Your Dad rose from his position in thought “Those other demons were yours.”
“Obviously.”
You frowned.
“They were my demons. Only they were there to keep others out. You should never mess with...” Crowley sighed and paused, considering his next words. “Does the name Ramiel mean anything to you?”
You shook your head, a chorus of “no”’s erupted from the rest interrupted by a “yes”. Turning to look at Cas, he adjusted himself slightly, wincing, “Prince Of Hell.”
You weren’t one hundred percent sure what a Prince Of Hell was, but it didn’t sound good. Crowley explained the story of Ramiel, his offer to give Crowley the throne and his wish to be left alone. When he was finished you asked “Can you help him?”
Crowley shook his head “There is no cure.”
“There has to be! If you can trap Lucifer you fix a wound!” You shouted at him, making him jump at your sudden increase in volume.
“I’m...sorry. But there’s nothing you can do.”
“Help us or get the hell out of here.” Uncle Dean demanded, standing right up against him menacingly.
You stayed next to Cas, leaning against a hay barrel looking defeated. Dad, Mary and Uncle Dean were discussing something about a plan. You got out you blade and sharpened it, contemplating going outside.
“Y/N.” At the mention of your name you rose to your feet, giving Cas a reassuring smile before joining your Father. “Yeah?”
“You ready?”
“Why, what’s the plan?”
“Hit him with all you got.” Uncle Dean crossed his arms proudly.
“But he’s a Prince Of Hell, surely “everything we got” will just go straight through him?” You raised an eyebrow, aware you weren’t being overly optimistic.
“We’ve got to do something.” Mary cleared her throat “And this is that something, if you’ve got a better idea I’d love to hear it.”
“That’s not what I meant...”
“We know,” Dad offered a tight smile “Just be safe.” He squeezed your hand and you turned round to see Cas coughing and spluttering.
“You have to go.” Cas managed, his voice weak yet still of authority.
“Cas...” You didn’t know what else to say.
“I mean it. Save yourselves and run. I love you,” He paused, taking a deep breath “I love all of you. You’re my family.”
You smiled through teary eyes.
“Please. Please don’t let my last moments be spent watching you die.”
Your heart broke and ached at the sight of him. Your mind trailed back to when you’d first met and he healed your foot for you, it was a small and yet kind gesture. He’d used his healing powers for you and you had none to give in return.
“No...Cas. We’re not going anywhere. We’re not leaving you.” Uncle Dean declared decisively.
“We’re fighting for you Cas.” Dad agreed “And we’re not going to leave you.”
If Dad had anything more to say he was cut off by a crash, you all turned to see Crowley’s body hunched over. He’d been thrown in by...it must have been Ramiel.
As if on cue, his whistle sounded once more as he walked into the barn. “Evening.” He grinned, his eyes falling on you for a second, then to Cas. You stepped closer to Cas, ready to defend him.
Uncle Dean held up his lighter and dropped it, causing a ring of fire to arise round the Prince Of Hell. “Cosy.” Ramiel didn’t seem to be overly phased which made you wonder if he could escape.
“You know we wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t just left me alone.” He snarled. “Anyway,” he glared at all of you “You’ve stolen something from me. if I don’t get that back within thirty seconds...well...we’ll see, won’t we?”
You shared a look of confusion with your Dad,before turning to the rest. “Stolen?” You echoed, trying your best to make it sound like it wasn’t a lie...which no doubt made it sound like a lie. Ramiel nodded “I don’t know which one of you it was, or if it was all of you. But I want it back.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pocketwatch, starting the timer.
“Look, we don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Uncle Dean tried his best, but there was no stopping him now.
“Twenty seconds.”
“I’m serious. No clue.” Uncle Dean’s voice became louder as the tension in the room rose.
“Ten seconds.”
You looked at your Dad, then to Uncle Dean, then to Cas. All of which were waiting on something, looking more and more worried. Your eyes then fell on Mary who was staring back at Ramiel, she seemed to be ignoring your eyes.
“Three.″
You swallowed.
“Two.″
He stepped forward.
“One.”
Confidently, his hands reached above his head where the Lance appeared through a clouded mist. He slammed it onto the ground, making you almost lose your footing and putting the fire out so he could escape.
Time to fight.
Everyone was instantly on the move, swinging blades and shooting bullets. He wasn’t disturbed by anything. Yet, you still kicked him off Uncle Dean, ducking under his incoming fist.
As you parried to the left, Dad stabbed his back with a demon blade, making Ramiel’s attention turn elsewhere. With his back turned, Mary also stabbed him, only he was fast and had her on the floor in seconds.
You backed away, aware he had the Lance still firmly in his grip. He held it out in front of you, taking it back to swing at you. You twisted your body so it just missed and grabbed hold of the sides, now fighting to take it from his grasp. You struggled as your wrist was still bruised up and no doubt broken in places so your Dad held on too, allowing you to let go to kick Ramiel’s chest, separating him from his weapon.
Your Dad then swung and plunged the blade through his chest. He gasped in pain, stumbling backwards slightly before shouting out. His call fell to nothing as his body crumbled into nothing but a hazy mist of blackness. Everyone relaxed and caught their breath, staring at where Ramiel was just stood.
A series of coughing and spluttering made you all race over to Cas. You knet down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He struggled to take his next breath, his body jolting with spasms. The next series of coughing made some sort of black substance seep through his lips. Gasping for air, his body stiffened.
You stared at him, his eyes becoming more and more lifeless as the seconds went by, everyone else was staring in silence. You then tore your eyes away to see Crowley holding the Lance, he looked up at you, holding your gaze a moment before looking back down at it. He then grasped hold tightly of either side and snapped the handle in two.
Some sort of blue orb of light erupted from the break, making you look away. It shined so bright the room disappeared from your vision before going back to normality. When you looked down at Cas he was perfectly fine, his face still had a few scratches, but his wounds were healed and there was no sign of infection of any kind.
“It’s all in the rune work.” Crowley broke the silence “Oh..you’re welcome.”
“So that’s it, you’re okay?” Mary asked hesitantly, leaning forward slightly.
“Yes.” Cas nodded slowly before saying “What did he mean...about somebody stealing something?”
A few seconds of silence broke out when Uncle Dean sighed “Who knows what that crazy man was talking about. Come on, let’s go home.”
On the way back to the Impala, you walked behind the rest, your hand running over your wrist. It had purples splotches over it with red tinges round the edges of them. You din’t notice your Dad fall behind until he spoke “Your wrist okay?”
You nearly jumped when he said so, but cleared your throat before nodding “Yeah...it’ll heal.”
You tugged your sleeve over it and looked at your feet, paying attention to each step you took. “I’ll get you a bandage when we get back.” Dad offered, trying his best not to keep going on about it and yet remain worried.
“Thank you.”
“How’re you holding up?” He asked, putting his hands in his jacket pockets and slowing to a halt. This forced you to do the same.
“I’m...” You chose your words carefully “Okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah...I mean, as strange as it sounds hunting kinda helps. It takes my mind of things.
“Yeah no I get that.” He nodded. You looked over to see Uncle Dean and Mary leaning against Baby, talking about the case no doubt.
“Has uh...Mick been in contact since last time?”
You thought about it before shaking your head. “No...he’s been quiet.”
“Too quiet, or just quiet?”
“I don’t know yet... But he’s not stupid. Mr K and Toni are ignorant, but Mick’s brain doesn’t work like that. He’s just insistent.”
Dad nodded, probably clueless as to what he could say.
“They never had intentions of keeping me as part of the Men Of Letters. A few changed their minds over time....especially when...when Max died. Mick was one of the only ones who kept the promise of letting me go.” When you noticed your Dad’s face you added “I’m not defending him. I’m just...I don’t know...”
“No, that’s okay. I get what you’re saying. We just don’t particularly trust them.” Dad explained.
“Yeah...frankly they don’t trust each other so it’s a wise decision.”
He chuckled halfheartedly, before sighing. “So you’re okay with this? With being moved to another country...another continent...with a new family...It must be a lot to take in.” Dad empathised. It made sense that he was talking about this now, you probably wouldn’t have opened up as much when you first met.
“There’s no hunting in England. Everything’s surveyed...I never really did much field work until now-”
“Really? You’re a pretty impressive Hunter for someone who hasn’t done so before.”
“They train you pretty good. Plus Mum let me hunt with her sometimes.” You smiled at the memory. Whenever Mum got a whiff of a possible Hunt you’d practically beg to go with her. “If I stayed in England, then I wouldn’t even have a family...It’s better here...even if you guys don’t have Marmite.”
Your Dad threw you a funny look and you couldn’t help but smile. “What?” He frowned, a smirk growing on his lips.
“Hey don’t look at me, you love it or you hate it.” You chuckled, turning to head back to the Impala.
“What?” He followed you like a dog, curious to what you were talking about.
“You guys don’t have jaffa cakes either..” Your mind was now going through a list of food you hadn’t seen in a while.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dad admitted, but he was enjoying your ramble none the less.
“Or curry...how can you not have curry?!”
Your Dad was grinning at you,his eyebrows raised as you mumbled to yourself- your face screwed up in thought “And Yorkshire’s! How could I forget Yorkshires..”
Part 13- Trust
Masterlist
I do not own these gifs
A/N: I’ve been so so busy which is why this Part is a little late...sorry, loves. Pls forgive me uwu
Thanks for being amazing people, stay gorgeous x
(Tags after cut)
@barbygrozna
@yoursmilemakesmeloveyou
@chelseypaigeake
@impala-hunter
@msdooos
@starswirlblitz
@fanboyswhereare-you
@amorluzymelodia
@d-willem
@adidabach
@blackjack-the-sword
@spazzstiel
@booksarecoolio
@winchesters-favorite-girl
@squirels-angels-and-moose
@27bmm
@practicallyawinchester
@demonic-meatball
@xsecretrejectx
@bea789
@sarahthewriter55
@jiggysupernatural
@trashforwinchesters
@snazzyjazzyh
@diesintheshower
@the-chick-with-the-best-fandom
@kbarnett1089
@riversong-sam
@intoomuchfandoms
@teamfreewill-67
@revwinchester
@jensen-jarpad
@itseverythingilike
@avalon821
@miss-miep
@lovelouisbabe
@wcmanwcnder
@graceless-dragon
@sofy7012
@yoursmilemakesmeloveyou
@oneshotsdeanshort
@caroldanversinatardis
@soulfiretheobsessed
@whovianayesha
@fandomsstolemylife00
@straightasdeanwinchester
@soullessbabee
@heytherecutie13
@spnkisum
@clairedelalune
#supernatural#supernatural imagine#supernatural one shot#supernatural oneshot#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#supernatural family#supernatural fic#spn#spn imagine#huntress p12#dad x reader#dad!sam x daughter!reader#dad!sam#daughter!reader#daughter imagine#winchester daughter#uncle!dean#mary winchester#cas#castiel#dean winchester#sam winchester#sam winchester imagine#fluff#angst#bmol
242 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
genienotinabottle
wish granted.
taco-enthusiastt
ლ(●ↀωↀ●)ლ
lieutenantthaliagrace
break me like a promise
megastretchy
Megastretchy
accidentprone
22:22 make ur wish