#// served over a blanket of smartass

[gargoyle-chronicles]

HOLD ME ~ par V. Roman

It was cold, it was dark, and for a moment I didn’t know where I was. I always made it here though. No matter what I did, I always found my way back here: some place I didn’t know. At least this time I remember everything that happened. Part of me wishes I had blacked out, but every detail was branded in my head with the rest of my mistakes.

I didn’t really drink, but I hadn’t been feeling like myself lately. I applied the glass to my lips. Sweet, spiced, and spirited. Familiar, yet queer to the tongue. Iridescent blue and violet lights danced faster than the girls. The music wasn’t bad, but it was giving me a headache. I had no reason to be here. 

A brunette with eyes darker than her hair paraded back to her space on the loveseat. Pomegranate lipstick refused to leave her lips, no matter how many times she kissed the glass of the tumbler. Sheer long sleeves and a cherry red dress draping over honeycomb skin. She was drenched in red. Even her cheeks were a heated crimson. Her button black eyes snagged on to me with a vibrant smile. My heart seized and shrivelled, like an autumn leaf catching fire. It was a feeling that caught the throat. My face twisted. Nothing against her. It was just me. I hated feeling weak. Her smile faded and I turned away. I had no reason to be here.

I rapped my knuckles against the wood. “Hey,” I called, “Close the tab for me, yeah?”

I rifled through my pockets to pay the odd number I owe and then some before pushing my way to the door. Everyone, despite their drunken and gay stupur, eased aside to make way for the hearse. The cold winter air surged forward. Half of the moon’s face hid beneath the blanket of black and stars. Music and laughter swam up from Riley’s lake like wind chimes in the night. The water was shallow and known to freeze over this time of year. Christmas lights twinkled in the trees, brighter than the stars. The ice glistened different shades of green and red as clusters of people whirled around in skates. The blades cutting across the ice so that the lake appeared an enchanting cerulean satin gown with white lace laid intricately across its face.

I kept to the sidewalk, tightening my coat against the cold. Cher used to tell me that all of my clothes were for style not warmth, which wasn’t entirely true. She stood in the center of that lake with a mitted hand out to me, asking for a dance. We waltzed until her playlist ended. She led me up the faded wood of the stairs to her apartment on Riven Street where we talked over cups of cocoa. She figured marshmallows were pretentious and served only for cheap aesthetic value. We used whipped cream instead. I couldn’t remember a word we said, but I remember her smile. Hyacinth and charming. Watching her was better than stargazing. I remembered every inch of her.

Stationed lights pooled across the cement walkway, lightly illuminating the bushes and trees around the path. I slowed to a standstill. The jovial plays of people and the marching of cars were now a distant tune. I was going in the wrong direction.

Sighing, I turned back the way I had come. I was surprised to see the button-eyed girl from the bar, arms folded across her chest, glaring off into the trees which were abandoned to the lonely abyss the lights couldn’t reach. Even with the lush black fur coat around her she was shaking, which made sense. Her pale legs were left bare to the cold, bruising her knees a ruddy red. More surprising than her were the two cinder blocks parading beside her like bodyguards, one a brown-eyed blond and the other a sharp chin with a tossle of dark hair. He had the same dark eyes as the girl, and he was glaring directly at me.

“Friends,” I slurred, already full of dread.

“What the hell is your problem?” Snarled wannabe-Edward Cullens. He was probably the brother.

I arched a brow. “Like, my immediate problem or—”

“Don’t be smartass.” Snapped Blondie, taking a ‘threatening’ step forward. Cullens held him back. Scary.

“Better than being a dumbass.” I murmured, only just loud enough for them to hear me.

“The fuck’d you say?” Blondie yelled. He was clearly drunker than the rest, but not as angry as the brother. He may have been calm, but there was a subtle fury in his eyes.

“Why did you insult my sister?” He demanded.

“What?”

Annoyed, Blondie sucked his teeth. “You turned your nose up at her, asshole!”

“Smart asshole.” I corrected, “And I hardly insulted her.”

“You rejected her,” Cullens spat, “That’s the same thing.”

“You ruined her night!” barked Blondie, “She just went through a bad breakup. She doesn’t need a jerk like you messing her up.”

I eased out a tired sigh. It was hard to see the stars with the glaring light of the lamp post, but they flecked through. I used to watch the stars every Friday night at this park. I would bring blankets and a full picnic basket. Cher would bring candles and her CD player. Neither of us really knew the constellations, but they were just pictures in the stars. We could see whatever we wanted. She turned a mess of white dots into the craziest things. I could have listened for hours. I did listen for hours. The glare of the lamp burned away the sky, abandoning me with Count Dracula and Twinkie.

“Get over yourselves.”

All three flinched, aback.

“‘You, you, you.’ You’re all willing to scapegoat me for her insecurity. Like hell I insulted her. I just reminded her that someone she loved can’t love her, too. That doesn’t sound like a me-problem.”

Button Eyes finally turned to face me, but she didn’t make to speak. This wasn’t about me. It was her. She was having a bad night in what would be a collection titled bad times. It wasn’t just tonight. Looking at her straight, I knew. Her dark eyes hummed a sad melody, but she kept it inside. She was on the brink of falling apart. The wet gloss of her eyes made that clear. I wasn’t going to break her, too. Her company on the other hand…

The blond rushed forward before Prince of Darkness could stop him. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, the alcohol seeping from between grit teeth. His eyes were narrow and bloodshot. Drinking did him no favours. His otherwise plain face was dressed red from sleeveless emotions rather than cold.

“What are you, in love with her?” I snorted, “I got news for you, Prince Charming, she doesn’t notice you and never will.”

Knuckles pierced my right cheek, and snow slammed against the other. Prince Charming pinned me against the snow, shaking hands gripping my collar. I smirked.

“Does it hurt to know she fell for a stranger like me before she fell for a bitch like you?”

His face contorted with rage and envy. He socked another blow. My teeth bit the flesh of my lip, cutting against the skin. 

“I could have been in her pants before the end of the night, and you’ve probably waited years.”

Another sock to the face. This time my nose consumed the blow, a piercing sting that made my head reel. The adrenaline of the moment didn’t deny me a sick smile. He scowled at my grin, pounding more hits to my face. I didn’t count how many before the other guy hauled him off.

“Fin, cut it out! Calm down!”

“Yeah,” I scoffed, “Down, boy.”

His pale face burned a violent red. I flashed a condescending smile. The brother grimaced. “You, learn some goddamn manners and try not to be an ass to strangers.”

“Says you thugs,” I growled. I spat the blood to the snow, and caught the deepening eyes of the girl. Her button-eyes were still wet, but the film of tears only served to magnify their beauty. It wasn’t about looks though. Whether she knew it or not, she didn’t want someone like me. Someone who went to bars when they were bored and wanted to waste time. Someone who was adverse in social settings and started fights like tantrums for attention. Someone so afraid of being weak that they would hurt anyone close to them and push them away until they’re gone. Someone ugly. She didn’t need me. She needed stability. She needed clarity. She needed time with herself. But right now, more than anything, she needed to get out of the cold. She was shaking worse than before, rubbing her legs together for warmth. She must have been freezing. I clenched my jaw shut, but not enough to silence.

“I admit, though, your sister’s worth a pretty penny.” I sneered, “Maybe you should stop whoring her out before someone tries to wallet her, huh?”

Both of them went rigid. 

And that’s how I got my ass kicked this time.

I didn’t black out, but my body did. I estimate a broken rib, a broken nose, a swollen eye, a cut cheek, and bruises to count until New Year’s. They left the way they came, abandoning me under the blinding light. All of my limbs are buzzing, my heart is kicking and screaming in my chest, and I’m laughing my aching ass off. 

Slowly, I begin to put my feet beneath me. I stumble a bit, but otherwise, I’m able to stand. Something warm and sour rubs against my teeth. I spit out the blood and watch it settle into the snow. It tastes like bronze on my tongue but I know it’s worth less than that— to the point of being worthless. My heart falls back into its dull rhythm, becoming silent to my ears once again. My muscles relax, but rested sorely. My feet drone forward. I don’t know where. The half-moon stared blankly down at me like a reflection in black waters.

I’m still going the right way. A bench sits huddled beneath a tree on the hill, beaconing rest. Weary, I stumbled up the clumpy slope

If I had fought back, then I might have been able to get Black Parade and his Labrador off me. But I didn’t want a fight. I didn’t. They did. They wanted to fight. They wanted to fight and who was I to deny them a few good swings? Besides, the fight was bound to happen. They had their mind set on me face down and bloodied. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. A sharp pain cut into my side. 

“Denial may be easy for you, but it’s not your colour.”

Okay, it’s not that I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I’ve never wanted to. I’ve always been this way— starting fights for a bit of fun. I have a talent for making things worse. This is the me that I have always been. The kind of guy that goes places he doesn’t belong, to do things he has no business doing— instigating trouble or else fanning the flame. Hell, I throw throw kerosine to a candle for a bit of fun. This is just the way I am, and that may be an excuse, but that didn’t make it any less true. I know what I am. A disastrous mess that likes making bigger messes.

“If you know it’s a problem then stop!”

Damnit, even now, her nagging doesn’t stop. She’s in my head, but she’s not here. She won’t even come near me because I’m fucking up my life and dragging her down, too. But I never asked her to get involved. That was her choice. I never wanted her help. I was fine without it. She’s the one who wanted to intervene in my life like the control freak she is. I may get involved in bad business, but she gets involved in everyone’s business.

I didn’t need her guilt-tripping me for coming home with bruises. I didn’t need her scolding me. I didn’t need her babysitting me all the time. I didn’t need her analysing me— confronting me when she knows I’ve messed up— when I know I’ve messed up. Prodding me when I’m sad— encouraging me when I’m afraid. Holding me when I felt alone and broken, as if her hands would keep me together. Loving me when I—

I collapse at the foot of the bench, overwhelmed by all the dumb, fucking memories of her. The memories I ruined. For both of us. Cold travels down my throat, warming in bitter lungs. My body caves in at the exhale.

I never wanted this.

Flurries slowly swirl down from seemingly nowhere. The night sky seems so endless from here, but of course it ends somewhere. Right? At some point the sky ends, or at least is broken. All the spheres end at some point; the atmosphere, the stratosphere, the exosphere… And then what? Not that it matters. At some point it’s all the same. A bunch of black holes and dark matter. I sigh, the sound dull in my ears now clogged with snow, blurring the music of the world around. I was numb before I laid in the snow, but now the cold burned my corpse. I lost time laying in the snow, a shallow grave. It swaddled me and pulled me in close to its chest.

Get up.

It’s so comfortable. The cold seemed to take away all the pain. 

You’ll freeze to death.

Feeling numb isn’t such a bad exchange. To get rid of this feeling, I would give up anything… all of it.

“Hey!”

I wake up with a start. Clumps of snow stick to me like moss on a log. It has stopped flurrying, and my skin has sapped to a dull shade of brown. The clock tower’s bell wails in the distance. My body feels like ice.

“Are you listening to me?”

 She stood still through my snow-flecked lashes which ornamented her frame with small pearls of white. Her long brown hair was now cut short, a shade of gingerbread highlighted with hazel cream. She stands bundled in earthen tones with knee high fur boots. Mint green eyes sprinkled with clusters of amber train sternly on me. Her fuzzy brows are furrowed in worry. She looks different, but I recognise her. Cher always looks at me with that face.

I need to say something. Something to let her know how sorry I am, so that she knows I want to erase the disgusting trench of time between us that she hated. I need to tell her that I only want her in my life. She deserved so much better— deserves so much better, but looking at her now I know I can’t live without her. I need to say something.

I reach out to her. She coils back. All words fall back to form a lump in my throat.

I was sorry. I was just so sorry. A sorry excuse, a sorry lover, a sorry mess, a sorry fool, a sorry low-life with sorry habits trying to exist in her life where someone else should be— someone less sorry. The world grew to a black blur in my head. It became so big I lost myself in it.

I sink to my knees. The snow on my eyes fades into tears. Everything in me aches. With every mourning gasp that wrenches from my throat, my body seizes, shaking helplessly like Autumn leaves in a storm. This hurt worse than all of the beatings combined. Everything detached and drifted away. I can’t take this. I fold myself into a ball, trying to breathe between sobs, but every icy breath only cut my tightening throat. 

“Shh.” She kneels down, and the pieces of me float into her arms to be wrapped up again. “I got you.” She whispers.

Being held in her arms only made me cry harder. I couldn’t stop. 

“It’s okay.”

If Cher would only stop worrying about me, then she could be happy. Cher deserved so much better. Someone who would come home with something to make her smile— give her a perfect date— buy her flowers and chocolates— someone romantic and together. Someone who she didn’t have to worry about collapsing on the side of the road or finding in the gutters, or crystallising to a statue underneath a park bench. She deserves better than me.

Cher held me, shaking and sputtering snot-nosed sorries while sobbing in her arms just like she used to. Her arms were the only thing holding me together. She always was.

I know she can’t do it forever. I can see it in her eyes. I don’t want to think about that right now. All I want now is to fold into her arms. So that's what I did, and I let it all out.

not a part of Faust lore, but a favourite of mine.

[shellheadtmarc]

@fairglenned gets a rando thing

“Great, now my socks are wet.”

[titan-fodder]

Find a Way Chapter 3

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Rating: M (mature; mdni)

Count: ~4.5K

Tags/Warnings: swearing, sick reader, banter, fluff, Miche just being a good guy

A/N: this part was so fun to write and i love it so much, so i hope y’all do too. enjoy~

You feel like shit. A big, steaming pile of fucking shit. 

You've had a headache all day, your face is sore from full sinuses, your throat is itchy, and your eyes burn with every blink. 

You're sick. It's Friday night, and you're sick. 

Skipping work isn't an option, so you're working behind the counter wearing a medical grade mask and nitrile gloves. Reiner keeps glaring at you because he knows, and he's been trying to convince you to go home since you stepped into Marley's, but so far he has been unsuccessful. 

"Seriously, go home and rest. I can call Bertl or Annie to cover."

"Or, I can hop behind the bar!" Porco shouts from his stool. 

You shoot him a bemused look and shake your head. "I don't like the thought of y'all behind the bar together."

"Aw, come on! You can trust me," Porco tries, batting beautifully long lashes he doesn't deserve. 

"Not a chance."

He begins to protest again, but you're distracted by your phone buzzing in your back pocket, your stomach flipping as you pull it out. 

M, 7:39

Attachment: 1 image 

It's of Minnie, a red rubber ball in her mouth as she stares directly at the camera. Earlier, you had mentioned to Miche that you were having a shitty day, so as any upstanding man would do, he started sending pictures of his dog. It doesn't get rid of the throbbing in your head, but it still brightens your mood a bit. 

At least it isn't busy. Yet. Reiner was kind enough to give you some Tylenol, and you have a Red Bull under the counter, so you should be able to power through. Porco is gonna perform the usual set by himself since you can't sing for shit, so all you have to worry about is serving guests. 

The usuals come in, all the depressed middle agers and college kids. There don't seem to be any type of actual parties going on which is a relief. You don't think you'd be able to cater to a bunch of 'woo girls' or overly flirtatious men— "It's this guy's birthday! What're you gonna give him?" 

A swift kick to the balls, for one. 

Porco is done by 8:30 and shoves the shoebox of tips at you as he passes, but tonight you absolutely refuse to take it. 

"I didn't even do anything!"

"So? Just take it. Buy some fucking medicine." 

"Porco, for real—"

The humor that he previously wore on his face is completely gone now, eyebrows high as he argues, "I'm not fucking joking, dude. You look like you're about to pass out."

You have been feeling a little dizzy for the past half hour, but that probably has less to do with you being sick and all to do with the chips you had for lunch. 

"I'm fine."

In truth, you'd like nothing more than to go back home and sleep for four days straight. Sweat out your fever under fuzzy blankets, brew your last teabag, eat your last can of soup. 

You should probably call your parents, ask your dad if he can slip a twenty into your account, but… Pride is an ugly thing. 

"At least go chill in the back and drink some water or something," Reiner pleads, and you just barely catch the way his eyes flick to the counter behind you. "Just for a little bit."

"Are you not feeling well?" 

You swivel around, catching yourself on the drip edge of the counter when you sway precariously. Seeing Miche's handsome face makes your stomach flip which in turn makes it roll, and you swallow thickly before forcing a smile that he can't see behind your mask.  

"Weren't you just outside with your dog?" 

"I was an hour ago, yeah," he chuckles before holding out a hand and gesturing for you to get closer. "Come here."

You do as told, leaning over and letting your eyes fall shut as soon as the back of his hand touches your forehead. 

Like the smartass you are, you comment, "That's not an accurate way of testing for fever," and Miche scoffs. 

"It's accurate enough for me to tell your brain is getting fried right now."

"Oh nooo, not my brain," you fake concern, but the mockery is lost, your scratchy voice lacking all inflection. When you open your eyes again, the man before you looks anything but entertained. 

"Have a headache? Watery eyes? Chills?" 

All of the above. "Maybe."

"That's it, I'm calling Annie," Reiner huffs. 

"Rei—"

"Hey, I don't wanna hit a woman, but if I have to knock you out to get you home, I fucking will." 

"Oh my god," you whine, bending further to rest your cheek on the counter which, admittedly, feels pretty good. 

"Babe, can you hop back here while we wait for Annie?" 

Porco is sliding on the wet tile behind the bar before you can raise your head to look, snatching both your bar blade and the small towel from your pocket. 

"I'll give these back when you're not about to die."

"Stop being dramatic. And, go get my longboard from the back," you demand, adding a meaningless, "Please," a full second later. 

"Oh, no, you're not riding that thing home," Reiner shakes his head. "You're gonna fall into traffic or something."

"What are you, my mom?"

"If I have to be," he quips, then holds his arms out. "Come on, come here, let me use my lips to check that temperature."

You give a few weak swats, but the blonde still ends up humming against your forehead as you roll your eyes. "One-oh-two point… three."

"You're so full of shit," you tell him with a light shove. "And, anyway, would you prefer I walk home instead? Is that any better than skating?" 

"Mm, slightly, but—"

"I can drive her—uh—you," Miche stutters, and everyone turns to look at him. "I mean, if that's alright with… all of you."

Both Reiner and Porco are halfway over the counter in less than a second. 

"Can we trust you?" 

"How do we know you're not some creep?" 

"Better not turn her into a skin suit." 

"Jesus Christ!" You pull both of them back by their respective collars and tell them to, "Chill the fuck out, you psychos."

"It's fine, I get it," Miche laughs, apparently unaffected by the younger men. 

Porco is still squinting at him, but Reiner turns you to face him once again, questioning in a voice you can barely hear, "Would you be comfortable with that? I can drive you once Annie gets here."

"No, yeah, it's fine. Miche's a good guy."

You're pretty sure he is, anyway. You don't know him all that well, but between your shared lunches and the occasional text conversation that may or may not span a couple days at a time, you feel like you can judge his character well enough at that point. 

"Definitely not the skin suit type," you add for reassurance. 

Reiner glances between you and the man in question then nods more to himself than to you. "Alright. Just text me when you get home, okay?" 

"Will do, Mama Rei."

He clicks his tongue. "Someone's gotta watch out for you."

After grabbing your longboard and unplayed guitar from the break room, you meet Miche out front, struggling with the bulky items until he takes both of them from you. 

"Thanks."

"Of course."

He puts them in the back of his fancy-schmancy Mercedes, then rounds the vehicle to open your door, and fuck, if you didn't feel like utter garbage, you may have propositioned him right then and there. You're pretty sure the only person who's ever opened a car door for you is your dad. They just don't make 'em like that anymore. 

You can't smell anything due to your stuffy nose, but you imagine the car is filled with the scent of leather, maybe with a dash of Miche's cologne. What a nice thought. 

"Are you cold?" He asks when he's situated in his seat. "I can turn on the warmers if you've got chills."

"No, m'fine."

He does it anyway, and you try not to sound too pleased when you sigh and let your head rest on the window. 

"Nice car."

"Thanks."

"I mean, I hate the model, but… it's nice on the inside."

"It may come as a surprise, but—" Miche snickers, turning onto the road the grocery store is on. "—I actually hated the wagons when they first came out, but they grew on me. Kinda like those dogs that are so ugly they're cute."

"As long as you're aware of it."

You direct him to the nearby complex, not entirely surprised when he parks and gets out to grab your things from the back. 

"Can I follow you to drop these off, or would you rather—"

"Depends. Are you gonna kill me in cold blood once we're in the privacy of my apartment?" 

"Wasn't planning on it, no," he answers easily, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. 

"Then, yeah, why not."

You trudge up the concrete stairs to your unit, able to hear Remy scratching at the door and whining for you before you even pull out your keys. 

"Brace yourself."

The little dog is jumping desperately as soon as you step in, tiny claws leaving light lines all over your legs until you bend down and pick him up. He licks your neck and chin as you turn your face away, then stops once he actually zeroes in on the hulking man behind you. 

"Worst guard dog ever. How are you just now noticing him?" 

Miche laughs in his throat while he sets down your board and guitar, then slowly extends a hand to let Remy sniff him. Just like that, the traitor is trying to squirm out of your arms and into Miche's. 

"You some kind of dog whisperer?" 

He shrugs while taking Remy from you, holding him up like baby Simba. 

"Just always been good with animals. Thought about going into vet medicine for a long time, but it didn't pan out."

"What stopped you?" 

You shouldn't be making conversation. You should be getting ready for bed, call it an early night and sleep off whatever it is that's knocking you on your ass. 

"Honestly?" Green eyes settle on you, and Miche pouts. "I don't have it in me to put animals down."

"But, you're cool with breaking baby bones?" 

His frown deepens for a moment before he looks back at the wriggling dog in his hands. "Newborns aren't nearly as cute as baby animals. They come out screaming and covered in vernix, and sometimes they pee on you."

"Remy does that too sometimes. Just a heads up."

He doesn't even acknowledge the warning, just brings Remy closer so that he's against Miche's chest, frantically sniffing every part of him he can reach. 

"That said, I don't enjoy breaking bones or delivering sick babies. Just part of the job. Breaking puppy bones, though?" He gives a firm shake of his head. "Nope. Can't do it. No way."

"Heartwarming, truly."

You think this is the part where he starts looking around, taking in your shabby home, but no. Miche's stare remains split between you and Remy, and you're grateful for it. 

All of your furniture is "well-loved", none of the pieces matching save for your bed and the nightstand next to it, but you're not about to lead Miche back there to show him. There are a couple jackets slung over the back of the couch, shoes by the door in complete disarray, and several of Remy's toys are strewn about the den. You only have two pictures hanging in the main room, a framed panorama of bluebonnets over the front door and a diagram of the Circle of Willis over your TV. 

"Alright, so, you have acetaminophen?" Miche asks after setting the dog down on the ground. 

"Uhh," you sniffle, wipe your nose, then shake your head. "Negatory."

"Do you have any type of medicine here?" 

"Mmm, no."

Miche blinks at you, and you watch as he runs his tongue over his front teeth. 

"Gatorade? Soup?" 

"Best I can do is water and ramen."

He scrubs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath. "Look, I'm trying not to judge—"

"I am a broke college student. You think I have the funds for fancy stuff like basic medicine and Campbell's?"

You let out a little cough, and the pressure makes it feel like your skull is about to break along every one of its sutures. 

"Alright, look. You're sick," he states, pointing at you with both hands. "And, ill-prepared. Meanwhile, a few miles away is my apartment that is stock full of fever-reducer and soup and—"

"Mom always told me not to let men take me to a secondary location."

"Which is fantastic advice, but… What're you gonna do if this bug is still keeping you down come Monday? You gonna power through class or skip altogether? Go visit your PCP?" 

"Okay, okay, fuck, lemme pack a bag."

He's being… a little pushy and condescending, but you can tell it's coming from a good place. At this point, you're just glad he isn't quoting the Hippocratic Oath to you. I have a duty. 

Plus, you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see where he lives. 

You toss the necessities into an old backpack, the butterflies in your gut mixing with the general nausea you've been experiencing for the better part of the evening. There's no way that this will turn into anything fun, not with how shitty you feel, but you're still a little excited. At the very least, you'll get to learn more about Miche. 

When you walk back out, Miche is leaning against the front door, holding a leashed up Remy in one hand and his bag of food in the other. There is also a familiar alligator toy sticking out of his back pocket, the one that squeaks and drives you insane on study nights. 

This image—Miche holding your dog and all of his little supplies, smiling at you when you come back into view—this is the one that stops you, that knocks the air out of your lungs and makes you realize…

You're about to fall very hard and very fast. 

"Ready?"

You nod, a little dazed, and grab your keys with a shaky hand. 

"Still cold?" He questions but doesn't pause to let you answer. "I'll turn on the warmers again, and then you can grab a shower or bath at the apartment."

The ride isn't long at all. Remy's little paws dig into your thighs as he twists and turns on your lap, trying to brace himself to look out the window, but you don't let him in fear of his claws ruining the plush interior of Miche's car. 

He's just outside of the med center, pulling up to a large brick building that looks more like an old factory than any type of home. 

It's a loft, you think to yourself. He lives in a loft, and despite the plain exterior, you just know it's gonna be nice inside. You try to prepare yourself, but it isn't enough because as soon as Miche unlocks his door and ushers you inside, you can't keep your jaw from dropping. 

"Are you serious right now?" 

"Hm?"

"This place is…" You're about to say something along the lines of 'amazing', but before you can, Remy's yappy bark echoes through the open space. 

Minnie, you easily recognize, is sprawled on the couch, lifting her huge head and tilting it to one side as her ears twitch. She's even bigger in person, covered in wiry fur the color of wheat and absolutely beautiful. You can already imagine snuggling with her, falling asleep for an afternoon nap as sun shines through the windows that line one of the brick walls. 

Don't get too lost in the fantasy, you pull back on your own reins, but the idea doesn't leave your mind as Minnie slides off the couch and walks over to you, not paying Remy any attention whatsoever. 

"Hello, sweet girl," you greet, letting her get a few good sniffs in before petting her between the ears. "You're so pretty, you know that?" 

Remy is going wild in Miche's grasp, so you give the okay to set him down, not particularly scared of a fight breaking out. Minnie is obviously too well behaved for that, no matter how much Remy might nip at her. She allows the smaller dog to circle her, shoving his nose into her paws and legs, the only things he can really reach, and once he's done and his tail is wagging, Minnie gives him the same treatment with a much larger nose. 

The two of them dancing around each other is a little hilarious, about as different as two dogs can be, but you eventually tear your eyes away in favor of surveying the apartment further. 

It's an open floor plan, brick walls around the perimeter but white interiorly. The hardwood offers a bit more traction than the faux wood that Remy's always sliding around on. It's nicely decorated in a minimal sort of way, and anyone could guess that a man lives here, but it doesn't look like the average bachelor pad—could be because of money, could simply be because Miche is just a little classier than most guys. 

A steel staircase leads to the second story, open like the first floor as a balcony lines the walls and leads to what you can't yet see. It's so spacious, and the huge windows set into the brick makes it seem even more so. Each sill is home to a different succulent garden, and when Miche catches you staring at them, he explains, "Only plants I can keep alive."

"I get it. I had one for a while in my old dorm."

"Yeah? What happened to it?" 

"It died," you snicker. "Did you know that even succulents need to be watered sometimes?" 

Miche rolls his eyes as he moves past you, and you follow him into the kitchen—shiny wood countertops, an island surrounded with bar stools, this is a home for entertaining. 

"You have company over a lot?" 

Miche shakes his head, "No, not really," as he reaches into a cabinet and grabs a plastic bottle. "A birthday party here and there, maybe watching a game with a few friends if I'm off, but I'm usually not."

"Why so much space then?" 

He tosses you the pill bottle which you do not catch, have to pick it up off the floor and pout. When you straighten up you take note of the canvas hanging over the sink and have to ask, "Is that… Georgia O'Keeffe's Black Iris?" 

Miche looks over his shoulder at it and nods with a little grin. "Yeah. Gel got it for me as a joke right before my fellowship, but I kinda like it."

"So, you're telling me that when you finish staring at vaginas all day at work, you come home and stare at another one while making dinner?" 

Miche's laugh is nice, deep and rumbling and making his lips part in a wide smile. 

"I don't just stare at them, Jesus, I—I examine them."

"Not helpin' your case, bud."

He huffs then points at the bottle in your hand. "Take two then get ready for bed."

A glass of water is handed to you in a much nicer fashion than the pills were, and you down a couple of the capsules, squinting over the rim of your cup the whole time. 

"When's the last time you ate?" He asks, and you choke on the water in your mouth. 

"Lunch time," you croak then cough. 

"A full meal?" 

You shake your head, no reason to lie at this point. He doesn't scold you or even look disappointed, just paces over to his pantry and names off, "Chicken noodle, vegetable, beef and vegetable, chicken and stars, mediocre gumbo, tortilla—"

"I assume the chicken and stars are Nolan's."

"Yeah, but I don't think he'll miss one can."

It's settled. Miche tells you to make yourself comfortable as he warms up the soup, so you do, kicking off your shoes and sitting next to Minnie on the couch. 

"She likes to lay on the remote, so if you wanna watch TV, you'll have to move her."

It takes you a second to locate the plastic once you slide your hand underneath the wolfhound, but you let out a little, "Aha!" once you find it. 

Hulu, HBO, Netflix, Prime, Disney, there isn't much that Miche doesn't have. Naturally, you land on Cosmos, hoping it'll make you drowsy enough to cancel out the giddiness coursing through you. Maybe it'll even make you look smart. 

Miche joins you with a bowl of your requested soup, a stick of beef jerky hanging from his mouth, and when you cringe, he raises his eyebrows and challenges, "You're judging me for my eating habits?" 

"No, no, just…" You spoon some broth onto your mouth then breathe out steam as it burns your tongue. "Any time I see jerky, I think of the old Slim Jim commercials. You remember those?" 

"With the crazy guy who was clearly hyped up on meth?" 

You giggle and nod. "That's the one."

Sitting and joking with Miche, blowing on soup while Neil Degrasse Tyson paces around his ship of the imagination, you can almost forget about how shitty you feel. Minnie is curled up on your end of the couch while Remy is next to Miche, splooting over his thigh and watching you through every slow blink of his eyes. 

It's nice. Even with the headache, even with the sore throat, it's nice. 

"You wanna shower or just pass out?" 

"I still smell like the bar, so a shower would be nice."

He tells you that there's a couple bathrooms on the first story but that his is nicer, leading you up the stairs with both dogs close behind. All you see of his bedroom is a green comforter and another window carved out of the brick that overlooks the city streets.

"Towels in the closet, soap on the shower rack. Feel free to use whatever you need."

"Cool, thanks."

Once he leaves, you lay pajamas out over the counter, placing your toothbrush, toothpaste, and razor next to them. The spray is warm and a little rough, the showerhead on a high pressure setting that feels good against the muscles of your back. 

Miche's shampoo clears your sinuses temporarily, smelling of mint and citrus that mixes very well with the sandalwood bar soap. By the time you finish bathing, you feel a little better, but you're also ready to knock out for the night, having made sure to bring pajama pants instead of shorts as well as soft socks, intending to sweat this fever out while balled up under blankets on Miche's couch. 

You make it back downstairs just in time for the front door to open, Miche walking inside with both dogs on leashes. Remy runs to you once he's free to, and you kneel to pet him, limbs feeling heavy as you do. 

"Go to bed," Miche says with a thoughtful sigh. "I'll be up for a while, so I'll make sure he eats."

"Thank you." Attempting to stand back up, you lose your balance for a moment and are grateful for the hand Miche extends to help you. He pulls you up a little too fast, making you sway right into his chest, but you don't mind too much, just set your forehead against his sternum, and repeat in a quieter voice, "Seriously. Thank you."

He's stiff at first, and for a moment, you think you've fucked up, that you're too close to him, and it's making him uncomfortable, but then he relaxes, rubbing a hand down your back and releasing a sigh that makes you tingle when it hits your shoulder.

You like him. You like him a lot. But you are in no place to be making decisions, so you just take a deep breath and ask, "You have blankets for the couch?" 

"I do, yeah, but my bed is more comfortable." He pauses just long enough to make you nervous before adding, "I can take the couch tonight."

"You sure?" 

"Yeah." The hand on your back stops moving, and god, you wish it hadn't because Miche's hands feel good. They're big and warm and— "I'll make sure to keep the volume low." 

You feel like you should thank him again or possibly go the complete opposite route and argue about sleeping arrangements a little more because this is his home that he's just opened to you so graciously, and you don't want to put him out any more than you already have. He has absolutely no reason to be as nice to you as he is, but here he is, looking down at you with kind eyes and nodding to the staircase behind you.

“If you need anything, just yell.”

“Yeah, okay.”

After trudging back up the stairs and into the room you’d only just come out of, you allow yourself to take a look around. No real snooping—no opening drawers or anything like that—but you eye the bookshelf in the corner, all the photographs set up on one of the higher shelves. They look to span for many years, pictures of a younger Miche and friends outside of a large college building, of him and who you assume to be his parents, a little boy you recognize as Nolan hugging Minnie around the neck. 

There are a few knick-knacks littered between the frames, a statue of a humanoid creature with tentacles in place of a mouth, a wooden cube puzzle, and a small glass bowl filled with… tiny plastic babies. They look like the little ones people find (and sometimes choke on) in King’s Cake, but you don’t understand why Miche has more than a couple dozen of them. 

Maybe some things are better left unknown. 

The soft mattress and feather duvet are enough to distract you from whatever other weird collections Miche might have. You may as well melt into the blankets, surrounded by clouds and mint and sandalwood. Cosmos is still playing downstairs, lulling you to sleep just like it does every night. 

You don’t know how long you’re out for, but the soft sound of footsteps in the room rouse you just enough for you to crack open an eye. The light shining in from the window turns Miche’s figure into a silhouette as he moves as silently as possible, grabbing clothes from one of his drawers before stripping off his shirt and dropping it in the hamper up against the wall. 

Your vision is blurry from sleep, but even in the darkness you can make out his broad chest, the planes of a flat stomach, and hip bones sharp enough to cast shadows. Unfortunately, you aren’t able to stare for long, your head still hot with a fever, body still tired from overexertion, and you’re asleep again before Miche even goes back downstairs. 

[ssscentral]

Starry Eyes | For Kas

Summary: A movie night is nothing compared to what Namjoon has actually planned for your birthday.

pairing: Namjoon x reader

rating: GA

genre: tooth-rotting fluff !! some crack too

warnings: kissing. kim namjoon’s existence, namjoon is very cheesy

wc: 2.8k

member: Rid & Melody || @taegularities & @hoebii 

a/n: this was written for our beautiful, amazing, intelligent, gorgeous friend @voiceswithoutlips !!! happy, happy birthday - we love you so so much, baby, and not even this fic can express how much you mean to us. here’s to many more years of annoying each other !! <333 also, thank you so much @oftenderweapons​ for beta’ing this, precious !! :-*

The growling of the clouds woke you up.

A storm this early in the morning? That was surely unexpected and unusual. Not that you minded though — not only was it your favourite weather due to its aesthetics, but it calmed you in some odd way as well. However, while you were thoroughly enjoying the sound of the rain, something in the back of your mind reminded you that you were missing something important; something you’d even thought of before falling asleep.

And when you sat up, your eyes automatically shifted to the open window, a small curse escaping your lips as you pulled the blanket away and half sprinted to close it. Yes, rain was cool and all, but it had no business wetting your whole bedroom floor, and you had no wish of mopping the floor right after waking up.

You couldn’t help but cringe as you felt water on the floor while shutting the window, cursing at whoever had opened it last night in the first place. Thankfully, however, the amount of water that the wind had brought wasn’t much. It would dry in a moment, you thought, no need to clean it up. Nope. 

With that, you slunk back towards the bed, ready to return to the land of dreams.

As you were getting cosy again, your phone started vibrating incessantly. Mentally cursing at whatever the reason was for your phone to be buzzing so much, you laid there contemplating if you should just grab the device and chuck it out the window into the ongoing storm. No, control yourself. You don’t have the money to do that.

Grabbing the phone, you didn’t even bother checking what was on it, rather just switching it off in sheer spite. Laying there for a moment after that, you tried going back to sleep but soon realised that you weren’t sleepy anymore.

Grumbling, you decided to wake up the sleeping man beside you. Why? Because if you had to be up so early, then he had to as well.

His eyebrows furrowed as you shook his body, his hand coming up to rub his eyes until he let out an annoyed “What?”

But when he saw your mischievous grin and face so close to his, a smile appeared on his lips, the perfect dimples so deep you wanted to hide in them. The grin of a clown had nothing on the pretty man next to you.

“What?” you asked him with a tilt of your head, eyebrows raising as he pulled you down.

“What do you mean ‘what?’”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

The brightness in his expression disappeared slowly as confusion took over, blinking a few times in disbelief until he inquired, “Don’t you remember?”

Remember what?

The cogs in your brain started to rotate again as you thought about his question — and although you soon realised what he was hinting at, you acted oblivious, the need to annoy him too strong to ignore.

“Ah, is it Wednesday already? My assignment is due today,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

Shaking his head, Namjoon gave you a questioning look. “Babe, I’ve been looking forward to this since this year started and managed to remember it, but you didn’t?”

It was your turn to give him a confused look, brows furrowing. “Why would you be looking forward to the due date of my assignment,” you asked, “actually, how did you look forward to it? We were given the work last week.” 

Before he could reply, you gasped - trying desperately to not burst out in laughter at his face. “Oh my god. Are you psychic?” you fake whispered, acting as if you were asking for the recipe to eternal life.

Namjoon contemplated his life choices as he looked at you baffled, eyes nearly hollow as he shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Are you sure, because-”

“Babe, just…” he placed a hand on his face, fingers massaging his temples for a second, “Happy Birthday.”

You looked at him with a playful, devilish grin, brushing your chin with your fingers before you exclaimed, “Oh! It’s my birthday!... What’s a birthday again?”

Namjoon tried to suppress the smile that threatened to surface, tongue running along the inside of his cheek before he pulled you into his chest tightly. “Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”

“What? Me? No,” you said, laughing into his shirt as he squeezed you lovingly, “Why fuck with you when I can fuck you?”

You felt the arms around you loosen before he threw you next to him, the sight too endearing to hold your laughter in. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too, baby. But if you keep pouting, I will bring mint-choco.”

“You hate that, too?” He looked offended but curious as well, one eyebrow cocked at you as he waited for your answer.

You barely shrugged, strands of hair wrapping around your finger. “I wouldn’t be eating it, you would.”

“Why do you hate me?”

You lifted your body, giving him a kiss with a clearly audible muah-sound as you said, “I don’t, baby.”

“My doubt increases the more you threaten me.”

You clicked your tongue, booping his nose. “Then stop giving me reasons to threaten you, sweetheart.”

And when he calmed down, you yawned, listening to the storm as it slowly died down until you finally asked, “So, cooking risotto, baking cake and watching lame movies - that’s the plan for today, right?”

“If we finish all of it, yes,” Namjoon agreed, smiling sweetly - a gesture you found harmless enough to suspect anything behind it.

Jumping from the bed, you tilted your head, stretching out your hand as if you were talking to a child, “Up, up, then.”

Without further annoyance and teasing, the day had passed exactly as you’d expected: with endless giggles, flour on your face (and ass), bad jokes and a near death experience with Namjoon somehow tripping over nothing and barely avoiding a concussion. Finally, he’d managed to serve something somewhat edible while you’d handled the beautiful cake, it was already late, dusk passed and stars twinkled in the clear night sky.

The storm had long vanished and made way to a crystal clear sight - perfect for you to cuddle up and laugh about flopped movies all night long. Stuffing more of the icing and toppings of the cake into your mouth, you barely noticed when he shifted, assuming that he was only going to the bathroom when he pulled you up with him.

Surprised by his sudden move, you looked into his dark, shiny eyes, a questioning look making him speak up, “Do you trust me?”

Scary. One would think a sentence like this meant doom, but the way he looked at you, the fondness and affection so apparent in his gaze, made you simply nod.

“What if I told you there’s something I want to show you that’s a lot better than these movies?”

Then, you broke, eyes rolling as you asked, “Better than badly dubbed Jurassic Park? You have to convince me, Mister Kim.” 

He laughed as he brought his nose to yours, rubbing against it for a second before he pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. When he backed away, he mumbled a “Stay right here” before disappearing into your room. You remained standing at your spot, craning your neck.

“Huh?” was the only sound that left you when he came back with two thin jackets, handing you yours before he took your hand, grabbing the keys and gently urging you out of the apartment.

“Where are we going?” you asked, clutching his hand as he led you to god knew where.

“To the magical lands of Narnia,” he replied, snorting at his own words. He saw an opportunity to tease you and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

Not one to back down, however, you replied, “Wouldn’t that be through our closet then, Mr. Smartass?”

Rolling his eyes, Namjoon chose to ignore your words, pushing open the door to the roof - making you raise an eyebrow.

“Did you bring me here to push me off for all the comments I’ve made today?” you asked, “‘Cause not only is that illegal, it’s also my birthday so that would be quite rude of you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he answered. “If I wanted you dead, I’d much rather poison you.”

Putting a hand on your chest, you gasped. “How scandalous! Though the food you let me taste did make me suspicious,” you said as if deep in thought. 

Namjoon gave you a flat look, not impressed with your jab at his cooking skills. “Do you not want your gifts? Is that it?”

You perked up at the mention of gifts — plural —, looking at him innocently, “Nooo, I do. Gimme, gimme!”

Approaching the edge of the roof further, you noticed a small table, surprisingly dry and decorated with two little flowers and two weird looking glasses. You looked at him in question, pointing at the objects silently until you’d gathered enough words on your tongue to ask, “When did you do this?”

“I mean, this table is always here, but the rest… uh - remember when I told you that I had to take out the trash but took too long to come back?” When you nodded, he moved his head with you as if to indicate Yes, back then.

“And the glasses?” you inquired as you picked one up, faintly recognising them as those one uses to wear at nights when-

“Wait. Wait. I think I remember reading something about an eclipse somewhere.” You watched his expression change, the nervosity fleeing until he gave you a knowing look. “Oh, wait, really now?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He grinned at you, his pretty dyed silver hair floating in the wind as he gestured for you to take a seat. “We’ve looked at the stars before.”

You did as he asked, scanning the table for all its content before landing on a card. Picking it up, you couldn’t help but coo at how cute it was. The card had a cake on it’s center with what seemed to be balloons beside it, Namjoon’s beautiful handwritten ‘Happy Birthday’ on top as a banner. 

“Aww Joonie, you weren’t joking when you said you’d let your niece draw for my next birthday!” you gushed, failing to notice how he gave you an offended look. 

He cleared his throat to get your attention away from the card, “Actually, I made that myself.” 

Your eyes widened at that, lips pressing together so hard that it hurt as you tried not to burst out in laughter. You coughed, trying to mask the chuckles that still left your lips, “Oh babe. That’s um.. I love the card! The attention to all the details on the little cake is so cute!”

He would’ve remarked something snarky, you knew it. But instead, he pointed to the glasses, both of you placing them on your noses before you looked up just in time. Any laughter and giggle left you when you lost yourself in the view above you, mesmerised by the simple natural phenomenon that had you awestruck.

Floating in the eternal void called space, the Earth finally aligned with the sun and moon perfectly, shifting in between and colouring the latter a faint red. It was almost as if your planet’s natural satellite had become angered at the interruption of the sun’s illumination, separated from its lover and showing it in the furious hues of red and orange.

You laughed a little at the thought, sighing right after as your hand moved to find the one of your own lover, clutching it until he moved closer. His fingers left yours soon though, his arm instead wrapping around your shoulder as he pulled you in, your head resting on his chest comfortably as you watched the beauty in the sky silently. With how the colours of the moon changed slowly, the stars were momentarily forgotten, the soft breeze of the spring day grazing your cheeks pleasantly.

And as soon as everything had started, it had ended as well, the Earth finally reconciling the couple in your solar system and you stretched your legs, looking at him in awe. He was folding the glasses in his hands, teeth nibbling at his lower lip nervously without looking at you.

“Joonie,” you called before his stare met yours, eyes so big and confused at his own name that you knew something was off.

But he softened soon, gaze shifting from yours to your nose and settling on your lips. Without a warning, his hand cupped your face softly, mouths colliding and moving tenderly. When he backed away, you smiled, asking, “You’re distracting yourself from the pretty view because of kisses.”

“You’re the prettiest view though.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you sang-song, wiping the hair away from his eyes.

He pressed you closer, still looking at your lips longingly, his expression nearly melancholic as he whispered, “The eclipse is over.”

“Still.”

“You’re here in my arms. The stars, sun and moon? They aren’t.” Despite loving you more than he’d ever considered possible, his lips on yours were the only thing that could distract him from his nervousness, his pounding heart and his shaking limbs.

Your smile melted his insides entirely, your features so soft and inviting that he couldn’t help but let out an overwhelmed sigh, fingers only pressing into you harder as you said, “I’d totally forgotten about the eclipse today.”

“Well, I’d been planning this for quite some while. Wanted to show you something that’s almost as fascinating as you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.” The chairs were uncomfortable, but with him, things always felt peaceful and calming, no space to complain ever.

“Okay then,” you started, kissing his cheek just once, “then show the birthday girl how fascinating she is for you.”

“Are you sure I should?”

And here was the nervous nibbling and distressed gaze again, by now worrying you a little as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did I say something wrong?”

Namjoon was quick to shake his head, waving his hand to dismiss your worries, “You could never, baby.”

“Then what’s up, why do you look so nervous?”

He fidgeted on his spot for a second, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Well, you see, Y/N,” he started, slowly going down on one knee as he pulled out a velvet box from his pocket.

Your breath hitched as you looked at him in shock. Was he going to do what you thought he was?

“You know, I was always a happy, optimistic person and didn’t think life could get better, more wholesome with everything I already had,” he started, taking the glistening in your eyes as a good signal as he continued, “But that was until I met you.”

You could feel the warm tears run down your cheeks and onto the ground, your nails digging into your palms, twitching to reach out for him and hug him as close to you as possible.

“The way you just got me, how you understood me and how we can spend all the nights under this damn sky, look at all the stars and eclipses and shooting stars, and their beauty will still never compare to you. We talk about nothing and everything without any judgement, bicker about the stupidest things but also delve into such deep talks the next second, that’s the happiness you make me feel.” 

There was a clear pause, still something his heart carried, a few words he wanted to say that were the sole reason you didn’t drop to your knees and pressed your lips against his.

“And frankly, I want to keep feeling like this forever,” he said, his voice shaking at the end as the nerves took over yet again. Opening the box in his hand, he presented a beautiful ring that glinted under the moonlight as he finally asked, “So, what do you say, Y/N? Want to make me the happiest man alive and spend the rest of our lives together?”

And finally, your knees gave out, cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss, whispering ‘yes’ over and over again.

Pulling back from you, he looked into your eyes, his own looking as if they were shining. “Are you sure?” he asked, his wide anticipation filled eyes reminding you of a puppy.

“Of course I am! Of course, Joon, I love you so much,” you replied, pulling him back into another kiss, smiling as you felt him put the ring on your finger. 

You broke the kiss, looking down to inspect the ring that sat on your finger. “It’s beautiful.”

Namjoon smiled, pulling you into his embrace and placing a kiss on top of your head. “Not as beautiful as you.”

if you liked the story, don’t forget to like/reblog or send us an ask !! <3

[krys-loves-otome]

Fictober 2020, Day 4: That Didn’t Stop You Before

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku: Romances Across Time Rating: General Pairings: Mitsuhide & Kyubei; Mitsuhide/Female Reader Insert Summary: Mitsuhide is late coming home one day. He hears from his trusted vassal Kyubei just how much his wife missed him. A companion piece to my fic Rub My Belly  Warnings/Tags: Pregnancy, the looming responsibility of future parenthood, Fluff, Is Kyubei being a bit of a smartass a warning? Probably not, but I’m saying it anyway.

My Fanfic Master List!

-----

To most of the outside world, Mitsuhide Akechi seemed the very definition of nonchalance. He always had an endless reservoir of quick wit and patience that made many a soul both incensed and envious.

That is, until he met his wife.

------

If one was to watch him long enough, they could see the edges of that carefully crafted fox mask crumble when those golden eyes were settled on the lady of his house. It amused Kyubei, Mitsuhide's most loyal vassal, as he watched his lord compose himself before he was to surprise his napping lady in the garden.

"How was she last night, Kyubei?"

Though the vassal was known to have the same unruffled nature as his lord, Kyubei couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.

"Fretting most of the night because of your absence, my lord. When she wasn't pacing the floors, she was frantically sorting through her fabric collection to find her softest fabrics. She mumbled a lot about what could make a good blanket or what could make for a tiny kimono."

Kyubei helped Mitsuhide out of his clothes, changing into another kimono to remove the traces of his late-night work. Though the lady of the Akechi manor was accustomed to her husband's usual line of work, the residual scent of it on her husband bothered her more as of late. And neither lord nor vassal wished to stress her more.

"She also cursed your name a few times before she exhausted herself and went to bed."

"That sounds more like my lovely wife." Mitsuhide chuckled, "who knew one night away could cause her this much distress."

"She does care a lot for you, Lord Mitsuhide," said Kyubei, "And, if I may say so, you did leave her and Azuchi to go on a suicidal mission once upon a time."

"That incident has long since passed, Kyubei."

"The lady addressed it in her worries last night."

"All over one night of absence?"

"She is with child, my lord. The castle staff believes because she's with your child, her worries are now manifesting stronger than before because there will soon be two of you in this world."

Mitsuhide gave him a blank look.

"Tell me you're joking, Kyubei."

"Half-so, sir."

Mitsuhide sighed, running a hand through his hair but chuckled.

"As though a child that's like her wouldn't lead to my certain death. Two of them in this world would be too much for me."

Though Kyubei still kept his placid expression, his small smile was tugging harder at his mouth corners.

"A fear of death has never stopped you before. I highly doubt it would stop you now, even with fatherhood looming over you."

Mitsuhide smiled mischievously.

"My wife and any future children of ours has a far stronger grip on me than death does. I fear for them far more than I fear death."

"My condolences, Lord Mitsuhide," he chuckled and turned his attention back to the sleeping lady in the garden.

"I doubt she fears death either, sleeping so vulnerably like that."

"So, you understand my fear, Kyubei." He turned to watch his wife as well, sleeping away as if she didn't have a care in the world. "Is this why you never found a love of your own?"

"On the contrary," said Kyubei, "the greatest joy I've found is serving you and your house. To watch you and yours prosper is the only love I could ever ask for."

"You flatter me, Kyubei. Though I won't blame you if you decide to leave me if one of my children pulls your hair out or soils your robes."

"You speak as though I haven't experienced worse things than keeping children company, my lord."

"It will be my children you will be looking after, as the castle staff fears."

"And I still serve you, despite your flaws."

Mitsuhide laughed.

"Fair enough."

He turned back to watching his wife, her head resting between her shoulder and the bark of the tree. The bark texture would undoubtedly be very comfortable against her face, so with the final tightening of his sash, he stepped towards the garden, slipping on his sandals along the way.

"Inform the staff that I wish to be alone with my wife this evening. I fear for the poor soul that would dare to separate me from my wife again, especially if they have to deal with her wrath."

"As you wish, my lord." Kyubei bowed, knowing fully well it wouldn't be just the Lady Akechi's wrath that poor soul had to endure, but the wrath of the lord as well. A fate few survived unscathed from... if they were lucky enough to still be left alive afterward.

As he turned back to his previous task, Kyubei took a moment to watch Mitsuhide and his lady. His lord tenderly lifted her, so she rested more comfortably on his shoulder and chest. His arm circled protectively to hold her closer as his other hand gave similar loving attention to his lady's swollen abdomen. That was when the vassal finally let his smile fully realize itself. Mitsuhide wasn't the only one of the Akechi household that wouldn't let anything happen to this small family, his family, no matter the consequences to himself, he realized.

With a final nod no one else saw, Kyubei turned away and walked down the hall.

[wexarethewalkingxdead]

“  i’m not leaving you. not ever.  ”  (from Michonne to Shane)

@we-will-begin-again

softer prompts - @we-will-begin-again​

NO LONGER ACCEPTING!

“  i’m not leaving you. not ever.  ”  

Shane could barely hold his head up as his teeth chattered together. His entire body hurt as if he'd been hit by a Mack truck. Or even a train. He groaned softly as he shifted slightly as he tried to find a comfortable position. The medicine that she'd managed to find for him hadn't done much but lower his fever. "Mich, you need to go. Can't risk you catchin' this. Don't seem to be shakin' it." Maybe this is what would take him out. Michonne's eyes narrowed, lips turned down into a frown. She knew what he was doing, and she wasn't about to let him do it. "I'm not leaving you. Not ever." She reached for the bottle of water and unscrewed the cap. "Drink. Gotta keep you hydrated if you're going to kick this flu."

He frowned, knowing full well that he couldn't convince her to leave. She was just as stubborn as him. Maybe more so. He opened his mouth, allowing her to help him take a drink from the water bottle. He frowned when he realized that was the last of it and that it had been the last bottle. "Should have kept it for yourself. You need it, too."

"Nonsense." She stood and bent down over him to readjust his blankets, pulling them up to his chin and covering his shoulders before she placed the back of her hand to his forehead. "Fever seems to be staying down." She reached for her sword and the small empty pack. "You stay in that bed. I'm going to find us some more water. Hopefully some food. And remember, I'll know if your ass gets out of bed."

He snorted, rolling his eyes which caused his head to throb. He groaned. "Yes, mother," he replied sarcastically.

"Serves you right for being a smartass, Walsh."

[fandom-necromancer]

A fresh start alternate part 2

This was prompted by a lovely anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: referenced childhood trauma, mentioned self-harm, self-harm-scars) [Part 1]   [alternate ending to part 1]   [continuation Fowler&Connor]

Gavin wouldn’t have believed it if someone would have told him how much relief talking about his problems had brought him. It felt good not being alone with it anymore and his work relationship with Nines had bettered itself too. The bot wasn’t too bad. For the first time it felt like someone really wanted to work with him. His humour was clunky, and his perfectionism could be really annoying, but all in all they slowly grew together making the perfect team. It hadn’t taken long for Gavin to hope for more. He was careful not to think too much into it, but they gradually spent more time around each other. Nines knew him better than anyone else and Gavin in turn had opened up to him. Still it took him several weeks to invite the android over to his place. From there it seemed to go faster as Nines would sometimes crash on his couch (and bed) for the whole weekends sometimes. They didn’t exactly live together yet, but they spent more time together than separated by now. And it felt nice. Not being alone. Living together with someone who appreciated him and who he adored. All his resentments against the machines had been quickly thrown out to make more room for new memories.

It helped that Nines never judged him for what he did. When a long day called for the blade, he let him do it. The only thing the android insisted on was that he was allowed to sit next to him, talk with him about it and take care of him afterwards. After some time, Gavin even noticed that that was enough already sometimes. The sneaky bastard tried to condition him into talking with him rather than cutting himself, but like hell he would ever try to stop him. Nines just wanted to help, and he was successful with his tactics. He had even managed to make Gavin feel comfortable enough around him at home to wear short sleeves or fold them back his lower arm, the scars on full display. Nines had seen them anyways already, so what would it hurt?

Gavin also rather liked the attention Nines gave them, caressing the imperfections of his skin and tracing along the lines. Just like he did now on their cosy afternoon lying on the couch. Gavin had his back against the android’s chest, the gentle vibrating hum and the warmth of the thick blanket making him feel sleepy already. Nines fingers were slowly dancing along his forearms, his steady breath in his hair. Gavin could only sigh, seeping into each and every touch. ‘What?’, the android asked amused. ‘Nothing’, Gavin hummed. No talking please. That would only ruin the moment. Nines huffed out a laugh, the expansion of his chest like a disturbance. ‘You are far too cute like this.’ ‘M not cute’, he mumbled and tensed his shoulders a little. Nines laid his head on his shoulder to whisper in his ear: ‘Then you should see yourself right now. You are adorable.’

‘Stop it’, Gavin said louder, trying to sound determined but ended up laughing through it. His hand only half-heartedly pushed Nines’ head away. ‘Never’, Nines commented, kissing his cheek. ‘Alright, well, now you woke me up again…’, the human complained. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Nah, it’s okay. Let’s talk about something.’ ‘How about your brother?’, Nines suggested. ‘What? Nines, I said “let’s talk about something”, not “let’s ruin the whole evening”!’ ‘Why? I thought you said you never had a problem with him, only with your parents.’

Gavin sighed. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’ ‘Then why not meet up with him sometime?’ ‘Other question: Why meet up with him?’ ‘It could help you come to terms with your past, Gavin.’ ‘What is this? Therapy?’, the man complained. ‘In a way’, Nines shrugged. ‘And so far everything worked out fine.’ ‘I know, smartass. But I can still whine about it, can’t I?’ ‘Of course. That means you consider it?’ Gavin deflated. ‘Fine, we’ll do it.’

-

‘Phck, I don’t even know what we should talk about’, Gavin cursed and held his head in growing frustration. It was a bad idea, he knew it, but there was no going back now. They had already cleaned, set the table, and cooked and Elijah was on his way. The waiting killed him. ‘You will find something’, Nines tried to soothe him, massaging his shoulders. ‘It will be awkward as hell’, Gavin groaned. ‘In the beginning, maybe. It will work out.’ ‘You really think so?’ ‘I know it.’

Gavin really wished he had Nines’ confidence as the doorbell rang and he stood up to open it. He stared into the face of a man he had not seen in a very long time. CEO of Cyberlife, reclusive hermit and CEO of Cyberlife again. Gifted child. A man so much better than him and reason for all his problems. And still his brother who wasn’t at all to blame for any of it. ‘Hello, Gavin’, Elijah greeted him as the silence stretched for too long and held out his hand. Gavin took it. He looked sleek and Gavin doubted a normal human could afford the clothes he wore, but at least he had tried to look casual and he appreciated that. ‘Hey, Elijah. Has been a while I guess.’ ‘Too long’, the man nodded and stepped inside the house as Gavin stepped aside. ‘Nines’, the RK900 introduced himself next. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’ ‘Oh. Of course.’

Elijah lifted a brow and looked back at Gavin. ‘Hey, I never hid the fact I’m gay, okay? You just never asked’, the man got defensive. ‘Oh, no I didn’t mean that’, Elijah was quick to say as he hung up his jacket. ‘Just thought you hated androids.’ ‘I did’, Gavin nodded as he led them towards the table. ‘Things change. He’s my partner at work and…’ He looked up at the android and Nines smiled. ‘I think it is only a question of time until “good friends” fails to describe our relationship’, he politely helped out. ‘That’s… Good for you’, Elijah smiled, sitting down taken a bit off-guard by the suddenly very personal topic. ‘He helps me a lot with my… well, I got a lot of mental stuff and general… problems, I guess.’

He was about to stand up ad help Nines, but the android gestured him to stay seated and leave it to him. ‘He was also the one to suggest us meeting up.’ ‘It’s a good idea’, Elijah agreed. ‘I… Damn, we are brothers. But we lost contact when? We were both still in school, I think… It’s been too long, and I’ve been too much of a chicken shit to call you.’ ‘Hey, same’, Gavin shrugged and threw Nines a grateful look as he came with two plates for them. ‘Part of it was also that I just wanted to leave everything behind me. Start anew.’ ‘What do you think why I put everything into my androids?’, Elijah laughed. ‘Felt the same way.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Did you think I didn’t notice what was going on? Just because you are praised to the moon and back doesn’t mean you don’t see what he was doing to you. I didn’t want to have anything to do with the asshole that drove you out of our home.’

Gavin began eating and used the time to think. ‘Shit, I never thought of you noticing it.’ ‘Sure I did. Thought you’d hate me for it. Leaving you alone with them. Being the reason you had... well a shitty childhood.’ ‘Nah, I don’t hate you’, Gavin mumbled. ‘Thank god.’ Elijah sighed and immediately was embarrassed of his relief. ‘Sorry. I thought you called me to scream at me. The entire drive I was mulling over ways to apologise to you.’ Gavin grinned. ‘Shit, should’ve done that then.’ Elijah smiled too and both continued eating in comfortable silence. Gavin didn’t look up, but he would swear Nines was particularly proud of himself in that moment.

‘Okay, who of you two cooked? This is amazing’, Elijah complimented. ‘Oh, we always cook together. But Nines really is the expert, I just follow orders.’ ‘What, my little brother obeying orders?’ ‘Shut up idiot’, Gavin chuckled. ‘You want another serving?’ ‘Oh, I’d love to!’ This time Gavin was faster than Nines and walked over to take Eli’s plate. Only when he had the rim in his hand the light hit his arm and Gavin near visibly flinched. Elijah of course immediately had his hand on his wrist to get a better look. ‘Gavin. What is this?’

The man let go of the plate and jerked his arm out of his hand. ‘Hey, I said I got mental stuff, okay? None of your business.’ ‘You… are these scars from cutting yourself?’ Gavin didn’t answer. ‘Gavin, that is serious, you should be seeing a therapist. This-‘ ‘I already did!’, the Detective interrupted. ‘I did and it did nothing. But I’m getting better, Nines helps me and I don’t have the need for it quite as often!’ ‘Gavin I… I can pay it for you. The best therapist in Detroit, I can-‘ ‘I don’t need your help!’, Gavin shouted, silencing the man. ‘I don’t need it and I don’t want it. And if you say another word, you can leave.’ Nines was ready to intercept their argument, but Elijah already bowed his head. ‘Sorry. I… I’m just worried. Doesn’t it hurt?’ ‘That’s kinda the goal’, Gavin spoke, calmed down again. ‘And don’t worry. I’m far from being suicidal, it’s just a way to… well, cope. When days are really bad. But lately I tend towards talking to Nines over cutting myself. He helps me with it. I’m in good hands.’

Elijah stood up, taking Gavin’s plate from him and setting it aside before hugging him. ‘God, Gavin, if it was that bad… If I had known…’ ‘I kept it a secret, you couldn’t have known.’ ‘But I should have!’ ‘It’s fine. As I said, it was really bad when I still lived with our parents. It’s gotten better after that and now that I’m not alone anymore it gets better from day to day. Don’t think I can ever stop the urge, but I give in less.’ Eli’s grip on him tightened. ‘Shit, Gav, how can I help? We are still brothers. We haven’t talked in a while, but I still love you and care for you.’ ‘That’s already enough to help, Eli’, Gavin smiled into the man’s shoulder. ‘We could try to be real brothers again, meet more often?’

Elijah let him go again and nodded. ‘That sounds perfect. My door is always open for you.’ ‘Thank you.’ Gavin took the two plates again and resisted the urge to pull his sleeves down again to hide the scars. He was at home and save and Eli had seen them now anyways. It would be fine. He would be fine.

‘Now do you want that second plate or no?’

[hvlfwygod]

know your strength, part 1 | ben & patrick

tw: drug use

June 16

Sometimes, anger was like a living thing.

Once he started considering them, there were too many instances to count. Too many too-perfect coincidences. Too many people conveniently hurt or sick or scared. Comeuppance served too neatly.

Why his panic brought him here, he didn’t know. But as he waited and waited and waited for his world to end, some quiet part of him that remembered everything and was angry at everyone said: there’s something you can do.

A childhood spotted with blanks and blurred out memories, and now, and now, this unburied itself from his psyche.

Too much.

(None of these instances, he noted, involved the one man who probably deserved it the most.)

You have had ample time to perfect it. He wanted to punch something.

—

It was a night for forgetting. Well, almost.

Three lines were all that remained, and then he was out.

Out out. No more after this. Empty stomachs after this.

At least I still can’t dream, he thought with a bitter, spiteful laugh.

That, at least, he might be able to change. It was night for forgetting, except for that.

The detour to comfort his best friend might have put this off another night. But he’d left the conversation too riled up, too ready to act on it. He needed his heart to move faster so he could catch up to his thoughts.

He paced himself, but it didn’t last as long as he hoped. It wasn’t ceremonious, he hadn’t savored it. 

He crashed hard into sleep.

June 17

He was whisking eggs when he remembered another one. Of course, he thought. Of course.

Derek Esposito, ripping through a classmate’s bag. Unearthing a book— Ben did not remember the title— a spew of jeers and homophobia and laughter. A twisted arm, Ben stepping in. A shove, a threat, a slew of insults.

He couldn’t remember details because he had been so angry. That part was clear. He’d been mad, mad, mad. His arm sore where Derek had wrapped his fingers around it. Derek walking away, climbing, climbing— a rock wall? (No, different time, different time.) The monkey bars. He’d perched on top and opened the book, began reading— I’m reading to you, Ferarri, since you can’t.

He remembered silence, all at once. He remembered just his heart beating. And then Derek falling, his body folding just the right way to slip through the bars and hit the ground as fast as possible. Derek’s arm, somehow behind him, twisted and crushed and Derek yelling, crying, all bravado gone after a break that bad.

How had he forgotten something so obvious?

Ben kept whisking.

—

Patrick woke up swearing. He was half-out of bed, tangled in his blanket, staring into the muted darkness. His neck was killing him.

But something happened. It had been so fast, so fleeting, a strobe light of images but he made it change. His dream had changed.

He swore again, excitement and frustration cutting him up like knives. He was bleeding with urgency. 

Except, there was no way he could fall asleep now. He was too worked up. This amped while sober meant he was really electric, today. Sleep would have to wait.

Anger was one hell of a motivator. He couldn’t wait to tell Cleo.

—

When he finished cooking, Ben put half of the food aside, took a few bites of toast, then decided he wasn’t hungry after all.

A good night’s sleep cleared his head of most of the paranoia. He was no longer convinced that Cleo was waiting outside with a ghost or a knife or some fucked up witch magic or possibly all three. In that regard, he was fine.

But there was something strange about the realization that he’d severely wounded one of his former classmates. There was something off-putting about the fact that at his most panicked, Ben had considered going that far again, on purpose. 

It ruined his appetite, if nothing else.

His mother’s portion he left in his room, positioned on his dresser. Ben considered the setup, then fetched a candle. 

What would she tell him? What was he even going to say? What even was his biggest issue? Colin? Cleo? Himself? Mom, how many people have I hurt?

He decided that he wasn’t ready to have this conversation without at least some coffee. “Please don’t burn the apartment down,” he mumbled to the candle as he stepped into his shoes.

—

Hazy sunlight streaked in through the windows. Patrick abused his glasses as he poured himself a Bloody Mary.

When it was over, he realized that was well and truly it. Nothing left but tap water.

Why had he used all his stash last night?

Gods, he missed his dreams. The last time he was this broke, he could at least rule the world when he slept.

He would get them back soon. He would get them back soon.

Patrick checked his watch. It was late enough in the morning, and the one cafe that had’t banned him was open by now.

He didn’t even have money for this, he reminded himself. But he went out anyway.

—

All coffee did was make his heart race, and he hadn’t even drank any. Ben stared glumly at his cup, watching the steam curl over the liquid as he took the long way home. While he walked, his mind retreated away from the cool morning air and into some fraught middle school memory. How he wished he could go back to before remembering.

This was too much to think about before noon. Ben paused, closed his eyes, inhaled some of the steam. The scent of coffee, the nearby flowers, something sweet and fragrant from an unknown source; it pulled him back to the present. He lifted his gaze, and there was a hand moving too fast toward him. Ben flinched, but instead of hitting him, Patrick just grabbed his coffee out of his surprised hands.

“Funny, I was just thinking about getting one of these” the son of Morpheus said. He drank Ben’s drink, then pinned him to the spot with a glare. “Wanna explain yesterday to me?”

Ben stared at his cup, still steaming. He imagined it spilling all over Patrick’s shoes. “No thanks,” he said.

“Okay, let me rephrase.” Patrick lifted the cup and drank some more. “Tell me about yesterday before I bash your face in.”

There was a slight pause, then Ben shrugged. “Go ask Cleo if you can’t remember all the details.”

This earned him a fist closed around his shirt collar. For a moment, Ben thought the coffee would end up in his face, but Patrick must have really wanted it.

“Don’t be a smartass, Prius.”

Gods, of course he’d talked to Raf, too. Ben stared Patrick in the eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Watch your mouth,” Patrick warned in a tone that made Ben’s skin crawl. “If you piss me off any more you’ll never have a good night’s sleep again.”

Ben placed a hand over Patrick’s, trying to pry his fist open. “Fuck you. Nightmares is all you got? Go ahead. I’m basically immune at this point, but you could give it a shot.”

Patrick’s face twisted into something almost feral, then he let go of Ben. His mouth curved into a smile. “Deal.”

Idiot. Idiot. He’s actually going to fuck you up.

But as much as he thought he should care, Ben didn’t. Some quiet part of him that understood these kinds of things better said: anything Patrick might do, you can take it. You could do worse.

So he met Patrick’s smile with a hard, unblinking stare. “Are we done?”

A shrug, a lazy confidence that was only slightly unsettling. “For now.”

“Great.”

He didn’t bother getting another coffee.

June 18

Patrick felt like shit.

He expected it, considering how long he’d been sober. He could feel the rattling at the edges of his brain.

He wasn’t thinking about that, right now.

It was past midnight, and the beginnings of a painting were in front of him. It was mostly gray and shadows. There was an empty space in the middle of the canvas, waiting to be filled in.

Now he just needed to find the best image to complete it.

Sometimes, anger was like a living thing.

Once he fell asleep, he emerged into his dream determined. He cradled it, gripped it in his hands. This is mine, he said and thought and stamped into the ground. Listen to me.

He’d gotten so used to dreams sliding past him; he felt like an explosion was taking place in his chest when everything stopped and everything listened.

So all he’d needed, all this time, was the right target. The right anger.

Stupid, Patrick. Stupid. You wasted so much time. But he was laughing. He was floating.

He went to the sea, and then a glittering and dangerous version of a California boardwalk, and then he disintegrated the wolves that stared him down and bared their teeth but never got the fucking attack over with. Then he walked out of his dream and searched, and searched.

—

Ben woke up all at once. His breathing was erratic, his ribcage felt at once too tight and too expansive.

He placed his hands on his chest, easing his heart to slow, slow.

Whatever the nightmare was, the memory of it was already fading. But the fear remained like an acid in his blood. Ben could feel a quake deep, deep inside him.

His mother had never come. Ben waited all day for a sign, a glimpse, a hidden message. Nothing but silence had answered his offering.

Still. Still. Ben stared into the dark. Mom?

The night went on, on, on, on. She wasn’t coming.

Ben closed his eyes. He fell asleep.

He woke, his heart in his throat.

Fuck you. Ben braced himself. He fell asleep.

He woke up.

[consumedkings-archive]

Hehehe. #1 for John and El please! (Yes I will always indulge you, please feed me)

this took so long I’M SORRY!! i wrote like 3 versions of this all with entirely different plotlines and just decided on a deleted scene from ancient names, following the first time john and elliot bang it out (lol). thank you so much beloved, i hope you like these two goblins being smartasses with each other!!! i adore you endlessly!!

john/elliot + “why... why did you just take off your shirt?” no warnings, talk of a previous steamy interaction and you know. these two can’t shut the fuck up

words: ~900

Well, Elliot thought, this is a problem.

She was pleasantly aching, and it was late in the evening, and she could feel the sting of love bites on her neck and shoulders and, though her back was facing the center of the bunkhouse where she lay in bed, she could hear John rustling around.

It shouldn’t have been weird. In hindsight, Elliot thought maybe she should have seen this kind of thing coming from a mile away—she’d practically fallen over herself when they met all those years ago at the bar, and even though she was different now, she didn’t know if she was different enough to not fall for all of the tricks. Boy, wasn’t there just something about the gratifying sting of John saying, you make me so fucking mad into her mouth?

Yeah. There was. Something really good, something that writhed hot and desirous in her stomach every time she thought about it, like she’d started unlatching the locks to something more than a little wicked inside of her and it was hungry.

Now, though, she didn’t know what she was going to do. Her brain still felt a little hazy and muggy from it all, and John was here, and she didn’t know how to say you can stay if you want without making him think she wanted him to stick around. She did, but he didn’t need to know that, and the less he thought it was her idea the better.

“So,” Elliot started, staring at the wall, “it’s pretty late, and...”

Just tell him it’s fine, she thought, just fucking say it, you coward. It’s not a big deal.

She rolled over in the bed, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders, and tried again, “And if you—”

John blinked at her expectantly. All of that rustling around had been his clothes. Though he’d barely gotten undressed to fuck her, he was now in the process of removing all of his clothing; dark jeans deposited somewhere on the floor, his shirt shrugged off and tossed onto the pile.

“Why...” Elliot stopped. Her face felt hot, and it shouldn’t have, they’d literally just had sex, but it was one thing to fuck haphazardly against a wall and another to have John practically stripped down in front of her. “Why did you just take your shirt off?”

Trying not to let her eyes wander too much—really trying—she instead fixed her gaze on John’s face, which ended up being a bigger mistake than averting her eyes elsewhere, because John’s mouth cocked into a smile that was too smug for him to have not noticed the heat crawling up her throat and into her cheeks.

“You mean the shirt that you ripped open?” he reiterated, quite pleased with himself.

“Yes,” she said. When she failed to elaborate, John made his way over to the bed—twin sized, certainly not meant to fit the both of them—and lifted the edge of the blanket to slid in beside her.

“Why would I keep it on, Elliot?”

“Dunno,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat when his arm slid around her bare midsection. “Just didn’t think you were gonna...”

“Stick around?” He grinned, and she couldn’t see it, but she could feel it against her cheekbone, his breath fluttering along her temple. “And miss the way you go absolutely red in the face when you see me without my clothes on, despite the fact that just moments ago you were ordering me to—”

Elliot slapped her hand over his mouth. “Okay, smartass,” she snipped. “I was actually offering to let you sleep here when you took it upon yourself to assume that would be fine anyway, so now I have half a mind to take it back and tell you to go fuck yourself.”

John made a muffled sound against her hand, and then she felt his tongue flicker out against her fingers and she yanked her hand off of his face.

“Can’t believe you were going to offer,” he purred against her skin.

“Me either.” She rolled her eyes. “This bed is way too fucking small to fit both of us comfortably.”

“Not like this, maybe,” John replied, skimming his fingers along the slope of her hips, toying with the band of her underwear. “But if you were less interested in sleeping, we could move around a little and make it work. You could be real comfy.”

“I seem to recall threatening not to let you finish next time because of that mouth of yours,” she said, swatting his hand away. “So eager to get dragged through it, are you?”

The brunette made a low noise of amusement, burying his face into her neck and kissing there with a pleasant rumble.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She felt his teeth drag lightly across her skin, and he added, “I’ll play by your rules, if you want.”

Yes, a part of her said, but she wouldn’t—she planted her hand firmly on his forehead and pushed his face out from her neck, rolling firmly onto her side so that her back was to him. Fucker, she thought, more loudly than the area of her brain that was complaining she wasn’t taking him up on his offer. Stupid, handsome, pretentious fucker. Serves you right.

“Message received,” he said, even though the smugness in his voice somehow tried to implied the message hadn’t been received at all—not the one she wanted to send, anyway. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

Elliot stifled a long-suffering sigh.

“Goodnight, John.”

[gray-morality]

Layers

LAYER ONE: The Outside

Name: Katsuro Wakahisa Eye Color: Crimson Hair Style/Color: Black Height: 5′ 6″ Clothing Style: Both practical and stylish. The man is rather on the vanity side and looking good is important. Leather or “Garlean enhanced” if he needs protective gear. Nothing that could compromise his position. (Noisy chainmail) Best Physical Feature: His face, generally speaking. He has that square jaw and prominent cheekbones that can easily turn heads.

LAYER TWO: The Inside

Your Fears: “Losing my family and losing my purpose.” Your Guilty Pleasure: “Walking under the rain. It always soothes me even if it serves no other purpose.” Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “Smartasses. That you have the knowledge or skill you pretend to have is irrelevant. Just act with some humility. Your Ambition for the Future: “Be a better man than my father which, frankly, may not be that hard. But now that I have a son of my own, I want to be the best I can be for him.”

LAYER THREE: Thoughts

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “The list of tasks I have to do for the day.” What You Think About the Most: “Anything and everything work related.” What You Think About Before Bed: “Usually my son, as I always go check up on him before I slip under the blankets.” You Think Your Best Quality Is: “Determination. I rarely, if ever, give up. Despite the ordeals, despite the pain, I always get back up.”

LAYER FOUR: What’s Better?

Single or Group Dates?: “Single dates. I’m not a social creature. If I go on a date, it’s because of one person, not the others. To be Loved or Respected?: “Respected. Love is rare, and can disappear as fast as it came. If one finds it at all. But respect can come a long way, especially for business relations.” Beauty or Brains?: “Brains. Granted my looks is important but it may not last forever.” Dogs or Cats?: “Neither? I’m not much of an animal person. Though I do like reptiles.”

LAYER FIVE: Do You?

Lie?: “I avoid it but it’s sometimes necessary in my line of work.” Believe in Yourself?: “Yes, though I know my own limits.” Believe in Love?: “Yes. Even if it may be fleeting.” Want Someone?: “No. I lost my wife and she was the only one I wanted. If my heart will ever love someone else is a mystery even to me. But, as my desires are linked to my emotional connection, I know for certain I won’t ‘want’ anyone until my heart is in it as well.”

LAYER SIX: Ever?

Been on Stage: “No.” Done Drugs: “No. I need to keep my wits about me at all time.” Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “For specific circumstances, but not permanently.”

LAYER SEVEN: Favorites

Color: “Black and red.” Animal: “Reptiles. Snakes and drakes especially.” Food: “Rice and vegetable. Nothing fancy. I do love plums as well.” Game: “Luck is not on my side, nor do I flirt with it. I avoid gambling as much as possible.”

LAYER EIGHT: Age

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “8th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon” How Old Will You Be: “I literally turned 41 three days ago.” Age You Lost Your Virginity: “It wasn’t a pleasant experience as it was done without my consent. I’ll say no more on that subject.” Does Age Matter?: “Depends entirely for what.”

LAYER NINE: In a Partner

Best Personality: “Is this a dating agency? And really, it’s more of them getting along with me than me trying to find something specific in others. I’m… not easy to be around.” Best Eye Color: “II couldn’t care less.” Best Hair Color: “Seriously? Who cares.” Best Thing to do With a Partner: “If I ever get interested in you, then maybe you’ll get to know.”

LAYER TEN: Finish the Sentence

I love: “My family – my son and my adoptive father. You make this life bearable.” I feel: “Very tired of this interrogation. Please tell me it’s almost over.” I miss: “My beloved and the house we used to share.” I wish: “I was somewhere else right now. We’re done, right? Yes, we are quite done.”

 Tagged by @thefreelanceangel��� ♥

[breakdownsbuttlights]

EoS Human AU: Guest Author!

Still on the subject of Ratchet’s (now infamous) box of condoms, and more specifically what might have happened if he hadn’t hid them as cleverly as he might have, @pumapardus sent me this treasure of a ficlet, which takes place in the EoS human AU shortly after Ratchet finds Drift. She didn’t want to post it on her blog (which isn’t TF-related), which is why I’m putting it here: it was too funny and sweet and pitch-perfect not to share somewhere. So, without further ado....

Drift sat propped up in the cot, pillows and spare blankets rolled and tucked behind him to lever him nearly upright. He held up his head and looked around, alert, a reassuring change from seeing him reclined back listlessly, too weak to even sit up. Ratchet surreptitiously checked his color, reactions, alertness, all with a practiced eye from his spot on the floor while repacking his medical kit bag.

Days ago, Drift’s body was crisscrossed with bandages, binding bruised ribs, burns on his hand and arms from the hot sand, a half-healed and infected head wound, and a particularly nasty laceration- to the bone- on his lower leg from a peccary with razor sharp tusks. Ratchet had found him out in the desert, far from his camp and sick from drinking stagnant water, still sluggishly bleeding and delirious from dehydration and malnutrition. After hurriedly slapping a pressure bandage on the tusk wound, he hefted a hallucinating and thrashing Drift over his shoulder, and made his way back to his converted campbulance- all the perks of an ambulance, most of the comforts of home.

Once inside, in the cool air conditioning, he hooked a sedated Drift up to a saline drip loaded with long-acting antibiotics, and set to work cleaning and suturing the gaping leg wound. 45 minutes and 26 stitches later, Drift had one less hole in him for Ratchet to worry about. The second degree burns on his hands and arms were treated next-- cold compresses, cooling ointment, and nonstick burn gauze, covered by more bandages. Those would heal quickly.

After hooking up another IV unit of saline, Ratchet focused his attention on Drift’s head wound. Dried blood matted Drift’s hair over his right temple, and Ratchet needed to rinse the hair clean to see the wound. Partially healed, and clearly infected, that shallow injury was deftly cleaned and closed. Drift’s hair was kept swept to the other side, and the white bandage had been stark contrast to his darker hair.

Now, days later and with fevers under control, with the exception of the narrow bandages on the still tender burns on his wrists, Drift looked in less serious condition. Better color in his face, and brighter, clear eyes, no longer glazed by fevers. The head wound was a healing line of pink, and his hastily washed hair was drying fluffy and shiny again. Ratchet had offered him the choice of what he wanted first: clean, or food? Clean, he’d chosen. Food second.

Pulling his mind out of his thoughts, Ratchet realized Drift was talking to him. He paused in his counting. “Hm?” he hummed absently, holding his number in his head while he sorted packs of gauzes. Finally pulling his eyes and attention from his project on the floor, Ratchet finally focused back on Drift.

“I said, ‘do you seriously have a box of condoms in your field medical kit’?” Drift was giving him a Look. He held a bowl in his hands, slowly working through his first solid food meal in days- a small serving of some kind of reconstituted vegan brothy soup Ratchet had packed with him in mind. It was hot, savory, and gentle on his stomach. Ratchet had warned him to eat it slowly, and the kid seemed to be following directions well enough this time.

“Condoms are a perfectly legitimate survival item to have in an emergency kit!” Ratchet gruffed, totally not babbling as he snatched up the item and hastily tucked the box away deep into the bag. Dammit, he’d all but forgotten those were in there while he pulled everything out… He reached for more bandage rolls, tucking them in a side pocket. Scattered about him on the floor are still more packs, bags, vials, and sealed packages- sterilized tools, cannulas, saline packs, suture kits, gauzes, tape, a variety of bandages, nitrile gloves, ointments and several kinds of medications. He counted several rattling bottles and stashed them.

Drift sipped at his soup and watched Ratchet. The spoon sat untouched beside him, though he slurped the noodles loudly, more to exasperate Ratchet than anything. “You forgot lube.” he snarked playfully, hiding his face with his bowl as he drank more.

“I didn’t “forget” anything,” Ratchet grumbled, airquotes included. That wasn’t a lie at all. He’d actually left the small bottle of lube tucked inside the kit bag, out of sight, in the same inside pocket the damned condoms should have been in, but Drift certainly didn’t need to know that. Had could have legit medical reasons for the former- he had less for the latter. “I’ve even got these in my kit.” He grabbed a small packet and tossed it up to Drift, hoping for a distraction, and kept on storing his supplies.

“Tampons? What do you need those for in a medical field kit to come find me?” Drift tossed them back down, and Ratchet caught them.

“They’re perfect for survival or medical kits!” Ratchet was positive he didn’t actually splutter the answer. “They come in their own little waterproof packages, and are sterile. They can slow the bleeding from a gunshot wound, or, in a pinch, be used a bandage, or tinder to start a fire. They can even be used to filter water in an emergency.” Ratchet shook the packet in Drift’s direction for emphasis before depositing it inside, not at all flustered, he kept trying to convince himself. He scooped up the rest of the supplies and closed his kit bag, lurching off the floor to stash it on the shelf above Drift’s cot.

Deeply engrossed in sipping more from his bowl, Drift muttered into it, “So, what are some legit medical reasons for the other box, Ratch?” He lifted his eyes to Ratchet’s, flashing with challenge, even as he swallowed.

A fierce blush crept up Ratchet’s face, and he pretended it didn’t. “...Keeping matches dry...?” he offered, lamely.

“Useful... if you want to get someone hot...” came the smartass reply. Drift grinned and quirked an eyebrow.

Ratchet thought fast, embarrassment beginning to derail his thought process. “Emergency tourniquet.”

“In case someone has a situation with blood flow?” Drift’s grin widened. Ratchet scrubbed a hand helplessly down his increasingly reddening face.

“You... you could have made that joke for the tampons- try again!” he barked back. He thought of another potential survival or medical use. “...Carrying water!”

Drift snorted into the dregs of his broth mid-sip, and set the bowl aside. “In case... I get thirsty?” His grin was brilliant, salacious as he ran Ratchet in circles, outwitting him at every turn with the Sexual Innuendo Game.

Absolutely not losing his composure, Ratchet raked his hand over his head, through his hair in resigned frustration. He knew when he was beat.

Still...

“Fishing bobber...?”

Drift didn’t even break eye contact. “And what exactly did you hope to ‘reel in’ in the middle of the desert?” he deadpanned, but his entire face showed that he was losing the battle to keep from laughing.

“NOW this conversation is over!” Ratchet growled, whirling towards the closed bay doors. He knew Drift had him caught, and Drift knew it too, and he should just give it up with whatever shreds of his dignity were left. Yet, in the swirl of humiliation, his common sense got lost in the chaos. He spun back to face Drift, mouth open for another attempt at a hopefully scathing comeback.

Instead he paused, dropped his arms to his sides and, with a helpless shrug, asked, “Should I even mention ‘slingshot’?”

At that, Drift collapsed with laughter, tears streaming from his eyes, flopping back and letting the pillows catch him. He held his still sore ribs as he laughed, smiling brightly. He was still laughing and wiping his eyes as Ratchet, blazing red with embarrassment, turned silently and walked out the back of the campbulance, taking care to only halfheartedly slam the door behind him.

[all1e23]

Heart & Soul [Pt.17]

Chapter: Past Calls You to Run

Pairings: Bucky x Reader,

Summary:   Bucky returns back to work as Brock’s plan begins to unfold.

Warnings:  Cursing. If you guys don’t know this warning by now do you even know me at all?

A/N:  ***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!**

“What are you going to do today, babydoll?” Bucky asked as his large hand settled on her ankle giving it a gentle squeeze. Her legs were resting over his lap as they ate their breakfast at the kitchen island because simply sitting next to each other wasn’t enough for either of them anymore They had to be touching now. All the time. 

They even sought each other out in their sleep.

From the moment they woke up this morning, Bucky hands had barely left her and Y/n found any excuse she could to touch him. Even when he was frying bacon this morning, she had wiggled her way between him and the stove claiming she was feeling a little cold. Bucky wanted to tease her and bring up all the blankets she had been curled up in when she had decided she was too cold to be away from him, but he’d rather have her leaning against his chest than wrapped up in some stupid blanket any day.

Today, in particular, the need to keep her close was burning a hole in his chest. It was his first shift back since her heat and Bucky was anything but thrilled to be away from Y/n all damn day. He would feel better about being apart once Brock was behind bars and far away from the both of them for good, or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

It was probably never going to change truthfully. Bucky will never like being away from her and they both know that. It took them far too long to find each other and Bucky didn’t want to waste a moment of what time they have left apart. 

Y/n wasn’t too fond of the idea either. 

“Mmm…” Y/n murmured thoughtfully and shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee before setting it down next to her half-eaten plate of bacon and eggs.

“Probably take the subway for a few hours just to wander around the city. Maybe check out the East Village all on my own. Closer to dinner time. I like the way it looks in the dark and all the lights everywhere.” 

Bucky dropped his toast onto his plate and turned to look at her, having every intention of asking what the hell she was thinking but he caught her grin and the way her eyes were sparkling, and he couldn’t help but laugh. This was payback for every time he laughed at Steve for having a sarcastic mate and called Tony a handful. 

This was absolutely his payback and not an ounce of him minded. 

“The mouth on you. I swear.” Bucky leaned over the few inches that separated them and gave her a soft albeit buttery kiss. 

“What are you really doing today smartass?” Y/n licked the butter from her lips and gently wiped away the bit that was smeared in his scruff with her thumb. 

“Just gonna hang out around here. I told Tony to come by later and maybe run me up to the hospital if he has time. I figured you would be okay with that?” 

Bucky nodded dumbly as he watched her suck the butter from her thumb.

Shit, she’s perfect. 

“I guess, I’ll probably try and clean up this mess too.”

Bucky grinned at the mention of the mess they created and turned his attention to the chaos surrounding them, taking note of several pairs of her panties thrown around, his sweats and jeans.  It’s true, the place was a disaster but if she wanted his opinion, the apartment had never looked better.

“I kind of like the way it looks.” 

Bucky slid off the stool ducking his head down and placing a kiss right over the tiny red star under her ear and rumbled against her skin, “Every place I look there’s something lacey, I pulled off you. It’s a nice reminder of everywhere I had you.”

She wiggled her seat pressing her thighs together. 

“Buck…” She whined, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back so she could see the stupid cocky grin she knew he was wearing, and there it was staring back at her. 

“You keep talking like that and you won’t be able to go in today.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, baby. ” He told her, a hint of a chuckle following his words. “I kind of have to go in today. Ya know, to serve and protect.”

“Are you sure you have to go? Are you sure you can’t just stay home, in bed with me?” She asked with a pout and Bucky’s knees gave out a bit nearly taking his willpower with them.

“Don’t do that babydoll,” Bucky begged and pleaded as wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to the edge of her stool to keep her snug against him. 

“I’ll quit my job and we will have to move in with Steve and Tony. Then I’ll be forced to see Steve’s dumb lovesick face every minute of the day. No one wants to see that more than they have to.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Y/n whispered breathlessly, wiggling against the chest. “If you ask Tony, it’s the same way you look at me.”

Bucky could feel how hot his face was. He just knew his face was bright fuckin’ red and his ears were on fire, actual fire he was sure of it. He cleared his throat and shook his head, mumbling. “Nosy Omega. Always causing trouble.”

Y/n laughed and kissed his cheek, a quiet assurance that it was okay because she all ready knew that was how he looked at it and she liked it. She liked the way he held her, his soft kisses and the gentle affection in his eyes -- she liked him. 

“Don’t worry. I like when you look at me like that.” She breathed out, looking up at him through her lashes.

Fuck. He was in trouble. 

Bucky’s fingers grip around the stone that was laying against her chest, his stone, and he gently tugged her forward, barely letting his lips brush against hers.

“Babydoll… You’re playing with fire.” He nodded towards her plate, followed by a teasing order -- one that had no real force or bite to it, but one he would like her to follow. 

“Eat your breakfast and behave while I’m gone, hm?”

“Mmm,” She pondered for a moment as if she was really considering her options but not too soon after she pressed her lips to his in concession. 

“Fine. I’ll behave till you get home.”  

“Good,’ Bucky preened,  grinning as he let her necklace drop back against her chest. 

“I’ll be back around eight tonight. I’ll call you if something happens and you better keep that phone on you, hm? I was serious about gluing it to your hand, doll.” Bucky peppered her face with kisses until his ears caught the sound of that sweet giggle then and only then, did he pull back.

“Be cautious, please. Don’t answer the door without looking first. No one should be coming by. Tony will call you if he’s coming right? Good. So, you know it’s him at the door and I’ll text you on my way so you know it’s me and you don’t have to worry – “  

“Bucky.”

“– about that. Oh, and if you order lunch tell them to leave it at the security. I gave them very specific instructions when it comes to you and your safety- “

“Buck!”

His mouth snapped shut and he gave her an apologetic shrug. He wanted to say sorry, but he wasn’t even remotely sorry. He’s never going to apologize for loving her and being a bit overprotective was part of that. Besides, the grin on her face said she didn’t appear to mind all that much.

“I know all this. I watched you threaten the security guard. I told you unless Tony comes by later, I won’t be going anywhere. I’m going to clean up a bit and maybe you could pick up something for dinner?”

“Of course. Anything you want, Y/n. Text me the place, and I’ll get it on my way home.”

“You’re spoiling me. You better be careful.”

“Sweetheart, you better just get used to it. I plan on spoiling you for as long as you let me.”  Bucky kissed her one last time and glanced at the clock over the stove. He had to force himself to let go of her and walk out the front door or he was going to be late and Steve was going to have his ass.

“I gotta run baby but I’ll see you tonight. Lock this door behind me. I love you.” She opened her mouth to respond but the words got caught in her throat. He threw her a wink and closed the door behind him.

Bucky couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and he took the stairs two at a time. She nearly said it back and he couldn’t fuckin’ breathe! Everything about this morning was perfect and completely, utterly normal. Normal for them anyway. He was sure it wasn’t like that for most bonded couples, but compared to where they were a month ago? This was a huge step.

Outside of their little world and outside his apartment, everything was still the same as much as he hated it. Legally if something happened to him while he was on duty, she wouldn’t even be allowed to see him. He had a feeling he needed to talk to Steve and make sure she would be taken care of.

There was no way of knowing if she would ever want to bond and with his job, anything could happen.

 ----------

The station was quiet all day, and it was times like these that Tony took full advantage of working with his mate. He had the door closed, blinds drawn, and he was cuddled in his Alpha’s lap. Steve was running his large hand up and down his side, frowning as he clicked around on the computer. Something was off and Steve could feel it. It wasn’t often he got these feelings about a case, but when he did, he was always right.

Always.

Tony nuzzled the hint of his bonding mark peeking out of Steve’s collar and wrinkled his nose at the scent. 

“What is it? You reek of frustration and worry.” Steve sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking the Omega in his lap with him completely abandoning whatever it was he was looking at. 

“I don’t get it. He’s dropped off the radar. No credit card activity. No activity on any of his bank accounts. He hasn’t been by his place. No one has seen or heard from him. He’s planning something, Tony. I can feel it.”

“Like what?” Tony pushed, trying to work out whatever fear Steve was manufacturing through anxiety. 

“What could he do to her now? She’s practically bonded to Bucky. He rarely lets her out of his sights and even when she’s not with him she won’t leave the apartment. I had a little chat with her when I dropped in on them. We just have to get her through the next month and then the piece of shit is going to jail.”

The Alpha looked down in amusement. He didn’t understand how someone who was curled up into a little ball, nuzzling his mates’ neck could sound so lethal. It was scary and quite frankly adorable, but he wasn’t going to make the mistake of bringing that to Tony’s attention. Last time he did, he slept on the tiny couch in his studio for over a week. It’s way too small of a couch to repeat that mistake and Tony found his legs hanging over the armrests far too enjoyable.

“Have I told you how much I adore you lately?”

“Mmm.” Tony hummed thoughtfully. “It’s been so long I can’t remember.”

“Pretty sure I showed you last night.” He grinned at the faint blush Tony tried to hide by nuzzling into Steve’s neck.  “You’re going to be the death of me. You know that?”

“I don’t think so.” Tony snorted in disapproval. “You promised you would outlive me so I would never have to live without you. A promise is a promise Alpha.���

“Promise is a promise.” Steve rumbled against his mates’ lips.

“Good Gods!” 

Bucky groaned and tilted his head back to avoid the display before him. He’s happy for Steve he doesn’t need to see it! He blindly reached for the doorknob and closed the door behind him. 

“Can you guys not? I don’t want to see all this at work.  This is a police station for fuck sakes.”

Tony scoffed and settled further down in his Alpha’s lap. “Like we want to see you with your hands all over Y/n? I saw more than enough at your apartment.”

He looked back at Tony and Steve, cheeks turning pink as he stuttered, “I – I don’t. She’s not – We are not like that in public.” 

Steve raised his brows and Bucky rolled his eyes, admitting his own hands spent more time on Y/n’s body than his own. “Fine, maybe a little…”

“What did you need Buck? Everything going alright?” Steve chuckled and nodded towards the seat in front of his desk, but Bucky shook his head and shifted from one foot to the other.

“It’s fine Steve. Today’s been an easy day. I gotta ask a favor though.”

Tony smirked and crossed his arms as he leaned back on Steve’s chest. “Oh? And what are we getting in return big guy?”

“Omega,” Steve warned. 

His large hand landed firmly on the back of Tony’s neck, giving a gentle squeeze, and the Omega melted at the touch. Normally, Steve doesn’t mind the snark and neither does Bucky, but something was off. He knew Bucky well enough to know when something was wrong.  

“Behave baby.” He purred in his ear.

“I always behave,” Tony grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Your trouble for using the voice on me again. You owe me dinner tonight and other things when we get home.”

Steve grinned at his mate and looked back at Bucky, ignoring the comment about dinner and something else for the moment. They could talk about that once they were alone.

“Anything, Buck. You know that,” Steve promised. 

There have been several hundred times throughout their lives that Steve has seen Bucky uncomfortable, angry, sad even, but this? He had no idea what was going on but whatever it was weighing Bucky down hard.

“I need you guys to promise you will take care of Y/n if something ever happened to me. I – She needs that, and I’d like her to have my apartment. I don’t know when or if we will ever bond and I know, she can’t be on my benefits because of the whole legal Omega bullshit but I’d like for you to give everything over to her if I wasn't here to take care of her anymore.”

An air of awkward silence settled over the small office. It wasn’t a totally strange request given their jobs, but it seemed as though Bucky was in a rush to get it official as if he knew something Steve and Tony didn’t. That didn’t settle well Steve.

“Of course, Buck. I don’t think it will be much of an issue. You’re not going anywhere. Right?” Steve confirmed as he slowly sat up in his chair.

“I just have a bad feeling Stevie. I don’t know. I have that same feeling I had the night that Becs…” Bucky shook his head as if he was trying to shake the feeling off him. 

“Something is off, and I just want to make sure she is taken care of.”

Tony lifted his head to look back at Steve, he didn’t need his mate to say anything else. He knew what Tony was thinking. They both had a knack for sensing when trouble was coming, and this wasn’t a good omen. The moment Bucky was out of sight Tony was going to go check Y/n. Just to be safe.

A loud chirping came through from Steve’s desk and a woman’s voice came over the radio alerting them to some kids fooling around in an old abandon apartment building, gathering the attention of all three. Steve planted his feet on the floor and tilted his chair forward, picking up his radio off the desk. 

“Copy that dispatch. A unit is on its way.” 

Bucky was all ready heading out the door before Steve could officially assign him to the call. 

“Stay with Sam or take Nat. I don’t want anyone pairing up alone for a while,” Steve shouted after his former partner, but Bucky brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

He never went anywhere without Sam but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t handle one call on his own. Sometimes Steve worried about him a little too much. He’s a grown-ass Alpha that could take care of himself. Besides, not like he was going to do something stupid when he had a pretty Omega waiting for him to bring her dinner.

Bucky clasped Sam’s on the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Gotta go partner. Get your ass up and let’s get movin’.”

Sam groaned and threw his head back. Of course, they would get a call right now. Right when he promised to swing by the shelter and see Maria. At this rate, after canceling on her repeatedly, she would never give him the time a day again. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t punch him in the face the next time he showed up at the shelter.

He wasn’t that lucky. She was a hundred percent taking a swing at him after he cancels tonight.

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a second. I have to call Maria. I told her I’d swing by for dinner--” 

Bucky leaned over and pulled his phone out of his hand before he could dial her number. There was no way he was letting Sam mess this up. They have been doing this back and forth for a year now. It was starting to get old and Bucky was a little worried Maria was going to beat to crap out of Sam if he didn’t figure out what the hell he was doing.

“It’s fine. I’ll take it on my own. It’s some punk kids playing around. Easy call. If it looks off, I’ll give you a call. Go see Maria and make an honest Omega out of her would ya? Don’t keep dancin’ around. You ain’t getting any younger.” Bucky grinned at him, repeating the very thing Sam had told him only a few short weeks ago.

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be like that.” 

Bucky grinned and tossed his phone back to him.

“Hey, if I’m not home when you get there will you stop in and check on Y/n?” He asked as he clipped his badge on his belt and adjusted his shoulder holster.

Sam nodded and patted his shoulder as he slipped on his jacket frantically, a huge grin on his face he was failing to hide. “You know I will. Your ass better give her a call though. We don’t need a repeat. I’m pretty sure she will hunt you down this time.”

Bucky laughed and held up his phone showing her number was already dialing, “Trust me. That’s not happening again. I know, I know. Don’t give me that look. Just wait till you’ve got a pissed off Omega waitin’ for you at home. Maria is pretty feisty when she’s not mad is all I’m saying.” 

Bucky chuckled laughed at the look of horror on his partner face, but the second Y/n’s voice rang in his ear Sam was long forgotten.

“God it’s good to hear your voice beautiful. Listen I’ve got a call but it’s nothing big. I’m making you sure you know since Steve doesn’t know how to use a damn phone. Sam will come by to check on you if I’m running late.”

They have only been apart a few hours and he was all ready counting down the hours till he was back home and in her arms. One more call and roughly three or four more hours to go. 

Gods, the rest of this shift was going to kill him.  

Previous // Next

[purplesurveys]

868

Favorite beverage: Just your good ol’ cold water. If I wanna treat myself I’ll get milk tea. When was the last time you had ketchup? Ooh I don’t remember...it would probably be 3-4 weeks ago. Or whenever the last time we had lumpia was, because I like drowning that shit in ketchup. Have you ever had a red hotdog? Yeah frozen hotdogs is a favorite snack here and they’re usually red. We usually have them for breakfast, it’s served in parties, it’s in every school caf, etc. What is the most recent gift you've been given? So my uncle has his budding cooking business and sells different dishes everyday. His most recent bestseller is burnt basque cheesecake and while I’ve always wanted my own because it looks SO good, I just haven’t had the money to allot for it. I was really surprised when my grandma called me up today and told me she had ordered an entire cake for me as a graduation gift :) I asked my dad to pick it up from her place this afternoon and it’s crazy delicious.

Is what you're wearing comfortable? Yeup, now that it’s cooler. I sweated through my top when it was hot earlier though, and that wasn’t a comfortable situation at. all.

Did you leave the house today? Nah. I did step out to help my dad with the groceries, but that was it for today’s adventure. Are there bumper stickers on your car? No. If I wanna put stickers on my car I would rather have them on my rear window, and not directly on my car. Are you watching tv right now? What? The dining room TV is turned on but I’m not watching; my dad likes to have it on to listen to the evening news while he cooks dinner. Are you wearing anything blue? Nope, it’s all black for me today. Do you have a job? Not yet. Is your car messy? No. There’s really no reason for it to be, I’ve only driven out once since March. When did you last have whipped cream? I...can’t recall, actually. We don’t have whipped cream at home and I don’t think I ever ordered anything with whipped cream on it shortly before lockdown. How far away is the closest house? 10-20 steps away, depending on how big your stride is. What street do you live on? I’m not dropping that on here. The most I’ll tell you is that our streets are named after tropical cities, haha.

What is your favorite flavor of smoothie? Used to not like smoothies 100% because of the presence of fruits in them, but thanks to my friends Apple and Ed introducing me to Go Salads I’ve come to really like their Breakfast Smoothie – which, after looking up their menu just now, has apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk. Are you dating anyone? Yes ma’am. What color is you computer? Silver. Do you own an iPod? What color is it? Technically I still do but only because I haven’t thrown it out. It’s a blue iPod Nano. What is the most recent picture on your phone/camera of: A photo of the aforementioned burnt basque cheesecake. I was planning to post a Facebook status to promote my tito’s business and show my support, so I asked my sister to take a few aesthetic shots of the cake for my post to look presentable. Have you ever shot a gun? No. I’ve shot a fake one that belonged to Athenna’s dad, which he used for like target practice or something. What temperature is it? 31C.

Do you know anyone with a third nipple? No but Harry Styles has four, HAHAHA. There’s your random fact for the day. What do your parents do for a living? My dad’s an executive sous chef and my mom’s a secretary in her specific department in the hotel she works in. Both have always been in the hotel and restaurant industry. Have you ever had a pet that had babies? No. We’ve avoided female dogs because we know we’re not capable of caring for newborn puppies, so instead of potentially being reckless owners we’ve just not had female pets altogether. Which grocery store is closest to you? A local mall chain that has their own grocery, SM. Do you have a hamper in your room? Nah, my parents prefer a general hamper in the bathroom. Do you know anyone that's a nurse? Yes, I have several aunts and as far as I know, one cousin :) I feel really bad for them especially in these times, but they’re such strong people and they just keep powering through and powering through. Do you know someone with the name Alaina? Not that I can recall. What color is the blanket on your bed? Off-white. What are your parent's middle names? No thank you. Have you ever broken a bone? Never. Do you wear braces or glasses? I wore braces in high school, and I’ve had glasses since Grade 5. What color are they? I picked a different color for my braces for every monthly visit cause it made me feel quirkly; my glasses’ frame is dark brown. Are you currently reading a book? Not currently, no. When did you last get your blood drawn? Ughhhhh, cringed reading this haha. Last May when I needed to get a blood test done. Have you ever done hard drugs? Nopes. How many contacts are in your phone? I just know I have a lot, but Apple doesn’t tell you exactly how many and I don’t feel like counting all of them right now. Does your toilet have a seat cover? It has a lid cover, but not a seat cover. What's currently on your grocery list? My dad did the groceries today so we’re pretty stocked rn. What things do you take with you everywhere? My glasses, car and house keys, phone, wallet. Do you know someone that is/was over 100 years old? Gab’s great-grandma was like 106 or 107 by the time she passed. Was your HS principal a girl or a boy? Girl. I went to an all-girls school so it would honestly be a little peculiar if we had a male principal. Have you ever eaten a raw egg? Nah. I wanna try it out though, just for funsies. Do you own any rings? Gab got me this cheap ring for the shits and giggles, but I stopped wearing it when it started turning pink and smelling weird. So no.

If you were to get a new puppy what would you name her? We did get a new puppy! ;) But should we get another, the name will depend on the puppy’s attitude and overall vibe. That’s what we did with Cooper, who was named after Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory because he had been a smartass from the very first minute we played with him. Have you eaten fruit today? No. What about milk? Even more nope haha. I can’t have it all the time. What letter does your state start with? We don’t have states. My province starts with the letter R. Could you list all 50 states? I’ve listed them down on countlesssssss occasions but I always only come up with 35-45 states. I’ve observed that the ones I always forget about are the states in the middle of the map/country-ish states hahaha. What about their capitals? I know a good number of the states’ capitals, but I’ll still undoubtedly do worse. What internet browser do you use? I’ve been on Chrome for the longest time. Do you know anyone that lives in Wyoming? I don’t think so. Do you smoke cigarettes? Yes, starting this year lol. Which person you know has the most unique name? I’m sure I know more unique ones out there but the first names that came to mind are friends of mine named Bernadean, Jeuel (pronounced Jay-well), and Jabes. Oh and I also have an aunt named Marheedoll. Do you know someone that's missing a limb? I don’t think so, no. Do you have facial hair? I do not. Are you a bad person? Not when it comes down to it. I have my petty moments though. What was the last swear you said? I almost yelled the word puta in front of my dad earlier, but I slurred the word and made random noises to avoid saying the full thing haha so it kinda went like puuuuutehshahjskhf. Have you ever called the police on someone? No. What is the most amount of pets you've had at one time? Three – one dog and two birds. When did you last check your email? Last night. I wanted to check if I received any email from the college. Have you ever had a 3rd degree burn? Nope and that sounds so painful, I never want to sustain one. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? I haven’t. How long is your hair? Right now it reaches only my collarbones. I had it cut fairly recently, so it’s still on the shorter side. Do you lock your doors at night? The doors on the first floor. Does your bedroom have a lock? It does but my mom is such a big sissy about locks and says that “there’s nothing to hide/be private about” since we’re all relatives. She really shouldn’t have gotten a lock for my room if I wasn’t allowed to use it anyway... What do you have at your bedside? I have a rattan trunk that stores all my childhood knickknacks like board games and encyclopedias; then on the other side is a drawer with my home clothes and other knickknacks on the lower drawers. I got some hoarding tendencies from my grandma, so a lot of the stuff I keep in the drawer really has no reason behind my keeping them until today. How big is your bed? Not big at all, it’s just twin-sized. I am so investing on a big-ass bed when I have my own place. Do you know someone that was murdered? I didn’t know her personally but an alumna from my old school got stabbed to death. I don’t know the details but I think she got stabbed because she had gadgets on her, which makes you an easy target for criminals here. The only reason I know her is because my school would do tributes for her from time to time, so I really can’t tell you anything more other than she was stabbed. Do you know someone who's pregnant? I don’t think so. Do you wear a watch? Used to, but I kept losing them. What was your first pet? A pair of goldfish. How much jewelry do you own? Not a lot. The ones I do wear are technically my mom’s too; she just likes sharing them with me. What is the closest purple thing? Probably the ube halaya in the fridge. Green? A piece of Cooper’s toy. What time is it? It isssss 8:43 PM. What is your ideal profession? Lawyer. How tall are you? A little over 5 feet. Have you ever gotten x-rays? Probably once when I was a kid, then around two or three times before I started college. Do you wear gloves in the winter? I imagine I would but we don’t get winter. Do you consider yourself smart? Academic-wise, yep. I’m good at tests and memorizing and I generally enjoy reading educational content. Are you good at algebra? Yeah but I wanna keep it at algebra and geometry lol, I don’t have the patience for calculus and trig. What color eyes are the prettiest? I’ve always loved green/olive green eyes. Are your teeth straight? One of my front teeth protrudes a bit, but that’s all my fault because I lost my retainers back when I still had to use them. My teeth are otherwise fine. Do you like chocolate milk? LOVE IT Do you own a bike? We own a family bike and I’m free to use it, I just don’t because I don’t know how lmao Are you taller than your mom? No. I thought I’d grow taller than her because I had an intense growth spurt at one point, but it never happened. Have you ever been engaged? No. What, in your opinion, is the ugliest name? I’m not a fan of names that end in -leigh, but I don’t think they’re ugly names.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 12

“My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week”

-- Take Me to Church, Hozier

__________

“Pen…? Pen? Are you in…” Hope trails off as she opens the door to Penelope’s dorm room and spots Penelope. The raven-haired girl lays on her barren mattress amongst the wreckage of her room passed out with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying nearby. Under her head is the tattered yellow sweater, balled up into a make-shift pillow.

Hope lets out a sigh and in three long strides makes her way across the debris towards the mattress.

“Penelope Park,” Hope says as she reaches down and gives Penelope a firm shake on the shoulders. 

“Go away,” Penelope mumbles. She rolls away from Hope to face the wall and readjusts her grip on the sweater.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah. We’ve already been over that part.” Hope takes a seat down on the mattress. Her fingers trace over the frayed edges of the yellow sweater making a mental note of it. “Taking it that you found Lizzie?”

“She found me,” Penelope responds with a weighted sigh.

“And she had the sweater?”

“Oh… She had the sweater alright. She not only had it, but she also confronted me with it and then went and showed it to Josie.”

“Shit.”

“Yup,” Penelope says. She buries her head even further into the confines of the sweater, desperate to derive whatever traces of comfort she can from the now tainted object. 

“And how did Josie react?”

“How do you think she reacted?” Penelope cringes as soon as the sarcastic remark leaves her mouth. Hope is the last person on the face of the earth she means to lash out at but at the moment it’s all she can manage to do to combat the impending tidal wave of hopelessness from crashing down upon her. 

A silence settles between the two of them for a moment or two as Hope lies down next to Penelope on the mattress and stares up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Then--

“Okay… So what do we do next?”

Penelope rolls back over to face Hope unable to hide her sheer shock at the question. “What’d you mean next? There is no next. It’s over. Josie doesn’t want to be within fifty feet of me, let alone go on some impromptu road trip to New Orleans. And there’s no time. The attack is gonna happen in less than 36 hours from now… There’s nothing else to be done. I’ve failed. History is going to repeat itself.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m calling bullshit on your ‘there’s nothing else to be done’ Park.”

“It’s the truth,” Penelope huffs out in exasperation. 

“No, it’s you giving up,” Hope fires back without missing a beat. “And I’m not accepting it… Not this time. So I’m gonna ask you again… What’s our next move?” 

“I dunno.” Penelope exhales and joins Hope in staring up at the ceiling. She snakes her hands behind her head and as she does, her fingers catch on something sharp buried deep within the fabric. Curious, Penelope sits up and starts to rummage through the balled-up sweater.  

“What’s up?” Hope asks, picking up on Penelope’s behavior. 

“I think I felt--” Penelope trails off as she produces a folded up piece of paper from one of the pockets.

“A note? Who’s it from?” Hope sits up as well and leans over Penelope’s shoulder with sudden interest.

“Not sure.” Penelope carefully unfolds the paper and reveals a handwritten message. 

Dear Park,

I know you don’t need to be reminded of this, but just in case, remember that when all else fails, there’s always the truth. 

Love,

Mikaelson

Penelope stares at the note, silently re-reading the message to herself as her fingers trace over each and every word. 

Of course, only Hope-- Penelope’s Hope-- would find a way to reach her regardless of the circumstances. And just when she needs it the most too.  

“I give good advice,” Hope says bringing an instant smile to Penelope’s face. 

“Yeah…” Penelope folds back up the note. “You do.” 

“And I’m right, you know. About the truth. It’s always an option.”

“But--”

“But nothing, Park. What’s the worst that could happen by telling Josie the truth… The full truth? You said it yourself. That timeline doesn’t’ exist anymore. Or at least not fully. So what’s the harm in filling Josie in on everything?”

Penelope sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she mulls over the mere idea of laying every last detail of the past six years out on the table for Josie. 

It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind before. No. It was a common conversation topic between herself and Caroline whenever they would go down the rabbit hole of possible options beyond reversing the curse itself. But the truth-- the unabridged truth-- came with infinite risks. Some worse than others, but all risks nonetheless. And most, having something to do with Josie’s mental state. 

“There are risks with revealing that kind of level of personal knowledge-- even if it’s hypothetical-- on someone,” Penelope replies and Hope gives a defiant smirk in return.  

“You think Josie can’t handle the truth?” 

Penelope shrugs. “Possibly. Or… It could taint any future decisions that she will make… Or slowly drive her into insanity.” 

“Or… It could be a way to get through to her?”  

“Or it could be the way to get through to her,” Penelope mimicks Hope’s words with another sigh and a slight eye roll. She knows that the Tribrid could be right, but still-- 

Penelope’s fingers start to move towards her neck, but before she can make contact with the smooth skin, Hope grabs hold of her hand and stops her. 

“Nope. Not happening. Not on my watch,” Hope says pushing Penelope’s hand back down. 

“What?”

“We’re breaking you of that habit.”

“Hope, I--”

“No, Penelope. No more nervous tic… It’s not going to happen again, okay?” 

“You don’t know that…” Penelope swallows down the dry lump of emotions bubbling up within the back of her throat. 

“You’re right. I don’t,” Hope responds. She then leans into Penelope’s shoulder giving her a loving nudge. “But now that I know, I’m sure as hell gonna do everything in my power to prevent it from happening again.”

“Nice motivational speech, Furball.” Penelope nudges Hope back and the two exchange a smile.

“Eh… I try.” Hope then rises to her feet and starts to rummage around the nearby debris. 

“What are you looking for?” Penelope asks.

“This.” Hope surfaces with an old leather-bound journal. She tosses it down in front of Penelope onto the mattress.

“A partially used journal?” Penelope replies with a quirk of her brow. 

“No, Smartass. Watch.” Hope mutters an indecipherable phrase under her breath and points her fingers at the journal. It ignites in a brief warm amber glow before returning to its original state. “Now it’s a blank journal. And roughly from the size of it, it looks like it could hold six years worth of memories.”

“I can’t write out six years’ worth of memories… Do you know how long that would take?” 

“Not if you use a ditatum charm.” 

Penelope mulls over Hope’s response for a moment or two. 

Hope’s right. All Penelope would have to use is a ditatum charm on a pen coupled with a memoro spell on herself and she could have every last page of that journal filled out within the next four to five hours. 

But, still…

Even if she did choose to open a vein and let every last detail-- even the most horrendous ones-- pour out of her and onto the page, would  Josie actually take the time to read it? And more importantly… Would she even believe it?

“Okay… What’s the hesitation now?”

“No. I just--”

“Just what? Got a better plan?”

Penelope shakes her head with a sigh of defeat. “No, I don’t.”

Hope grabs a nearby pen off of the floor and then plops herself back down next to Penelope on the mattress. “Here.” 

“Now?”

Hope shrugs. “Why not? You said it yourself… Time is of the essence.”

Penelope takes the pen from Hope as a hint of a smile emerges upon her lips. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Hope replies matching Penelope smile with a smirk of her own. “And besides, how else am I gonna find out what on earth compelled me to get my nipples pierced.”

“Oh…  It’s a great story,” Penelope laughs.

“Good. Then get going, Park.” Hope gives a nod towards the journal for extra measure. “Cause I’m dying to read it.” 

__________ 

It had been five hours, thirty-eight minutes, and fifteen seconds since Penelope had first put pen to paper and began the arduous task of recounting the last six years worth of memories that had led her to this very moment in time. 

And, true to her word, Hope had stayed by her side through every single second of it. At first, wide awake and then somewhere in between the third and fourth hour passed out to the world on the other end of the mattress. 

At first, it had been painful. Like the reopening of old, partially healed wounds. But as Penelope had found her rhythm, the words flowed easier and easier, until all that was left was a dull ache for a life that no longer existed.  

In some ways it was cathartic. Reliving the last six years, memory by memory. Replaying every decision… every conversation… every last moment of heartache and utter desperation. And in other ways, it served as a sobering reminder that Penelope was no stranger to having her back up against a wall. 

No. 

She had survived the impossible time and time again. Even when every last card was stacked against her.

Penelope had survived. 

And she would survive this as well… Regardless of the outcome. 

Penelope finishes off the last sentence with a flourish of the pen and then lets out a much-needed sigh. Her eyes wander over to Hope as a warm smile stretches across her face. 

Somewhere over the course of the last two hours, the older girl has managed to curl herself up into a tight ball, with her legs tucked into her chest and her auburn hair spayed over her like a protective blanket. She couldn’t mimic a sleeping wolf pup more if even she tried. 

“Such a furball,” Penelope says to herself with a shake of her head. She reaches back behind her, grabs hold of her comforter, and then gently places it over Hope, trying her best not to wake her up in the process. And as she does, she can’t help but think back to one of her last conversations with the other version of Hope, back on the rooftop of their apartment. 

It’s still me.

One simple truth, that at the time, had felt like a bit of lip service. Something that Hope only said in order to ensure that Penelope went along with the game plan. 

But now…

Now, looking at Hope fast asleep beside her, Penelope realizes that those words were anything but lip service. 

They were yet another nugget of wisdom planted by the Tribrid in hopes that Penelope would be able to recall at just the right moment of need.  

Deep down inside, Hope is still Hope. Regardless of the timeline nor knowledge of what could potentially happen next.

And if Hope is still Hope then Josie… 

“Is still Josie,” Penelope finishes her thoughts out loud, unable to hold the words back. She smiles again as a sudden wave of reassurance washes over her. 

Yes, there may be a sizable risk handing over six years’ worth of memories in a single journal, but then again, it’s Josie Saltzman… And Josie, more than anyone else that Penelope has ever met, thrives on knowledge. Actionable knowledge to be more precise. 

Penelope runs her hands through her short messy locks and then, with one last look down at Hope, scopes up the journal and heads out of her dorm room.

__________

“Go away, Satan,” Lizzie says before she has even fully opened her dorm room door. 

“Wait--” Penelope juts her hand out, stopping Lizzie from slamming the door in her face. “I just need a minute. I swear… Please, Liz.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lizzie growls. She pushes harder against the door only causing Penelope to match her effort with the same stubborn-fueled brute force. It’s a stalemate and neither one of them is planning on backing down anytime soon.

Penelope lets out a frustrated sigh and then locks eyes with Lizzie. “Look. I’m not calling you Liz cause I want to mess with you… Okay, maybe I was at first, but… It’s not like that. In my timeline, you go by Liz. Or at least used to.”

“Used to?” Lizzie quirks her brow in slight confusion. 

“Here.” Penelope hands over the journal to Lizzie. “It’s meant for Josie, but you should read it as well. It explains everything. The sweater… Why I’ve been acting so strange… Even why I call you Liz. It’s all in there. All six years worth.” 

“Six years?”

“Yeah. Six years,” Penelope replies never once taking her eyes off of Lizzie. 

“That means… You’re from the future?” Lizzie’s voice goes a little higher than usual on the last word as if it’s too far-fetched of a possibility to even say, let alone believe.

“Not exactly… More like a potential future… Or what could’ve been a potential future. It’s kinda hard to explain.” 

The look of utter confusion only deepens on Lizzie’s face. Penelope watches as her icy blue eyes ping-pong back and forth between the journal and Penelope, desperate for some sort of clarity. 

“I… I don’t…” Lizzie trails off as her eyes wander back down upon the journal. 

“I know,” Penelope replies with an understanding nod. “I don’t expect you to understand… At least not fully until you read that.” 

Lizzie continues to stare at the journal in her hands, not even acknowledging Penelope’s words and Penelope knows that she’s more than said enough. No further explanation is needed. On some level or another Lizzie gets it. 

And if Lizzie gets it…

Then Josie will too.

“Just promise me you’ll make sure that Josie reads it… Okay?” Lizzie gives a slight nod still fixated on the journal and Penelope lets out a much-needed sigh of relief. 

It isn’t quite as reassuring as handing the journal directly over to Josie herself. No. But it’s the next best thing. If anyone is going to make sure that Josie stops everything and reads it cover to cover, it will be Lizzie. 

Penelope releases the door and then starts to walk away when-- 

“Can I ask you something?”

The simple question compounded by the raw vulnerability in Lizzie’s voice, causing Penelope to freeze in her tracks. She slowly turns around and once again locks eyes with the blonde siphoner as a smirk slides across her face. “You’re about to ask me about Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

“What?” Lizzie replies as her eyes instantly double in size from the sheer shock. 

“Mikaelson. You want to know if the two of you end up getting together?”

“I… It’s not… I just…” Lizzie fumbles through her words as her cheeks flush with a noticeable reddish hue.

And Penelope can’t help but let a laugh slip out. “Breathe, Blondie. It’s okay. Mikaelson literally asked me the same exact question just a few hours ago.”

Lizzie starts to fidget with the journal, flipping it back and forth from hand and hand. “She did?”

“Oh yeah. Furball totally did.”

“Furball?”

“Long story but yeah it’s my nickname for Hope… It’ll make much more sense when you get a little beyond the halfway point in that thing.” Penelope punctuates her comment by motioning towards the journal. “Right after our stint in Berlin.” 

“Right… Berlin,” Lizzie responds, still sounding utterly lost. 

“Listen, I’m going to tell you the same thing that I told Mikaelson when she asked. If you had had the chance in my timeline then you guys would’ve been together in a heartbeat. But you both waited too long… So don’t make that same mistake. If you want to be with her, then be with her,” Penelope says. She tries to push forward a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and Lizzie picks up on it. 

“Thanks, Satan.” 

“For what?”

“Honesty. Surprisingly enough, it’s a good look on you.”

“Well, as I told your sister, I’m all about turning over a new leaf these days,” Penelope responds. “I’m serious. Make sure she reads that. As soon as possible, okay?”

Lizzie nods, wrapping her hands a little bit tighter around the journal. “Okay.” 

With that, Penelope turns around again and takes off down the hallway unsure of where to go next. 

There’s nothing left for her to do but to wait.

[ancient-artificer]

Bounties, Booze, Etc.

A Cowboy Bebop AU. Found on FF.net and Ao3

NEW* Fic

After a devastating break-up, Spike turns to old medicines to remedy the hurt. Concerned for her good friend's overall health, Faye strikes up a deal: if she can set Spike up with a good woman within a month's time, he must give up drinking and live a healthier life, for all their sakes. Leave it to a woman to beat around the bush...

Eventual Spike x Faye. Plot-driven.

ONE - Hangovers, Milkshakes, etc.

The majority of the household wasn't too thrilled with his decision-making skills of late.

Spike's wobbly hiccuping, coming in too late and hastily leaving too early was all beginning to cause for concern; the hole-in-the-wall pub inhabitants were ready to create for him a permanent place barside, a stock brand with his name on it if they didn't soon do something about his drinking.

Jet claimed that was just how he functioned and to let him be, the old "he'll fix himself, he always does" routine. Faye had always blatantly called him emotionally constipated, for lack of better terms, but even from her opinionated viewpoint, it wasn't that simple this time around.

It wasn't that Spike couldn't let himself feel emotions.

He felt them too much, too strongly.

It had been two weeks since Julia left. No heads up and no word since. No one understood what she had been thinking or why in the least she had not decided to tell anyone her plans. The blond bombshell just up and disappeared.

And left Spike a goddamned messed, barely able to pick up the pieces in her wake.

"What a bitch," Faye spat. She stared at the lifeless form lying on the couch and crossed her arms over her voluptuous breasts.

In front of their computer searching for the next easy, potential payload, Jet hummed, his fingers stroking his beard in thought. One of his eyebrows rose as he glanced up to her. "Way to kick a man while he's down," he monotoned.

Faye turned towards him. "No, not Spike, that damn bimbo he was head over heels for."

"Yea, well, it happens."

She snorted. "Which one, falling in love with a trash can or having it dump you?"

Jet acted as if he wasn't paying attention, but his mouth twitched up in a small smirk. "Like I said."

"I guess…" Her voice trailed off.

Her gaze returned to the dingy couch with the broken man sprawled across it. It softened as she took in his expressionless, slumbering face. "It must really suck."

"Mhm." His eyes darted back and forth on the screen as he read a profile from the bounty office site.

Faye sympathized with the man. Seeing him asleep, finally buried under consciousness after hours of fighting with himself made her glad she had never fallen in love. Of course, there was the like button, the pesky infatuation that came and went as quickly as the vast amounts of alcohol Spike had no doubt thrown back, and that was only a surface level sentiment.

What Spike tried to let go of was deeper. Scarring.

His sleeping form seemed peaceful, though she supposed it would turn one-eighty once he awoke. He had stumbled in around four-thirty that morning, sloshed beyond all hope, incoherently blabbering on. It was a wonder he had made it back to the house in one piece. Spike had easily passed out with his boots still on his feet.

She stepped to the couch and pulled the folded blanket from the recliner to spread over him. He reeked of hard booze.

"What are we gonna do with you?" She murmured to herself, giving her head a shake.

"Mm… er, do what now?"

Spike's eyes were still closed as he stirred and tried to lift his head and speak. The low, cigarette and whiskey-burned groan that escaped between his dehydrated lips sounded painful.

"You look like you were hit by a train." She was ever so blunt.

What resembled a short-lived laugh tumbled out from him, ending in a cough. He winced. "You should feel it," he mumbled.

Faye rolled her eyes and left to fetch him a bottle of water.

His liver and kidneys would be working overtime for a while until his situation leveled out, those brave, little soldiers. These days she felt more like the caretaker of a twenty-seven-year-old baby than a hard-earning, semi-successful bounty hunter.

"I think I'd rather feel the emotional ass-whooping than your kind of hangovers. It'd pass faster," she replied loudly, handing him the bottle with an added sarcastic, "Your drink, sir."

Spike winced hard as he sat up. "Not so loud, fuck…" he croaked. "Trying to kill me."

One hand took the water, the heel of the other rubbed into his forehead, seeking relief from the growing ache. The pounding behind his eyes rocked his balance and sensitivity. A queasiness hit his stomach before he brought the drink to his mouth.

He heaved into the previously placed bucket below him.

"Serves you right," Faye muttered. She walked away before she heard anything else that would haunt her later.

She had never been fond of Julia. From the moment that woman stepped foot inside their abode she could tell they were in for some bad news. Spike was only now unwinding himself from around her slender fingers.

However, Faye was fond of Spike and hoped he would learn from this rather unfortunate event and the things that spurred it. She just didn't approve of his methods. It wasn't fun to tease him when he was hurting himself. If he would let her help.

"Just give it a few more hours. His wallowing's almost over," Jet announced. He stood up from the desk and stretched, his thick arms reached above his head.

Reaching into his pocket, he tossed Faye a pack of smokes as she strolled by. "Give one to pathetic over there and then suit up. We've got a job."

"Uhh, okay, but isn't he a little useless right now?"

From the couch beside her, Spike gave a rough groan and then snarled, "Cowboy up or sit in the fuckin' truck."

Jet only smiled.

"You can't possibly know how this feels," Spike monotoned, briefly closing his eyes. He plodded after the others down the sidewalk towards the pub, which happened to be the location of their next hit.

It was a first. Strolling that day into the same bar he'd gotten plastered in the night before, still hungover as hell. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in their shade of bluish-purple on the way over.

"Psht, yea, you're right, I can't. 'Cause I'm not a drunk loser," Faye replied in kind. She threw a glance his way.

"You're both getting on my nerves. Focus," Jet grumbled under his breath. "Faye, you walk in first. Spike and I will be in after you've had a look around."

They gave it a good thirty seconds.

Nausea hit Spike as soon as he smelled the alcohol.

The drink hall harbored few patrons in the early evening. It would later fill up to near capacity as the hours wore on. Smoke and other various and unique scents floated through the stale air. The place could have used a strong breeze.

As if not affiliated with the other two, Spike beelined it for the bartop and sank onto one of the many stools. His head hit the cool, shellacked wooden surface and he went limp. All but useless.

Mentally patting herself and feeling the weight of gunmetal beneath the ridiculous outfit, Faye easily slipped into a facade. The perfect trap laid before a hungry smuggler.

Remember he'll be armed, Jet's voice said to her through the earpiece connecting the three bounty hunters. Name's Merle. His crew smuggles drugs and other goods into the country through the underground. Not unlike them to enjoy the spoils.

He adjusted his sunglasses to sit further up on his nose and peered at their target as he sat down two stools from Spike's seemingly knocked out form. He raised his hand at the only bartender, who stood directly in front of him, looking oddly at him as he wiped down the bartop.

"Uh, what can I do for ya, sir?"

Jet nodded. "Iced tea, please."

"Is that all?"

Spike let loose a series of quiet snores. A drop of drool slid from the corner of his mouth.

"And a protein shake. If you've got them," Jet said.

The bartender shook his head. He dropped the wet rag into a sani-bucket. "Don't got those. But there's ingredients for a milkshake?"

Jet glanced at Spike, then nodded to the employee.

Faye said nothing as she roamed about the great hall, her gaze hitting everything that could be used as a weapon if the need arose, all of the exits should they have underestimated their target.

If Merle was easy to catch, he would already be in police custody. The profile stated he'd been on the run for four years, successfully evading cuffs and a comfy cell. Within that time, due to the extremely toxic purity of the illegal synthetic drugs he often smuggled and sold, many innocent lives were needlessly lost. The bounty on his head paid a hefty price, dead or alive.

But preferably alive to watch his freedom turn to cash.

Large, green eyes gave a sultry flash at the giant of a man sitting in the corner intent on the brown bottle in between his fingers.

His expression never faltered. His grip on the bottle loosened a bit when Faye swayed near and laid a hand on the only other chair present at his table. She made a point to throw her shoulders back and jut out her ample breasts barely covered in the low cut of her dress.

"May I join you?" She purred.

He stared at her. First at the twin fun sacks staring back at eye level, then up at her expectant, smiling expression. "I'm meeting someone," he simply stated, his voice gruff.

She gently pressed. "I could be that someone… if you have time," she said, the words rolling off her tongue like a satin sheet.

"Time for you to fuck off," he said, shifting in the chair.

Faye grinned.

He played hard.

She opened her mouth to respond in the same smartass, sarcastic tone when the establishment's glass door swung open once again. Her eyes darted to it.

In strode three buff, ruffian-looking men, one right after the other. The didn't try to hide their full sidearm holsters conspicuously hanging from their clothing or the fact they all knew the dark man in the back. They sneered when they saw Faye.

"Looks like Boss has a customer, heheh," one of them chuckled. With one arm in a fluid motion, he snagged a chair from another nearby table and unceremoniously sank onto it.

The second did the same, but with the chair Faye had her hand on. "A lady friend," he commented.

The remaining man still standing peered closely at her, leaning down so he could breathe on her cheek as he inspected her.

Straightening her back, Faye loosened the hold she subconsciously had on her features. She tried not to tense. She had to act like a whore, not be one. All she had to focus on was getting them happy and cooperative, Jet -and hopefully Spike- would do the rest, with her lending a helping hand should the need arise. The moment they caught wind of her unwillingness to indulge in their scumbag needs and desires, she would be outed as a cop or worse -what she really was- and the bounty-op would be eighty-sixed.

Jet's voice was low and steady in the earpiece. "Hm. This might've turned into a four man warrant..."

The man with his face next to hers smelled like tobacco and grease. A throaty hum of approval thrummed in his chest. He turned to the man who had first occupied the table. "This yours?"

Merle took a swig of his drink. He said nothing, only his dark eyes moved to inspect Faye once again, sizing her up, himself unsure of the answer.

She shifted her weight, making sure her breasts jiggled a bit to keep their attention. Her fingers pushed some of her violet hair behind her ears, her gaze quickly shifting from all four with a mysterious grin sliding up on her red lips. "Well. How about I buy rounds for you. And you can buy for me… and then we see where we stand?"

The three disgusting bastards were instantly hooked, line and all, at her innuendo. They automatically turned to each other and then to Merle, who had yet to give the okay for the extra person to accompany them for the evening.

Jet kept his head down, seemingly staring at the bartop under the dark of his glasses and intently listened in on her conversation. He breathed from his seat in surprise at Faye's words. "Geezus, you don't have to go all out," he said quietly.

At the same moment, the bartender gave him a quizzical gaze, one eyebrow raised as he set the glass full of iced tea down in front of him. "Um. Uh, w-would you also like ah, a lemon wedge? Or two?" He stuttered in his confusion.

A choked sound akin to holding back a burst of laughter came from Spike. He wheezed, his lips turning up at the corners before going back to his expressionless, slumber-like state.

The bartender reappeared with a handful of lemon slices and a milkshake in the tallest glass he could find. He set the tiny fruit bowl and the shake next to Jet.

Jet slid the drink to Spike.

"Finally…" Spike uttered. He unfurled his limbs from his lap and inched the straw to his mouth and sucked down a large mouthful. He frowned. "Hmm, it's missing something… what's it missing?"

"Sour wedge?" Jet sarcastically offered. He dropped a small piece of lemon into his tea without looking at him.

Merle straightened his back at Faye's suggestion.

"You're pretty. Too pretty for a dump like this shithole," the bossman grunted. His eyes bore a hole through her dark red dress. He spat, "How do I know you're not a cop?"

Faye blinked. "I'm not," she replied as a confused question.

She didn't look like one, that was for sure. But they couldn't be too careful these days. Highly sought after criminals could not let their guards down, especially around a woman, no matter how pretty. They were sly. They were just as capable of manipulation as men.

Merle snapped his fingers and pointed. "Vic. Search her."

"Heh. With pleasure."

Faye swallowed.

Through the earpiece, Jet heard the demand. She had a Glock and a pair of cuffs strapped to the inside of her leg. If they found those, she was as good as dead where she stood.

"Ahh. I see." Spike hailed the bartender. With a raspy voice and a fake smile, he asked, "Do you have any eggs?"

"Eggs?"

"Yea. Eggs. You know. Chickens shit them out. Can I have one?"

The perpetually perplexed employee headed for the back with his strange request, oblivious to the growing tension in the place.

"What are you doing, Faye needs us. Now," Jet said. He was already turning in the stool to free the handgun at his side.

"Relax. Everything's fine." The hungover bounty hunter lazily sipped at the whipped cream on top of the milkshake, seemingly uninterested in the fate of his female friend. Or any of their fates, for that matter.

The employee came back and handed him a white egg.

Jet slid from his stool and took a long step in the smugglers' direction, in his hand a grey and silver Walther P99.

Faye backed away from the table as two of them approached her. A quick glance to the bar area at Jet and she reached down under the hem of the dress. One hand made a fist, the other gripped the black, fully loaded Glock.

She landed a swift uppercut into the soft underside of the ruffian's jaw and pistol-whipped the back of his head with the butt of her gun. He landed on the ground a shove. She shook her hand in the air and cringed.

Jet fired the Walther at the other man standing between Faye and the table, the explosion of contained gunpowder slicing through the previous quiet. As soon as the man fell to the floor with a shout, he shifted his aim toward the two still seated.

Distance offense strategy was now useless; Merle and his thug friend were already up and closing the space that separated them.

Merle rushed Jet. He knocked into him before he could bring his pistol around to aim. The Walther flew from his hand and a fist connected into the side of his face.

Throwing a glance towards Jet, Faye knew she wasn't equipped to fight like him or Spike. She wasn't trained in hand to hand, but in the close quarters of the small pub, the Glock was still her only defense. She didn't want to flat out kill them, they wouldn't get their money if the smugglers were dead.

"Spike! You idiot!" She called in frustration.

Hunched over his drink, Spike concentrated on cracking the missing ingredient into his shake. He was terrible at cooking anything, having relied heavily on Jet for sustenance for most of his adult life. He winced from the gunshot, which only added to the ache behind his tired eyes. Behind him, all hell broke loose, the sounds of struggles and gunfire ringing in the stale air.

Jet blocked another fist aimed for his gut and connected his own to Merle's temple in return. The smuggler stumbled backward. Jet shoved him hard in the chest and the muscled man toppled over the table and his unfinished beer.

"Faye!" Jet shouted in warning.

The woman turned at his voice, seeing one of the thugs ball his fist and advance to pummel her. She ducked and threw her shoulder into his gut, using the Glock's barrel to assist her in tagging him in the process.

He was out of the fight, down for the count, dry heaving with his hands on his junk.

The man she had earlier pistol-whipped rose and ran at her, the bloodlust apparent in his angry eyes. She promptly ducked again and stuck out her leg, which he ran right into. He was sent stumbling into the bar and smacked right into Spike.

The still unbroken egg slipped out of his hand to bust on the floor.

"The fuck," Spike barked. Anger boiled inside his chest.

The pub's door flung open and four more similarly dressed men ran in, all familiar with Merle and the two men sprawled on the floor. They looked around at the fray, briefly orienting themselves with the situation. It took only seconds, but Jet and Faye knew they couldn't hold off the newcomers.

"My egg! I needed that," Spike seethed. "Everything's so not fine!"

He jumped and shoved the stool away from the counter, standing up and tugging out his Jericho 941 from its holster. He snarled, racking the pistol and without aiming, started firing off round after round directly at the smugglers who had just entered the building.

They scattered to hide behind anything they could find, knocking tables on their sides to use as makeshift shields as he channeled his frustrations into the gunmetal.

Spike turned to the downed man who had run into him. He smashed the man's bloody face into the egg mess with his boot. "That's for ruining my milkshake," he hissed.

Behind him, Jet's left fist smacked into Merle's jaw, his torso bending in half at the waist with the momentous effort. He breathed out, struggling to catch his breath with the strain.

The drug smuggler bounded into the back wall. His head shot side to side, looking for a way out while Jet was preoccupied with the small group of his followers that had come in to join them.

When his attention returned to their main target, Merle was nowhere to be seen. Their intended target escaped.

Faye dove for Jet's discarded pistol as the newcomers began to retaliate. She threw herself back on the floor. With her own gun, she covered them with gunfire until she could return Jet's firearm to him. Her dress hitched up her legs, the thigh holsters now in full view. Vibrant green panties peeked out from the inside at the apex of her legs.

Spike barreled out of the way of blazing bullets zooming past. "Shit!"

Lying on the ground next to Faye, he ejected the empty magazine and inserted a fresh one into his black pistol. From his position, he spied the material. "Really. Lime green, huh," he stated casually. A smirk showed up on his mouth.

Faye pursed her lips and cow kicked him in the chest. "Stop looking, pervert."

"We gotta get, fast," Jet grunted. He caught the pistol Faye tossed up to him.

"What about the bounty-" Faye started, the surprise coating her voice.

The big man shook his head. "It's no good. Let's go before we're shot all to hell!"

With Jet laying down cover fire, Spike hauled Faye to her feet, then angled his body to pop off a few rounds at their opposition. He snatched up the milkshake on his way and followed the other two out the back exit and into the alley.

Outside next to the dumpsters, Faye watched for any signs of their fleeing quarry while Jet fetched the car parked on the other side of the alley. She turned at the door opening, relaxing when she saw Spike. He made a face as he sucked up the shake.

"You went back for that?"

He swallowed. "It's not as good without some egg in it. No tip for him."

Faye tried to hide the smile he unknowingly put on her face. Though the man liked to mess around, making light of certain situations, never mind how dire they may be, he made her heart a little lighter. Every day. His presence settled her. His lack of emotional awareness, however, would get him into serious trouble someday.

Jet drove the car up to them, skidding to a halt.

Pulling at Spike's shirt, Faye dragged him to the car, pushing him through the now open door. She shoved him further to climb in herself.

The junk car didn't look like much, though it got them from point A to B with no hesitation. The engine's rumble turned into a roar as Jet sped away. "Watch for that slimebag," Jet said.

They entered the main, busy streets, blending in with the locals. People walked along from one area to another. Other vehicles on the streets passed by in a rush. There were so many, Faye couldn't distinguish after a certain distance. "I don't know, Jet. I don't see him. Sorry."

"Hmm. Well. This blows. Not what I expected." Jet made a sound with his mouth and flicked the air freshener hanging under the rectangle mirror.

Faye nodded. "We'll try again. Another day, sometime."

"Sometime," Jet repeated. He looked at her in the mirror. "You mean another year. That guy's evaded the cops and bounty hunters alike for half a decade. He's not stupid."

There was an empty, sipping sound.

They both turned to Spike, who had finished his mediocre milkshake. He seemed to be doing a little better than earlier in the day. His eyes were a little brighter, almost back to normal.

From the other side of the backseat, Spike peered at Faye from his position, his head resting on the armrest. He took in her ragged appearance after their small bar fight.

Bounty work did a number on her.

He licked the whipped cream off the straw and said, "Yea. Next time it'll be a thousand times harder 'cause he knows who we are."

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Mafia!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn WC: 2923 “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

AO3 | WP

Chapter 09: I’m Fine

"I’ll keep telling myself, Even if I fall down again...I'm fine."

Raelyn rarely slept.

Then again, it came with the territory. Just because a person had a certain shift that they were given didn’t mean anything. There were few professions in the world that “never sleep” and working in a hospital was one of them. The other, from what she understood, was television news broadcasts. Just like news staff, hospital personnel were always on call.

She didn’t mind it. This was the occupation she chose, and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Not even for a few more hours or sleep. Or hell, even one more hour of sleep.

But there were times, very few times, where she would have made a deal with a demon if it meant getting just fifteen more minutes. Even five.

This was one of those mornings.

Raelyn didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but she could recite exactly how many hours she’d been awake.

Thirty-six, to be exact.

The very minute that the car accident victim was wheeled in through the ER entrance, she knew she was in for the long haul. On a normal day, she would have had just one more hour until her shift was over. Throw in one of her co-workers calling in sick and well, that pretty much summed up the next day and a half for her. If she wasn’t running around gathering all the medical information on the patient, she was administering sedatives and making sure everyone else was taking the right number of breaks so that they didn’t pass out when they were needed in a pinch.

It got a little scary around the twenty-ninth hour. Some of her fellow nurses didn’t think the victim was going to make it through the morning, let alone through the night. A few morbid cynics were actually taking wagers. In this line of work, sometimes you needed to make light of even the worst situations to get through it all.

Otherwise a person would go certifiably insane.

Once everyone was dismissed and assured that the patient was, in fact, going to make it, Raelyn felt like her bones were going to turn into jelly. She’d collapsed into a chair, the physical and mental exhaustion finally taking its toll. A few of the orderlies made sure she was alright, asking her if she needed to take a quick nap in one of the employee rest areas. But Raelyn knew her body. She needed a cup of coffee; just enough caffeine to get her back home so she could pass out for the next twelve hours.

Crossing the threshold of her modest apartment, she barely remembered hanging up her coat or even stepping into her house slippers. She didn’t even really remember stripping out of her scrubs, throwing them into the hamper, or even taking a quick five-minute shower. The only thing that really registered through her body was climbing into her extra-large sweatshirt and falling into her bed face-first. If her phone died in the middle of her nap, so be it. She was off for the next two days as per the orders of her supervisor.

Like she was even going to argue.

Beep. Beep.

Raelyn groaned, rolling over onto her back while scratching her stomach. The soft beeping noise barely registered at the forefront of her mind. Exhaustion held strong, keeping her tethered to the bed and she pulled the mink blanket up across her body. Sometime in her sleep she’d pushed it off of her and instantly regretted it.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

That noise again.

That goddamn noise again.

Her eyes slowly opened and she moaned, her vision attempting to focus. The stream of moonlight that slid in through the bedroom windows helped her to see better in the dark. Was she dreaming? This had to be a dream. There was no way she fell asleep that hard only to be woken up by some damn noise she could barely even hear. That was just crazy.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the buzzer from the front door.

“…you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” she muttered, sitting up on her elbows to look around the room. Her eyes lingered to her nightstand, the digital clock’s red numbers mocking her of the time.

4:27 AM

She angrily threw the covers off her, almost tripping into her house slippers, before shuffling her way out of her bedroom and into the living room. Hands brushed up against the wall, attempting to feel for the light switch and the living room was flooded with a soft amber lighting. Raelyn had never been a fan of bright light and she had lamps everywhere – keeping the atmosphere ethereal and comfortable. It was easy on her eyes that way, especially when she didn’t have her glasses on.

Crossing the small distance to the front door, she reached up to the panel where the door camera was. Pressing the button, the screen lit up but all she could see was the top of someone’s head as they seemed to be leaning against the door. She watched as their hand lifted to press the door buzzer again and it was then that she noticed it was stained with blood.

Gasping, she unbolted the door and threw it open. A man practically fell into her arms and his sheer weight caused her knees to buckle slightly. Bracing most of her weight onto her back leg, she wrapped her arms tightly around the person before ushering them inside – her leg extending out to kick the door closed. When she heard the security lock latch and beep, Raelyn took a moment to see just who was in her house.

The silvery blue and black hair was unmistakable, and she nearly dropped him on accident.

“Taehyung-ah!”

He groaned, attempting to look up at her as he gave her a pained smirk. “Hey…Rae Noona…”

It was here that she was able to get a good look at him now that he was brought into the light. His right cheek was slightly swollen and showing tell-tale signs of bruising. There was a cut over his left brow, leaking a fresh red trail of blood down his cheek that began dripping onto the floor. Hand prints were left on his throat – angry red welts and small scratches from where nails had gotten hold of him.

The worst, though, was the injury around his stomach. The one he was clutching on to so desperately. Raelyn surmised that he’d gotten hit badly in his stomach. Maybe a group assault? She couldn’t be sure. She knew for certain that it wasn’t a gun. In South Korea, unless you were a police officer or military, civilians were prohibited from owning firearms.

That or if you were a hired assassin, but this wasn’t some damn action movie.

Hefting him up as best she could, she ushered him into the living room where she laid him down on the floor. His clothes looked a mess, like he’d been rolling around in the dirt. But his hand was still clutching at his stomach and she could now see the red stain blossoming across his shirt. Raelyn’s lips formed into a thin line and she stood up, making her way toward her bathroom where her emergency first aid kit was located. She then picked up her glasses from her nightstand and put them on. She was going to need her sight completely for this, she could already tell.

When she returned to the living room, she saw Taehyung attempting to sit up and she quickly knelt beside him – her hands on his shoulders and urging him to lay back down. However, as gentle as she was, her face spoke her anger in volumes.

“Lay back down unless you want to make my job harder,” she snapped once she was able to force him back down. “Let me see.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed but instead of moving his hand, his fingers curled into a fist to grip even tighter into his shirt. Raelyn had to resist the urge to growl at him, instead focusing her attention on opening the first aid kid. She could feel the onset of a migraine right near her left temple.

“Boy, if you don’t move your goddamn hand, I’m going to make you.” She glared at him. “Now let me see.”

He seemed to be considering her words before he finally loosened his grip, his hand sliding off his stomach. She saw the injury and a wave of relief hit her. It was just a stab wound. Lifting his shirt up, Raelyn’s eyes inspected the wound before pressing two of her fingers around the cut. He hissed slightly, but that was to be expected. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep. But he was still going to need stitches.

Her stony expression remained. “I have to disinfect this and it’s going to hurt like hell. You want something to bite on?” She watched him shake his head as she soaked some gauze in rubbing alcohol. “Are you sure? This is your last chance.”

“Woman,” he grunted, half laughing as beads of sweat broke out across the bridge of his nose, “just hurry up and get it over with. I’m dying.”

Raelyn rolled her eyes. “You’re far from heading to your grave, I can assure you.”

Just as he opened his mouth to throw some other kind of smartass comment at him, she pressed the gauze to his cut and watched the bright white cloth immediately change to red. Taehyung yelled, clearly unprepared for her assault. But it served him right. She slept for maybe two hours before he showed up on her doorstep, bleeding all over her entryway. She wiped three more gauze strips over his stomach, moving his hand to cover the last one.

“Put pressure on this.” Raelyn began threading a needle. “Don’t move.”

“W-Wait a minute,” he protested, trying to sit up but she put her hand on his forehead and all but shoved him back down onto the floor. Taehyung coughed, clearly surprised by her strength. “Wow, your bedside manner is terrible, Noona.”

“Shut-up,” she said, her tone icy as she finished threading the needle. “You don’t get to bitch after waking me up in the middle of the night.” Dipping the needle in the rubbing alcohol, her dark eyes lingered on him for a moment. “Move your hand.”

“What?” He blinked up at her in disbelief. “You’re just going to go at it? Just like that?”

Her neutral expression didn’t waver. “You wanna bleed to death?” Needle still in hand, she pointed to her front door. “The door’s right there. Do it out in the hall.”

Taehyung coughed while trying to catch his breath. “You are so mean.”

Now she pointed the needle at his face, right between the eyes, causing his eyes to cross slightly. “Keep it up and I’ll sew your mouth shut.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he turned his head so he wouldn’t see her work. Satisfied that he was going to keep his mouth shut, Raelyn began stitching up his wound with absolute precision. It only took about fifteen minutes, but it was fifteen minutes of silence she appreciated. Sweat dripped from her brow and she quickly lifted her arm up to swipe at it with the back of her wrist. The stitches needed to be tight so that the scarring would be minimal. The last thing she wanted to hear was Taehyung bitching about how his oh-so-perfect abs had been marred.

Once she was finished, she placed some gauze to the injury and secured it with medical tape. He sat up, taking note of her handiwork, and she set aside the bloody rags and dirty needle to be tossed out. Closing the first aid kit, Raelyn turned to look him square in the eye.

“You’re fixed. Now get out.”

Without waiting to hear him out, she got to her feet and made her way to the kitchen. She needed to wash her hands and probably splash some cold water on her face. Then she was going back to bed and she dared anyone to try and stop her.

Taehyung followed her. “Wait. That’s it?” She didn’t look at him as she threw the bloodied gauze and needle into the trash. “You just sew me up and throw me out?”

She didn’t look at him. “I’ll bill you later.”

Raelyn’s hand went to the faucet to turn it on, but Taehyung’s larger hand encircled her wrist before forcing her to turn around and look up at him. She could see her irritated expression reflected in his eyes as he, too, gave her an equally irate face.

“You’re not even gonna ask what happened?”

“I don’t need to ask. I’m not blind. I know exactly what happened.”

“And you’re just gonna brush it off like it’s nothing?”

“Like I said, I’ll bill you later.”

He frowned and while she appeared unaffected on the outside, Raelyn was infuriated from within. This was what she was talking about the last time she spoke with Taehyung. This was the kind of shit she was trying to keep away from her life. It was one thing to be a nurse and help someone who was bleeding out on an operating table when it was a stranger. It was a completely different issue when it was someone she knew. The life that Hoseok led, the life that the rest of them led, that violent path to claim dominion was something she quickly realized she didn’t want to be part of. It was undue stress. Especially since they were still trying to make a name for themselves.

It was why she broke up with Hoseok two years ago. He told her that it wouldn’t always be like this, but that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Her past held enough scars. She didn’t want to add more to it by worrying about whether or not the person she cared for would get cut down at any given moment. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to become a liability for them either. Raelyn wasn’t going to keep Hoseok from the path he wanted to walk, but walking that path beside him was something she didn’t want to do. She wasn’t ready to. Hell, she didn’t think she’d ever be ready.

And now Taehyung showed up, beaten up and bleeding in her personal sanctuary. Was he fucking crazy?!

“Look, Noona –”

“No, you look!” She yanked her hand free from his grasp, using it to smack his chest hard. He took a step back, blinking at her in surprise. “This is the kind of shit that I was trying to avoid the first time around, Kim Taehyung! Do you have any fucking idea what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night and have someone bleeding out on your doorstep?!”

She smacked him again.

“Wondering when the hell someone you care about is going to kick the damn bucket? Huh? Do you?!”

This time she punched his shoulder, her lower lip quivering slightly.

“I lost count how many times Hoseok would come here, beaten up and bleeding all over the goddamn place. And like you, he’d just laugh it off and promise me that things would get better.” Raelyn angrily wiped at her cheeks. “Well you know what? I got tired of waiting for things to get better. I fuckin’ told you this already and you just won’t listen!” Not wanting to look at his worried expression anymore, she buried her face in her hands. “You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.”

Raelyn took several deep breaths, refusing to lose it or cry. She had to stand her ground on this. Because if she didn’t, she was going to have to admit to herself that she cared. She told herself a long time ago after ending things with Hoseok that she valued her freedom more than anything else. Raelyn couldn’t afford to waver. Not now.

Silence seemingly stretched on forever between them and then she felt Taehyung’s arms encircle her in a warm hug. Biting her lower lip, Raelyn had to remind herself not to cry. Instead, she took three deep breaths and lowered her hands, inhaling softly. Taehyung smelled like Curve for Men and rubbing alcohol. She sniffed, collecting herself. Taking a step back, she noticed that Taehyung’s hands were resting at her lower back. Warmth touched her cheeks and she could feel an ache inside of her chest - an ache Raelyn was desperately trying to ignore.

She took another step back, clearing her throat loudly before reaching for a rag on the counter and shoving it into his hand. He looked at it curiously and she pointed to the door. “Clean up that mess you left in the hallway before the cops show up wondering what the hell happened.”

Taehyung grinned, the color coming back to his cheeks. “Can I make you breakfast to make up for everything?”

“I don’t care. Do what you want.” She watched him turn to leave the kitchen and head to the front door. “I’m still billing you later.”

A ghost of a smile touching her lips as Raelyn heard him chuckle just as he closed the door behind him. Once it clicked closed, she sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. This was going to be problematic. She could tell from a mile away.

Yet there was a part of her that just didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Not this time.