#''kill me if you dare hold my head up anywhere'' like. he gives zero fucks

[bloodxhound]

𝟓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.

i.  underdog - kasabian. it don’t matter, i won’t do what you say  /  you’ve got the money and the power, i won’t go your way  /  i can’t take from the people, they don’t matter at all  /  i’ll be waiting in the shadows ‘til the day that you fall

ii.  bullets - archive. come touch me like i’m an ordinary man  /  have a look in my eyes  /  underneath my skin there is a violence  /  it’s got a gun in its hands  /  ready to make, ready to make sense of anyone, anything  /  anyone, anything

iii.  ful stop - radiohead. you really messed up everything  /  if you could take it all back again  /  strike up the tinderbox  /  why should i be good if you’re not?

iv.  feral love - chelsea wolfe. your eyes black like an animal  /  crossing the water  /  lead them to die

v.  choke - hybrid. i’ll stay here with my secrets  /  sink  /  into the storm again  /  cold and disconnected  /  we’ve opened every door 

stolen from: @bonescribes hi  /  tagging: @kagoshou, @kamipyre, @kilamantras​, @bloodthirstyflower​, @guilt-rips​ ( both? i’m greedy hehe ), @lovlorne​, @silenthcwl​

[justnerdthings]

Frigid Heart Ch. 1

F!Reader x Bi-Han

The first chapter. I'm not sure how good it is. I'll admit that I don't know much about Bi-Han.

I'm planning this fic to start off in the 1600's and then skip to modern day. But who knows if it'll happen that way.

Title by the lovely @khadrimxart

You were tossed from the cage at the Grandmaster's feet. You were such a beauty, even if you were from a rival clan. A servant girl, but one who had impressed the Lin Kuei, who had attacked your clan. You had such fury and loyalty for your dead masters that you had managed to hold your own against several Lin Kuei assassins. That was, until Sub-Zero had shown up. The Grandmaster looked from you, then to Sub-Zero.

"Are we taking prisoners now, Sub-Zero?" He asked with a raised brow.

"This one managed to fend off a few of our assassins," Tundra answered, bringing up the rear of the group.

"Oh?" The Grandmaster looked over the group, then back to you on the ground. Lifting a foot, he wouldn't even grace you with his hand as he raised your chin to get a look at your face. He grinned at your beauty, even with your face bruised and sliced, he could see it. The Lin Kuei had use for beauties like you.

You spat at him. Bloodied saliva splattered his leg.

He sneered. "Insolence!" He hissed and kicked you in the side of the head with an armored foot. You hit the ground like dead weight, knocked out from the sharp blow. The Grandmaster looked to his group of assassins with that scowl still on his face. "Who did she defeat?" He demanded, looking to each of their faces accusingly.

"No one who is here," Smoke answered, earning him an inquisitive look. "They were weak. We dealt with them."

The Grandmaster narrowed his eyes, but didn't question it. If they couldn't cut down a simple servant woman, then they deserved to be disposed of. "And who finally captured her?"

"Sub-Zero," Cyrax answered.

"Sub-Zero." The Grandmaster turned his attention to Bi-Han. "Well done. Though, I doubt she was much of a threat to you."

Bi-Han wouldn't have admitted it even if you were. "Not at all," he confirmed. "Smoke is right. Those other assassins were weak. They're not a problem anymore."

The Grandmaster smiled with a pleased nod. He could always count on this little group to do what was necessary. But there was still the matter of this wretched thing on the ground. He looked back to your limp body. "Well, she is your prisoner, Sub-Zero. Do what you will with her…" he trailed off, curious to what Bi-Han had planned.

Bi-Han bowed his head in gratitude, but said nothing else. The Grandmaster almost frowned at being denied Bi-Han's plans, but it wasn't of importance. He brushed it off. He turned to the rest of the group. "You've all earned your rest," he said with a dismissive wave. The mission had been completed. There was nothing more to do for the moment.

You woke as cold water splashed over you. You gasped and shrieked as your body tensed in chilled shock. Your hands were chained to a stone wall, and you had been stripped naked. Unable to hide yourself, you shivered on the cold stone floor. Two older women were standing only feet away. They gave you sympathetic looks. One held a bundle of clean clothes. The other lifted a bucket as she stepped forward.

The chilled water was splashed over you again. You gave another shout as it stung your naked skin. "Stop!" You demanded.

"You will be cleansed," the bucket wielding woman told you with an air of authority. She was obviously the one in charge. The other only bowed her head.

"Let me go, you old bat!"

"Bah!" She stepped over and smacked you hard across the face. It stung worse than the Arctika water. "You are in no position to give me orders! You are a prisoner of the Lin Kuei!"

"Fuck the Lin Kuei!" You hissed. But it only got you smacked again.

"You will respect the Lin Kuei! It is because of the Lin Kuei that you have been allowed to continue breathing."

"I'd rather die than be your prisoner."

"If you keep speaking, you may get your wish," The elder woman spat. She turned and gestured to the other woman to come forward. "You will change into these clothes."

"I will run."

"Where to?" She looked back to you. "Look around. You are in the dungeon. The door to this cell is locked from the outside where two guards stand. You can not run."

"Then I will fight."

"Then you will die," the woman said. She took the clothes from the other woman, who then hurried to unlock the chains from the your wrists. Being freed, you shifted your gaze between the two. They didn't look like fighters. You might have been able to take them… but what of the guards on the other side of that door?

The clothes were thrusted into your chest. Instinctively you held them. "Change. Now," the older woman ordered impatiently.

You stood there, staring at the two. The quiet one gave you a pleading look. You unfolded the clothes, finding them to be a simple blue hanfu. You quickly slipped into it, thankful once you had. Your shivering nearly stopped as the hanfu held in some body heat. You were handed a sash and quickly secured it around your waist, keeping the clothing closed around you. A simple pair of slippers were dropped at your feet. You stepped into them, surprised that they had fit correctly.

Seeing as they were cleaning and clothing you, it seemed unlikely that they were planning to kill you. And the hanfu, while simple, was good quality… much nicer than the rags your old masters had given you. You felt out of place already.

“You will not speak unless asked to,” The older woman told you. Your brows knotted to her, but her soul piercing glare cut through you. You looked away, to the stone floor, and nodded silently. You may have been able to fend off some of the Lin Kuei, but you were no match for that stronger one that had shown up back in your village. “Good.” She sighed in some relief that you had quickly learned your place. “Did your old masters give you a name?” She asked.

You shook your head. “My parents named me. Y/N.”

The woman hesitated. “A shame.” You looked up with confusion. “It is a pretty name, but it is no longer yours,” she explained. “Your new master may wish to give you a new name.”

You jaw hardened.

“Your old life is dead. Do you hear me, girl?”

You nodded, feeling a knot grow in the pit of your stomach.

“Whatever attachment you had to your old life, has been severed.”

You nodded again.

“Now, come here,” The woman said. You turned and she gripped your arms tight. She caught your eyes with hers and frowned. “I know this is difficult, but it will be easier if you just do what you are told. The Lin Kuei are not as cruel as your old masters have led you to believe. However, the Lin Kuei are harsh in their expectations.” She gave you a small shake and straightened your posture up. “Which clan are you from?”

“The Snow Ninjas,” you answered, letting your eyes drift back down to the floor.

She caught your chin firmly and tilted your head up to make you look back to her. “Are women treated well in The Snow Ninjas clan?”

Your jaw hardened and you shook your head.

She sighed. “And yet, you have such a mouth… Be wise and watch your words. We are not treated well here either. We are servants and comfort women. Some are prized for their beauty. Those with desirable traits and abilities are often used to continue bloodlines.

Your jaw hurt as you further clenched it.

“I can see beyond those bruises and scars on your face… You have been blessed with beauty. Do everything in your power to retain it for as long as possible. Your life will be easier here if you do.” She sighed heavily and brushed a stray clinging hair behind your ear. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s get you upstairs and tend to these cuts.”

As much as you hated being in the Lin Kuei’s little village, you would admit that it was rather… cozy. As the two women led you along the courtyard that you had been so unceremoniously dumped on earlier, you noticed eyes on you. Servants and Assassins alike were curious of Sub-Zero’s new slave. Apparently, he’d never agreed to have one before--not his own anyway. He was a very private man. Of course everyone was wondering why he’d decided to keep you.

You were led to a small cottage just outside the courtyard. Lily, you’d since learned the name of the older woman, opened the door which you were surprised to see was unlocked. “He is not here at the moment, but you are expected. Come,” She waved you over. You stepped into the house and froze at the sight. Apparently Sub-Zero had never learned to use a broom… How could the man live like this? Everything was strewn about. Walking through with Lily, even the small kitchen was piled with objects that did not belong. He obviously did little cooking, if at all. Lily sighed at the sight, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d seen this mess.

“This man, I swear,” she mumbled and shook her head, casting shame to the chaos. You couldn’t help but grin at her reaction. “Well, I suppose you ought to clean up a bit.” Your grin faded. You turned your head to look at her nervously. She placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Good luck, dear. And remember what I’ve told you. And don’t be getting any ideas about running off. There is nothing around here for hundreds of miles. You’ll freeze to death before making it anywhere.”

You frowned at the idea of not being able to get to safety. “Thank you…” You watched her step away and out the door. She closed it behind her, leaving you in the strange pig-sty of a home. This would take hours to sort through.

Stars shimmered in the sky by the time Sub-Zero came home. Stepping in, he pulled his mask from his face and tossed it onto the side table—

The side table that used to be right there…

Now his mask was on the floor. He stared at it in confusion before looking up. His mess--his things… They were gone! His jaw hardened. Had he been robbed? Who would dare to rob him?!

A strange, but enticing scent wafted to his nose. It filled his house. Meat? Spices? Food? His brows knotted as he stepped further into his home. He stepped around a corner to see a woman in the kitchen. That’s when he remembered you--his new servant. His shoulders relaxed, mentally kicking himself for having forgotten about you. He watched you silently until you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye.

You froze, not sure what to say… or do. You recognized his eyes. That was the man who easily overwhelmed you back home. Of course he would be your new master... What did the Lin Kuei expect of their servants? Lily hadn’t told you many details. Were you even supposed to be cooking? You supposed you were about to find out.

He stepped towards you, eyeing you up and down for only a moment before he followed his nose to the pot in the hearth. You couldn’t read his face as he peeked inside, but he hadn’t shouted. That was good, right?

Bi-Han hadn’t ever come home to a hot meal. Of course he’d eaten hot food, usually in the palace’s dining hall where some other Lin Kuei got their meals. But never in his own home--from his own kitchen. A surprise, but an interesting one. And his home… it was spotless!

“Where are my things?” He asked slowly, almost accusingly as he straightened from the pot to look at you.

You were all kinds of tense looking into his eyes. You opened your mouth to answer, but hesitated for a second. “I… cleaned,” you said pathetically. Of course you’d cleaned. That wasn’t what he’d asked at all. “I organized…” You’d corrected yourself. “What are you looking for, Master?”

His eyes flinched hearing that last word. That would take some getting used to. “Show me,” he told you.

Your brows knotted. Show him… what? Where everything was? “Oh… Yes, Master.” You bowed your head and cautiously stepped towards the cabinets. Opening them, you showed him where all the eatery was. Another cabinet held herbs and spices. Pots and pans hung over the hearth. In the small hallway, a narrow table had an oil lamp placed on it, in its drawer were small odds and ends. The sitting room, the furniture had all been cleared off and cleaned. Bi-Han silently wondered when he had acquired a hardwood sofa. You showed him the closet, which had the broom he also hadn’t realized he’d had. Wooden boxes lined the walls, full of various things, trinkets he’d gotten on missions--treasures. Led to the bedroom, he was surprised to see his bed had been made. His dresser had been straightened out, his clean clothes folded neatly, each type having its own drawer. And his closet… The weapons and armor he’d collected over the years were neatly displayed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. You were certainly earning your keep already.

“I apologize that I have not had time yet to tend to your laundry,” you spoke cautiously, flinching in anticipation of some sort of punishment… But it didn’t come. You relaxed as he stepped away. Your brows rose curiously. “Master?”

“You will have plenty of time tomorrow,” he said, walking out of his room and heading for the kitchen. You followed him quickly as relief washed over you. You had already planned to do his laundry tonight, but tomorrow was a welcomed idea. “What is this?” He asked, pointing to the hearth as he sat at the table.

“Nothing impressive. Again, my apologies. I only had time for a quick stew.”

Bi-Han hid his amusement. You had said it wasn’t impressive, but to him, it was. In the time since you’d been brought to his home, you had done more than he had expected. Much more. Obviously you were a skilled servant. “Is it done?” He asked.

A panic surged through you. You hurried forward. Of course. He must have been hungry. You hadn’t seen him since you were brought to the Lin Kuei. You weren’t sure if he had eaten all day. You quickly grabbed a bowl and spoon. You filled the bowl and brought it to him, bowing your head as you placed it on the table in front of him.

That may have been the best stew Bi-Han had ever tasted.

[not-your-bro]

got tagged in this by @emmamountebanks (hi hello) and true to form i'm doing it basically a week later ghkjfhlj. created by @lowonmelatonin

favorite counselor and least favorite counselor. why?:

favorite counselor: kaitlyn, hands down. i love how sharp her tongue is, so all of her banter - with dylan and jacob especially - is so good. i love her weird intensity, like how she gets so into truth or dare, and the fact that - according to that game scoreboard you can find - she trounced every single camper by a wide margin (and i'm sure felt ZERO shame for not letting a kid win). i like that she's well-meaning but doesn't really know how to emotionally communicate - like if nick kills abi and kaitlyn has to break the news to emma, she's all "don't worry, her head got ripped off so fast i'm sure she didn't feel anything" :)

god. what a gal.

also: tiny bitch big gun. sometimes it's that simple.

least favorite counselor: in supermassive games i don't really have "least favorites" so much as i have characters i'm simply least interested in. and in the quarry, that falls to nick. i like that he's clearly quarter-life-crisis-ing about what he should do with his life and what his "thing" is, but man just gets so little screen time that unfortunately he feels more like a plot point than a fully fleshed out character.

favorite chapter and least favorite chapter. why?:

favorite chapter: chapter 9, in large part bc of the junkyard sequence. god that part fucking RULES. i'm obsessed with dylan and kaitlyn bonding over not really getting anywhere with ryan, and the DREAD i felt when i saw those motion-activated lights turning on one by one....unmatched. even at the hackett house, ch. 9 pops off in a big way, and - especially on a first playthrough - everyone's lives feel like they're really hanging in the balance. i probably felt the most stressed during ch. 9 and bc of that it holds a special place in my heart.

least favorite chapter: chapter 7. it's giving mike sanatorium - engaging on a first playthrough but a real slog after that, bc it's all plot stuff you already know but you have to power through anyway. nothing makes me wish supermassive let me fast-forward through cutscenes more than ch. 7.

favorite ship (you can pick a maximum of 3)?: 

blygbank blygbank blygbank. once again supermassive gives us two characters with off the charts chemistry and expects us believe they are simply platonic besties. HOW!!!

biggest counselor crush:

kaitlyn. do i need to say "tiny bitch big gun" again

how would you survive the quarry?:

by fuckin sleeping LOL. fr. anyone who knows me knows that i can sleep like a champ, and mr. h would not have needed to ask me twice to stay holed up in the lodge.

if i was forced awake against my will...well. then i'm just dead, there's no way around it.

favorite the quarry fanfic writer and fanartist:

i honestly haven't read any quarry fic, but if anyone has any good blygbank recommendations, drop 'em in the ol' ask box!

as for artists, i have to shout out @sharkflan for these three pieces making me crack up like no tomorrow. they're just delightful. (and her climbing class art from the UD fandom days is beyond adorable.)

shoutout to some friends made in the fandom :)

i'm shy and bad at being the first to reach out lol so i've looked fondly from afar more than i've directly interacted. but being part of a lil fandom again has been a hoot - i love the new folks i've followed and seeing the same bunch of people in the quarry tag and in my notes. ily ily!!

[thhimble]

baby don’t hold out(it’s cold outside), ii

Henry cavill x reader

part i: here

Warnings: none yet. A bit more cheese. A bit more nerdier. I tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but i think she might be a bit of a nerd, so a heads up for that. Hopefully it doesn’t throw anyone out of the fic too much.

Tags: @harrystylesholland​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​ , @laurakirsten0502​

baby don’t hold out (it’s cold outside), ii

.

.

                  It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself, standing outside of room 208, your nose and ears burning from the warmth inside compared to the cold outside… from how long you spent lingering in the snow, trying desperately to figure out a solution that you knew, really, wasn’t there.

Clara was right, after all, you did help make the lists, you helped write and organise and plan… and your options are—

Henry pops into your head, pitch a tent? Camp out in the lobby?

Your options are basically zero.

And you’re an adult not a pre-teen girl screaming over a hot boy. You can do this. You can absolutely do this. He isn’t fucking Adonis.

With a snort, you bury a laugh into your scarf. He’s just a guy. Just a really attractive guy. With really nice hair. And shoulders. And eyes. And—

Ugh, you think and blow out a breath, staring down the tauntingly-silent, somehow loopingly-mocking numbers staring you down from the upper middle of the door.

Fuck you, 208.

If numbers could personally offend, 208 was well on its way.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever felt personally victimized by 208.

208 stays silent, cursive and nailed to the door.

You resist the urge to lift your hand, yes, hi, I have. Let me introduce myself—

With another snort lost to your scarf, you close your eyes and pull in a steadying breath—

And lift your hand.

“You got this,” you mutter into your scarf. “You totally, absolutely got this.”

You’re a rock. Captain America’s shield. Mithril.

Sam carrying Frodo up the face of Mount Doom.

You knock.

There’s a noise inside, a shuffle—

You are absolutely not at all interested in running away.

You glance at the stairs you came up.

The door opens.

You feel like Frodo, holding the One Ring over the lava.

Henry’s in the same soft, dark blue sweater, but the dark of his hair is a little softer than it was earlier and his sleeves are pushed up over his forearms and he’s in socks and it’s all so— so—

No. You’re totally Samwise.

“Hullo,” Henry says with this slow smile that absolutely does nothing to your insides. “Thought maybe I lost you to a tent after all.”

“It was a close call,” you lie, swallowing around your heartbeat. “But the ground’s frozen. For you know. The tent thingies. That go in the ground.”

You make a weird hammer motion with your hand, it doesn’t at all look like a jerking-off motion. It doesn’t.

His smile goes crooked, his eyes flicking from your face down to the shift of your hand. You tuck it back into your coat pocket and decide you hate him. Him and his stupid, crooked smile.

“Stakes,” he says, with that stupid smile that looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yup, those,” you say with a forced laugh. “Tent thingies.”

He snorts a laugh, but steps back, his hand spreading wide on the door, the thick of his arm holding it open for you as he tilts his head into the room.

“Come on then, girl scout. In you go.”

You hesitate before you remember you’re totally Samwise Gamgee and you heft your metaphorical Frodo and push past him into his— your— whatever— room; ignoring the heat of him, size of him, smell of him, so close to you.

(You’ve been here before, anyway, in the bar that first night, with his mouth to your ear; buy you a drink? But it’s somehow, no less staggering.)

Objectively, it’s a nice room, from the zero-point-one second you glance over it before your eyes land on the bed—

The bed you’ll be sharing with him—

No, nope. There’s no way you can get into that bed with him, you think. No way you can lie down and pretend that you’re not… at least a little bit attracted to him.

Like, a bit.

You glance down; the floor is a tanned-wood colour, but there’s a nice grey rug spread out in front of a gas fireplace, that’s not all that thick, but maybe…

Henry clears his throat behind you and you startle a little, lost in the maybe of camping out on the floor.

No stakes required.

There are plenty of pillows on the bed, you think, with a quick glance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“About earlier,” he starts, and your eyes dart up to his, startled out of your thoughts again. “I know you’re not…” he huffs something like a laugh, crossing his arms. “Well. You aren’t thrilled, yeah? But listen, I’m not in the habit of being a prick, so I’ve made a few calls, and there’s a chance one of the other hotels a town over can bring a spare cot by. They’re going to give me a call back. But until then, I have no problem sleeping on the—”

“I can take the floor,” you interrupt because really, he’s not— it’s not his fault, is it? You were the one dicking around outside and avoiding— not avoiding, just… circumventing the inevitability of him and what he does to… a large portion of the human population. Regardless of gender or orientation. Apparently.

What he might, maybe, sort of, does to you.

It’s not his fault, exactly. (Maybe his parents though, maybe you should write in a complaint, a strongly-worded letter: dear Mrs and Mr Cavill, how dare you?)

Henry pulls a face and scoffs. “You’re not. Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not daft,” you parrot back, pulling your own incredulous face. “I’m serious, you’re,” you wave a hand over him, a vague Henry-shaped circle. “All you, like. And I’m… good with a little pillow-pile on the floor. It’s like, you know, girl’s sleepover. But—”

But in the bedroom of a totally-not-Adonis.

“All me like?” he questions, his brow tilting up.

You make a noise in your throat. Pressing your lips together beneath your scarf. It’s too hot in here, you think, with the gas fire on and the whole— whole man in front of you in this stupid small room with its stupid one bed.

“You know. You’re like. Big.”

“Big,” he says with a slow-widening smile, and crosses his arms. It does nothing at all to his biceps. You totally do not look.

You roll your eyes, because muscles don’t just happen, and— and you know what? It is his fault, you think, he made the very conscious decision to become a brick shithouse.

That’s absolutely on him.

(Your metaphorical Frodo gets a little lighter, you think you might actually make it.) Blaming someone else usually helps lighten a load, doesn’t it?

This is his fault. Who cares what Clara says?

“Yup,” you say and pop the p with a finalizing sound. “So that’s settled then, yeah?” you say, copying the way he says the word, and step away from him to unwind your scarf and drape it over one of the two chairs in the room that sit in front of the fireplace and little coffee table; they’re actually sort of soft-looking, maybe you really could just sleep in that. You aren’t six-foot-whatever like he is, you have a much better chance at fitting into it in a comfortable sleeping position in one of them.

He absolutely isn’t going to out-nice you. No way.

Chair-bed or bust.

“This chair looks nice, look, the pillows are soft too,” you press your hand onto the cushion, it’s not as soft as you hoped but the pillow fairs better; it’s soft and there’s a nice little decoration of holly and ivy, too; the words Merry Christmas stitched in a looping cursive in the middle of it.

“You’re not sleeping on the bloody chair,” he huffs behind you.

“Well,” you start, floundering for something to say, unzipping your jacket and turning to look at him to buy time. “That’s your opinion.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but you think it was a very close call. “Listen,” he starts and pulls in a breath. “There’s no way I’m sleeping in that bed with you sleeping anywhere else. I promise I can sleep anywhere, benefit of having a big family an’ all.”

You shrug off your jacket, stealing a moment to gather your thoughts, moving back towards the door to toe-off your boots, thankful they were dry from the amount of time you spent lingering downstairs and then in the hallway before finding the nerve to even knock.

“And I promise I really don’t care about where I sleep. The tent? Totally could do it. It’s just the ground—”

“Is frozen, yeah,” he finishes for you. “I got that bit.”

You meet his eyes, it’s mostly an accident, you weren’t avoiding it, exactly, you were just… lowering the probability of eye-contact with him by avoiding his general upper face-area.

“Please take the bed.” His face does this… this honest thing that does something to your insides and you think, damn, he might out-nice you after all.

But screw that.

“Is this you trying to be a gentleman?”

He blinks and then grins, standing a little straighter. “I am a gentleman.”

You burst out a laugh and then cover your mouth to catch the pitch of it, grinning behind your hand. “Sorry,” you snort and shake your head. “I mean, okay. Sure.”

“I am. Private school, got all the lessons. Pulling out chairs. Door-opening. Arm-offering. Know all the proper forks and everything,” he teases and you can’t help but laugh as he grins at you. “My mum would literally kill me if she ever found out I took the bed and made a girl sleep on the floor.”

“Ah, so it’s a sexist thing?” you tease back, trying to kill your smile with a tsk. “That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“What? No,” he blinks and frowns. “That’s not— that’s not what I meant—”

You try to bite back a smile, but he must see it flickering on your mouth and huffs at you. “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” you say with a grin and step around him to look for your bag, which you find by the bed, of course. Because he’s a gentleman, apparently.

You lift it up and over your shoulder, following where Henry points out the side tables with drawers and the closet near the door.

You set your bag on the bed, pulling out your toiletry bag and trying to ignore the feeling of him looking at you.

He pushes out a breath. “We could also just… be adults about this and share the bed?” he hedges, crossing his arms again and looking at you like he’s gauging you for something. You meet his eyes for a too-long moment where something prickles warmly inside your stomach before he shifts again, his lips quirking.  “Then my gentlemanly ways would remain intact and neither of us will end up on the floor— or a chair—with a sore back.”

You hesitate, eyes flicking to the bed and then back to him.

“I snore,” you lie because the bed— any bed with him in it, is still a big, fat nope. “And I’m a cover-hog.”

He snorts, scrubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head. “Impossible is what you are.”

“It’s a character flaw.”

Henry huffs a laugh, pushing his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “How about we just wait to see if I can get a cot from another hotel? If I can get one, then this is all rather moot, isn’t it?”

Moot, you think. Probably.

Just like any and all attraction to him. That’s moot. Pointless. He’s probably so used to people looking at him like that, that he doesn’t even register it.

It makes you feel a bit better, honestly.

You shrug because you don’t want to keep arguing with him when ignoring him generally works so much better for you.

It’s a tried-and-true solution to the Henry-Problem.

“Sure. You think you’ll get one?”

He shrugs, tugging a hand through his hair; you like it, you think, the loose, slightly curling bits you haven’t seen before. He’d had his hair different last time, a bit shorter, a bit straighter.

“I promise I’m doing my best?” he offers with a half-wince.

That, and the lift in his voice carries enough meaning.

Not sure at all, then.

Well. He still isn’t going to out-nice you.

You’re Samwise fucking Gamgee.

   .

                  The bathroom is nice, a bit small, but nice. You plop your toiletry bag on the vanity and glance at Henry’s stuff, already neatly set on one side of the sink. You touch the edge of a cologne bottle, resisting the urge to pick it up to smell it.

Yes, your brain supplies. Absolutely.

That would be creepy, wouldn’t it?

The bathroom already kind of smells like him, anyway; it’s distracting and you let your finger slide off the cool glass of the cologne and look at yourself in the mirror, instead.

There’s nothing going on tonight, no real distractions until tomorrow— you and Clara had planned it that way. It seemed like such a good idea at first, hadn’t it?

Arrive, unpack, relax. Explore a bit. Give into the comfort and mood of the holiday season at the inn while watching the snowfall from a safe, warm distance.

Have a bath. Read a book.

You stare at the shower accusingly.

You’re sure your room had a bathtub.

You mourn a little for the lost opportunity of your quiet room and your e-reader with a hot chocolate or a bit of wine and a bubble bath, before pulling in a breath and righting yourself, fixing your clothes before reaching for the door.

Back out in the room, Henry’s sitting in one the chairs by the fireplace, looking mostly relaxed, watching the fake-glow of the flames, his knees spread in that manspreading slouch so many guys do. You want to hate it on principle, but his thighs are—

Thighs, you think. They’re thighs, get a grip.

Henry looks at you, you look at him. The moment stretches out.

His eyes are… your belly does a little flop and you take a step backwards.

“I’m going to check on Clara and Sam,” you say and take another step back towards the door.

“Already did,” he says from the chair, a little frown between his brows as he sits up. “I thought maybe we—”

“Yeah, but I’m the Maid of Honour,” you interrupt and force a smile as you slip towards freedom. The room is way too small and warm, isn’t it? Unbearable, almost. “It’s like, my job.”

(You know the room isn’t that small. The whole place is rather decently sized. It’s why it won out, after all. The reigning champ of all the hotels and inns and lodges that had been potential venues over the months of planning.)

But it still feels too small. And he’s all you can smell.

You’re definitely not running but you ignore his countering: I’m the Best Man! that follows you out the door— because it just doesn’t suit the narrative of your excuse.

If he noticed your e-reader in your hands, he was nice enough not to say anything.

Ugh, you think as the door shuts behind you lean against the door for a stretch of a moment, standing in the quiet hall and hoping no one comes out of their rooms to see you standing there.

Thankfully, you’re granted that moment of quiet before you push off the door and head down the stairs and towards the main sitting area.

The stair railings are covered in garland, set with twinkling lights and you let yourself relax the further you get from the room and the problem you left in it.

See, you think, ignoring a problem always works.

Downstairs in the main lounge area, there’s a little area set up with carafes of coffee and hot water and hot chocolate.  

You pour yourself a mug, slip into one of the over-large sofas in front of the burning, crackling, stone fireplace and wiggle your sock-covered toes towards the fire.

I can totally do this, you tell yourself, and pretend, for a moment, that you’re way more sure than you feel.

.

.

[moldisgoodforyou]

the fire alarm

warnings: cursing & sex - just pure smut. this is (kind of) for those of you that asked for taking control with charlie - i tried my best! 

wordcount: 2.6k

“I have a surprise for you.” Charlie mentioned offhandledly as they both laid on the bed in his room at Beta, just finishing up their studying. “Yeah? Did you bring me cookies or something?” JJ replied, glancing up from his textbook. She grinned and tugged down on the hem of her t-shirt dress. “Or something.” 

He shut the book, pushing it aside. “Is that why you’re all dressed up? Do you have a date planned?” She shook her head. “Nope.” 

“Hm.” He looked her over, trying to figure it out. “Want me to show you?” She offered as she stood, trying her best to hold back a smirk. 

“I get it that easy? Normally you make me work for this kind of thing. Whatever it is.” He leaned over and grabbed his water bottle, completely clueless. Charlie grinned and took the opportunity, pulling her dress over her head just as he took a sip. JJ choked on his water immediately. 

She wore a sheer, lacy, black bustier with a matching lace thong and gave him a little twirl, proud of his reaction. “Jesus Christ, Charlie.” JJ coughed out, his eyes trailing up and down her body. “You like it?” She had a smug smile and giggled as JJ reached out, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down to the bed. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He murmured before meeting her in a heated kiss. “How long have you had this on?” 

“Um...since I came over? Three hours ago?” She went to unbutton his shorts straightaway, wasting no time. He leaned back slightly to pull his shirt over his head. “And we’ve just been sitting here studying?!” He exclaimed before crashing his lips back onto hers. She laughed against his lips and rolled them over so she was on top, then nipped at his lower lip with her teeth teasingly. “Kind of a waste of time, right?” 

“I can’t even - holy shit.” JJ mumbled, his hands going to her waist. “Can I take a picture of you or something? I don’t want to forget this.” She pressed open-mouthed kisses along his jawline, then sucked at a tender spot on his neck. “Absolutely not. Don’t worry, I’ll wear it again.” 

“Thank god.” He breathed out, his grip on her waist tightening.

Just as Charlie was about to slide one of the straps off her shoulders, the sound of the fire alarm rang out through the house. “Fucking hell.” JJ cursed, dropping his hands from her waist. “Is that real?” She asked as she rolled off him, crossing her arms across her chest to cover up. 

“Yes, it’s real, it’s probably some idiot pledge - god, I’m gonna kill whoever it is.” He grumbled, then grabbed a large shirt out of his closet and tossed it to her. “Put this on.” He grabbed his robe for himself, the only thing that had enough fabric to hide his obvious boner. Charlie pulled on the shirt, hesitating, then took out a pair of her shorts that she kept in his dresser and pulled those on too. 

Someone knocked on their door as they passed. “We’re coming!” JJ called back, annoyed, then took her hand and they headed outside to the parking lot with the rest of the boys. Elliott noticed them immediately - it was 11pm on a random Tuesday, and Charlie was unfortunately the only girl out in the group. “Whatcha up to, Walker?” He asked with a shit-eating grin. 

JJ flipped him off in response, wrapping both arms around Charlie from behind. “Who pulled the alarm?” Elliott shrugged. “Not sure yet. Might be real though, someone probably fucked up their microwave popcorn or some shit.” JJ groaned in response, pulling Charlie closer. 

Charlie smirked, resting her head against his shoulder and pressing her ass against his hips. “You good, Maybank?” He grit his teeth, keeping his voice low. “Don’t try it, Charlie.” She only grinned, turning to whisper in his ear. “So hard for me, baby. Are you thinking about what I have on, under your shirt? Barely covers a thing.”

He rested his forearm across her waist, pinning her in place against him. “Charlie, stop.” Elliott wandered over again. “Guess we gotta wait for the fire truck to came, typical protocol. Were you guys awake?”

“What do you fucking think?” JJ bit back, with zero patience. Elliott nodded in recognition, then laughed. “Were you - oh, damn, that’s unfortunate.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “We weren’t doing what you’re thinking. We were just about to fall asleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” He grinned, clearly not believing it. “Hey, Charlie, did Joe ever text you? This pledge, I gave him your number because he had questions about kinesiology.” She nodded, about to speak until JJ curled his fingers around her hip.

“You’re just giving out my girlfriend’s number?” He asked Elliott, frowning. “He’s just asking about my major, that’s it, J.” Charlie reassured him, slipping her hand behind her back and slowly trailing her hand down against his stomach (and further). JJ jerked his hips back, tightening his grip on her hip. “Just like Jacob was asking about the group project?” She laughed and retracted her hand. “Not quite.” 

Thomas strolled over, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Walker. Did you come over for a house tour at this fine hour?” He teased. JJ groaned. “Great, we got the whole goon squad over here. Can we just go inside?” Thomas shook his head. “Nope. President’s orders. They’re doing the fire inspection now, should be soon though.” Elliott eyed him curiously. “Why are you in such a mood, Maybank?” 

Charlie grinned, glancing up at her boyfriend - her shirt falling off her shoulder as she shifted, exposing the lacy strap of the lingerie. “Yeah, J, why are you in such a mood?” JJ clapped a hand over her shoulder to hide it, grimacing. “Just tired, is all.” 

She tilted her head up to whisper in his ear again. “You didn’t seem tired earlier. But if you really are, I guess we can just go to bed...” 

“Hell no.” He replied lowly, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. A couple firemen came outside, gesturing an all clear, and all the boys shuffled back inside in a line much too slow for JJ’s liking. 

He practically sprinted after her up the stairs, immediately locking the door shut once they got into his room. “What was up with that stunt you pulled?” He growled, trapping her against the wall.  

“Uh uh, I want to be in charge.” She argued, reaching up and grabbing his wrists. He twisted them out of her grip easily. “Not fair when you tease like that.” 

“Not everything is fair, Maybank. Sit on the bed.” She pointed, giving him a little shove. He grumbled but did so. She grinned. “I can’t take you seriously in that robe.” 

“Well are you gonna strip for me or not?” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her. “I don’t think you deserve it, with that attitude.” She shot back, crossing her arms. “C’mon, Charlie, I can’t take it.” He pleaded, shrugging off the robe. 

Charlie smirked, reaching for the door and turning the knob. “No. I think I’m gonna go get -” She was cut off with a squeal as JJ sprung from the bed and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her backward. “Don’t you fucking dare, Charlotte.” She scowled as he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed, knowing exactly what the use of her full name meant. “Maybank.” She warned. 

“No. You took too long.” He tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, then leaned down to hover on top of her. Charlie kicked off her shorts too, revealing the lingerie once again. “Let me.” She argued, trying to roll them over. “No.” He pinned her wrists to the bed in one hand above her head and she took a sharp inhale, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. 

“Come on, JJ, play along.” She protested. “I had a plan and everything.” He laughed, trailing a finger across her collarbone. “You can never take yourself seriously when you try to be in control.” 

“I can! The fucking fire alarm ruined my plan, because you wouldn’t come to my house to study.” She complained, flinching under him as he traced his finger along the side of her bra top. “We never end up actually studying at your place.” He countered with a grin, then ducked his head down to skate his teeth along her collarbone, keeping her wrists pinned in place. 

“I study better at the library. You just get too distracted.” Charlie retorted, only for JJ to glance up with a smirk. “I wonder why.” He made a point to scan his eyes down her body. She scowled. “If you’re gonna be in control, you have to do something.” 

“With all due respect...Charlotte,” JJ started, loving the way she slightly wrinkled her nose at the name, then the way she gasped as he pinched her nipple hard. “Just shut up.” He cut off any sassy retort of hers with a deep kiss, threading his fingers through her hair. With her hands free, she wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her hips against his. 

“So hard for me, Maybank.” She teased, running her tongue against his lips. “Think of how many times I could have come by now without the stupid fire alarm. Under you...moaning your name...” He groaned, reaching behind her to undo the bustier. He fumbled with the long clasp. “How do I get this fucking thing off?” 

Charlie grinned, amused. “I thought you liked it.” 

“Yeah, I like seeing your tits better. Sit up, I can’t figure it out.” 

She rolled her eyes and reached behind her, undoing the clasp in a couple quick pinches. “Not really in charge if I have to be the one undressing myself, hm?” She challenged, lifting her chin. 

He huffed and tossed it aside. “Watch your mouth, Charlotte.” She grinned and reached down, palming him through his boxers. “I want these off.” He nodded and pushed them down and she took advantage of the moment to push him onto his back. “Walker, I -” 

“Shh.” She replied, ducking her head down to lick a small circle on the head of his cock. “Fuck.” He hissed out, gathering her hair aside. She then took her time teasing, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses up his inner thigh, anywhere but where he really wanted it. JJ shifted uncomfortably underneath her for a moment. “Charlie, please.”  

“What was that?” She asked with a smirk, running one finger down his length. “Come on, you’re not going to make me do this.” He protested, pushing his hips up against her hand. “You make me do it. Ask for it, J.” She encouraged him with a smile. 

“Walker. Please.” 

“Please what?” 

He sighed, frustrated, before giving in. “I want to see your pretty lips on my cock.”  

“There, that wasn’t so difficult.” She grinned before taking him completely in her mouth, hearing JJ’s strangled cry out. He tugged on her hair gathered in his hand as she hollowed out her cheeks, starting to bob up and down on him. JJ pressed his head back into the pillows, a string of curses falling from his lips. “Fucking hell, Charlie.” 

“Look at me, Maybank.” She told him before going back to work on his cock, not being shy in any sense. She gripped his hips to try and pin him down as he bucked them into her mouth, mumbling a quick apology. He kept his eyes trained on her, his lips slightly parted as he panted out. “God, you’re so beautiful.” 

His breathing quickened as he neared his release. She could tell and drew her lips off of him before he could come and he groaned, tugging at her hair still in his fist. “Really?” 

Charlie smirked. “Yeah, because I can tell you’re not gonna last and I want to fuck you.” She kicked off her panties and he grabbed her wrist once they were off. “But you didn’t - I want to make you feel good.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Then let me on top.” 

He grinned, gesturing for her to come closer. He reached over and pulled a condom out of the nightstand, rolling it down his cock. “You gonna complain about walking tomorrow?” 

She rolled her eyes - but blushed all the same. “Shut the fuck up, J.” She straddled his hips and slowly sank down on him, letting out a soft moan at the feeling. “Fuck, you feel so good.” JJ praised, hands going to grip her waist. After taking a couple seconds to adjust around him, she started slowly rocking her hips, biting her lip hard. 

“So fucking pretty, sweetheart.” He told her, thrusting up his hips to match her pace. She could hardly think enough to get out words, focusing on him instead. He reached up to roll her nipple between his fingers as she reached her hand down, rubbing slow circles on her clit. He groaned as he watched her, committing every inch of her body to memory. 

“Charlie - I’m -” he warned through pants, eyes fluttering shut as he kept jutting his hips up to meet hers. “I know.” She nodded and steadied herself with two hands on his chest to quicken her pace. It only took a few more rolls of her hips for him to come undone. “Holy shit - fuck, pretty girl.” He groaned out, his fingers digging into her hips. 

She got off him, whimpering a little at the loss of contact. “Did you..?” JJ trailed off, frowning when he realized. “No, it’s fine. Wanted to surprise you.” Charlie excused it, moving to lay down by his side. “No, wait. Come here.” He grabbed her waist, pulling her back up. 

“J, I can’t just -” 

“Sit on my face.” 

Her eyes went wide and she blushed red, hesitating. “You’re sure?” 

He grinned and hooked his hands under her thighs, pulling her forward. “Don’t be all shy now.” He teased before licking a flat stripe up her pussy, loving her moan. “So wet for me, Walker.” 

Charlie gripped the headboard for stability, slowly starting to rock against his face - he only pulled her closer as he buried his face into her cunt. “Oh - fuck, JJ, right there -” she got out through high-pitched moans. He kept tongue-fucking her, nose occasionally nudging her clit. “J, please.” Charlie whined, pushing her hips against him more. 

He lifted his head a little and took her clit between his teeth, then sucked hard. She gasped in surprise, finally feeling her orgasm wash over her. “Fuck, J!” She whined a little, hips flinching away as he continued to lap at her pussy, unable to  handle it. He slid his hands up to her waist, setting her aside with a smirk. 

She let her head fall back against the pillows, breathing hard as she came down from her high. “How have we never done that before?” He laughed and nudged her side with his elbow. “Dunno. Liked it?” 

“Liked it - JJ, I think the whole fucking house heard me.” 

He chuckled, tracing a finger across her stomach and grinned when she shied away. “As they should.” 

“It’s embarrassing.” She countered, knocking his hand away lazily. He only wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “Nah. Need the whole house to hear that you’re mine.” 

[littlefreya]

Lines in the Sand

Summary: She is one of the best snipers serving in Iraq, but she is also suffering from an attitude problem and ironically has a hard time following orders. After an incident in her former base, she is sent to join the Special Forces unit led by Captain Syverson, who requires a talented sniper. 

Unlucky for her, Captain Syverson is a hard man who likes things by the book and according to order. He ain't got the patience for troublemakers.  

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Jessica Gallagher)

Word count: 1,784

Warnings: Smut in future parts, some foul language and sexual content.

A/N: Please enjoy, reblog, like. The world needs more Syverson, and I think he is one of Henry's finest roles.

Tagging: @writingaftermidnight​ @centaine​ @sciapod​ (who encourage me to write)  Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Epilogue Chapter 1: Iron Maiden

Bad girl. 

That’s what they say she is; trouble, attitude problems. 

She heard all of it at psych evaluation. 

'Prodigy' is another word they use for her. 

And sometimes even 'asset'.

She likes this one the most. It strips her of all human notions. 

That’s the only reason to keep her around, and it’s not like she has any desire to go home anyway. Home is tough. Here in the desert, surrounded by death and horny virgins - that’s the easy part. 

“Killing is easy,” she said to the military psychologist who had her profiled from head to toe before being transferred to camp Warhorse.

“Gallagher?” a young soldier calls toward her, huffing and covered with a sheen layer of sweat as he runs toward her. She glares at him bemused, holding the fresh new uniforms which she just collected from the storage unit. 

“Yeah?" 

The boy's face is lightly freckled, his big doe eyes seem untouched by war and his freshly shaven buzzcut shows he only just arrived. 'More meat for the grinder'  she muses, just another kid who doesn't belong here, like the most of them. She knows the type well enough to write a thesis about it by now. If she thought she had any brain to do that sort of stuff. 

"Captain Syverson wants to talk to you.”

The kid looks her up, probably wondering why she even here. She got used to that type of stare a while ago.

“I just arrived here from another division” she explains, “didn’t even get into my uniform, what’s the fucking rush?”

The kid shrugs, looking slightly terrified as if she is supposed to be scared of Captain Syverson and shouldn’t be talking that way.

“Fine…” she sighs heavily, lowering the tip of her army hat and rolling her eyes.

As a soldier serving at the professional US army, Gallagher knows she has a shit-ton of issues with authority, yet she wouldn’t be in any other place.  

The Captain sits at his office, wearing his favourite red t-shirt and army shorts that cut at his knees. A small portable fan is perched on his desk, pinning from side to side and blowing tiny droplet of sweat from his ridged forehead.  

During that time of the year, the temperatures reach a level that won’t shame the fiery pits of hell. Even a southern-born man like him an effort dealing with the heat, but Sy suffers quietly, not even mentioning a word of the weather. Small-talk is a waste of time, and ain't nothing but the pretence that people care when they don't.

“Captain, Sir,” the kid walks into his room, saluting the Captain. “I have private Gallagher with me.”

The young woman follows, a blank stare on her face. She salutes toward the Captain, looking robotic and so indifferent he can tell already she had a great potential of pulling some stunt and getting detained. 

“Thanks, Private Holt, you may leave now," he answers in a heavy southern accent,  and voice low and rich like smoked Whiskey.

Holt leaves the room in a hurry, leaving Gallagher to stand quietly in front of the Captain. She has dressed in a plain white t-shirt and khaki field trousers while her eyes remain hidden beneath the tip of her hat. 

“Sit down, soldier." 

He commands, taking her file in his large dirt-stained hands.

She sits down quietly. Scanning the room with silence. It is yet another captain’s office, maps on the wall, guns and ammo. A "Slayer” labelled mug rests on in his desk with freshly brewed coffee, next to it is a deck of cards. No pinup girls posters apparent anywhere, not a perv unlike her former Captain, or at least he is hiding it in his bedroom.

He finally turns to look at her, manspreading on his chair with zero elegance or concern toward her. Why should she be treated any differently?

Captain Syverson is surprisingly a very attractive man. A big guy with broad shoulders and massive muscles. His cropped short hair does well to bring out his excellent bone structure while a few scars decorate his forehead and his upper left cheek. His strained face is covered with a thick, untamed beard which he strokes at his chin while thinking to himself. 

He takes one glance at her with his fierce blue glare, and then gives her his next command “Hat off, private.”

“Sir”. She replies with compliance, taking off her hat and placing it atop her folded uniform.   

One glance at her now exposed face, and he is forced to fight back a snort of laughter. He learned how to keep his emotions hooded in this job. She is petite, her arms may look strong yet quite skinny. And it’s quite a wonder that her skin is pale while serving in the middle of the fucking Iraqi desert. 

If this was anywhere else right now, he’d offer her a burger. This is the elite they’ve been speaking of? For fuck sake. Better be worth it. 

He is aware, of course, that she is pretty, they usually are. Chase and Annica for example. Sometimes he wonders if they send all the cheerleaders squad to his unit to fuck with him, since he can’t actually, fuck them.  

“That’s better”. He gives her a small smirk which quickly fades back into what seems like his usual grumpy face. 

“We’ll keep it short and honest, private,” he says, opening her file “You’ve been transferred here from your unit, they say you are a prodigy…”

“Take me out there, and I’ll shoot a rabbit between the eyes from 20 miles away.” she interrupts him, speaking coldly. 

“Did I give you permission to speak?” he asks her with slight anger. Never in his life, he had a young recruit dare to do so, especially not a woman.

She remains silent, knowing that’s actually the required response. For change, 

“Good. Your file shows amazing achievements” He throws her file in front of her with what seemed like an utter lack of actual interest “it also shows you have attitude problems.” His eyes meet hers as he says these words, his lips clasped to show some sort of severity. “Do you know what I want to know?”

Her blue eyes stare back into his with a dead gaze. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes “Permission to speak granted.”

“You want to ask if I’m going to cause any trouble.”

He nods, folding his arms together, his eyes travelling up and down her features for a mere second. 

“No, Captain.” She can’t promise him that even if a gun was pointed at her head, but she plays along. Everything in life is like her stupid video games anyway. Oh, she does miss those. 

“Good.” He gives her another hasty smile, the kind that doesn’t show any genuine care or affection and is just meant to move the conversation forward. “So you know why you’re here?”

“I’m very good with my sniper rifle, Captain." 

"It says you’re a fucking wonder”. He answers, not ashamed to curse in front of her, which she finds slightly refreshing. All the other men constantly apologize as if she doesn’t shoot people’s head-off for a living. As if women don’t see brutality as much as men do. Perhaps even more.

“Listen, I care about my men. Just live up to your name, be a good girl and you might just make daddy proud ”. He explains to her, not even regretting saying the finale part. It’s just how he talks and if she has a problem with that she might as well not be here. 

But she doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she replies with a small, nearly invisible smirk and nods. 

“Yes, Captain." 

The Captain’s eyes lit up with the charm of a child as he smiles widely for surviving yet another conversation with a new recruit and even though he has scruff all over his face she detects two large apparent dimples in his cheek.

Finally, he stretches from his chair and stands. She follows, noticing he is menacingly tall and seems to carry himself with sheer confidence and intimidation. 

"Come, I’ll show you your room." 

She follows him silently down the hall. He doesn’t bother with making any boring small talk which she is actually quite thankful for. It’s easier to not try to connect with people. The base is quite loud at the moment anyway, and she’d be unable to hear half of it.

"Men go here.” He points to one room by the end of the hall and then continues walking until they pause next to a closed room, “Ladies go here, you met the other girls?” he asks to which she shakes her head “Well you will. Girls get their own private shower in the room, in under no circumstances you are to use the collective shower room”

He pauses and turns to look down at her. Eyes growing sofer all of a sudden. “Anyone ever bothers you, says anything even slightly inappropriate, you come straight to me, you get it?” he asks her, managing to sound both severe yet still soft at the same time. 

“I’m just over there, by the end of the hall.” he looks to the other side, touching her shoulder without thinking, so she’ll face where he is pointing. His hand leaves her shoulder without any of them, giving it any attention. 

The Captain has his own little private kingdom at the end of the very house they turned into an army base, so it seems. She wonders if that’s where all the pinup posters are hidden at.

“Enjoy your stay, Gallagher”. He speaks, looking down at her face, wondering how long will it be before he has her in his office for some sketchy behaviour. 

“Thank you, Captain, I will.” she gives him another one of her forced smirks and turns away, walking into her new quarter. 

He takes one look at her as she turns from him, unable to resist his natural temptation to look at her ass. 

It’s small, tight, the way he likes it.

'Yes, she’s gonna be trouble.'

There are two girls in the room, sitting on their beds. A beautiful redhead with rather wide shoulders and strong arms. The other woman is somewhat petite as herself with tanned skin and beautiful dark eyes. They’re both looking quite curious to know her.

“The fuck is with your captain, walking around with severe big dick energy?!” she speaks out with sheer confidence.

The other girls look at her for a long moment, complete shock on their face by the content that came out of her mouth but then burst into laughter that can be heard all over the base. 

Clearly, she isn’t the only one who noticed.

[theangriestpea]

The Killing Type | Six

Summary: Just when Lavender thought things were going great with Sweet Pea, a new girl comes back to turn to turn their entire relationship upside down. Now they have to navigate a world of drug dealers, rival gangs, and co-parenting. Sequel to Mercy Killing. <masterlist><playlist> 

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Pairings: Sweet Pea x OC // eventual Jughead Jones x OC

Warnings: Plan-b usage, mentions of abortion/pregnancy termination, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 5.0k+

A/N:  It's finally here! There's not a whole lot of Sweet Pea in the chapter (only towards the end), sorry about that. But it was kind of necessary filler lol. I hope everyone enjoys!

Chapter Six : Two Hearts, Unstable

When Lavender awoke the next morning, Sweet Pea was absent from her bed. She assumed that he had gone to work on a job or check up on Daisy. While her being alone did hurt at first, she understood that he had other priorities he had to tend to too. She let out a groggy sigh as she rubbed the grains of sleep from her eyes. Did last night really happen? She found herself wondering and realizing that she was still naked hammered it in that it did.

Then the realization hit her and she was suddenly overcome with intense dread. They hadn’t used a condom, and while she didn’t keep detailed track of her period, it had been a few weeks since her last cycle meaning she was either ovulating or close to it. She wasn’t on birth control because it interacted with her antidepressants too much so her only options were condoms or the risky pull-out method.

She knew that she couldn’t handle a child right now, nor could Sweet Pea handle a second child. It was an easy decision to make, to go to the pharmacy and pick up a plan-b pill. The thought of going alone though made her incredibly nervous, especially after her run in with the Ghoulie last night.

At first she called Toni and Cheryl, but neither picked up. She really didn’t want to ask Jug or Fangs, because they’d probably tattle to Sweet Pea. Her only option then was...Lily.

Lavender swallowed hard as she got out of the shower and got dressed. She had no issues with Lily but she found their relationship rocky at best. They had had a little heart to heart last night, but before that then their conversations had often been argumentative in nature. Though, she figured if anyone would understand, then it would be Lily. Seeing as she herself had a child with Sweet Pea.

She figured just going over there would be better than calling, and for that she was thankful that it was a Saturday. Once she was finished getting ready, she made her way to Sweet Pea’s trailer. Luckily his bike wasn’t out front, so she assumed he was off with Fangs somewhere or working a job for Jughead.

With a little hesitation, she knocked on the front door despite still having a key. It felt weird going in there without knocking first now that it wasn’t just Sweet Pea (and occasionally his father, though that was a rarity). She heard a faint “in a second” before waiting a few minutes. Eventually the door opened to see an exasperated Lily with a giggling Daisy in her arms.

Lav smiled weakly, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. “Can I ask you a favor? You don’t have to say yes but...if you do then I’ll buy you and Daze some lunch in return.”

Lily thanked god above that her stomach did not growl then and there. “Sure, what is it?” She asked, while before she hadn’t been too sure of Lav’s intentions with Sweet Pea, she knew now that the purple haired girl meant no harm. She was just as vulnerable as her ex was and they both pretended not to be simultaneously.

“I need to go get some plan-b.” She said, looking utterly embarrassed that she had gotten too caught up in the moment to make Sweet Pea wear a condom. She was sure Lily was going to lecture her about it, tell her that she was a total idiot. But, she was wrong. Lily just nodded and moved aside so Lav could come in.

“Can you hold her while I get ready?” Lily asked, not even missing a beat. “It’ll only take like ten minutes.” She passed the happy baby off to Lavender who sat down on the couch with her. She was unable to look at Lily directly, still feeling incredibly ashamed.

Almost exactly ten minutes later, Lily returned with her keys. “So, I take it you guys finally said it?” She asked, trying to lighten the mood. Lavender forced a smile as she stood up with Daisy still in her arms.

“Yeah, we did...and uh, I just got so caught up in the moment I forgot to make him wrap it up.” She said, nearly choking out the words.

Lily just laughed, knowing all too well how bad Sweet Pea was at wearing a condom. “Don’t worry about it too much, since it was just last night the plan-b should work fine. Do you need money? Jug might can get some for you if-”

Lav shook her head, “No, I’m fine. My dad left me a lot when he died. I just want to get it over with. I really don’t think any one of us could handle two baby snakes at this time.”

Though she wouldn’t say it, Lily was grateful that Lavender was doing the smart thing. She recalled when she went in for her abortion and was unable to carry through after hearing the heartbeat. While she loved her daughter more than anything in the entire world, she couldn’t deny that life would have been so much easier if she had simply taken a pill the day after risky sex. Though she was certain that cost would add up to be a small fortune very quickly.

The two teens went to Lily’s car. Lav placed Daisy in her car seat and strapped her in, making sure she was secure before getting into the passenger’s seat. Lily hopped in behind the wheel and started the car before driving to the nearest pharmacy on the southside, the only one she knew of that wouldn’t give them any trouble for asking for a pill. Any northside place would just lecture them and try to force them to have a parent buy it for them. That clearly wasn’t an option for either of them.

The car ride was relatively quiet. The only sounds were punk music from the radio and Daisy babbling in the back seat. Lav was unsure of what she should say, if she should say anything. “After, want to go to Pop’s?” She asked, “My treat for not making me go by myself.”

That time Lily’s stomach did growl. A sheepish look crossed her face, “Yeah, sure. That sounds great.” She parked the car and the two got out. Lily walked around and grabbed Daisy before going inside.

Once inside the tiny store, they walked through the convenience aisles to get to the back part where the actual pharmacy was. “I have to ask someone, don’t I?” She whispered to Lily. She had never done this before and wasn’t entirely sure how it would go.

“Yeah, the pharmacist will give it to you after telling you the side effects. Don’t worry, I can ask. I’m used to the judgmental looks people give me.” Lily said back, keeping her voice just as low. Lavender nodded, feeling even more grateful now.

Once at the counter, Lily told the pharmacy tech what they needed. The young man looked between Lily and Lav, wheels obviously turning in hi head about why teenagers would need an emergency contraceptive. Lav was biting her lip nervously, looking down at the counter while Lily just stared him head on, clearly not one to play games.

The tech nodded and went to get the pharmacist to help them. Lily nudged Lav with her elbow as a silent encouragement. Lav let out a shaky breath as an older woman came with the small box that she needed. She asked who it was for and Lily said it was for her, again the look on her face was daring the pharmacist to say anything negative to her. Daisy was giggling, clearly having no understanding of what was going on.

The woman simply nodded, not about to put up a fight with a couple of teenage gangbangers. Everyone knew who the Southside Serpents were in these parts. The top of Lav’s tattoo was visible over the upper edge of the tank top she was wearing. Lily was wearing her jacket and even Daisy at a tiny denim vest with the double headed snake. The top rocker said “baby” and bottom rocker said “serpent”. Jug had it custom made a week ago.

The pharmacist went over the risks and what would happen after taking the pill. She rang them up and Lav paid with her credit card. She put the package with the pill as well as an information pamphlet into a plastic bag and handed it to Lavender since Lily was carrying Daisy. “Have a good day, stay safe.” She said, not sounding judgmental in the slightest.

Lily thanked her before turning with Lav and walking out, her head held high and never looking down. Once outside Lav let out a huge breath of relief. “Thank you, I don’t know why I care so much about what other people think. Probably something to do with Reggie calling me a slut any chance he fucking gets.”

“You’re half Northsider, that’s why.” Lily said, somewhat jokingly. “All Northsiders care about what people think about them. That’s just how they are. I doubt it’ll always be that way for you. Just give Sweet Pea a little more time to corrupt you.”

Lav made a face as she opened the back door for Lily so that she could put Daisy in the car seat. “How long until I’ll be known as just a Southsider?” She asked, a little irritated.

“However long it takes for your bank account to lose a few zeroes.” Lily replied playfully. “Why does it matter so much to you anyway?”

She sighed, “Because as of now I don’t fit it anywhere. Not with the Northsiders, not with the Southsiders, and not with the gang. No one will give me a chance. Jughead thinks I still need more time, but I’m ready! I can do jobs just like everyone else! I’m tired of being looked at like some dumb, fragile princess that can’t do anything for herself. Christ, I get enough of that from Sweet Pea alone. I don’t need it from everyone else.”

Lily smiled as they both got into the car. “I’ll ask Jug to let you come with me on some of my next jobs. As training. That way you’ll be contributing. How does that sound?”

Lav was quiet for a few moments as she drove them to Pop’s. She was grateful for all that Lily had done in the span of half an hour. “That sounds good...Thanks.”

“Cheer up! You finally got laid last night!” Lily said, laughing, “And you two finally admitted your feelings! Please promise me that it's not a one time thing or I will lock you both in a closet until it's not.”

“He said it first.” Lavender said, cheering up instantly at the memory. “And of course I said it back. It was perfect….even if it was a struggle to get out.”

Lily shook her head, “it’ll get easier. Or I think it does. It seems to, from what I’ve seen at least. Whenever Sweet Pea and I said it to one another it was more like...platonic love. Not romantic love. Does that make sense?”

Lav nodded her head, unsure of what exactly to say. She figured it was the same in how she told Fangs, Toni, or even Jughead that she loved them. She wasn’t saying she was in love. Just that she cared for them all deeply. It finally seemed to click in her head that that’s how Sweet Pea and Lily were.

A few minutes later, after crossing the railroad tracks, Lily pulled into Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. They got out, Lav grabbing Daisy this time, and went inside. There weren’t very many others there; an elderly couple in one booth and a businessman at the bar, that was it. It was a little odd considering it was a Saturday, but it was whatever.

Lily chose a booth at the end of the row where they could be as far away from the few other customers as possible. Lav handed Daisy to her and sat down. A moment later a waitress came over and took their drink orders while Lav looked over the menu. She was still chewing on her lip nervously, the pill in her pocket waiting to be taken. She knew that the side effects were going to mimic a period and she just wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment, not with how painful hers had been the past few months.

“You should take it as soon as possible.” Lily said, in a tone that was almost motherly. Lav sighed with frustration and nodded.

“I’m just waiting on my milkshake. I don’t do well with pills unless I have something to wash it down..” She muttered.

Lily reached out and put a hand over hers, “it’ll be okay. If for some reason it doesn’t work, then we’ll figure it out. But, I don’t think you should be thinking about the worst case scenario right now.”

Lav shook her head, “I know. It’s just hard not to. Just the thought of getting pregnant makes me want to throw up.”

Lily couldn’t help but laugh, though she was sympathetic. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s rough going to high school and being knocked up. I don’t know how I survived it some days…but she was worth it. Even if I am exhausted all the time.”

“You’re a lot stronger than I am.” Lav admitted. “I couldn’t even take going back to school after my attack. Everyone was talking about me, whispering behind my back, all the rumors that flew around about what happened. And spoiler alert, in none of those rumors was I a victim. I was a willing participant. I swear the bulldogs try to remind me of it every chance they get. I lost count how many times Sweet Pea had to go up to bat for me. The first few weeks were the worst. No one really talks about it now unless they’re trying to get under my skin.”

The waitress came back with their milkshakes and took their food orders before flitting away again. Lily was looking at Lav with a serious expression. “I wouldn’t say I’m stronger than you, Lavie. You went through hell and back. You went through something a lot worse than a teenage pregnancy. Don’t discredit yourself.”

Desperately wanting to change the subject, Lav looked up at Lily, “I know about you and Jughead.” She said plainly, nearly giving Lily whiplash in the process.

“W-What?” Lily sputtered, not entirely sure what exactly she was talking about. “What do you-”

“You’ve had sex before.” Lav clarified after taking a long swig of her strawberry chocolate shake. “He took your virginity, right? Or at least, that’s what he told me.”

“He told you that?!” Lily snapped, heart racing with a panic. “It was supposed to be a secret!”

Lav smiled at her, “it is. He was just really drunk the other night and I pulled it out of him. I asked him what was going on between you two and he just emotionally vomited all over me. It was kinda cute.”

Lily was quiet, taking a deep breath. “That was before Sweet Pea and I were together….Sweet Pea thinks he took it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had slept with Jug. They practically hated each other back then.”

“I think it’s hilarious.” Lav said with a gentle smile. “I had a good laugh at least. Jughead really cares about you. He always has, I think. He and Betty were never quite right. I think she was just convenient. I was glad when they broke up. Let Archie and her bang it out or whatever. Jug didn’t need to be hurt by her over and over again. Especially when he caught her cheating.”

She frowned at Lav babbled on, “Betty cheated on him?”

Lav paused and nodded, “Yeah, he caught her and Archie kissing one day. He was a wreck. I think that’s why he ultimately called it quits with her. Thank god too, he didn’t deserve that bullshit.”

“He never said anything to me about that.” Lily mumbled, “he would only say that it was a mutual decision between the two of them.”

Lav scoffed, “no way. Betty wants her cake and to eat it too. Cake being Jughead’s heart in this case. She’d do anything to manipulate him back into her life. God, I can’t believe he actually let her play serpent queen! Thank god no one actually took her seriously as a Serpent. Can you imagine? I’m more of a serpent than some Northside barbie.”

Lily tried not to giggle, seeing as Lav was pretty much a barbie in her own right. Clearly it wasn’t the right time to point that out. If Betty and Veronica were the dolls of the Northside, then Lav was definitely the pin up girl of the Southside. Though she would viciously deny it any time someone pointed it out.

The only difference between them and her, was that Lav actually used her money to do a lot of good for the Serpents. Jug had told her about how much she had donated to the gang’s projects or to Serpents who needed the extra financial help. Apparently her father left her more than she was willing to talk about. She wouldn’t even take credit for it, making Jug swear to secrecy every time.

“Hopefully he won’t give her another chance.” Lily said as Lav eyed her suspiciously.

“You have a thing for him still, don’t you?” Lav asked, hoping that Lily would spill her heart out. By the red tint Lily’s face suddenly took on, Lav knew she was right.

“Jughead doesn’t want a teen mom, Lav. There’s no point.” Lily said as their food came.

Lav took a fry and dipped it into her milkshake before eating it. Lily gave some fries to Daisy who began to happily gnaw on them. “I think you should let Jug make that decision instead of making it for him.” Lav said finally after swallowing the food she had put into her mouth. “It’s not fair to just assume he won’t.”

“Are you of all people giving me relationship advice?” Lily asked, though she was clearly joking. The other girl took no offense and instead rolled her eyes back at her. “Take your pill.”

“Oh, right…” Lav reached into her pocket and popped the white pill out of the plastic packaging. She placed it on her tongue before taking a large gulp of milkshake to get it down. “How long until it kicks in and I ruin my underwear?”

“I’d give in thirty minutes. Do you need a pad or anything?” Lily asked.

Lav shook her head, “No, I put one on before I left just in case. I should be fine. I just hope I’m not in too much pain.”

“Well, if you are, then I’ll make Sweet Pea take care of you. Hopefully I won’t need to work tonight.” Lily said.

A comfortable silence fell as they both ate their food, the only sound was Daisy babbling every once in a while in Lily’s lap. Once they were done, Lav paid the bill and left a tip before getting up. It had only been about twenty minutes or so, so she wasn’t feeling anything yet. “I better get home before the cramping starts. I have a feeling I’m not going to hold out much longer.”

Lily smiled, secretly grateful Lav didn’t bring up her drug dealing for the time being. She really didn’t want to talk about it right now anyway. Not when they were in such a public setting. “Let’s get you home then.”

“Thanks for coming with me.” Lav said softly, “And for not being upset…”

“I know Sweet Pea is a total idiot and hates condoms. If he truly cares about someone then he will conveniently forget that condoms even exist. I swear he only wears them for one night stands.” Lily grumbled. “He’s such a dumbass sometimes.”

“All boys are, honestly.” Lav said with a small snort. “I was too caught up in the moment to make him.”

Lily offered her a smile, “it’ll be okay, try not to stress over it too much.”

Lav nodded as she got into the car after helping Lily put Daisy in the car seat. They drove back to the southside where Lily dropped Lavender off outside of her trailer. Lav waved goodbye, already feeling the slight twinge of pain in her lower abdomen, before retreating back into the safety of the inside.

A few hours later, Lavender was curled up into a tight ball on the couch clutching her stomach. When Sweet Pea walked in, he hadn’t expected to find her there. Actually, he thought she’d be at the Wyrm with Toni, Cheryl, and Fangs.

“Babe?” He asked as he realized he hadn’t talked to her at all that day. It wasn’t that odd as sometimes they were both busy with either school or side jobs. Luckily Lavender wasn’t the type to freak out when he didn’t text back right away. She trusted him, though he would admit that he didn’t necessarily deserve it given his track record.

“Pea,” She whined pathetically, “can you get me my heating pad?”

A confused look crossed his face as he went to the closet to get it. “Your period? I thought we had another two weeks.” The fact that he knew that was a little endearing, though she was in too much pain to really appreciate it.

“I had to take a plan-b pill just in case. We didn’t use a condom last night and I feel like I’m dying.” She said back with a dramatic groan. Sweet Pea plugged in the heating pad she typically only used when her cramps were really bad and handed it to her. She uncurled enough to press it into her abdomen before curling back up.

The events of last night flashed before his mind and he remembered not bothering to put on a condom, “oh...yeah, sorry. I guess we got carried away.”

She smiled softly, although it was clearly pained. “This is your fault.”

He brushed her hair back before kissing her forehead, “what can I do to make it feel better?”

“Never forget to wrap it up ever again.” She said, mostly joking. “Just sit with me.”

He nodded, “let me go get cleaned up first, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Lavender waited as he went into her bedroom and changed into a pair of gym shorts and tank top. He wiped some of the dirt off his face and hands with a warm washcloth before hanging it up and coming back into the living room.

“Sit up,” He instructed gently as she did her best to sit up so he could sit down. Once he was situated, she laid back down with her hand on his lap.

Sweet Pea began to play with her hair as he cut on the TV to find something for them to watch together. Though he already knew what she wanted to watch. Anytime she didn’t feel well, she always had him put on her favorite movie. She was pretty predictable sometimes.

He cut on Jim Henson’s The Labyrinth before settling back down into the couch cushions. Lavender let out a small content sigh, still holding the heating pad tightly to her abdomen. It was finally warmed up enough to help relieve some of her pain.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate this movie.” She mumbled as she watched the screen. Sweet Pea let out a soft chuckle, because he did in fact find the movie really creepy and somewhat disturbing. But, if watching it made her happy then he’d sit through it a million times or more.

“It’s fine.” He said, brush her hair back as he began to play with it mindlessly. “I don’t care if it makes you feel better.”

Lav smiled softly and in turn, made Sweet Pea smile as well. He wasn’t watching the movie anyway, he was too captivated by her instead. She was much more fun to watch anyway. “I love you.” She said airily, not taking her eyes off of Bowie on the screen. It seemed so much easier to say it now that they weren’t at odds with each other.

Sweet Pea stiffened against the couch for a moment, the feeling of her saying it without prompting made him feel uncomfortably warm. He still wasn’t used to this whole love thing. It didn’t make much sense to him. He had thought he had been in love with Lily after all, but it wasn’t at all like how he felt with Lavender. He just wished he understood it more.

“I love you too, princess.” He said, almost inaudibly as a blush crept up his neck and to his ears, setting them on fire. He wished he could take her into the bedroom and prove it all over again, but he knew she was in much too much pain for that.

They sat in silence, Lavender drifting in and out of sleep in his lap as he scrolled through his phone with his free hand. He had messaged Lily telling her that Lav wasn’t feeling well so he would probably be spending the night again over here. He was surprised when she responded that it was okay. He half expected her to harangue him for not helping out with Daisy for two days in a row.

A few minutes later she sent him another text, saying she may need to work tonight so she would bring Daisy over in a few hours. Sweet Pea sighed, unsure how he would be able to take care of both of his girls at the same time. Maybe Lav would be feeling better by then? He doubted it. She seemed pretty miserable. Normally she didn’t take naps like this unless she was really sick. He had only seen her do it once before when she had the flu. That had been miserable for both of them as anytime she threw up, he would join her.

Hopefully she’d be able to rest without his full attention. He did feel bad that he had to divide his time between her and Daisy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was just thankful that she had been so accepting of his daughter after the initial rough patch between her and Lily.

Lavender woke back up when he shifted his legs. He mumbled an apology before stroking her hair again to coax her back to sleep. “Daisy is coming over later.” He warned her. “I guess Lily has to go sell some more drugs or whatever. I don’t see why Jones hasn’t punished her yet. It’s ridiculous. Anyone else would be kicked out on their ass.”

“Pea, why do you want Lily kicked so badly?” Lav asked, trying not to get too aggravated with him, “She told me she doesn’t have a choice. Did you even try to talk to her about it without accusing her of something?”

He made a disgruntled face down at her. “What? No, I was busy today and you needed me last night. Jones knows now though and he didn’t do anything.”

Lavender turned onto her back so she could look up to him, “You’re so dense. Jughead is totally in love with Lily, that’s why he can’t do it.”

“What?! No he’s not!” Sweet Pea snapped, somehow feeling offended that his girlfriend would even suggest such a thing. “Why would you say that?” \

“Juggie is one of my best friends, Pea. I know when he has a crush on someone. The way he looks at her and the way he talks about her to me. I mean, it’s obvious. Plus they have a history.” Lavender said, hoping he wouldn’t try to argue with her when she felt like shit.

His face seemed to fall a little and she didn’t understand why he was so upset. Him and Lily hadn’t been together in a long time, not really. Lily wouldn’t even take him back a few weeks ago. “They have a history? When?”

“That’s not really my place to tell you, Pea.” She said, hoping he’d understand. “I don’t understand why you care? You’re not with Lily anymore. You’re with me.” She reminded him, her annoyance showing this time.

Sweet Pea just huffed, “I know that, brat. You brought it up, I don’t see why you can’t tell me. Did she cheat on me with him or something? After all the time she spent lecturing me about-”

“No, it was before you.” Lavender quickly corrected. “Lily never cheated on you to my knowledge.”

Now he really was hurt. Lily was his best friend and she had never told him. He felt betrayed, left out, and lied to. It had nothing to do with their past romantic relationship. It was strictly their platonic one that felt threatened. Lav could tell by the look on his face that he was upset. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “Hey, calm down. She didn’t tell me either, I just found out through Jug. Don’t make me say it.”

His face screwed up into disgust, “don’t say it.”

“I’m going to if you don’t smile.” She threatened and he rolled his eyes.

“Sweet Pea” She said sternly but he was pouting now.

Lav sat up and turned to face him, “come on, let’s get some cheer-up for your pancakes.”

He groaned loudly at the stupid pun she told him every time he was down about something. It drove him crazy because it always did make him smile, despite wanting to do anything but. He couldn’t stop the tiniest of laughs that came from him. “I hate you.”

“You love me, now make me some food. I’m hungry.” She flashed him a set of large hazel eyes full of hope that he’d cook for her. A look he could not resist in a million years.

He stood up from the couch and shook his head. “Fine, if I don’t you’ll just eat junk anyway. I swear you’re such a child.”

“I am not!”

Tag List: @the-gargoyle-queen, @alexa-playafricabytoto, just ask to join Enjoy my work? Like, Reblog, Follow, or Leave a Tip on my ko-fi (link now on blog description)! All works are cross-posted to ao3. 

[kawa-boru]

KanaTyy collaboration

KawaBoru Week: Day Seven

Prompt: Free Day

Rating: M

Word count: 2,800

Mine

I wasn’t a jealous person. Possessive, yes. Easily pissed off, hell yeah. Jealous? No. It was a stupid emotion that I didn’t have time for and I was always confident enough to know that if I was with somebody, they didn’t want anyone else. That especially went for Boruto.

He was crazy about me. Nobody could get him off like me. I didn’t know why, but the guy loved me and some fucking how, he made me soft. Only him. A lot of shit annoyed me, but I always knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted me too much, nobody else would ever measure up to what I could give him, he wasn’t about to be flirting with anybody else and nobody else would dare try to flirt with him because they already knew. Everybody knew. His cinnamon roll ass was mine.

It had been a year since he had been mine and I’d be damned if anybody even thought about trying to change that. I wasn’t jealous. No, just possessive as fuck. What was mine, was just that. Mine. Nobody had ever tried to take that from me, nobody but myself. I never felt threatened, most of the time amused if somebody made a pass at Boruto, because I knew he couldn’t stand it. At least until today.

I’d cut my last class, smoking the entire time with Iwabe in his truck. We were laughing our asses off over nothing, having a good time by ourselves as we waited for Boruto to finish his class so I could ride home with him. It was a rainy day, so we’d came to school in his car instead of walking. It was a normal day, a good day. Miraculously Boruto and I hadn’t had a single argument about anything and I was looking forward to getting home with him, but my good mood descentigrated from the instant I saw some guy pull up and park beside his car.

It was suspicious as fuck because he got out of his car and walked around Boruto’s for a moment until he leaned against the drivers side as if he belonged there. I hit the joint between my fingers as I watched him, wondering who the fuck he thought he was.

“Oh shit,” Iwabe snorted as he watched along with me. “I really feel like I need to drive you home right now.”

“Move this fucking truck and I’ll kill you.” I promised, not sparing him a glance.

“If you get your ass locked up, I’m not bailing you out.” He huffed and I rolled my eyes as I hit the joint again before passing it to him, leaning forward a bit when the guy turned his head towards the school.

My eyes followed, finding Boruto walking his way over there with a confused look on his face. My leg started bouncing as I waited to see what was going to transpire between them and I took the joint back from Iwabe when Boruto stopped a few feet away from the guy.

“Hey! I wasn’t passing it.” Iwabe complained.

“Shut the hell up, I’m trying to see!” I growled, eyes narrowing on this stranger who was now taking a step away from the car, towards Boruto.

The guy was the first to speak and Boruto looked like he didn’t know what to say, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from the bastard—whoever he was. I could tell Boruto was uncomfortable and I didn’t like it. I hit the joint several more times when he took another step closer. He was too fucking close.

“Damn it, Kawaki, chill. You’re working yourself up for nothing.” Iwabe groaned and I had half a mind to knock him the hell out, but I was too focused on watching the interaction a few parking spots away to do anything.

Boruto finally said something back and he didn’t look happy, his face showing a mixture of annoyance and unease. He even looked somewhat depressed. Who the hell was this guy and what the fuck was he doing with my cinnamon roll?

It looked like Boruto was telling him off, his temper finally flaring. This relaxed me and I sighed in relief as he stormed by the guy, but then suddenly, the bastard grabbed Boruto by the shoulders, spun him around and pinned him down against his car. I was out of the truck before Iwabe could do anything, ignoring his cursing as I moved around the truck and headed over.

Nobody was going to be touching him, much less slinging him around like that, unless it was me. I hadn’t been so livid in a long, long time. The smug look on the son of a bitch’s face only made it worse. Before I could make it over there, Boruto kneed the guy in the groin, knocking him back off of him right at the same time Iwabe caught up to me, hooking his arms around me.

“You might as well let me the fuck go.” I spat, his hold on me slowing me down but not stopping me.

Boruto noticed me approaching, his eyes widening before he hissed something at the guy.

“Boruto, shit, help me.” Iwabe huffed, struggling to hold me back.

“Me?” He questioned, voice higher pitched than normal. “Damn it. Ki, um, well . . . you see . . . let’s not get drastic.”

“Too fucking late.” I growled, shoving Iwabe off of me as I stared at the bastard. He wasn’t moving, because he obviously didn’t know the world of hurt he was about to experience.

“Wait!” Boruto pleaded and blocked my path.

I stopped in my tracks, nostrils flaring as I looked down at him. “Don’t tell me to fucking wait, asshole. I’m about to fuck this guy up.” Said guy was just watching silently, completely oblivious.

“Right. And he deserves it, but this isn’t a good place to be opening cans of whip ass.” He told me and then added, “Though I wouldn’t object to a good right hook.”

“Outta my way,” I scoffed, moving him aside and walking closer to the guy. I snatched him closer to me by the scruff of his shirt and scowled down at him. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

Finally the man snapped out of his bystander gaze, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at me. “I’m Boruto’s boyfriend, who the fuck are you?” He asked, yanking his shirt out of my grasp.

“Ex boyfriend you fucking bastard!” Boruto quickly corrected.

I had to just stand where I was, totally taken aback. Boyfriend? “The fuck?”

The guy looked smug for a second before he turned his attention back to Boruto. “Anyway, back to what I was saying. I want you to come back to me.”

“Dude, I just told you no!” Boruto growled. “I can’t believe you came all the way out here for this. Are you seriously coming at me with this shit? We’re over. We’ve been over and that’s how it’s gonna stay. End of story.”

“You’re goddamn right it is.” I snapped. “He’s mine you piece of shit, so leave now before I really do kill your ass.”

Boruto smiled at that, but hid it almost instantly. “He’s not messing around. Just go. We’re done here.”

“Oh, I get it.” The man chuckled. “You think you’re too good for me now? Selling yourself out to this giant. Well it’s not over until I say it's over.” He looked at me. “Go ahead with your death threats, I’ll be glad to give Boruto a warm bed to come home to while you’re in jail. Bitch.”

“Oh hell . . . you’re an idiot.” Boruto breathed in shock. “Iwabe . . . we should leave.”

“I’m with you, dude. Come with me.”

I paid no attention to Iwabe pulling Boruto away, too busy staring down the dead meat in front of me. I was going to let him go, mainly because Boruto wanted me to, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I wasn’t going to kick his ass now. He was one brave soul, that much I would give him, because he wasn’t running from me. It was honestly amusing, enough that I laughed darkly.

“You must be on some good shit if you think for even a second that you could have him. You think jail scares me, that I think you have a chance with him even then? You’re a goddamn fool. You can have me arrested, like the pussy you are, it won’t matter. I’ll get out and Boruto will be waiting on me. You ain’t shit, one hit and you’ll be down for the fucking count, like the zero you are.”

The guy pulled his shoulders back, trying to look bigger than he really was. “I’m no pushover. You think I’m scared just because you’re bigger than me? Ha. Just fucking try it.”

How Boruto could have ever had anything to do with a bastard like him was beyond me, but I wasn’t about to listen to another word out of his big fucking mouth. It had been over a year since I’d sent anyone to the hospital and I did rather enjoy living my peaceful life with my cinnamon roll, but nobody was going to touch him, or try to have his ass because he was mine. Only mine.

I was surprised yet again when the little prick swung at me, but it was a sad attempt and my reflexes were quick. I grabbed his wrist and snatched him down, kneed him right in the stomach and knocked the breath out of him. He fell onto his hands and knees, wheezing and I grabbed him by his hair, throwing him back onto his back.

“Well, well. You look even more like a pussy now. I believe the only bitch here is you. Bitch.” I smirked down at him, the amused anger inside of me unlike anything I’d felt before. It was usually one or the other, so the mixture was strange.

I knelt down beside him, slapping him so hard his face swole instantly.

“Definitely a bitch.” I grinned at the blood seeping from his mouth and nose. “You gonna do something or just lay there and bleed?”

“Fuck . . you . . .”

“Fuck like me and you’ll be second best.” I told him before grabbing him by his throat and pulling him back to his feet. I settled him on his feet, releasing him to pat his face roughly. “You good man? You alright? I’ll give you a chance to breathe.”

He wobbled a bit, but breathed a sigh of relief at thinking it was over. I just waited for him to steady himself and then I punched him right across his jaw, knocking him back down and unconscious.

“Well shit.” I rolled my eyes and spit on his face before turning on my heel to look for Boruto. Oh I have a few bones to pick with his cinnamon roll ass.

He was with Iwabe in his truck and I walked over slowly before opening the passenger door.

“So . . . that happened. Feel better?” He asked, slightly wincing at his own words.

“Get the fuck out.”

Boruto removed himself from the truck and tossed Iwabe a look before he took out his keys, heading to his car. I followed him, keeping quiet as I got in the car and waited for him to get behind the wheel. Knowing it was in our best interest to keep our mouths shut until we made it home, that’s what we did. I brooded silently all the way and as soon as we walked inside, I went for my box.

“I don’t think so.” I muttered when Boruto went to walk out of the living room. “Park that ass right here.” I told him, pointing to the couch next to me.

He hesitated for a moment, but wisely came over and sat down. “Alright, let me have it.” He sighed and turned his body towards me, crossing his legs underneath him.

Not having time to roll anything, I packed a bowl in record time and hit it as if my life depended on it, savoring the way the smoke filled my lungs. I exhaled slowly and stared at my bowl before grumbling, “What the fuck? What the fuck, asshole?!”

Boruto yelped, not expecting me to raise my voice so soon. “Hey, it’s not like I invited him or anything. I never wanted to see that bastard again.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are seeing his ass to begin with?” I snapped.

“Well it was before I met you!” He huffed and crossed his arms. “We dated in high school. I thought he was cool, but as more time passed, I realized how much of a jerk he was. I’m surprised he wanted to get back together after I dumped his ass and his oh so important image went to shit.”

“You’re really pissing me off. Shit.” I hit my bowl again, hoping it would help.

Boruto stared at the bowl, continuing to pout. “Didn’t you let out all your anger on him? What are you mad at me for?” He asked and then mumbled quietly, “You even grabbed his throat.”

“I can’t fucking stand you right now. Mention him one more fucking time, I dare you.” I said, so mad I couldn’t even pack my bowl fast enough. “You’re over here having boyfriends and shit and then worry about me grabbing his throat.”

“Cause you’re only supposed to do that to me!” He exclaimed with a blush.

Damn idiot. “Yeah, well you’re not supposed to be having boyfriends either so shit, guess we're even.”

Boruto shook his head, but let it go. “Fine. I guess so.”

“Were there others? Or was he the only one?” I asked even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

He bit his lip and shifted his gaze as far from me as possible.

“Excuse me, I asked you a fucking question.” I hissed, hand itching to grab his ass, but I wouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it.

“You’ll get even more worked up if I answer.” He said and then winced.

“That many?” I was astounded. I was wounded. I was fucking mortified. I couldn’t even finish packing the bowl. I had to set it down, feeling faint.

Boruto tried to smooth it over, knowing he couldn’t take it back. “It wasn’t that many . . . just . . . maybe . . . alright, there were four others.” He admitted and got to his feet. “But like I said, it was before I met you! It’s in the past and . . . uh, good talk. I’ll get dinner going.”

“That many.” I repeated, laying my hand over my chest as I feared a heart attack coming. “Shit.” I had to lay down and breathe or else I was going to die.

“Oh my god, you make it sound like I slept with the whole football team or something.” He grumbled and was quick to make his exit towards the kitchen.

That didn’t settle well with me. The whole football team? Oh hell no. I forced myself up, storming after him. I caught him before he got far, pinning him against the wall with a tight hold on his throat. “You’re mine.”

He stood still, swallowing hard. “Yeah . . . I am.”

“It pisses me off so bad, just thinking about you being with anyone else. I should have fucking killed him.”

“This is a first . . . seeing you like this.” He said, hand coming up to grab my wrist. “I have to say, seeing you jealous for a change . . . I like it.” He smiled cheekily.

“I’m not fucking jealous, asshole. I’m livid. Nobody else can have you or should have. There should be no before you met me. What the fuck is that?”

Boruto kept smiling, seeming to be enjoying himself. “Yes, go on.”

“I should kick your ass, right here and now.” I growled and held his throat tighter.

His fingers twitched around my wrist, his pulse picking up. “You didn’t do it when I first moved in, so I doubt you’ll do it now.”

If only I wasn’t so damn crazy about his cinnamon roll ass. “I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

I rolled my eyes, forcing my hand away from him before I got any more heated. “Cook your stupid food and hurry up so I can make you forget about this before shit.”

Boruto’s eyes lit up. “I mean . . . I could always cook after.”

“No. You won’t be getting out of bed. Promise.” I muttered, walking back into the living room to finally smoke for real.

I sat down and started rolling a joint, still pissed about the whole situation, but I knew the best way to take my frustrations out would be in bed, with my infuriating cinnamon roll. This shit wouldn’t be happening again, I would make sure of it.

[experiment-zero]

Her Little Game

Fred Bates had been working with the progenitor virus since Oswell E. Spencer first founded Umbrella Corporation as a cover-up. He had dedicated his life to his work, forgoing any semblance of a personal life for his single-minded passion. It was this burning desire for progress that allowed him to quickly ascend the ranks, becoming one of the top tier researchers of Umbrella.

 But then Spencer died. No… He was killed. Slaughtered by that by-product of Project W, Albert Wesker. Now Bates had little care for the senile aristocrat as long as he was allowed to continue his work… But that damnable creature who took his place now barricades him from just that.

 The whole of the research committee stationed in Africa, the only place where the precious “Stairway of the Sun” could grow, was completely dismantled and reformed to Wesker’s liking. This left the older researcher as nothing more than a mere mentor for the fresher minds that had been brought in to take his place.

 Of course Bates had almost protested, alongside several of his comrades who had worked by his side for over four decades. But his prudence proved to spare him the fate that Wesker did not hesitate to impose upon anyone who dared to question him. Instead he was left to live, wallowing in his ever-growing bitterness.

 So surely it is understandable why Bates, typing fervently away at his laptop, is composing a careful documentation of all the current work going on with “Uroboros” in the hopes of sending it to the authorities. His life’s work had been stolen away, leaving him with no purpose and nothing to show for all those years he had dedicated. It’s only fair Wesker is forced to face the same reality… Only fair that-

 “My… You really are quite an articulate writer. I do not believe you have missed a single detail on “Uroboros”, Mr. Bates.” A cool voice whispers in his ear. Startled, the old man whips around to face Experiment Zero. She is only a few centimeters from him, her face as still and cold as marble as she continues to study the screen. How long has she been there? He could not be certain.

 The phantom-like creature has a natural knack for being able to appear anywhere she pleased without detection. Her steps are always silent, almost like she was not really touching the floor at all. Coupled with her cold, pale skin and expressionless eyes that were presumably affected by aniridia… The creature was bone-chilling to say the least.

 “Well if it isn’t Albert’s pet.” The old man spat bitterly. “I am in the middle of work. So, if you would be so kind as to leave me to it…” Perhaps if he just played his writings off as merely documentation for Uroboros’ records, the damn specter would go away.

 “Hm-hm… Do you know how long I have been watching you, Mr. Bates?” Those empty eyes turn on him, making his blood turn to ice in his veins. “No, of course you do not. No one ever does. That was an unfair question; I apologize.” How could a voice be so monotone and soft yet sicky sweet and innocent at the same time?

 “D-doesn’t Wesker keep you on a leash, you damn brat? Beat it so I can work in peace.”

Bates stiffens when he notices Zero’s lips twitch ever so slightly… Like she is almost smiling.

 “Only when I give him a reason to. Not that it does much good to have a watch set on me. I tend to… Slip people’s notice.” When did the damn thing move to sit on his desk? Her slender fingers push his laptop closed, eyes never leaving his face.

 “Mr. Bates… Master Wesker would be very displeased to know that we have a ‘compromise’ in our security. And he has little qualms with dealing with these ‘compromises’ in an effective, educational manner. Do you understand?” The beast almost purrs.

 “Yeah? So you’re gonna run and tattle on me to your owner?” Bates retorts, a quiver in his voice betraying his bold words.

 “Hm-hm… I do not have to tell him anything. After all, I am here of my own volition.” Zero says softly, her smile widening; however, it does not reach her eyes. “I do not want to hurt you, Mr. Bates. Of course… I will if I have to.”

 “What do you want…” The old man asked, clutching at his lab coat with shaking hands.

 “A friend, Mr. Bates.” “A… Friend?”

 “Yes. A friend. Everyone needs friends after all.” The woman gently caresses his cheek; her ice cold fingers causing sickening chills to run down his spine.

 So this damn BOW is asking for his loyalty in exchange for his life? Like he would ever allow such an inferior creature to hold that sort of power over him. Frightening or not, she commands no power of her own; Wesker pulls the strings of this little marionette. She has no fighting ability, no strength to call her own. So, this damned beast trying to manipulate him into submission was an insult he would not stand for.

But he could play along… For now. “Alright, Zero. I’ll cooperate.” Bates forced himself to relax and keep his tone even. The young woman pulls her hand back, tilting her head slightly as she continues to smile. It made him sick that this thing actually thought it had won.

 But she won’t be so smiley when he turns the tables on her and lets her owner know that she has been gathering allies behind his back.

 “I have enjoyed our discussion, Mr. Bates. Do take care.” With those parting words, Experiment Zero was gone.

“Stupid bitch… Like I’d ever bow down to Wesker’s pet.” The old man sneers under his breath, reopening his laptop to find the entire file he had been working on was erased. “FUCK THAT LITTLE BITCH!”

 .

.

.

 Zero listens just outside his door, expression unreadable. Yet inside she felt that sick giddiness that she tends to get while playing her little game.

 She cannot wait until Master Wesker decides what to do with old Fred Bates.

[sweetmorninglight]

Supernatural AU!Guardian Angel (Jooheon)

Rushing through the crowd, you had to stop at the red light for walkers before crossing the street

Your company building was just two blocks away, yet you’d be late for the third time this week

You knew your boss wouldn’t be happy about it and you also knew that extra hours were on your way

You’d probably had to stay until dawn next week to compensate for delaying the company’s schedule

“Oh, c’mon!” you tapped your foot on the sidewalk without removing your eyes from the red pedestrian traffic light, hoping it would turn green if you stared angrily enough at it

It finally did, and you took a step forward, ready to cross

But your lateral vision warned you of a car that wasn’t going to stop

You held yourself back on time, but someone else didn’t

The only thing you managed to do was grab their arm and pull them back as strongly as you could

The car honked when transgressing the signal at a ridiculous speed

“ASSHOLE!” you screamed and couldn’t stop shaking, thinking how that irresponsible driver could have killed you and the other person

You turned to see if they were alright and a guy dressed in a white shirt, with almost equally white hair, and a cute face was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost

Maybe it was the shock, he would have been hit if it wasn’t for your quick reflex to grab him

Speaking of which, your fingers were still tightly wrapped around his forearm and you apologized before letting go

“You’re…” he pointed at himself “You see me?”

“Hm, yeah” you replied trying to breath in a regular pace to slow down your increased heartbeat

“Really?! Oh, this isn’t good” he seemed worried and you didn’t understand

He looked up to the sky and pressed his lips together, showing two cute dimples on his cheeks

He was very good looking, but you didn’t have time to think about it

Now you’d be twice as late as before because the traffic light was red for walkers again

“I can’t believe this” you sighed and started thinking of a plausible excuse to give your boss

You could totally say that you were almost hit by a crazy driver, which wouldn’t be a lie

But almost being run over wouldn’t last more than a minute and you were almost forty minutes late

Fuck your life

“Hey, you should come with me” the guy by your side said and you looked at him like he was insane

“You gotta be kidding me, I’m late for work, I’m not going anywhere”

“I’m serious” he replied more sternly. “You can see me, something isn’t right” he was whispering while staring at your face.

“Who? I see no one here” you looked away and began to think that he was probably a maniac

You shouldn’t have saved him, now he was going to stalk you and murder you

Great! At least you’d have a decent excuse to be running late!

Your boss would totally understand it when he attended your funeral

Maybe dying wasn’t so bad after all

“You know what? Let’s go” you grabbed the guy’s wrist and walked among the crowd

“Wait, wait, we have to hide” he said in a hurry

“Sure, why not?! I’ll probably have to hide for the rest of my life, but who cares? Just let me go withdraw all my money in the bank and we can move to Buenos Aires and live there without anyone knowing” you replied the same way and entered a café

“Sit down” you said angrily and placed your bag by your side, sitting as well

“Don’t be mad” the guy said softly, and something inside you stirred as if calming down from a raging storm

“Don’t be mad?” you scoffed “Don’t be mad?! I hate my job, but I have zero qualifications to get a better one, my boss hate me, I hate him back, my coworkers are snakes, I have no social life, and lately I’ve been so upset with everything that I’m not sleeping at all. I’ve been running late for work this whole week and to top it all I almost got hit by a freaking lunatic behind a wheel, so don’t tell me to not be mad. I am mad and I have all the right to be mad”

The guy blinked a couple times before calling the waitress with his hand

“An Americano for me and two cranberry muffins with a chamomile tea, no sugar, for her, please” the waitress nodded and you stared at him in disbelief

How. Did. He. Know. Your. Order?

“You’ll be better after the tea, don’t worry” he said placing his hand on top of yours, but you broke the contact as soon as you felt it

He seemed quite disappointed, but you didn’t care

“Who the hell are you? How do you know what I would order?”

“I’m Jooheon. Because I know you”

“But I don’t know you. Have you been following me?” you grabbed your purse and was ready to flee if things got even more weird

“Yes” he replied so simply you had to hold your laughter

Running away to Buenos Aires now wasn’t such a bad idea

“Oh my God…” before you could do anything else, the waitress was back with the drinks and your muffins

“Enjoy your breakfast” she said smiling to the guy and you felt weird

“Eat, please” he said when you didn’t touch the muffins

“Why? You’re gonna lock me up and only feed me twice a week? Is this my last meal?” you were sniffing the muffins and it made your stomach groan. You hadn’t eaten since the night before and you were actually starving

“Just eat it” he took one and bit it. “Wow, they’re good. And I have no intention of locking you up”

“Then why have you been following me?”

“Because that’s my job”

“Who hired you? I have some money, I can pay you” he laughed

“I don’t work for money” there you go, now you’re either dying, being abused or both!

“Oh, God…”

“And that’s who ‘hired’ me” he did the quotation marks with his fingers

“What? Who?”

“God” he pointed upwards and smiled a bit

“Right… Now I’m not sure if I should report you to the police or to a madhouse!”

“You’re seeing me, so you’re the one who’s crazy, not me”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You ask who I am, who I work for, but you don’t ask what I do”

“You follow me, that’s what you do”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Cause you’re insane?” you replied raising your eyebrow and making a weird face

“Cause I’m your guardian angel, duh!” he mimicked you

“You’re my what now?!”

“Shhhh” he placed his hand on your mouth and you licked his palm

“Ewww, disgusting” he rubbed his palm on his jeans

“Don’t put your hand on my mouth again or I’ll bite you! And don’t you dare follow me” you got up and left the café

This was all too much for you to handle, you shouldn’t have left your bed today

The best thing to do was go back to your apartment and wait for this terrible day to end, and maybe start looking for another job cause you’re certainly fired!

The ride back to your place was quicker than you thought, and soon you were home removing your shoes

After placing your bag on the side of the door, you threw yourself on the couch and closed your eyes trying to cope with life

“Are you better now?”

WHAT THE FUCK

You screamed your lungs out and the guy, Jooheon, your guardian angel or a maniac - you still didn't know which - place his hands over your mouth to shut you up

Well, you bit his palm as hard as you could until you tasted blood

It was his turn to scream

“You bit me!”

“I told you not to put your hand on my mouth!”

“You were screaming!”

“Yeah, cause you're inside my house, you maniac!”

“I've always been here, you crazy!”

“I'm calling the police” you said in an underbreath and reached for your bag, but he grabbed you midway, holding both of your arms

“Let me go”

“No” he said calmly

“I'll bite you again” you threatened

“Do it” he provoked

You turned your head to try to bite his fingers, but you stopped

“I bit you” you looked at him

“Really? I felt nothing this time” he was confused

“No, before.. I bit your palm until it bled, but I don't see blood”

“Ah, I healed” his answer made you furrow your eyebrows, so he decided to show you

“See? I'm better now, but not thanks to you” he was almost pouting when showing his palm

Not quite believing your eyes, you took his hand into yours and gently rubbed your fingertips on his palm where you thought the mark was

You didn't notice, thankfully, but Jooheon was blushing a little with your touches

“How?” you were trying to understand

“I'm an angel, this body can't be hurt”

“Are you serious? Are you an angel?”

“Yes, I’m your guardian angel” he replied “And we’re probably in trouble because you can see me”

“How long has it been?”

“Well, since this morning, I think.. Or have you seen me before?”

“No, I mean your job. How long have you been my guardian angel?”

“Hm, since you were born”

Holy shit! He’s been following you and taking care of you in silence and anonymously for your entire life! How?!

How can guardian angel be real? You always thought it was something religious people believed in, but you’ve never been one of them, to be honest.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“What?” Jooheon was confused

“I must have done something wrong, that’s why I’m seeing you”

“Oh” he let out a sigh and invited you to sit on the couch by his side. “You see, I was the one doing something wrong”

“But you’re an angel”

“It doesn’t mean I’m perfect, I’ve failed my duties”

“I don’t think so”

“Really?” he looked funny at you. “You said it yourself: you have a job and a boss that you hate, your coworkers are snakes, you have no social life, and you’ve been so upset with everything that you’re not sleeping at all and have been running late for work. This is the third time you’re late and it’s still Thursday. And this morning you’d be hit by a car if it wasn’t for your fast reflexes. It was my job to hold you back, but you were the one doing it with me. I’ve put your life in danger and that’s the worst that could happen to a guardian angel. I’ve failed my job and I’m gonna pay for it”

“Are you going to be punished?” you asked concerned

“In a sense, yes”

“But I thought God was… benevolent?” you chose the best word you could, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

“Oh, He is. I’m not being physically punished, if that’s what you’re thinking”

“Don’t I get to say something about your job? I mean, you were taking care of me quite well so far, you’ve done a nice job because, honestly, I’m not the easiest person to watch over”

“There’s no mistakes in being a guardian, you either do it well or you don’t. And lately I haven’t been watching out for you the way I’m supposed to”

“Oh, c’mon! You just had a bad week, that’s all, no need to punish you for that!”

“There’s no use in arguing now, you can see me already”

“And that’s bad because…?”

“Because they are already breaking our bond” you knew Jooheon was devastated, even though he tried to force a small smile

“I’m sorry” that’s all you could say to him. You had no idea how to cheer up a guardian angel.

“What’s happening now?” you asked after a few minutes sitting in silence by his side.

You remembered that all those times when you were lonely at night and felt a sudden comfort inside your heart was because of his constant presence around you

Jooheon took care of you in silence for all those years and you were extremely grateful for it.

He did an excellent job, in your humble opinion, and you couldn’t even think where you’d be now if it wasn’t for him

“Now we part ways” Jooheon said

“But what if I don’t want to? I mean, I can tell them to keep you with me, right?”

“Like I said, they’re already breaking our bond and no, you can’t ‘keep me’ because you won’t even remember me” he used his fingers to do the quotation marks

“What?!” you almost screamed

“They’re gonna erase me from your memories”

“No, no, I’m not gonna let them mess with my head. they can’t do something I don’t want to, I have free will!”

“I’m sorry, but this means nothing in this particular case. You get assigned a new guardian, I get assigned a newborn soul and that’s it” he shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t get it, I really don’t” you shook your head in disapproval. “How come we’re getting punished by something so trivial like a bad week? Has anyone in this world with a guardian angel never had a bad week? Please!” you scoffed.

“You had this bad week because I broke the most important rule”  Jooheon’s eyes caught yours in a loving, almost tender, look. “I fell for you, and my feelings got in the way of my duties” he sighed. “ I was spending most of my time just watching you, noticing your every move, seeing how your expressions changed when something bothered you, how you would feel so happy binge watching tv shows on weekends, how you always helped people whenever you could, how you smiled when I touched you in your sleep… I just… I lost myself in you and forgot about why I’m here”

Thick tears were making their way to your lips and you let out a muffled pained scream, clutching your heart as if it was being ripped apart inside your chest

Jooheon suddenly sat up right and you knew something was wrong

“You’re only making things worse, Jooheon” you heard a deep, but kind, soothing voice and looked up, but saw nothing

“She’s gonna forget it anyways, I might as well get this out of my chest”

“Who’ this?” you asked looking to a specific point near your TV because that’s where the voice came from

“I’m Raphael, child, I came for your guardian angel”

“You came too early” Jooheon’s face showed you everything he felt at the moment and his most prominent feeling was disappointment

“This needs to be solved quickly” Raphael spoke clearly beside you, although you still couldn’t see him

“Is there any way for him to remain being my guardian angel? I don’t wanna lose Jooheon” you said through your tears

“I apologize, child, but your request is impossible”

“It wasn’t his fault, you know? These things happen all the time”

“Not for us” Jooheon said quietly. “I’m the third angel to ever fall in all human history”

“And this is why we should get this over with, the sooner the better” Raphael said

“Yes, chief” Jooheon stood up and straightened his clothes. “Can I have a moment to say goodbye?’

“Don’t take too long” Raphael’s strong presence left and you could breathe a little bit better

“I…” you didn’t let Jooheon finish his sentence, you were already clutching his body like your life depended on it, and he held you the same way

He was warm, and nice, and everything you needed at the moment

Your tears were wetting his white shirt, but you couldn’t hold yourself from letting them flow

“It’s going to be okay, darling, don’t worry, this will all be over soon for you” Jooheon’s whisper tickled your ear.

“But not for you”

“I can’t get hurt”

“I’m not talking about your body, Jooheon. I can see in your eyes the pain and burden you’ll have to carry and I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. My heart will suffer, for sure, but I’ll be at peace knowing that you'll be fine”

“I won’t. Not with you by my side”

“You won’t even miss me” he joked

“I may not miss you consciously, but my heart always will. I could feel you, Jooheon. All those nights I could feel your touch on my dreams, but I never knew what it was until now. Why do we have to be apart?”

“If you can feel me in your heart then we’ll always be together”

Your heart’s broken pieces somehow gathered again under his soothing touch on your back

You wish you could stay longer in his arms

“Isn’t there a way for me to see you again?” you mumbled against his chest

“Yeah, but it’s illegal”

“Well, we’re already breaking the law anyways” your reply made him laugh

“Hold on, this is gonna get serious and we won’t have much time” Jooheon let go of you and made you step back. He closed his eyes and turned his palms upwards.

You had no idea what he was going to do until you felt a soft breeze on your face and suddenly huge wings were hanging from Jooheon’s back

They were HUGE! Nothing like you’ve ever seen portrayed in paintings of angels

Yes, they were white - the whitest white -, and seemed quite soft, but each feather also had a golden tip, as if they were dipped in the most precious and rare kind of gold that only exists in Heaven, probably

He was emanating a tremendous energy, almost lighting up like a fluorescent light, and you were even more attracted to his natural glow

“You’re gorgeous” you felt your tears running down your cheeks again, he was such a divine sight, you didn’t know how to react standing in front of such pure being like him

“You’re even more” Jooheon spoke quietly and you snorted unintentionally.

You watched attentively his fingers moving to caress a small feather near his left arm and pluck it

His face contorted a bit in pain, and you felt guilty

“Keep this hidden in somewhere safe. If you ever need me again you can use this to summon me. But it only works once, so use it wisely” Jooheon placed the small feather inside your right hand and closed your fingers

You shivered from head to toe as soon as it touched your skin, it was powerful and you knew that humans weren’t supposed to go near anything that like that

But you didn’t care, you wanted him with you by your side and would keep a fragment of his holy being with you until it was the right time to use it

“You should hide it now” Jooheon warned, and you went to your bedroom, opening your wardrobe and pulling out a wooden box that once belonged to your grandma.

You kept objects that brought good memories inside that box, like your childhood stuffed toy, the wrapping paper of the first Swiss chocolate you ate, some old family photos, and now Jooheon’s sacred feather.

Closing the box and putting it back made you think about all those memories that box held and how many of them were because of Jooheon’s presence in your life

You went back to your living room and his wings were gone

You hugged again, enjoying the last moments you still had, and you thanked him for being with you for so long, assuring him he did an amazing job

“If I hadn’t fallen, I could’ve stayed with you until the end”

“But then I’d never get to know you” you held his face in your hands and tried to memorize his features

He was truly a gorgeous being with cute lips and fiercy brown eyes that sent waves of pleasure through your body

You’ve always knew you weren’t actually alone, but never thought you had someone like him by your side all the time

“It’s time”

Raphael’s presence was so overwhelming this time you were glad you couldn’t see him

Jooheon kissed your forehead, smiling at you before moving to stand behind the couch, probably by Raphael’s side

“So it’s going to be her, huh?” Jooheon asked looking at your right, making you step away from whatever was there

“Yes, is there a problem?” you didn’t like Raphael’s tone

“Not at all, chief”

“Good. Let’s continue. Child, I need you to repeat after me: Angel of God, my guardian dear to whom God’s love commits me here…”

You repeated his words

“From this day be at my side to light, to guard, to rule and guide…”

As you were repeating, Jooheon’s face was getting gloomier

“Amen”

“Amen”

“Now you have a new guardian” Raphael said and you felt yourself crying again. “Jooheon, you know what to do”

“Yes” he looked at you one last time before closing his eyes and turning his palms upwards, setting his wings free again.

You had a weird taste on your tongue and felt like throwing up at any minute because of so much distress

Jooheon’s beautiful voice caught your attention

“My Father gave in charge to me this child of Earth from its birth to serve and save…

As he chanted, his body glowed even more than before, becoming unbearable to look at, making you close your eyes tightly

“... to rear and train by sorrow and pain in the narrow way…”

You were dizzy as if you were spinning non-stop for minutes, you were nauseous and also sweating a bit

“...and saved is she from Earth to Heaven”

Your body hit the ground full force, you couldn’t gather enough strength to get up, and your new memories were slowly fading away

You fought to keep them inside your head, you tried to hold onto his name, his face, his eyes, his lips, his overpowering presence, his hugs, his voice, but it was all in vain in the end.

The only thing you had left was a terrible headache and an emptiness inside your heart you knew deep down that couldn’t be cured by Earthly means.

[luckydicekirby]

*predicatable* the daudsider fic where daud gets killed by hc corvo...

LMAO honestly thank you i love talking about this fic…the original idea behind this was realizing that if Corvo kills Daud at the end of Brigmore Witches, it’s by cutting his throat. And that’s how the Outsider died, so obviously they should talk about it! Weirdly this ended up being kind of an afterthought in the fic itself, which is mostly just Daud being gay and sad, as is his legal right. I guess this is the only time I’ve really written Daud POV. Or actually Daud at all? I tend to mention him a lot in fics as a rhetorical device but he never really shows up, oops. 

wrapped around your ankles over the waterfall, for anyone else playing along at home!

Never let it be said that Corvo Attano doesn’t know how to handle a knife. He makes it quick. Daud hardly feels the cut as it crosses his throat. He’s already fading when Corvo tosses him over the side of the building. He doesn’t feel himself hit the ground.

There is like, something subtly wrong with the rhythm of this paragraph, it reads a little flat? Two of these sentences need to be combined and then I think it would be fine. Riveting commentary I know.

When Daud contemplated death—a common enough way to kill time, for an assassin—he liked to think it might bring him peace. Foolish, to expect that peace was something he could ever have.

Daud, I think maybe thinking about dying all the time is a YOU thing.

He opens his eyes. He’s lying on stone. The Outsider peers down at him, and around them the Void is no different than it’s ever been, gray and cool and harsh.

“It was a very pretty speech,” he says. “But Corvo Attano heard enough pretty words for a lifetime when he lived in Dunwall Tower. He spent his days learning that they only ever hid viciousness and cruelty, knives poorly sheathed. The Loyalists toasted him eloquently before they poured poison down his throat. Why should he have believed yours to be any different?”

I leaned more into like, shrine-style speeches than I usually do in the Outsider’s dialogue here, probably because that kind of dialogue makes him sound like an asshole. It’s SO fun to write. 

Daud sits up and presses a hand to his neck, the place where Corvo’s knife cleaved his skin in two. His hand comes away bloody. It looks almost black in the gloom of the Void.

“You saved me,” he says, voice shredded to pieces, and the Outsider laughs.

God the kind of implied hopefulness of this is really crushing, huh.

“I don’t take sides,” he says. The lying bastard. The moment Corvo Attano was Marked, the moment the Outsider decided he was special, the outcome of this day was decided. “You’re dying, Daud, your life slipping out from between your fingers. A fitting end for a man who spent his life spilling a river of blood. I wonder what you’ll do with these final moments. Curse my name?”

“Fuck you.”

Walked right into that one my dude. Also “I don’t take sides” NEVER stops being funny unfortunately. And ‘spilling a river of blood’ I think is just straight up from one high chaos Outsider shrine speech or another.

“Always so predictable,” the Outsider muses, and Daud hates him, hates himself, hates the sick curdling feeling he always gets in his gut when the Outsider sounds disappointed. Sounds bored. The same sickness that stayed with him for fifteen years while the Outsider ignored him, until Daud blundered his way into Corvo Attano’s life and suddenly became interesting again. 

That’s being in love, Daud. Sorry, in your case it’s terminal!

“You begged him for your life. I admit, Daud, that surprised me. And Corvo refused to give it to you. Your one last request denied. How does that feel, Daud? Like justice? Like redemption?”

And this is like, endgame narration style dialogue. Good times.

It feels like blood sliding through Daud’s fingers, spilling down his coat. Dozens of people have bled on this coat. Jessamine Kaldwin did. And now Daud will be the last. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

He wants it to be done. He wants the peace he knows he doesn’t deserve, but even now the Outsider won’t leave him alone, staring at him with his too dark eyes. It itches like bloodflies under his skin, the Outsider’s eyes on him, and yet Daud has never been able to hate it the way he should. He’s always craved it, as if he’s no better than the likes of Vera Moray, crooning to her rats about the black-eyed boy who will abandon her. Who abandons everyone, in time.

On the bright side, number of times Daud has made a guy into soup is still zero, so you’re still doing okay.

Corvo will feel like this one day. The thought should console Daud. It doesn’t.

“Of course it matters, Daud,” says the Outsider. He kneels down beside him and presses his hand against his throat, under Daud’s own. It’s cold, shocking enough that Daud starts, and the bastard laughs at that too. The Outsider has never touched him before. He would remember. “History is determined by men like Corvo Attano. By the men who kill Empresses and the men who take revenge. He could have let you live. He almost did. That future still hangs in the balance. A fish hooked but fighting against it. Soon enough it will have swum away.”

I love a good weird Outsider metaphor.

“So let me go,” Daud says.

The Outsider runs his thumb along the edges of Daud’s wound. It should hurt. It does hurt. Daud doesn’t try to move away. “My throat was cut, once,” he says. “The day that I was made what I am. It’s a terrible way to die. I can’t remember how I felt about it. I was going to do what you did. I was going to beg for my life. But they never gave me the chance.”

He must be telling the truth. This close, Daud can see the scar.

See I like, wrote the bit about them dying the same way and then all the subsequent dialogue I wanted to write was like, unrelated depressing gay bullshit, so I just went with that. I do like “I can’t remember how I felt about it”, it gets at everything that’s so fucked up about the Outsider’s like, whole existence. The most fun way to write the Outsider imo is just as a dude who fundamentally does not understand the human experience of anything, including his own literal human experiences.

The Outsider draws his hand back, covered now in Daud’s blood. Daud knows precisely how much blood the human body can hold, and he’s bled too much for anywhere but the Void.

I was like what am I talking about, is knowing about blood anatomy and assassin thing, but actually I think this is a joke (“joke”) about him having gone to college. 

“What would you have said?” Daud asks. He can’t look away from the Outsider’s hand.

The Outsider ignores him. He takes Daud’s jaw in his hand, smearing blood across his cheekbone, and tilts it to the side. He speaks into Daud’s ear. “Was it all my fault, Daud? Whispering in your ear, making you think you were somehow important?”

Does the Outsider ignore this question because he’s a bitch or because I couldn’t think of an answer? Who can say! 

Also the Outsider actually literally whispering in his ear is the kind of dramatic bullshit I fully believe he would do.

“You’re such a little shit,” Daud growls, and he has both hands fisted in the Outsider’s coat before he can think, before he can remember all the reasons that he has never dared touch the Outsider, no matter how much he loathes him.

“loathes” lol ok

The Outsider watches him, and does not let him go. They would be breathing the same air, if either of them were breathing anymore. “With my Mark, you thought you were going to change things. And you have.”

I still go back and forth about whether Mark/Marked should be capitalized. This ambiguity is the Outsider’s greatest crime.

I can no longer remember if there’s any canon basis for Daud ever having wanted to change the world for the better; it is my sacred duty to assume that everyone’s a sad former idealist though.

“From where I stand, the world looks exactly the same.”

“You killed an Empress, and saved her daughter. History peeled away from the curve of your blade like skin from a knife. I gave you what you wanted, Daud: the power to make your own regrets.”

Oh god what a gross metaphor. I like it a lot but also, yikes.

The Outsider slides his grip from Daud’s jaw back to his hair, and he yanks his head back. Daud chokes on nothing. He can feel blood dripping down his throat, can taste it on the back of his tongue. He clenches his fingers, and finds them too weak to hold onto the Outsider’s coat any longer.

Oh sorry I forgot the other reason I wrote this fic, “being kinda horny for people getting their throat cut” apparently. Like this blocking is so gross but, unfortunately.

“Are you going to let me die?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” The Outsider tilts his head. He looks curious. “Death made me what I am. I wonder what it would make of you.”

“A corpse,” Daud tells him.

“Daud,” says the Outsider, still so fucking disappointed. “Your problem has always been that you lack a grander vision.”

“Dead is dead.”

“Not when it happened to me.”

“I saw what was in Attano’s coat. If you make me into a thing like you did to the Empress—”

“If I wanted to cut out your heart, you would sit still and let me,” the Outsider says. “You can try to hide it with all the anger in the world, Daud, but you would do anything for me.” His voice is dispassionate, as if he were not filleting Daud to the very bone with his words.

I remember that I added this line in while editing, because Ruby got mad at me about it. “If I wanted to cut out your heart, you would let me” IS the most sarahcore thing I’ve ever written probably. Play to your strengths I guess!

Also can you imagine like, Daud style heart lines. Just miserable.

“A word from me after fifteen years, and you picked yourself up out of your guilt and grief to scour Dunwall from end to end. You didn’t have to kill Delilah to save Emily Kaldwin. You killed her because you were jealous. You thought you could kill Corvo too. But after you’d already murdered his dear Jessamine, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.”

“Shut up,” Daud says. A rasp from his ruined throat.

The Outsider kisses him, cold lips and colder tongue, and Daud makes the same noise people make when he slides a knife between their ribs.

I am pretty happy with how the tone of this fic is basically ‘getting stabbed but in a sexy way except you still very much got stabbed’. Seems right for the ship!

There’s blood on the Outsider’s mouth when he lets Daud go. Daud wants to kiss him again more than he wants to live.

God what a depressing line. I like it a lot but hey Daud? You good???

“You should let me die. You should give Attano what he wants.”

“But I am,” the Outsider says. He touches Daud’s cheek, like the parody of a lover. “Corvo wanted his revenge. But more than that, he wants to be the kind of man above needing it. The kind of man who can raise his daughter well, and teach her to be kind, and good, and all the things that Empresses should be.”

Of course. Daud bleeding out before him, and it��s all about Corvo fucking Attano. “So you’re going to save me for Attano’s sake.”

Daud is miserable and jealous: the fic.

“I told you,” the Outsider says, eyes more pitiless than the sea. “I haven’t decided yet.”

This line…is really good. I love a good snappy ending line and this is probably the best one I’ve ever gotten, tbh. nailed it past sarah! there’s also like, no universe where this fic ends in a less weird and ambiguous way, because like frankly I can’t even figure out what that would be. Like where do you go from here. Nowhere, you live in this terrible moment forever!

Anyway, sorry that the only daudsider fic I’ve ever written is mega depressing and half about the Outsider also being in love with Corvo, but he’s VERY mean to Daud so surely that makes up for it!

[cwartsy]

So Much For the Fearsome Radio Demon (Al/Bax fanfic, now with added Vaggie/Charlie)

When Vaggie found out Alastor was dating Baxter, her general reaction could be summed up in three words;

Oh HELL no.

No way in any of the nine circles of hell was she letting that nefarious, treacherous, conniving, predatory, evil, fucked up psychopath anywhere near anyone she cared about. Especially near anyone like Baxter.

Everyone knows that Baxter has zero experience relationship wise. He was so innocent it was ridiculous. And even worse, it was pretty evident to everyone who knew him that Baxter wasn't all there. He would go for days without eating, he barely slept, he would work himself to the bone as if he was always trying to distract himself from something. He was twitchy and nervous all the time. Mostly about things that were only in his head. How could someone like Baxter know what red flags are? And how could he spot them in a relationship? How could he know when, or even how, to get out of a relationship if it went bad? Could he get out of a relationship with someone like Alastor? No. Of course he couldn’t.

Vaggie had no idea how Alastor had gotten so close to him. She didn't know what Alastor had done to get Baxter to trust him. In truth, she knew Alastor would have had to have done a hell of a lot just to get someone as paranoid as Baxter to let him anywhere near him. But Vaggie didn’t give a shit. The idea of someone as dangerous as Alastor being in a relationship with someone as vulnerable as Baxter was horrifying. 

And she was putting a stop to it. Right now. 

First chance she got, she pulled Alastor aside. At first, the radio demon was all smiles and "Why, hello Miss Vaggie. How can I be of assistance today?" He was still smiling, even when Vaggie shoved him into the wall and pressed a knife into his throat.

"Oh my.” Alastor proclaimed. When he looked at Vaggie’s knife, he had a stupid look on his face that made Vaggie’s blood boil. His eyes had a sort of affectionate look to them that seemed to say “Oh, how cute.”

“Have I done anything to anger you, my dear?”

“Listen here, you deplorable piece of demon turd.” She growled, pressing the knife deeper into Alastor’s throat to show that she was having none of his shit, “I don't know what kind of game you're playing with Bax but it ends now. I don't know who was stupid enough to let you near him but I'll end you unless you stay the fuck away from him. And if you fucking dare do anything to hurt him, it'll be the biggest and last mistake you ever make.” 

Vaggie expected him to laugh her off. He always did this with her no matter what she threatened to do to him. From what Vaggie had gathered from their encounters, it took an infuriating amount of effort to get Alastor to take anyone seriously. But what actually happened caught her off guard. His eyes flashed with confusion. His smug grin faltered. 

"Game? Hurt him?" Alastor’s voice rose and displayed something Vaggie never expected to hear from him. Actual emotion.

Vaggie hadn’t expected Alastor to react like this at all and she might have let it show. She was taken aback for a moment. But not a moment more. She wasn’t going to let this distract her from why they were here.

"Well, what else could it be?” she demanded, “When have you ever not played someone? When have you ever not used a person for your own gain? Do you really think I believe you're here because you actually want to help us? I know that's bullshit. I've heard what you've done to people. I know all about how you've tricked them, manipulated them and ruined them. You can fuck right off if you think I'm going to let you do any of that shit to Bax.” 

At that moment, Alastor’s eyes went from holding confusion to rage and the ever smiling Radio Demon scowled. That was when Vaggie truly knew this was going to be nothing like the encounters she had with Alastor before. This wasn't like every other time Vaggie had threatened him. When her words didn't even phase him. This was very different. For the first time in all the time she had known him, Alastor looked angry. 

He looked beyond done with Vaggie when he pushed her aside. He swatted her knife away, looking at it and her with a look of pure disgust.

"Well, Miss Vaggie. That certainly was an interesting insight on your thoughts regarding my Baxy and me. I must say, it's nice to know you care about him but I can assure you there is no need for you to worry. I'd say I appreciate your concern but I don't. What irritates me, Miss Vaggie is that you think I'm only with Baxter because I've found something I can use out of him. You seem to distrust me because you can't think of a possible reason why I would genuinely want to be with someone like him. That's a complete insult. I asked Baxter to be my partner because I wanted him to be. Because I love him and there are a million things I love about him. There are no ulterior motives. And if you honestly think I would hurt Baxter. If you even think I wouldn't immediately kill anyone who so much as threatened to hurt Baxter, then you have no idea what our relationship is like."

At that, Alastor turned to leave. Vaggie, nowhere near done with him yet, began to shout after him. She was about to tell him just what she thought of Alastor’s supposed undying love for Baxter, but then he turned around and one look at his face silenced her.

His eyes were black and his pupils shone like lights. His mouth was twisted into a snarl and strange symbols, red and ominous glowed all around him. When his eyes met hers, fear shot through her. Uncharacteristic and unadmittable but unmistakable fear. 

"If you know nothing of our relationship then you have no right to interfere."  he uttered in a tone of warning. Warning her to dare say anything else. "Good day."

Vaggie was speechless and Alastor left her that way. He walked away, leaving vaggie alone, unsure what to think and trying to process what had just happened.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in that state. That was the first time she'd seen Alastor act like an actual human with emotion. The only thing she'd seen from him that was even close to emotion before was the creepy, take-everything-in-my-stride, nothing-phases-me sort of happy go luckiness that was his usual demeanour. Vaggie didn't think he could even feel emotion, let alone express it. But back then. She found it hard to find words to describe it. That was the most passionate, the most temperamental, the most expressive she had seen anyone get in a while, and she lived with Charlie. What was more, it actually seemed to be genuine. Of course, Vaggie wasn't stupid. She knew Alastor was a trickster by nature, manipulative to the core. He was probably very skilled at putting on façades and fabricating feelings. But Alastor would had to have been one amazing actor if he was able to fake that.

Vaggie should be perfectly sure what to think, especially regarding Alastor but she wasn't. She had never seen Alastor like that before. She never thought she would see Alastor like that ever. Alastor was a deceitful bastard and she knew it. But still, she never thought in a million years he could seem so sincere and impassioned. So after seeing him like that, did she see him differently? Did she trust him now? 

Fuck no, Vaggie decided. He's the radio demon!

She had to do something about this "relationship" going on between him and Baxter. Cleary threatening Alastor wasn't going to do shit, so she resolved to talk some sense into Baxter.

 She made her way to Baxter’s room the moment it was decided. She still had no idea what the hell Baxter was thinking. What on this even more fucked up version of earth had possessed him to think dating THE RADIO DEMON was a good idea? He was supposed to be a genius, he should be smarter than this.

She reached Baxter’s door with all of this in mind and not afraid to speak it. She had a whole speech prepared by the time she went to knock Baxter's door. But she stopped and listened when she heard a strange noise. 

All sorts of weird noises could be heard from Baxter's room at any given time of the day. The man was a renowned chemistry nerd so hisses, fizzes and the occasional explosion were not uncommon. But this noise was weird even for Baxter's room. She could hear what she could have sworn sounded like purring.

Did Baxter get a cat? Weird. Vaggie thought Baxter kept mice as pets. Surely he wouldn’t want a cat around if he had those.

Curious, she peeked through the keyhole. A stupid thing to do really, since she was planning on knocking Baxter’s door anyway. Maybe this was just one of those things people did when their brains stopped working. 

Through the keyhole, she didn’t have a very good view of Baxter’s living space. She could only see the part made up to serve as a living room. She could see a loveseat style sofa. She could see Baxter stretched out across it. But she couldn't see a cat. With her eye, she tried to follow the source of the sound. It led her vision downwards to where Baxter's lap was. That was when she saw Alastor. Sprawled out across the sofa with his head in Baxter's lap. Baxter had a book in one hand but he wasn't even looking at it. Instead, he was looking at Alastor with a look of pure adoration. Baxter had his other hand behind Alastor's ear and looked like he was petting it. Alastor had a huge ear to ear smile. Not something Vaggie had never seen before. But what she had never seen before was the way he smiled. His eyes were closed in a way you might see a loved pet's when they're getting affection or given their favourite treat. His smile was composed of what looked like pure happiness and bliss. He was buried as deep into Baxter's touch as he could go and he was purring.   

He was fucking purring.

Vaggie had to put her hand over her mouth quick to suppress the laugh that almost escaped from her. If Alastor knew she had seen him like this, there's no way he would let her live to tell the tale. She should be getting out of here right now but she just couldn't look away. 

"You really are more of a cat than a deer, aren't you?" She heard Baxter say, she had never heard him sound so affectionate before, "Should I start calling you my Cheshire kitten?"

Alastor's smile and look of all round bliss somehow intensified. In response, he reached for Baxter's hand and, still purring, started nuzzling it. 

He started nuzzling it like an actual. Fucking. Kitten. 

That was it. At this point, Vaggie was biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing and she was pretty sure it was starting to bleed. But after seeing that, she couldn't keep it in any more. She practically ran from Baxter's room, moving as quickly and quietly as she could. Hoping his giggles would muffle the sound of her footsteps.

She made a beeline for the room she shared with her disney princess of a girlfriend. Charlie just had to hear this.

Charlie was simply minding her own business, watching the news when Vaggie burst in through the door. Poor babe. When she saw vaggie collapse on the floor, she looked really worried.

"Vaggie? What's going on? Are you ok?"

Vaggie couldn't answer. She couldn't even breathe. She just lay there, crumpled on the floor and making high pitched squeaking sounds as she struggled to intake air.

"Babe." She just about managed to say between pathetic attempts at inhaling oxygen "Babe, you. You want believe;" She tried to explain but she couldn't say anything else.

"Won't believe what? What happened?"

Tears streamed out of Vaggie's eye. Her fist pounded against the floor.

"What happened!?"

Vaggie still couldn't answer. Lying on the floor gasping like a fish out of water had paid off and now, finally, she had enough air in her lungs to let out wave after wave of laughter. After at least ten minutes of laughing her ass off, she was finally able to tell Charlie what happened. 

Charlie didn't laugh herself into hysterics like Vaggie did. She was triumphant. She saw it as one more piece of evidence that what she believed in was right.

"See, Vaggie." She said, "Inside of every demon there's a heart."

"I thought you said rainbow." Vaggie playfully pointed out

"It's both." Charlie beamed, "Inside of every demon are all the colours you can imagine and every feeling you can feel. Alastor is proof of that." 

God damn Charlie for making Vaggie's heart melt so much with her dorky, cinnamon roll adorableness. She couldn't believe she was admitting this, since this was the radio demon they were talking about. But after seeing what she had just seen, she couldn't disagree.

But sadly, this incredible breakthrough could not be shared with their world. Vaggie had actually whipped her phone out there and then, ready to tell everybody but Charlie insisted she didn't. Saying they must respect their guests privacy and not share any information about them without their consent.

"So that means you can't tell anybody." Charlie made herself perfectly clear.

"Not even Angel Dust?" Vaggie tried her luck.

"Especially not Angel Dust." Charlie instructed as firm as she could get. 

Vaggie smiled and gave in. Charlie wasn't that naïve. Even she knew that if she let Vaggie tell only Angel Dust, Vaggie would respect her wishes and only tell Angel Dust. But Angel Dust would do exactly what she wanted to do and tell everybody.

"Ok" Vaggie promised, giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek "I won't tell anybody. Especially not Angel Dust." 

Charlie face visibly beamed on impact as her girlfriends lips reached her cheek. Smiling brighter than the sun, already completely trusting in her. She was good like that. Actually, come to think of it. It was pretty crappy of Vaggie as a girlfriend to try and trick Charlie like that. She would have to make it up to her somehow. 

As she was thinking of ways to do just that, she very conveniently got a text from Nifty. Telling her she was running errands and asking if she wanted anything.

"I'll cook tonight." Vaggie said to Charlie the moment she read it. 

This did not go unappreciated by Charlie. With her, nothing ever did. Her appreciation was shown this time with a "Thanks, sweetie." and a kiss on the cheek.

Vaggie returned Charlie's kiss to show her appreciation was appreciated right back. But she waited until Charlie wasn't looking to reply to Nifty's message. She wanted to surprise her.

 In Vaggie's response, she told Nifty she should have been brought back as an angel and giving her a little list.

The kitchens already had everything she needed to make Charlie's favourite meal but she could think of a few other things to go with it. Candles, roses, literally any plushie that looked cute. Those things would do nicely. 

Breakfast the next morning was it's usual chaos. Well almost. Word that Alastor and Baxter were dating had only just got out. So those who had only just found out and those who had not yet got the chance to talk to them swarmed them, and the demon who got the least attention and the one who was avoided the most became the most popular thing in the room.

Everyone asked all sorts of questions, mostly regarding when and how their relationship happened. 

Baxter was pretty much rushed off his feet with so many people talking to him at once but he still managed to break away and talk to Vaggie.

"Morning, Miss Vaggie." He greeted as he approached her. Formal as always. 

"Morning." She greeted back. 

There was a moment or two of silence. Baxter wasn't very good at starting a conversation, or really talking in any conversation. But social awkwardness aside, he didn't beat around the bush.

"I heard from my partner that you and he had a bit of a spat yesterday."

 “Oh.” Vaggie said, starting to feel awkward herself, “He told you about that?”

“He may have ranted to me about it” Baxter admitted, “Non stop. For I think about, two hours?”

Vaggie couldn't help but let how suprised she was show. She knew she had pissed Alastor off. But had she really pissed him off that much?

“I think you're very lucky.” Baxter commented “I’ve never seen anyone get under his skin like that. And this incudes people he’s dismembered.”

Vaggie smiled as awkwardly as she felt and eye contact with Baxter started to get difficult. She didn't like where this conversation was going. It looked like this was a set up to a confrontation but Baxter was surprisingly calm. Well, a shit ton calmer than Vaggie would be when she confronted someone anyway. 

"Yeah, sorry about that." She gave an apology, guessing that was what he wanted. Because after all, that was exactly what she would demand if anyone pissed off Charlie. While kicking the shit out of them. Lucky for Vaggie, Baxter didn't have such a hot temper. "You're probably pissed about what I said to him."

"Not really." Baxter shrugged "In all honesty Miss Vaggie, I understand why you reacted to the way you did. To the news that Alastor and I are now together.

He averted eye contact with Vaggie for a moment. Cheeks glowing just at the mention of the word "together" but he still kept his focus. 

“Look, I can see why you would distrust Alastor. The rumours about him hold no exaggeration. He really can be very malicious and he has hurt a lot of people. I didn’t trust him myself at first for the same reasons as you. But the thing with Alastor is, he’s a lot different in private than he is in front of most people.”

"Oh, I bet he is." Vaggie secretly thought to herself  ”I bet he is."

"As threatening as he can be." he continued, "As lacking as he can seem in empathy or just in general, basic human emotion. I know he's capable of feeling affection. He shows it all the time. You should see how dotty he is over anything with scales, especially the thing he brought home last week. He dotes on it as if it were his child. What I'm trying to say is, Alastor is more than capable of being a loving person. A good person who can make someone else very happy. He makes me very happy. I'm not asking you to get along with Alastor, because I've learned from experience that can be very difficult. What I do ask of you though, Miss Vaggie is to have a little bit more trust in him and in myself as well." 

Vaggie felt her heart warm a few decrees. She hoped she wasn't looking at him the way she saw him, but she thought he was being so cute right now. This was actually the sweetest way she had seen someone defend a partner. She smiled at him genuinely this time.

"I guess I can try to trust him." She promised light heartedly "Or at least stop giving him death threats." 

"Good." Baxter smiled, clearly pleased with how well the confrontation went "Thank you. For understanding."

"I was going to say the same thing to you" Vaggie complimented " If someone offended my girl, I would be too busy beating the crap out of them to think about their side of things. 

"I know" Baxter chuckled "There's footage of you on the internet punching a camera man in the face. And that awful Killjoy woman had a black eye for a week after your Charlie was on her program. " 

"Well what did she expect, treating Charlie like that?" Vaggie said with a shameless smirk. She was escorted out by security for that stunt but aside from disappointing Charlie, she regrets nothing.  

"If I am ever unfortunate enough to end up in the same room as her, she'd better hope that Alastor's not there. He's a bit ridiculous with how overprotective he is of me. The last person who offended me, I haven't seen since. Actually, what am I saying? This would be great."

Vaggie laughed out loud at that. Baxter could be classic sometimes. For someone so awkward, he was surprisingly witty and could get a laugh out of someone if he intended to or not. She was glad that they were laughing now. She was glad that he wasn't angry and glad that her incident yesterday with his new boyfriend was what it was. A resolved disagreement between good friends. 

Unfortunately, this nice moment between them would not last. Because Vaggie had not yet registered everything he said, especially the words regarding scales and something Alastor had brought back. 

"Wait. You said Alastor brought something back to the hotel, right? What did he bring back?" she said suddenly, once every word had been taken in. She absolutely dreaded the answer. "It better not be a huge snake. I hate snakes."

It was in that moment Baxter looked like a man who knew he fucked up. He showed on his face that he had said something he shouldn't have. But it was too late to go back now.

"It's not a snake." he hesitated "But I doubt you'll react to it much better."

At this point, Baxter was visibly getting more nervous by the second and looking for a way to get out of the conversation fast. His eyes darted to the clock behind them and took what he could get.

"My! Look at the time. I really must be going to work now. It really is a madhouse here and the guests all seem to be injury prone. Always lots to do. Medicine to make, people to treat. Never a slow day for me. Well goodbye for now, Miss Vaggie. See you later." 

At "My. Look at the time.", Baxter was already walking away from Vaggie and by the time he got the rest of that babbled mess out, he was already halfway out the door. But Vaggie couldn't let Baxter leave her in the dark about something that was in the same place where she slept and could be just as bad, if not worse, than one of her worst fears. 

"No, Bax. What did he bring back?" She caught up with him and demanded in a desperation she normally never used. 

 "Miss Vaggie, everyone is going to know eventually." Baxter deflected, "We can't hide that thing forever. Please. Let me enjoy the calm before the storm." 

Vaggie wouldn't leave Baxter alone or let him drop the subject for the rest of the day. But Baxter refused to tell her what Alastor's new pet was. 

From then on Vaggie did try to trust Alastor a bit more, if for no one else then for Baxter, and her view on Alastor began to get better. There were more than a few snags, even from the get go. Especially when she got the spare key to Alastor's room and saw for herself what Alastor had brought into the building. And oh,BOY! Was that a story for another trip to the therapist.

She still distrusted Alastor but not in the way she had before. In fact, after she found out what he brought back to the hotel, she found that she couldn't trust him for a different reason. He was even worse for pulling stunts than Angel Dust. In defiance of all logic, Alastor was allowed to keep his "pet" but to this day, she still has no idea what the fuck Alastor was thinking bringing a fucking ALLIGATOR into the hotel and could not understand why the fuck Charlie allowed him to keep it. Still, it hadn't actually harmed anyone yet and she had never seen it get aggressive towards anyone, so she supposed she'd allow it.

That, she supposed, could pretty much sum up how her attitude changed towards Alastor's presence. She'd allow it. She'd allow him in her home. She'd allow him to mingle with her friends. She would allow him to date someone she cared for.

They were supposed to still be on bad terms. She hadn't apologised to him for what she said yet and even weeks after the incident, he still wouldn't speak to her unless she spoke to him. He glared at her whenever he saw her and seemed to purposely be extra affectionate towards Baxter whenever she saw them together. Just to show her. 

He always seemed confused when she didn't glare right back. Vaggie tried but she couldn't help it. She just couldn't find him intimidating anymore. Once the sight of him purring like a kitten is seen, it can not be unseen. No matter how psychopathic or terrifying he looks.

So whenever she saw Alastor now, she smiled.

[cwartsyswritingblog]

So Much For the Fearsome Radio Demon (Al/Bax fanfic, now with added Vaggie/Charlie)

When Vaggie found out Alastor was dating Baxter, her general reaction could be summed up in three words;

Oh HELL no.

No way in any of the nine circles of hell was she letting that nefarious, treacherous, conniving, predatory, evil, fucked up psychopath anywhere near anyone she cared about. Especially near anyone like Baxter.

Everyone knows that Baxter has zero experience relationship wise. He was so innocent it was ridiculous. And even worse, it was pretty evident to everyone who knew him that Baxter wasn’t all there. He would go for days without eating, he barely slept, he would work himself to the bone as if he was always trying to distract himself from something. He was twitchy and nervous all the time. Mostly about things that were only in his head. How could someone like Baxter know what red flags are? And how could he spot them in a relationship? How could he know when, or even how, to get out of a relationship if it went bad? Could he get out of a relationship with someone like Alastor? No. Of course he couldn’t.

Vaggie had no idea how Alastor had gotten so close to him. She didn’t know what Alastor had done to get Baxter to trust him. In truth, she knew Alastor would have had to have done a hell of a lot just to get someone as paranoid as Baxter to let him anywhere near him. But Vaggie didn’t give a shit. The idea of someone as dangerous as Alastor being in a relationship with someone as vulnerable as Baxter was horrifying. 

And she was putting a stop to it. Right now. 

First chance she got, she pulled Alastor aside. At first, the radio demon was all smiles and “Why, hello Miss Vaggie. How can I be of assistance today?”. He was still smiling, even when Vaggie shoved him into the wall and pressed a knife against his throat.

“Oh my.” Alastor proclaimed. When he looked at Vaggie’s knife, he had a stupid look on his face that made Vaggie’s blood boil. His eyes had a sort of affectionate look to them that seemed to say, “Oh, how cute.”

“Have I done anything to anger you, my dear?”

“Listen here, you deplorable piece of demon turd.” She growled, pressing the knife deeper into Alastor’s throat to show that she was having none of his shit, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing with Bax but it ends now. I don’t know who was stupid enough to let you near him but I’ll end you unless you stay the fuck away from him. And if you fucking dare do anything to hurt him, it’ll be the biggest and last mistake you ever make.” 

Vaggie expected him to laugh her off. He always did this with her no matter what she threatened to do to him. From what Vaggie had gathered from their encounters, it took an infuriating amount of effort to get Alastor to take anyone seriously. But what actually happened caught her off guard. His eyes flashed with confusion. His smug grin faltered. 

"Game? Hurt him?” Alastor’s voice rose and displayed something Vaggie never expected to hear from him. Actual emotion.

Vaggie hadn’t expected Alastor to react like this at all and she might have let it show. She was taken aback for a moment. But not a moment more. She wasn’t going to let this distract her from why they were here.

“Well, what else could it be?” she demanded, “When have you ever not played someone? When have you ever not used a person for your own gain? Do you really think I believe you’re here because you actually want to help us? I know that’s bullshit. I’ve heard what you’ve done to people. I know all about how you’ve tricked them, manipulated them and ruined them. You can fuck right off if you think I’m going to let you do any of that shit to Bax.” 

At that moment, Alastor’s eyes went from holding confusion to rage and the ever smiling Radio Demon scowled. That was when Vaggie truly knew this was going to be nothing like the encounters she had with Alastor before. This wasn’t like every other time Vaggie had threatened him. When her words didn’t even phase him. This was very different. For the first time in all the time she had known him, Alastor looked angry. 

He looked beyond done with Vaggie when he pushed her aside. He swatted her knife away, looking at it and her with a look of pure disgust.

"Well, Miss Vaggie. That certainly was an interesting insight on your thoughts regarding my Baxy and me. I must say, it’s nice to know you care about him but I can assure you there is no need for you to worry. I’d say I appreciate your concern but I don’t. What irritates me, Miss Vaggie is that you think I’m only with Baxter because I’ve found something I can use out of him. You seem to distrust me because you can’t think of a possible reason why I would genuinely want to be with someone like him. That’s a complete insult. I asked Baxter to be my partner because I wanted him to be. Because I love him and there are a million things I love about him. There are no ulterior motives. And if you honestly think I would hurt Baxter. If you even think I wouldn’t immediately kill anyone who so much as threatened to hurt Baxter, then you have no idea what our relationship is like.”

At that, Alastor turned to leave. Vaggie, nowhere near done with him yet, began to shout after him. She was about to tell him just what she thought of Alastor’s supposed undying love for Baxter, but then he turned around and one look at his face silenced her.

His eyes were black and his pupils shone like lights. His mouth was twisted into a snarl and strange symbols, red and ominous glowed all around him. When his eyes met hers, fear shot through her. Uncharacteristic and unadmittable but unmistakable fear. 

“If you know nothing of our relationship then you have no right to interfere."  he uttered in a tone of warning. Warning her to dare say anything else. "Good day.”

Vaggie was speechless and Alastor left her that way. He walked away, leaving Vaggie alone, unsure what to think and trying to process what had just happened.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in that state. That was the first time she’d seen Alastor act like an actual human with emotion. The only thing she’d seen from him that was even close to emotion before was the creepy, take-everything-in-my-stride, nothing-phases-me sort of happy go luckiness that was his usual demeanour. Vaggie didn’t think he could even feel emotion, let alone express it. But back then. She found it hard to find words to describe it. That was the most passionate, the most temperamental, the most expressive she had seen anyone get in a while, and she lived with Charlie. What was more, it actually seemed to be genuine. Of course, Vaggie wasn’t stupid. She knew Alastor was a trickster by nature, manipulative to the core. He was probably very skilled at putting on façades and fabricating feelings. But Alastor would had to have been one amazing actor if he was able to fake that.

Vaggie should be perfectly sure what to think, especially regarding Alastor. But she wasn’t. She had never seen Alastor like that before. She never thought she would see Alastor like that ever. Alastor was a deceitful bastard and she knew it. But still, she never thought in a million years he could seem so sincere and impassioned. So after seeing him like that, did she see him differently? Did she trust him now? 

Fuck no. Vaggie decided. He’s the radio demon!

She had to do something about this “relationship” going on between him and Baxter. Clearly, threatening Alastor wasn’t going to do shit. So she resolved to talk some sense into Baxter.

She made her way to Baxter’s room the moment it was decided. She still had no idea what the hell Baxter was thinking. What on this even more fucked up version of earth had possessed him to think dating THE RADIO DEMON was a good idea? He was supposed to be a genius. He should be smarter than this.

She reached Baxter’s door with all of this in mind and not afraid to speak it. She had a whole speech prepared by the time she went to knock Baxter’s door. But she stopped and listened when she heard a strange noise. 

All sorts of weird noises could be heard from Baxter’s room at any given time of the day. The man was a renowned chemistry nerd so hisses, fizzes and the occasional explosion were not uncommon. But this noise was weird even for Baxter’s room. She could hear what she could have sworn sounded like purring.

Did Baxter get a cat? Weird. Vaggie thought Baxter kept mice as pets. Surely he wouldn’t want a cat around if he had those.

Curious, she peeked through the keyhole. A stupid thing to do really. Since she was planning on knocking Baxter’s door anyway. Maybe this was just one of those things people did when their brains stopped working. 

Through the keyhole, she didn’t have a very good view of Baxter’s living space. She could only see the part made up to serve as a living room. She could see a loveseat style sofa. She could see Baxter stretched out across it. But she couldn’t see a cat. With her eye, she tried to follow the source of the sound. It led her vision downwards to where Baxter’s lap was. That was when she saw Alastor. Sprawled out across the sofa with his head in Baxter’s lap. Baxter had a book in one hand but he wasn’t even looking at it. Instead, he was looking at Alastor with a look of pure adoration. Baxter had his other hand behind Alastor’s ear and looked like he was petting it. Alastor had a huge ear to ear smile. Not something Vaggie had never seen before. But what she had never seen before was the way he smiled. His eyes were closed in a way you might see a beloved pet’s when they’re getting affection or given their favourite treat. His smile was composed of what looked like pure happiness and bliss. He was buried as deep into Baxter’s touch as he could go and he was purring.   

He was fucking purring.

Vaggie had to put her hand over her mouth quick to suppress the laugh that almost escaped from her. If Alastor knew she had seen him like this, there’s no way he would let her live to tell the tale. She should be getting out of here right now. But she just couldn’t look away. 

“You really are more of a cat than a deer, aren’t you?” She heard Baxter say, She had never heard him sound so affectionate before, “Should I start calling you my Cheshire kitten?”

Alastor laughed. His smile and look of all round bliss somehow intensified. In response, he reached for Baxter’s hand and, still purring, started nuzzling it. 

He started nuzzling it like an actual. Fucking. Kitten. 

That was it. At this point, Vaggie was biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing and she was pretty sure it was starting to bleed. But after seeing that, she couldn’t keep it in anymore. She practically ran from Baxter’s room, moving as quickly and quietly as she could. Hoping his giggles would muffle the sound of her footsteps.

She made a beeline for the room she shared with her Disney princess of a girlfriend. Charlie just had to hear this.

Charlie was simply minding her own business, watching the news when Vaggie burst in through the door. Poor babe. When she saw Vaggie collapse on the floor, she looked really worried.

“Vaggie? What’s going on? Are you ok?”

Vaggie couldn’t answer. She couldn’t even breathe. She just lay there, crumpled on the floor and making high pitched squeaking sounds as she struggled to intake air.

“Babe.” She just about managed to say between pathetic attempts at inhaling oxygen, “Babe, you. You won’t believe;” She tried to explain but she couldn’t say anything else.

“Won’t believe what? What happened?”

Tears streamed out of Vaggie’s eye. Her fist pounded against the floor.

“What happened!?”

Vaggie still couldn’t answer. Lying on the floor gasping like a fish out of water had paid off and now, finally, she had enough air in her lungs to let out wave after wave of laughter. After at least ten minutes of laughing her ass off, she was finally able to tell Charlie what happened. 

Charlie didn’t laugh herself into hysterics like Vaggie did. She was triumphant. She saw it as one more piece of evidence that what she believed in was right.

“See, Vaggie.” she said, “Inside of every demon there’s a heart.”

“I thought you said rainbow.” Vaggie playfully pointed out.

“It’s both.” Charlie beamed, “Inside of every demon are all the colours you can imagine and every feeling you can feel. Alastor is proof of that." 

God damn Charlie for making Vaggie’s heart melt so much with her dorky, cinnamon roll adorableness. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this, since this was the radio demon they were talking about. But after seeing what she had just seen, she couldn’t disagree.

But sadly, this incredible breakthrough could not be shared with their world. Vaggie had actually whipped her phone out there and then, ready to tell everybody but Charlie insisted she didn’t. Saying they must respect their guests privacy and not share any information about them without their consent.

"So that means you can’t tell anybody.” Charlie made herself perfectly clear.

“Not even Angel Dust?” Vaggie tried her luck.

“Especially not Angel Dust.” Charlie instructed as firm as she could get. 

Vaggie smiled and gave in. Charlie wasn’t that naïve. Even she knew that if she let Vaggie tell only Angel Dust, Vaggie would respect her wishes and only tell Angel Dust. But Angel Dust would do exactly what she wanted to do and tell everybody.

“Ok.” Vaggie promised, giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek, “I won’t tell anybody. Especially not Angel Dust." 

Charlie face visibly beamed on impact as her girlfriend’s lips reached her cheek. Smiling brighter than the sun, already completely trusting in her. She was good like that. Actually, come to think of it. It was pretty crappy of Vaggie as a girlfriend to try and trick Charlie like that. She would have to make it up to her somehow. 

As she was thinking of ways to do just that, she very conveniently got a text from Nifty. Telling her she was running errands and asking if she wanted anything.

"I’ll cook tonight.” Vaggie said to Charlie the moment she read it. 

This did not go unappreciated by Charlie. With her, nothing ever did. Her appreciation was shown this time with a “Thanks, sweetie.” and a kiss on the cheek.

Vaggie returned Charlie’s kiss to show her appreciation was appreciated right back. But she waited until Charlie wasn’t looking to reply to Nifty’s message. She wanted to surprise her.

 In Vaggie’s response, she told Nifty she should have been brought back as an angel and gave her a little list.

The kitchens already had everything she needed to make Charlie’s favourite meal but she could think of a few other things to go with it. Candles, roses, literally any plushie that looked cute. Those things would do nicely. 

Breakfast the next morning was it’s usual chaos. Well almost. Word that Alastor and Baxter were dating had only just got out. So those who had only just found out and those who had not yet got the chance to talk to them swarmed them, and the demon who got the least attention and the one who was avoided the most became the most popular thing in the room.

Everyone asked all sorts of questions. Mostly regarding when and how their relationship happened. 

Baxter was pretty much rushed off his feet with so many people talking to him at once but he still managed to break away and talk to Vaggie.

“Good Morning, Miss Vaggie.” He greeted as he approached her. Formal as always. 

“Morning.” She greeted back. 

There was a moment or two of silence. Baxter wasn’t very good at starting a conversation, or really talking in any conversation. But social awkwardness aside, he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I heard from my partner that you had a bit of a spat with him yesterday.”

 “Oh.” Vaggie said, starting to feel awkward herself, “He told you about that?”

“He may have ranted to me about it.” Baxter admitted, “Non stop. For I think about, two hours?”

Vaggie couldn’t help but let how suprised she was show. She knew she had pissed Alastor off. But had she really pissed him off that much?

“I think you’re very lucky.” Baxter commented, “I’ve never seen anyone get under his skin like that. And this includes people he’s dismembered.”

Vaggie smiled as awkwardly as she felt and eye contact with Baxter started to get difficult. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. It looked like this was a set up to a confrontation but Baxter was surprisingly calm. Well, a shit ton calmer than Vaggie would be when she confronted someone anyway. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She gave an apology, guessing that was what he wanted. Because after all, that was exactly what she would demand if anyone pissed off Charlie. While kicking the shit out of them. Lucky for Vaggie, Baxter didn’t have such a hot temper. “You’re probably pissed about what I said to him.”

“Not really.” Baxter shrugged, “In all honesty Miss Vaggie, I understand why you reacted the way you did. To the news that Alastor and I are now together.”

He averted eye contact with Vaggie for a moment. Cheeks glowing just at the mention of the word "together”. But he still kept his focus. 

“Look, I can see why you would distrust Alastor. The rumours about him hold no exaggeration. He really can be very malicious and he has hurt a lot of people. I didn’t trust him myself at first for the same reasons as you. But the thing with Alastor is, he’s a lot different in private than he is in front of most people.”

“Oh, I bet he is.” Vaggie secretly thought to herself  ”I bet he is.“

"As threatening as he can be.” he continued, “As lacking as he can seem in empathy or just in general, basic human emotion. I know he’s capable of feeling affection. He shows it all the time. You should see how dotty he is over anything with scales, especially the thing he brought home last week. He dotes on it as if it were his child. What I’m trying to say is, Alastor is more than capable of being a loving person. A good person who can make someone else very happy. He makes me very happy. I’m not asking you to get along with Alastor, because I’ve learned from experience that can be very difficult. What I do ask of you though, Miss Vaggie is to have a little bit more trust in him and in myself as well." 

Vaggie felt her heart warm a few decrees. She hoped she wasn’t looking at him the way she saw him but she thought he was being so cute right now. This was actually the sweetest way she had seen someone defend a partner. She smiled at him genuinely this time.

"I guess I can try to trust him.” She promised light heartedly, “Or at least stop giving him death threats." 

"Good.” Baxter smiled, clearly pleased with how well the confrontation went, “Thank you. For understanding.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you.” Vaggie complimented, “If someone offended my girl, I would be too busy beating the crap out of them to think about their side of things. 

"I know.” Baxter chuckled, “There’s footage of you on the internet punching a cameraman in the face. And that awful Killjoy woman had a cast around her neck after your Charlie was on her program. I heard that someone cut the breaks on her car." 

"Well what did she expect, treating Charlie like that?” Vaggie said with a shameless smirk. She could have been arrested for that stunt but aside from disappointing Charlie, she regrets nothing.  

“If I am ever unfortunate enough to end up in the same room as her, she’d better hope that Alastor’s not there. He’s a bit ridiculous with how overprotective he is of me. The last person who offended me, I haven’t seen since. Actually, what am I saying? This would be great.”

Vaggie laughed out loud at that. Baxter could be classic sometimes. For someone so awkward, he was surprisingly witty and could get a laugh out of someone if he intended to or not. She was glad that they were laughing now. She was glad that he wasn’t angry and glad that her incident yesterday with his new boyfriend was what it was. A resolved disagreement between good friends. 

Unfortunately, this nice moment between them would not last. Because Vaggie had not yet registered everything he said. Especially the words regarding scales and something Alastor had brought back. 

“Wait. You said Alastor brought something back to the hotel, right? What did he bring back?” she said suddenly once every word had been taken in. She absolutely dreaded the answer. “It better not be a big snake. I hate snakes.”

It was in that moment Baxter looked like a man who knew he fucked up. He showed on his face that he had said something he shouldn’t have. But it was too late to go back now.

“It’s not a snake,” he hesitated, “but I doubt you’ll react to it much better.”

At this point, Baxter was visibly getting more nervous by the second and looking for a way to get out of the conversation fast. His eyes darted to the clock behind them and took what he could get.

“My! Look at the time. I really must be going to work now. It really is a madhouse here and the guests all seem to be injury prone. Always lots to do. Medicine to make, people to treat. Never a slow day for me. Well. Goodbye for now, Miss Vaggie. See you later." 

At "My. Look at the time.”, Baxter was already walking away from Vaggie and by the time he got the rest of that babbled mess out, he was already halfway out the door. But Vaggie couldn’t let Baxter leave her in the dark about something that was in the same place where she slept and could be just as bad, if not worse, than one of her worst fears. 

“No, Bax. What did he bring back?” She caught up with him and demanded in a desperation she normally never used. 

"Miss Vaggie. Everyone is going to know eventually.“ Baxter deflected, "We can’t hide that thing forever. Please. Let me enjoy the calm before the storm." 

Vaggie wouldn’t leave Baxter alone or let him drop the subject for the rest of the day. But Baxter refused to tell her what Alastor’s new pet was. 

From then on Vaggie did try to trust Alastor a bit more, if for no one else then for Baxter, and her view on Alastor began to get better. There were more than a few snags, even from the get go. Especially when she got the spare key to Alastor’s room and saw for herself what Alastor had brought into the building. And oh, BOY! Was that a story for another trip to the therapist.

She still distrusted Alastor but not in the way she had before. In fact, after she found out what he brought back to the hotel, she found that she couldn’t trust him for a different reason. He was even worse for pulling stunts than Angel Dust. In defiance of all logic, Alastor was allowed to keep his "pet”. But to this day, she still has no idea what the fuck Alastor was thinking bringing a fucking ALLIGATOR into the hotel and could not understand why the fuck Charlie allowed him to keep it. Still, it hadn’t actually harmed anyone yet and she had never seen it get aggressive towards anyone. So she supposed she’d allow it.

That, she supposed, could pretty much sum up how her attitude changed towards Alastor’s presence. She’d allow it. She’d allow him in her home. She’d allow him to mingle with her friends. She would allow him to date someone she cared for.

They were supposed to still be on bad terms. She hadn’t apologised to him for what she said yet and even weeks after the incident, he still wouldn’t speak to her unless she spoke to him. He glared at her whenever he saw her and seemed to purposely be extra affectionate towards Baxter whenever she saw them together. Just to show her. 

He always seemed confused when she didn’t glare right back. Vaggie tried but she couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t find him intimidating anymore. Once the sight of him purring like a kitten is seen, it can not be unseen. No matter how psychopathic or terrifying he looks.

So whenever she saw Alastor now, she smiled.

[somekindofseizure]

When the Ink Dries VI (ch 13-16)

Rated: Explicit

Thank you: @icedteainthebag for brilliant feedback and guidance

Warning:  This story contains many potentially sensitive topics, too many to separately mention.  Read cautiously or have a friend vet it for you if you’re sensitive to something in particular.

Apology:  for it taking so long.  I recommend a refresher, if you can stand it, of at least the most recent chapters.

Read the previous chapters here

*****

Chapter 13

 Mulder was on the porch when he got the phone call, the shrill landline ringer pricking the post-midnight air from behind the screen door like a chorus of crickets.  Out here in the middle of nowhere, it seemed a new species of bug came into existence once a week.  They used to refer to the place where he was sitting as Scully’s spot - now, like it or not, all the spots were his.  He’d been watching the driveway like a Golden Retriever every night since she moved out, faithfully expecting his vigilance to bring her back sooner, full of self-pity and priding himself in his loyalty.  The past couple of years, it seemed like he was busy anytime she was sitting out there.  But the tasks on his to-do list which were once so important only held his attention so long as the smell of her shampoo still hung in the doorway over her empty coat hook.  Once that was gone, there was nothing left to do.

 In the rush and hush of it all, Stella’s smooth, silvery voice sounded even more illicit than it did any other time - so much so that at the beginning, he’d had a moment of panic where he wondered how he’d wound up on the phone with a nine-hundred-number.  

It was a very brief conversation.  She said she was calling so he wouldn’t worry.  He wasn’t worried, he told her.  Not mentioned was the fact that he wasn’t worried because he didn’t know Scully was gone in the first place -  that’s how little they’d spoken.  And “speaking” had really only consisted of text messages.

 Where’s the dustbuster?, he’d type unceremoniously.  And she:  Under the kitchen sink, are you okay?

 - or -

 Are there working batteries anywhere in this house or do we just keep circulating them from appliance to appliance to see which can operate with the least juice?  

 In the fridge, are you okay?  

 Her question marks ended every conversation and he let them. He’d stare at them for long minutes, aching as he studied their upper curves.  He’d picture her face, the one he’d watched puzzle over mysteries of the universe for so many years, and think with sorrow and nostalgia of how stoically she coped with never getting any conclusions.  No, he wanted to say to these question marks, he was not okay, he couldn’t fucking find anything and he felt dead inside, and at least one of those two things was her fault.  But that was not a conversation to have in text messages.  So he’d just go get the dust buster or the batteries and feel satisfied that somewhere, she was feeling guilty, and guilty that that satisfied him.

 When Stella hung up abruptly, he stared at the arched plastic back of their archaic telephone and thought of the few other times he’d spoken to her on the phone.  Most of the time, it was because he’d answered and was saying hello before he passed her off to Scully.  Or because Scully had handed it to him to explain his own latest confounding endeavor. Most of the time.

 *

 He’s holding her right hand with both of his and his legs press against the side of the hospital cot.  His palms have gone clammy and the pleats of his trousers have been smoothed at the knees from hours on a plane, hours in a taxi, hours in this chair.  He ignores his buzzing cell phone for the eleventh time and bends to kiss the top of her head - it seems to be the only bit of the building that smells unruined, unbroken, in need of no fixing.  She closes her eyes frequently as she speaks, as though she needs to rest them, or as though she feels put out by this whole affair, but he knows she’s really just making sure she doesn’t start crying.

 “It sounds like he was able to somehow die in your place.”

 “Mulder, that’s…” And here her eyes open as she prepares to scold him, and then close again.  “I don’t know.”

 “It’s not a sad story, Scully.  For once.”  Jesus, this woman doesn’t know how to take a win.  “He got what he wanted and you’re still here.”

 She shakes her head, swallows and he realizes, as he often does, even now, even six years into their partnership, that he’s missing the point, that he’s many steps behind her.  Someday, he daydreams, he’ll give her a ring and promise to be one step ahead or one step behind, but no further.  He knows this with some amount of certainty and zero anxiety.

 “What if… I’m…”

 And then he sees it swirling in her eyes, the blue softening helplessly, rims filling like violet bulbs in the rain to match the little spots on her hospital gown.  He knows what she’s thinking about and he has to work to subdue the automatic glee he feels whenever she’s been forced to consider fake things becoming real.  She needs reassurance now, not gloating.

 “What if you’re immortal?” he assists.

 “Like that psychic said.  I mean, I always thought he was being sweet and never gave it much thought but then… Felig made it sound so awful.  And then he shot me and I’m still here.”

 Mulder doesn’t know what to say.  It’s possible.  Anything is. But he knows, in this moment, she doesn’t want that to be the case, so he reaches for what he thinks she would say to him instead of what he wants to say to her.  The cell phone buzzes against his hip again.

 “You’re not immortal, Scully.”

 She nods quickly, four times, but then licks her lips.  And if you were, Mulder wants to tell her, you wouldn’t be like Felig.  You’d just keep finding people to love you, over and over and over again.  You would never be lonely, you would never be bitter, and the world would have done one thing that made sense.  But he decides to stay on-message.

 “No one is.”

 “Then what was going on with Felig?” she asks.

 “I don’t know,” he says and smiles, priming to tease again. It’s the only way out he can think of. “You’ll have to ask your new partner.”

 She blinks and passes a corrupted laugh through her teeth.

 “I hope you weren’t too hard on him.”

 “I would’ve killed him if anything had happened to you,” he says more seriously and she bites her lower lip, twitchy.  Though she likes - maybe is even addicted - to his passion, the reliability of it, she also doesn’t like to be reminded of how thoroughly he can lose himself or his mind.  It scares her more than it scares him, scares her more than maybe all the other stuff does.  “Luckily, he’s a bad shot.  Or you’re immortal.  Or whatever.”

 “Don’t you want to get to the bottom of it?”

 “No, Scully.  I really don’t give a fuck.   You’re okay.”

 She cocks her head, a coy little smile at the corner of her lips and it’s the first time he’s really convinced she’s okay.  

 “You might actually be experiencing growth, Mulder.”

 And suddenly, the cell phone’s buzz seems louder, or maybe it’s just that they’re both ready to hear it.

 “That’s Kersh, isn’t it?”

 “I’m sure.  My supervisor’s probably complained by now.  Backgrounds aren’t going to check themselves.”

 He’s been doing a requisite amount of sulking at his desk since his life’s work has been taken from him.  He’s been professionally frustrated and permanently aggravated, but it’s also the happiest he’s ever been.  Whatever inane questions he’s forced to ask all day, however miserable the hours between nine and five, they’re preceded and followed by Dana Scully’s warm, de-suited body (and he is making an effort to think of her as Dana) pressed and sometimes writhing and sometimes, when the stars align in his favor, slamming against him. She makes up for everything.  She is everything.  

 Which is exactly the kind of thing that unnerves her to hear. He needs balance, she tells him.  

 “You can’t piss him off if we’re ever going to get our work back.”

 He doesn’t know whether she cares more about the X-Files than she ever meant to, or that she cares on his behalf, but either way he’s moved by it.  He knows there’s a part of Scully that would be happy to do what they’re doing right now for a while.  He has never met anyone else who is perpetually tempted by boredom but always returns to adventure, instead of the other way around.

 “I know,” he says, though he feels like grumbling.  This part is their fault, not Kersh’s.  They can’t seem to bring themselves to address what’s going on between them, and for that, they suffer.  This is a good love, by far the best he’s ever had, better probably than he deserves, but it’s also a fucked up love, a weird love, a love that seems to function on its own terms like one of those sushi restaurants that doesn’t have a menu, closes for hours at whim.  He follows a long kiss on the mouth with an ear to her chest - th-thump, th-thump, yes okay.

 “Still alive?” she quips and he wishes he could squeeze her, pull her into his lap.

 “Far as I can tell,” he says and grips her hand tighter, settling for it in place of a full body tackle.

 He really only has Stella’s number for emergencies, he doesn’t ever call her himself, doesn’t dare tip the scales in any way.  But his finger finds her name as soon as he steps out of the elevator, the revolving doors whipping him like a frisbee into the city that never sleeps.  It chugs caffeine out of blue and white paper cups, churns raw meat into magic meals, spins pretzels in squalor and spotlights, makes him feel alive in the way the hospital interior made him feel dead.  How nice it would be to stay here with Scully, get her out of there and spend a few days recovering in some beautiful hotel they can’t really afford.   Watch barges pass under periwinkle bridges at twilight, go shopping.  

 This is why Stella is doing it, he knows, to be there for Scully, not as a favor to him.  But it doesn’t matter.  Three thousand miles away, someone is dismounting some poor schmuck with a hard-on and packing a bag, dropping everything for the same person he would drop anything for.  That, he thinks, has to be its own kind of love.  

    Chapter 14

  Scully sat up with her hand pressed into the cleft of the sofa as she gathered her bearings.  She felt like she’d slept with one eye open, cupped gently around Stella at the edge of the couch like a human seatbelt, worried she’d crush Stella if she really let her mind rest.  Now the cushion was cool already, almost as though Stella had never been there, as though Scully had imagined the warm wounded body inhaling and exhaling its tacit trust, as though she’d drunk-dreamed the scene on the carpet. She knew she could not blame the drinking.  She’d only had one glass of red wine and a finger of Scotch.  The finger itself had done all the damage.

 The youthful thrill of a rebellious night ran up her spine as she looked herself over:  blue sweater split down the middle over her bra, the skin on her lips raw under the pads of her fingers, and bottom half bare but for a mauve mouth-shaped welt on her inner thigh (so much daintier, more delicate than the ones she was used to.) But Scully had never been very good at breaking the rules, and in her stomach was the past-curfew pleated-skirt emotional hangover that promised consequences for her actions.  How many years they’d tiptoed around the invisible boundary set up shortly after their first encounter to protect their friendship as much as to protect Mulder… and last night they’d tripped it like an electric fence, taking the hard jolt it gave off again and again like adrenaline junkies, proving how flimsy it had really been all along.  

 She could not lose her.

 Scully took a deep breath and dragged the fluffy white robe folded affectionately over the back of the couch, sash tied like a welcome ribbon around its front.  She shimmied out of her clothes, blushing a bit at the ripe cocktail of sex and sweat the fabric gave off, and replaced it with the bright Fairy brand detergent scent of the bathrobe.  Somewhere upstairs, Scully knew, was a collection of these things in silk and lace - colors so faint they feigned nudity, cashmere so rich you’d be afraid to drink your morning coffee.  This had to be the most innocent of them and Scully was half-offended, half-flattered that Stella picked it for her.

 “Stella?” she called softly, hopefully, as she rose to her feet with her back to the kitchen, robe wrapped tight.  There was the sound of a teaspoon twinkling like a wind chime as she turned, a faucet whispering like an intermittent breeze and suddenly her anxiety seemed ludicrous.  Stella was leaning belly-first against the sink, looking out the window, her back to Scully as she watched her city slowly stretch itself awake.

 It was a treat to see Stella here amongst her things - her shiny, voluptuous espresso machine and her svelte heavyweight silverware.  Watching Stella perform her morning routine was like going to church, setting things on the altar, spacing them accordingly, sipping with reverence.  A room full of people who’d seen it a hundred, a thousand times, would do it one more time;  she was certain she could watch Stella drink her first cup of tea and butter her toast one bite at a time every Sunday til the end of time.  This is the body, this is the blood, and this, well this is my new religion: Stella Gibson, poured into a charcoal grey sweater dress, bare legs balanced on possibly the highest black heels ever made.  

 “I didn’t realize we were dressing for tea this morning,” Scully said, but she felt the smart-aleck go right out of her as Stella turned to face her, placed a backward-fisted hand on her hip so that her shoulder jutted forward. The dress was quite tight, covered skin from neck to knee -- appeared to be wearing her rather than the other way around.  Scully stepped a little closer and found herself under a jungle canopy of musky jasmine perfume.  She knew Stella only wore it when she went out.

 What am I, chopped liver? Scully had teased once or twice from her double bed as she flicked the remote at the TV.

 Unless you intend to put your name in my little black book, yes.  

 A tiny, ridiculous, starved-adolescent piece of her wanted to think Stella was wearing it for her this time, that she was preening and posing for her.  But she knew even before Stella told her that that was not what all of this was about.

 “I’m going to go into the office for a bit today.”  

 “Were you on the phone?  I thought I heard you...”

 “There’s been a homicide and I don’t want to be terribly out of the loop when I return.”

 Scully cleared her throat.  This was not going to be easy.

 “And how are you this morning?” Stella asked with a hint of impatience, as though observing a quaint Victorian social grace she didn’t personally adhere to.  “Any rug burn?”

 “I’m fine.  Stella--”

 “It won’t be the whole day,” Stella said, returning her cadence to its bright clip, honing the edges of her accent into slender cliffsides, fresh-ready for a tumble or a jump.

 “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Scully said.

 The sweater dress twisted, wringing itself at the tiny black belt banded around Stella’s waist.  She pushed her hip deeper into her hand, waiting out Scully’s censure like an aggravating little rain shower on a summer day.  Scully pressed on, stepping forward, snaking an arm around Stella like a second skinny belt.  Various beauty product scents lapped at Stella’s neck like spring’s first bloom, nauseatingly sweet but sublime.

 “Wouldn’t you rather stay and play house with me?”

 Stella granted her a tiny kiss on the neck and then:

 “No.”

 The chill of it whipped Scully off her feet and took her all the way back to a dingy hotel in Philadelphia where they’d spent their first night alone together.  The kettle of tea might well have been a sticky, lukewarm plate of pancakes, the neat brow bone sutures a spate of scars up Stella’s thigh, and Scully was as light-headed about the former as the latter.  (A student had since asked whether she’d ever gone weak about slicing up a human body.  Once, she’d said.  But I wasn’t even there when it happened.)  

What she’d done - what they’d both done - that time in Philadelphia was panic and Scully was determined not to do it again.  She poured and sipped her tea.  Ankle deep in silence, she waded toward a bulletin board that reminded her of a police station, gave her the eerie impression that Stella was running her kitchen like an open homicide.  Amidst pilates class schedules and receipts was a twenty-pound note, neat black-markered writing across it.  He that loves not abides in death.  It was from the Bible, Scully was pretty sure, John maybe.  She listened to Stella tapping the neck of her teaspoon against her glass and she took the piece of money down.

 “What’s this?”  

 It seemed like safe-enough territory.  After all, the things saved up here were the things Stella was willing to put on display.  And the thought of Stella quoting and framing Bible quotes was too curious to ignore, like finding out your math teacher had a hobby - tennis, jazz music, archery - when all you could picture them caring about was prime numbers.

 “I found it.  Outside the psychiatric hospital where they were holding Paul Spector.”

 The detective in Scully stirred and she couldn’t help herself.

 “And you kept it?”

 “Mm.”

 “Brought it all the way home from Belfast?”

 “Yes,” Stella snapped.  

 “Little sentimental for a multiple homicide case, don’t you think?”

 “Is this an inquisition?”

 “It just doesn’t sound like you.”

 Stella turned and placed her cup in the sink, ran the water hard enough to wash Scully’s voice down the drain.

 “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,” Stella said.

 A blind shot over the shoulder, but a bullseye nonetheless. Scully looked at the floor and then quickly forced her eyes back up, though Stella was not facing her anyway.

 “Don’t do this,” Scully said bravely, or foolishly.  “I’m sorry I crossed the line.  Don’t disappear on me.  I’ve had more of that than I can handle.”

 Stella’s shoulder blades rose and fell on either side of the teardrop shaped hole that buttoned the dress at the nape of her neck, her bones slithering into place beneath the snug wool weave - sometimes it was easier to see her softening than to hear it in her voice.  It still sometimes bothered Scully that Stella had to work so hard to trust her.  But it was not news that she had a weak spot for people who made her feel worth the effort.

 “I picked it up and kept it without much thought at first, and then after, it seemed too meaningful to get rid of it.”

 Scully could tell by her tone of voice that she had permission now to ask.

 “Why would you want to be reminded of him?”

 Stella turned on one hand, replaced the other one on the counter at her side.  She was like a ballerina in a jewelry box, pinned and spinning in a fixed spot as Scully wound her up.  She held her chin high, eyes bright as diamond studs.

 “Do you know what he did to me?”

 Scully had of course drawn her own conclusions based on what she could see, based on the way Stella moved and responded to touch, but she knew this wasn’t a test of her forensic savvy.  She shook her head no and locked her jaw as she braced herself.

 “He hit me, close-fisted.  Here,” Stella said and brushed her fingers along her temple.   “There was a table, here.  I felt it dig into my hip.  That’s the last specific moment I remember, but there’s video of the rest because it took place in an interview room -  interrogation room.”

 Scully looked down so as not to provoke Stella with the elevation of her eyebrows, the jutting of her chin.  What the fuck, why the fuck would she...

 “So you watched the tape.”

 “Yes.  I’m sure most of the team did.  Dani. All of them.  Wouldn’t you?”

 Scully scrubbed the discomfort from her lips, took a breath out of the room that she intended to keep.  Stella continued.

 “And it was quite a show.  There were several more punches.  Here… here… here, I think… and I fell to the floor.  It was cold, concrete, I remember that part, the shock of it after the heat of the blood bursting at my cheekbone.”

 The evenness of Stella’s voice, the poise, was unnerving, like listening to one of her own autopsy recordings, the sound of her own voice discussing death with such indifference.

 “He kicked me.  I was caught between him and the wall.  I was trembling when the other officer came to me.  Like a little dog.”

 “Stella,” Scully begged, but there was no room for her sympathy here.

 “It was the worst physical pain I’ve ever felt, and do you know what I thought when I was lying there?”  Scully shook her heavy head as gravity tugged at her whole body.  Any minute, her knees would buckle, but she had to finish listening.  “This is nothing compared to what he did to them.  Nothing.”

 Scully crossed her arms over the robe in a self-embrace and swallowed, digging her nails into the fabric to feel the pile under her fingernails, root herself in something tangible and present and good.

 “And do you know what I thought when he killed himself?”

 Yes, Scully thought, she did.  The two people she knew best were similar this way - the darkness, the self-loathing, the ability to take responsibility for things that had nothing to do with them, and the tendency not to take responsibility for those that did. The pattern on the kitchen floor blurred as all her concentration flowed toward the goal of not becoming hysterical.

 “I thought, I deserve this.  I told him exactly how to beat the system, how to beat me.”

 Scully allowed a breath, bit her lip and blotted her face quickly with the inside her wrist.  She had one responsibility here, had come to London for one purpose, she reminded herself - Stella’s recovery.  None of that stuff last night mattered, nothing she’d been worried about this morning.

 “It’s awful.  All of it. But it’s not going to avenge anything to refuse yourself the time to heal.”

 She turned to re-clip the stupid banknote to the board, though she wanted to tear it up and burn it.

“Do you think I’m capable of love?” Stella asked as Scully turned back to face her, placed both hands on the island in front of her.

“Sure,” Scully replied.  “I almost got you to love me once.”

“I don’t think I almost loved you,” Stella said.

 “Oh no?”

 Scully kept looking her in the eye to show that she could take it. She walked round to the other side of the island so that she and Stella faced one another over the moat of kitchen tile.  Her bare toes, polish uncharacteristically chipped, met the smart points of Stella’s shoes. The whole morning had been wild, flooded with emotion and Scully was comforted now by the idea of Stella’s characteristic grit drying it up.

 “No,” Stella reiterated.  “I think I did love you.  I still do.”

Scully blinked several times, her breath caught somewhere at the bottom of her throat.  

 “Why are you looking at me like that?”  Stella asked.

 The day Stella visited before taking her plane back to England, her knees rubbing the kitchen floor, Mulder’s arrival weeks later in the rain.  All of these years...

 “I don’t understand.”

 Stella licked her top lip, cocked her head as though considering a gallery portrait.  She hadn’t expected this to be a surprise.

 “I couldn’t do it the way he could.  I didn’t think it was what you’d need.”

 Scully gulped, trying to control the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes.  She could feel the tip of her nose turning red.

 “But occasionally, like when I look at that thing,” Stella said with nod at the banknote,  “I wonder if something’s wrong with me.”

Scully wanted to reassure Stella, but she wasn’t even sure of what.  So she nodded, dried her cheekbones again, for a moment unable to remember the last period of her life she had cried this much.  When she remembered the answer, she cried more.

“Please stop crying,” Stella said.  “You’re supposed to be taking care of me.”

Scully smiled, shuffled forward, closing the space between them without squeezing, by now aware of exactly where to press and where to protect.  She buried her face on Stella’s shoulder just long enough to recompose herself and then glanced at the marks on Stella’s face, so similar to the ones Ed Jerse had given her years ago.  She’d given Stella the play by play of it with her eyes on the road and a console between them, but by the end of the night, Stella would close that distance. And then some.

“Have your turn, then,” Scully teased with a nudge to the hip. “Cry.”

Stella blinked with the weight of five thousand pairs of eyelashes.

“Make me.”

Scully snuck her left hand into the dark roots of Stella’s hair, licked two fingers on her right hand.  Stella tugged her hem up with the nonchalance of a puddle jump as Scully kissed her.  Their mouths were hot, tingling with English Breakfast and caffeine.  Scully grinned as she found smooth-shaved swimmer’s thigh and simple seamless underwear, and then the wet part of her hand disappeared into the wet part of Stella.  She pinned a knee between Stella’s legs, tacking her to the sink like one of her bulletin board items.  Here is something you may want to attend.  Here is something worth remembering.  Stella’s neck tendons strained against her hand.

 “You wear this dress to work, Detective Gibson?”

 “Detective Superintendent,” Stella said in a slightly pitched voice, a tone like a meringhe, one that made her regular voice seem put-on, one that made Scully’s tastebuds dance, her hips grind.  Stella held onto the lapels of her robe like she was an airline pilot or a soldier, uniformed and disembarking.  And then she suddenly realized why Stella had chosen this particular bathrobe for her.

 “You took this. From that hotel in Chicago.”

 Stella half-smiled, pleased at her own rare display of nostalgia.

 “Had to purchase it, actually.”  She licked a small section of her top lip and Scully kissed where it left off.

 Below, Scully’s fingers slipped and pulled and Stella breathed deeply, winced from deep inside her ribcage.  Her hands seemed small and gentle as they clutched birdlike at the sagging sleeves of the robe.  What would she keep from this visit, what would she flash winkingly at Scully in another fifteen years?  Scully wanted to keep nothing so much as this, this skull breathing into the palm of her hand, this pair of knees going weak between hers and this smooth unclothed calf muscle rattling the cabinetry.  She pulled away to watch Stella’s face -- eyelids dancing like dervishes, honey-sweet beige lips parting like buttercups, the hills and valleys of her brow deepening.

 “Look at me,” Scully coaxed.  Then firmer, “Look at me.”

 Scully waited until she had Stella’s attention, waited till her breath was hitching and dragging, waited because fifteen years plus one more breath seemed like exactly the right amount of time.

 “I love you,” she whispered and Stella dropped her nose against Scully’s face, coming and crying in tandem. Her body sucked at Scully’s fingers, her face wet against Scully’s cheek, shivering and then still.  

 The silence simmered.  A clock ticked loudly.  The Bible verse loomed.  Outside, a plane soared by, yawning across the grey sky toward brighter places. Scully summoned some authority into her voice.

 “You’re not ready to go back to work.”

 Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson did not let go as she stepped out of her heels.

 *

She has been taking the stairs up to her apartment after work. If she were to take the elevator, she might meet a neighbor, and if she met a neighbor they’d ask how William was. She doesn’t like questions she can’t answer.

 It begins to smell like Stella just a few steps into the corridor. The scent changes halfway down the hallway to the fresh coat of adult-colored paint they applied over the weekend, and then to that of a smoldering pack of East London incense on one of the cheap plastic cake plates she keeps around. (Not the 26-pack of first birthday ones she purchased prematurely.  Those have mercifully vanished since Stella arrived, along with lots of other things. The smatter of baby powder she’d otherwise find on a dark blazer here or there.  The drawer full of clothes she didn’t give the Van de Kamps.  The stores of formula and diapers that used to live at the bottom of the linen closet.)

 She turns the key and finds the homey sizzle of shallow-panned garlic.  The warm breath of pasta water still hovers over the sink as Stella sets the table. Scully doesn’t know how Stella plans this so well, one foot in the door and hot food on the table.  One moment later, and Scully knows she would make it alone to her room, empty stomach, no shower, and fall asleep in her clothes. But instead -

 “Sit with me while I eat?”

 It’s the only question Stella ever asks.  She already knows how her day was, how she feels, and it won’t do either of them any good to have it declared aloud.  Scully manages a tired smile for her friend and sits, rests her weight, her day, her misery on her elbows.  Her seat is free of a place-setting, as it is every night, and she is grateful for the lack of expectation.  No one else understands her well enough to do - or omit - things like this, not her mother, maybe not even Mulder.

 Mulder.  Where the hell are you.  She barely has the energy to wonder.


Stella swirls spaghetti over her dish between a fork and spoon.  There’s a larger serving bowl at the center of the table, a decorative and deceptive thing that makes it look like they’re celebrating.

 “I heard from my idiotic sister today,” Stella says.  “She wants to race horses now.”

 “What do you mean, race them?”

 “Sponsor one.  She wants to know if I want to put any of my portion of the trust into it.”

 Scully postpones a blink, waiting for the punchline.

 “I told her I could imagine better ways to buy sixty seconds of pleasure.”

 Scully can’t quite bring herself to smile, but she does reach forward for a strand of spaghetti hanging over the side of the painted ceramic bowl. It goes down easier than she expects and she licks the sweet, tangy tomato off her lips.  

 “She’s older, right?” she asks.

 “Yes.  The pretty one.”

 Scully frowns as she takes another strand of spaghetti stranded on the side of the bowl.

 “Everyone’s sister is the pretty one,” she says and of course, Melissa comes to mind.  These days, there are a lot of spare sad thoughts, like wet umbrellas under restaurant chairs on a rainy day.

 “She was my mother’s favorite,” Stella says, leaving her father’s favorite unspoken.  Her attempts to be chatty and distracting make Scully well with gratitude. “However, now she’s bored and angry so I practice tolerance when she calls.  Even when she’s a cunt.”

 “That’s a strong word, isn’t it.”

 “No.”

 “What does she do that’s so bad?”

 “It’s just a lot of passive aggressive criticism, negativity disguised as helpfulness.”

 Scully picks at another strand of pasta and Stella pushes the serving bowl at her for her convenience.

 “I still can’t believe you can cook like this,” Scully says.

 “That’s exactly what my cunt of a sister would say.”

 Scully finally laughs briefly and then immediately wants to cry. It’s as though all her smiles still belong to William, as if they all remind her of him.  

 After dinner, Stella runs the water in the bathtub and sets out a towel, waits for Scully to pass by on the way to her bedroom.

 “Come here.”

 She closes the bathroom door behind them as though for privacy.

 “There’s no one else here,” Scully says.

 “Keeps the heat in.”

 Scully waits limply while Stella undresses her:  sexlessly unbuttons her shirt and pushes it back off her arms, unzips her skirt at the side, holds a hand out for balance. Scully steps into the flat, bubbleless water.  It has been years since Stella has looked closely at her naked and a few selfish, superficial thoughts cross her mind, immediately followed by guilt. How can she have vanity about her stretch marks when she’s abandoned the child who made them?

 She has a stray whim to pull Stella in with her, clothes and all, just for company.  She doesn’t want to be alone in there tonight.  Somehow, Stella knows this, and kneels at the side of the tub, reaches for the loofah, squirts soap onto it and begins to lather bit by bit - arms, chest, belly.  Scully sucks in her waist a moment at the tickle of it and blinks hard.

 “Mulder used to make fun of the pouf.”  

 She watches Stella hear this, hear his name, and she knows what she’s thinking, what everyone is thinking.

 “You think I know where he is,” Scully says.  “I don’t.”

 “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”  

 “I’m not.”

 Stella is watching some vacant spot in the bathwater.

 “Dana, when we first met, the night you thought Mulder and I had slept together…”

 Scully waits.  She’s not worried, but has enough sense to wonder if she should be.

 “What about it?”

 Stella shakes her head.

 “I was taking a sad bath.”  She smiles gently, gulps.  “Like this. And  Mulder walked in.”

 Scully licks her teeth, mild surprise registering.  She can picture Mulder blushing and stammering.

 “That’s all.  It was very embarrassing for both of us.  He never told you?”

 Scully shakes her head no, tries to show some appreciation for Stella’s trying to make her laugh. She closes her eyes and lets her whole head sink like a boulder as Stella sends the soap down her legs.  Stella takes her hand, holds it atop the ledge as if to remind her that eventually, she must come back up to dry land.

 “Shall I leave you?” she asks.  Scully shakes her head no, feels the heavy, wet weight of her thoughts roll against the sloped ceramic back of the tub.   She half expects to leave a dent there.  

 “I don’t think you’re ready to be back at work,” Stella says.

 “I have to.”

 “No you don’t.”

 “I don’t want to look like I’m feeling sorry for myself.  It was my decision.”

 Stella nods.  There are tiny tear-shaped drops of water polka-dotting her blouse, rings of suds round her wrists.  It occurs to Scully that this is how she would have bathed Emily, how the Van de Kamps will bathe William.  The words feel like toothpicks pricking her tongue.

 “I had a daughter too.”

 She’s been trying this lately, being cruel to herself just to feel something, just to have a reason to keep her head above water.

 “I didn’t know that.”

 “I know.  I’ve never told you because I didn’t really feel like it was fair to call her mine. I only knew her for a couple of days. But she was my biological daughter.”

 “What happened to her?”

 “She’s dead.”

 And she looks at Stella, wanting to catch the glimpse of judgement - it can be very fleeting on Stella and Scully is adamant about getting her fair share of shame.  But Stella only licks her lips and swallows.

 “Have you ever had an abortion?” Scully asks.

 “Yes.”

 Scully waits and stares at Stella, her eye makeup so smudgy she can see black out her peripheral vision. She wants to hear that Stella knows, or she wants Stella to think she knows, so she can tell her she doesn’t.  She wants to tell her fuck you for getting rid of something I would have wanted so badly.  She wants to be angry.

 “It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t anything like this,” Stella says.

 And then Scully just wants to go back in time and be there in the waiting room for her.  She wonders if anyone was.

 “I’m sorry,” is all she has to offer.  It’s precious little, but few people have even given her that much.

 “It’s all right,” Stella says with a little melody in her voice to prove it.

 “I went right back to work then too, after Emily.  And it seems only fair that I do it now.”

 Stella chooses this moment to pull the plug and the water begins to senselessly chase itself, clinging to Scully’s body momentarily before it’s sucked down into oblivion.

 “Do you think I sound foolish?  Wanting to treat my two absent children fairly.”

 “I think you probably weren’t ready to go back to work then, either. No sense making the same mistake twice.”

 “I make them over and over and over again.”

 Her body cries before her mouth does, her back convulsing off the floor of the bathtub.  She used to be able to tell what William wanted by the way he was crying.  She wonders if he would be able to do the same, what her voice would sound like on a monitor.

 Stella takes her arm and pulls her to her feet, wraps a towel around her and holds her, pressing her wet head down as she waits for the sobs turn to shudders, and then the shudders to grow further apart, kernels of sadness popping at slower and slower intervals.  She’s quiet by the time Stella leads her to the bedroom, pulls the covers back and guides her in.  Scully stares at the spot where William’s cradle used to be and remembers how difficult it was when it came time to move it into his own room, the separation anxiety she felt then, just that tiny distance.  What a fool.

 “Move over,” Stella says and climbs in behind her, sets her fully clothed body around Scully’s naked one, twisting her ankles around Scully’s like a candy wrapper as she she rests her head on Scully’s ear.  The room goes quiet as a womb.  Scully marvels for a moment at Stella’s patience and wonders how long it’ll last.

 “The dishes,” Scully says, unable to tell how loudly she’s speaking with her audience so close and her acoustics so distorted.  A hot drop of water falls from her ear canal onto the pillowcase and feels like a pool deep enough to drown in.  

 “I’ll do them when you fall asleep,” Stella says and moves her face to the back of Scully’s neck, parts her hair with her nose.

 “My hair,” Scully says, and wants to cry again.  “If I’m going to work tomorrow, I have to dry it.”

 There is a pause and she can hear the mechanism of Stella’s brain moving through the impetus to argue the larger point at stake.

 “You’ll be up early.  I’ll do it for you in the morning.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Ssssh.”  

 There are no vowels to drag and no consonants to pinch and so it sounds country-less, sounds the same as when Scully said it to her son, or when her mother said it to her, how the Van de Kamps will say it.  Scully is warm now as she borrows heat and breath and even life, rebooting off the rhythm of Stella’s thumping, whirring body.  An inhale and then an exhale.  Her crying-headache melts away a bit.  She catches a glimpse of herself in the future, okay.  

 “Stella,” she whispers as she feels her body finally settle into the mattress, the weight she’d been putting on her elbows, or in Stella’s palm, or against the back of the bathtub, now anchoring her, promising her imminent numbness.  She has never felt so heavy, not even nine months pregnant.  “How am I ever going to repay you for this?”

 Stella’s nose is against her shoulder, her lips soft.

 “You’re not,” Stella says.

 *

 Thunder shook the stiff clouds by their shoulders and lightning cracked the proud chest of the old sky open.  Scully had so far only seen the English rain dither and retreat, and this sudden show of decisiveness impressed her.  Below the window, umbrellas flared like nostrils, people scurrying and drains opening.  Commit and the world conspires to assist, said somebody.  Goethe?  Now that was the kind of thing she might have expected Stella to tack to a bulletin board, some broad-backed German sturm and drang, even some British keep-calm-and-carry-on would have been more appropriate than a Bible quote.  Scully took her book and went back to the bed.

 Across the room, Stella suffered her mandatory day off with dignity, ironing clothes with her closet door propped open, racks of newspaper-toned blouses and skirts and pants neatly lined up.  She had a tank top on now, some pajama pants, a hoodie, of all things.  

 “Looks like a piano in there,” Scully said.

 Stella gave a restrained smile as the steamer cleared its throat and dropped a silk sleeve.  She changed one white item for another slightly-less-white item with childlike concentration, a taskmaster’s peace of mind.  Outside, May raindrops spangled the streets while inside, clean, wet heat spoke sense to silk collars.  Eventually, Scully’s eyelids begged off into a nap, and when she woke, the streets were quiet, the sky returned to its thick impenetrable flannel texture, and Stella was lying awake beside her with her hand on Scully’s stomach.

 “What’s the matter?” Scully slurred.  “Run out of things to press?”

 “Yes, give me what you’re wearing.”

 Scully laughed quietly and tried to blink the sleep away. It was hard to recognize the waking world when it looked and sounded like Stella.

 “Want to go for a walk?” Stella asked.

 She felt like an old couple on the walk, like they’d done every day after dinner together for years.  They passed a flower stand with a dripping awning and bought bluebells and hydrangeas.  Stella pointed out things in the neighborhood, the shops she liked, the house that had had a small fire last year, the solid granite side of a building she’d once let a second date press her into in the dark and lift her skirt.

 When they got home, Stella set the flowers down.

 “There should be a vase here.”

 Scully laughed as Stella clipped stems.  Not a single broom in the house but a whole pantry full of flower vases.  She filled one with water and felt a space inside her fill as well - this had felt so abstract before, so impossible to articulate to Mulder.  It wasn’t that she’d needed him to Do Something.  It was that she’d needed for them to do be able to do nothing at all together.

 They ate dinner in easy silence and Scully looked over Stella’s injured eyebrow with a sharpened squint, reached for her glasses.

 “When were those stitches put in?”

 “Oh right, I missed the appointment to get them out.  It was in Belfast but I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

 “The skin is starting to grow over them.”

 “Won’t they just dissolve?”

 She blinked and cocked her head cheekily.

 “Did they say they would dissolve?”

 “Well, I had my medical doctor coming to visit, didn’t I?”

 Scully smiled.

 “After dinner.”

 They set up the urgent care at the breakfast island - rubbing alcohol and clean towels, the sterilized hot pink tweezers and sharp nail scissors.  The patient perched on a barstool, hugging the doctor rather inappropriately between her thighs as she fingered the stem of her wine glass.  

 “Hold still.”

 “Bedside manner please.”

 Scully gave her a little glance down the bridge of her nose.

 “You’re good at this.  Taking care of people,” Stella said and Scully would have been annoyed at the implied surprise in her tone, except she knew that it was a surprise to Stella whenever someone was good at things like this.  She knew what Stella really meant was that she was better at accepting it than she’d expected to be.

 “Thank you,” Scully said.  

 “Are you worried about him?”  Stella asked and Scully re-sterilized the tweezers, shifted her weight. “It’s okay, you can still talk about him to me.”

 Stella’s eyes moved like water, following Scully’s wrist this way and that as she tended to the partially embedded stitch.

 “Not in a physical sense.  He wouldn’t hurt himself.  He’s too driven.”

 “Toward what?”

 Scully knew the question was rhetorical, or if it wasn’t, should be.  Stella knew as well as anyone that Mulder had never really known what he was looking for. That was part of his brilliance, his readiness to find whatever there was to be found.  But it was also his deathknell.

 “Break, please,” Stella said sweetly.

 There was barely anything to take a break from.  Stella was drawing it out on purpose.  Scully pulled her hands away and waited while Stella sipped her glass of wine.  When she was done, she turned her chin back up to Scully and placed her hands on Scully’s waist.

 “Distracting,” Scully whispered.

 “That’s all right, I think,” Stella said in her huskiest voice. “You’re not putting them in, you’re taking them out.”

 “Bossy patient.”

 “That surprise you?”

 “I’m on the last one.”

 “This morning you mentioned the line we crossed.”  She folded the sides of Scully’s t-shirt into ripples between her fingers. “I don’t want you to worry about me when it comes time to cross it back.”

 Scully pulled the final stitch through and dabbed Neosporin on the freshly mended skin. The eyebrow glistened like otter fur, swam up her forehead as Stella raised it.

 “Are you hearing me, Doctor Scully?”

 Scully rested her hands on Stella’s shoulders, searched her face. She missed Mulder, she did worry about him, but the idea of giving this up again -

 “What if I don’t want to cross it back?” Scully asked.

 “Let’s stay in the present.”

 Scully turned and began to clean up, ashamed of her own confusion and the havoc it might be wreaking.

 “Which present?”  she asked with a self-conscious snicker.  “The one where I take out your stitches and attempt to make a proper cup of tea or the one where we have sex on the living room floor?”

 Scully stumbled as Stella hooked four fingers under the hem of her shirt and tugged her back to the spot between her legs.  The stool pressed into her lower back as Stella held her round the waist, aimed her voice like an open vent at Scully’s ear.

 “The latter.”

 Stella lifted the back of the shirt, drew an apple-sized circle on her lower back.  After all this time, Scully still had trouble remembering there was something there. She had only ever seen it clearly, straight-on, up-close once - in a photograph she’d taken from her own case file. Otherwise, it took a lot of twisting or multiple mirrors and she had simply never cared that much what it looked like.  

 Stella’s hand circled it aimlessly as her chin drifted past Scully’s shoulder.  Scully could feel her attention settling off to the side and something about the mood, the meditative tone in Stella’s voice, made Scully reach out for the shiny, sharp nail scissors still there and cover them with her hand.  Stella kissed her sleeved shoulder.  There was a long pause, a river of Bordeaux breath tickling her neck.  

 “It’s not why I have them,” Stella said.  “But I did used to like them for that, once upon a time.”

 Scully said nothing, embarrassed at her own transparency.  She was glad she had her back to Stella.  She lifted her hand off the scissors.

 “I’m sorry, that was silly.”

 “No.  I like that you look out for me.  It’s sweet.” And Scully could hear the slow, drawling smile in her voice.  “You cover my scissors and hide the painkillers… behind the coffee grinder.”

 “Not very well, apparently.”

 Scully hesitated.  She took a deep breath and measured the question like the well-formed circle of cigarette smoke she would have made similar use of at fifteen or seventeen or twenty-three.

 “Do you get tempted still?  When something really horrible happens?”  Like this, she meant, like lately.

 For what felt like hours, Stella didn’t answer.  Her chin and lips seemed frozen to Scully’s shoulder, the edge of the stool wedged permanently between two vertebrae on her lower back.  She worried Stella didn’t really want to be holding her anymore but didn’t know how to let her go.  Of course, Stella probably knew how to let go of people better than anyone.

 “Will you go somewhere with me?” Stella asked.  

 “Anywhere,” she said, and then picturing all manner of international dens of iniquity, “within reason.”

  *

 The tattoo shop in Shoreditch smelled more like a department store than Scully thought it should - its diligently practiced irreverence dripping away over the wax-pool edge of an expensive amber-glassed candle.  The walls were tastefully decorated and serenaded at a reasonable volume by a female folk singer over the sound system. The proprietor was disappointingly unintimidating -- a naughty-smiled, meticulously professional twenty-four-year-old woman with a string of lovely lavender and blue planets up her arm and an innocent name (April).  Dainty jewels dotted her face in various big dipperish coordinates.  Scully wandered the perimeter like a health inspector, trying to find something wrong to make things seem right.  Not a single sheet of wholesale sailors’ sparrows and pinups for easy drunk customers, not so much as a crack in the paint job.

 “You’re lucky you caught me here this late.  I was just cleaning up,” April said.

 Stella was flipping through a portfolio while April slowly churned her hands, trying not to seem nervous.  The Stella effect.  Scully looked at her watch.

 “It’s only 8:30.”

 “They’re all like this now,” Stella murmured.  April looked on with indifferent miscomprehension, as though they’d been conversing in another language and she was waiting to see whether it concerned her.

 Scully felt partially responsible for whatever would or would not happen here.  Generally, she felt entitled to play Responsible One, but she wasn’t exactly the posterchild for well-planned tattoos.  She turned to face them and crossed her arms.  April leaned her flop of dark hair into Stella’s frame of view, watching with self-conscious pride as her work was examined.  On her arm, the planets moved, a meteor inched its way from her sleeveless band t-shirt to her wrist.  It made Scully feel irreversibly old to picture April discovering Fleetwood Mac for the first time, hearing them on a playlist or a movie soundtrack and digging up all their songs, a dollar ninety-nine at a time, pushing each one through little white earbuds.

 The plastic page-turning was peppered with all sorts of questions that Stella seemed uncharacteristically happy to answer. They were multitasking - flirting and making decisions - this could be done now, yes there was room in the schedule, yes she’d like it to be covered at work.  On the one hand, it seemed to Scully like cheating to get a tattoo in a place that closed at the same time as a bank.  Where was the risk, the stakes?  On the other hand, somewhere on Stella’s body, there was a slice of skin Scully was never going to see naked again.  

 “Stella?” Scully nudged like the spoilsport she was accustomed to being.  “Do you want to think about this a little longer?”

 “No,” Stella said and absently patted the column of Scully’s shin beside her.  April smiled at Stella and cocked her head coyly up at Scully.

 “Your girlfriend have any?”  

 “She’s not my girlfriend,” Stella said.  “But yes, you should look at it.”

 Stella’s face was still buried in the binder, making it difficult to glare at her.

 “Lemme see,” April said brightly.

 Scully turned at the waist and quickly lifted the back of her shirt so as to make as small a deal of it as possible.  She could only imagine the judgment she was going to get from this stylish little -  

 “Mm.  Very nineties,” the artist said as though there were nothing more delightful than the nineteen fucking nineties.  “I can do one of those, if you want, so you match.”

 A little knot in Scully’s chest (of what - concern? jealousy?) unwound into a laugh.  Stella smiled and licked her lips.  

 “That… won’t be necessary.”

 “Sisters?” April prodded.

 “We worked together once,” Stella said and Scully felt herself blink an extra time.  She should have been used to it.  She and Mulder had undersold one another in introductions for years.  My partner’s in there, my partner’s been shot.  Such a small, peremptory word to describe so much. Ironically, it only got worse once they finally were together.  Girlfriend seemed trivial and partner made them feel like they were still at the FBI. Sometimes, they’d joke, roommate.

 “What are you thinking?” April asked.

 “A rose,” Stella said simply.  “I’ll leave the style to you.  I like your work.”

 April beamed.

 “What ya have in mind for placement?”

 Stella lifted her arm up in the air and pointed at a spot on her black silk crepe shirt.

 “Show me how big.”

 Stella spread her fingers right… exactly… where her ribs were cracked.  Jesus Christ.

 “Just a couple of centimeters, okay,” April said and went to prepare her station.

 “Stella,” Scully said, now quite comfortable issuing warnings. “You can’t.”

 “Why not?”

 “Unimaginable pain, that’s why.”

 Stella gave her a clear-eyed, short-tempered look.

 “Wait until it heals a little.  Please,” Scully begged.

 “Why don’t you go get us both some coffee somewhere?”

 A few feet (or meters) away, April sound checked the foot pedal on her stylus.  Scully sighed out her nose.

 “Okay, ready.”

 They got up and went to where April was reclining a lounge type chair into the shape of a table.  Scully remembered the thing she sat on in Philadelphia as a scraped up stool that wobbled so badly the artist had to slip cardboard under a leg.

 “I’m going to have you take your shirt off and lie on your side with your arm folded up over your head, like this,” she said, demonstrating. Scully watched, trying to calm her nerves by focusing on Stella’s shiny, capable fingernails on her buttons.  And as Stella’s body met the leather surface, Scully felt a strange sixth sense swoosh through her, a vivid memory of what it felt like to finally be expecting something permanent to land in her life. If she’d known then how few things she would ever get to keep, she might have gotten more than one.

 April flicked a lamp and light fell in a hot, bright circle on Stella’s ribs.  

 “Oh my God,” April gasped.

 Scully looked at the floor, embarrassed for all their sake - for Stella’s pride, April’s shock, for her own failure to hit the brakes on this. None of these emotions concerned Stella. She slunk down as the artist had instructed, hip up to the ceiling, almost exactly as she’d slept on the couch.

 “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… hm,”  April said, trailing off, her mouth making a noise like an engine struggling to turn over.  “Listen. I can’t do this.”

 “Yes, you can.”

 Stella’s translucent skin wove between pink and purple blotches and her breasts spilled from her day-off black bra against the leather table. Her eyes, when they met Scully’s, were calm and satisfied, twinkling night-sky blue as she tossed her moon-white hair up over her ear.  Scully gulped as she tried not to be taken by the beauty of it.

 “I’ve never had anyone ask me for something like this. And I’ve been asked for some crazy shit. I tatted an eyeball once.  I don’t…  I don’t know.”

 “I’m going to have someone else do it if you won’t.”

 A long pause and then April glanced at Scully, as if for permission. Scully saw no benefit in making the girl feel any worse than she did.  It wasn’t poor April’s fault Stella was psychotic.

 “She has very high pain tolerance,” Scully said.

 “Not that she knows first hand,” Stella said and then winked. “Just friends.”

 Winking.  Really, though.  April looked at Stella with a dropped jaw and wet lips, one eye nervously twitching as she rubbed her hands on her torn up skinny jeans and half glanced back at Scully. She shifted her focus back to the canvas at hand.

 “Put your hand exactly where you want it again,” she said.   Scully knew that she and the girl were thinking the same thing - just a little to the right or left and it wouldn’t have been so bad.  But Stella placed her hand right in the middle of it all.

 “Okay, I’m going to undo this,” April said with a cleansing breath, and reached back for the clasp of the bra, folded it forward carefully, so as not to expose too much, and then placed a sketched piece of parchment on Stella’s skin.  Her ribcage rose and fell under April’s hand, striped beneath the light.  “That all right?”

 “Yes, feels nice.”  

 “Compression.  Like I showed you last night,” Scully said with the pointless insouciance of a hostage. “Just so it’s clear, that is not the same as a needle burning through bruised flesh.”

 “Dana likes to play doctor,” Stella said, thoroughly amused with herself.  April was staring the spot and wiggling her fingers, as though mentally proceeding through the whole thing to a successful finish.  Surgeons did this before a procedure sometimes.  

 April reached for a drawer, hesitating only a little.

 “You mind?” she asked, and took out an already rolled joint. Now, this was a tattoo parlor.   “Don’t normally, but…”  

 She offered it to Stella, who took a drag from April’s fingers, eyes closed.

 “Mmmm.”

 April held it out to Scully.  She started to shake her head no, but to everyone’s surprise, her hand reached out to take it.  It tasted strong and peppery, nothing like what she remembered, almost too smooth. People knew too much about weed now for it to be any fun.  Not that she’d really had that much fun with it before.  She handed it back to April, shoulders finally slumping down from her ears, belly going soft.

 “Thank you.”

 “I’m going to place my hand here while I work, is that okay?” April asked, her hand hovering over Stella’s side just under her arm.  Stella nodded and April’s palm rested itself on the soft, intimate spot beneath the armpit.  The bra slipped a bit further forward toward the table.  Scully felt warmth spread from hip to hip like melted butter, her heartbeat speeding to a telling pace between her legs, her mouth watering.  She cocked her head, jerking the leash on her facial expression, embarrassed.  But Stella was staring back at her, angling her jaw like a jungle cat with dinner plans.  Scully heaved and dropped a tiny sigh.

 “You’re crazy,” she whispered, and for a moment felt like they were alone.  Stella licked her lips, shrugged the shoulder closer to her ear.  April threatened with a few more buzzes of the pedal and Stella looked down at it, lips parted, hungry for it.

 “Ready?”  April asked.

 Stella nodded and Scully realized she was holding her breath. Stella’s ribs hurt when she laughed, sneezed, hugged.  Even just now, when she had to touch the spot to show April, she was ginger about doing so.

 The pen began to buzz, at first high pitched, and then growling lower as it met Stella’s skin.  Stella closed her eyes, swallowed a grunt, held her breath a second.  The instrument went quiet as April hesitated. Scully wondered how many people jumped ship at this point.

 “No, no, just do it.”

 And the sound resumed, ink guzzling its way toward the tip of the needle and braiding itself into Stella’s flesh.  Stella’s closed eyes twitched.  After a while, the muscles of her abdomen began to tremble, fatigued from resistance, and Stella’s facial expression sharpened.  Scully stepped behind Stella’s head and and took her hand, watched her fingers turn purple in Stella’s grip.  She pulled a spare chair over to sit.  April paused and switched tools and Scully watched Stella try to catch her breath.

 “This is going to be a motherfucker,” April said and Scully sighed. Right, the color.  “But it’s almost done.”

 Stella keenly watched as April dabbed sweat and blood.  The buzzing returned and grew louder like a treadmill pumped from walk to run.

 “Fuck me,” Stella whispered.  The artist glanced up but this time was strong-stomached enough not to turn off the needle. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

 Scully bit her lip, put her free hand in Stella’s hair, found it damp, raked her fingers through the same few inches over and over without moving the heel of her hand.  

 “It feels good,” Stella assured them and Scully knew this was mostly bullshit but a little bit true, that there was a kind of purity to the pain, the way it made things like tumors and bruises disappear, the way it made you new.  And… at least, for her… yes… Stella’s eyelashes were fluttering, mouth going wide, a little croak escaping her throat.  Scully felt like she might slide off her chair, tried not to fidget as Stella moved her head slightly to make contact with Scully’s nose.  Her head smelled like gardenias and salt, shampoo and sweat, mortal.

 Finally, the buzzing stopped.  Each of them began to breathe normally again as they suffered the postcoital awkwardness of it all.

 “No bras the next couple days. It would be uncomfortable, not that you seem to much give a fuck.  But you also want it to heal nicely.”

 Scully tried not to smile as she watched Stella register a lingerie ban, surrendering the bra down her arm and covering her breasts with her forearm as she sat up and turned to the mirror to get a good look.  April looked on with wide knees, one bouncing, her black-polished nails picking at one another - a kid who’d just shown her mom her coloring book.  Stella’s expression was unreadable, as ever.

 “It’s beautiful,” Scully jumped in, unable to bear April’s anticipation any longer.  For a moment, she pictured herself living here full time, following Stella around just to reassure the admiring young women she held in suspense on a daily basis.

 Stella made some noises of sincere agreement and turned her back to both of them, folding her bra into her back pocket, holding out a hand for Scully to hand over her blouse.  When she put it on, there was the uncommon sight of fabric falling like water over the natural shape of Stella’s breasts, stopping to ripple only at the twisted-up points of her nipples.  The shirt was collarless, but Stella shook her hair like there was one anyway.  April was collecting a palmful of spotted towels.

 “Here,” April said and handed Stella the rest of the joint. “You might want this later.”

 “I don’t think we--” stammered Scully.

 “Thank you,” Stella interrupted.  She put it in her front pocket.  She left the cuffs of her blouse undone and the hem untucked.  As though, with no bra, there was no point polishing the look.  “What do I owe you?”

 The girl’s face twitched as she feigned nonchalance and shrugged.

 “Fifty?”

 “Fifty?”

 “It says your rate is one-fifty an hour,” Scully said with a glance at the time.  Her reflexes felt a little slow and blurry, but she could still tell time.  “This took what?  Almost three.”

 “Fifty’s all I’m going to take for it,” she said, appearing to think of a better, more conspiratorial argument.  “I’m off the clock.”

 “If you say so.  Thank you,” Stella said and April shifted her weight from one Doc Martened foot to the other. Her tongue played with the ring on her lower lip, toying with the possibility of  one final question.

 “Who was he?” she asked.  Stella looked down as she counted the cash.

 “No one important,”  Stella said and April nodded like she’d already known the answer.

  *

  Young people crowded the sidewalks outside every bar and restaurant in the neighborhood, talking loudly in harmonized accents, passing cigarettes and laughing in the face of their own futures.  The rain had turned the concrete the color of spinning pottery and their heels sounded wet and messy when they landed.  Scully hugged Stella’s arm a little tighter as they passed a drunk couple making out clumsily.

 “You didn’t have to tell her I wasn’t your girlfriend so many times.”

 “Hm?”

 “You heard me.”  Stella smiled.

 “I believe it was once,” Stella said.

 “I didn’t like it,” Scully admitted shyly, she hoped, playfully, watching her shoes.

 “Why not?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “I don’t use that word for people I only do things in private with.”

 “Is that the rule?” Scully teased weakly.

 Stella huffed and stiffened, feathers clearly ruffled by the topic at hand.  She turned and spoke, voice now on ice.

 “You’re going back to him, Scully.  You’re always going back to him.”

 “How do you know that I’d mind it in public?” Scully asked.  

 “And when you do go back to him, I think you should apologize, frankly.”

 “Stella.”

 “And then tell him to fuck you, for fuck’s sake.”  Her cheeks were turning pink, and Scully wondered if she’d ever seen Stella truly angry before, if every other time had only been aggravated, perturbed, mildly inconvenienced.  This was altogether different.  “This is an inane conversation.”

 Scully finally allowed the levity to leave her voice.

 “Admit it, it isn’t what I’d have trouble doing in public, it’s what you’d have trouble doing in private.”

 And that did it.  Stella grabbed her arm and stopped them both in their tracks, took her face in hand and kissed her like they were back on the Persian carpet.  Scully felt strands of cold hair, sticky as summer lemonade, brushing past the hollows of her cheeks as they coke-bottled inward, tangling between their noses and people wove their way around them like a parade of ants round a suddenly fallen branch.  Someone whistled.  

 They came up for breath, remaining close to study one another’s faces.  Maybe the answer to this situation was somewhere in the wet corners of their eyes, sitting like pollen on their eyelashes.

 “You feel all that blood rushing to your cheeks?” Stella whispered, distracted, but still intending to make a point.

 “Not all of it.”

 Stella smiled, dropped her eyes to Scully’s lips and back up.

 “Do you mind if I blush when you do it?”

 Stella thought a moment.

 “No, actually.  No, not a-t’all,” Stella said, vowels tearing from their syllables like meat from a bone. “Let’s go home.”

 Scully tried not to look away from the people who stared as they made their way forward through their audience.   It was a couple blocks before she spoke again.

 “Why the rose?”

 “The name of the last woman.  The one we got back.”

  *

  The monitors hum and the ventilation system cranks beneath the squeak of soft-soled shoes on clean linoleum, a familiar song Scully spent her twenties losing sleep to.  She cradles the morphine pump loosely in her left hand and slips her right one under the blanket to preserve the warmth where Mulder had squeezed it.  She is somewhat sorry there is no justifiable excuse for Mulder to be at her bedside rather than work.  They have never reported their couple status officially to the FBI.  She’s not even sure they’ve reported it officially to each other.  They’ve only just started, though it doesn’t quite feel like a beginning.  It is impossible to picture an end.

When she hears the high heels, she assumes someone’s gotten the wrong room, and when she turns her head and sees Stella approaching the bed, she thinks she might be hallucinating, might have accidentally hit the button under her thumb.  

“What are you doing here?”

Stella kisses her forehead and sits to her left.  The morphine gun rolls onto the crinkly hospital sheets as Stella takes her hand.

“Are you high?” Stella asks with a standard touch of naughtiness, eyes on the little black button.

“No.  I’ve barely used it.”  This statement is not without a bit of regret.  There’s a part of her that keeps hoping she’ll need it so this would make some sense.  A shot in the gut should hurt more.

“You look exhausted,” she tells Stella to take the attention off herself.

“I just got off a plane. Mulder called me.”

Scully feels her eyes go wet immediately.  They’ve been brimming for days – Felig’s morbidness, his loneliness, her own confusions and ultimately, fear.  She hopes if he really was able to “take” death for her, that it suits him as well as life does her.

Stella intertwines their fingers, careful not to disturb the IV, brings their joined hands up to her mouth. Scully can feel Stella’s lips trembling against their combined knuckles, her teeth setting playfully there as she pretends she’s going to bite Scully.  She’s hiding.

“I thought you were dead,” she croaks, nose between Scully’s second knuckle and one of her own. Scully knows Stella is not embellishing about this. Mulder has a way of starting a conversation at the wrong end. Scully-got-shot-long pause is how he would’ve put it, waited for Stella’s stunned what to share the fact that she was fine.  Stella swallows and her regular voice returns.  “I’m going to kill him when I see him.”

“I know that feeling.”

Scully weighs the next part, doesn’t want to have to explain it all right now.

“I don’t really need to be here.”  Stella doesn’t need to be told twice.  Her hair looks slightly green under fluorescent light and her shoulders go high and tight whenever she looks at the IV stand.

“Then let’s go.  I’m at the Royalton.  There’s a fireplace.”

“I don’t know… how to ask them to leave.  I got shot yesterday.”

“Don’t ask.  Tell.”

Scully licks her lips and chews a bit of chapped skin there. Stella reaches into her purse and hands her a luxe ginger-flavored lip balm to apply.  She looks more tired than Scully knew she could, blue eyes draining grey into the collar of her white silk shirt.  She seems to melt toward Scully’s bed, slowly lowering her head to the cot, drapes herself over Scully’s body.  The chair howls against the floor as she moves it closer.  Scully takes her right hand from under the blanket so that she can wrap both arms around Stella, clasp her hands between Stella’s shoulders. Her spine rises and falls beneath Scully’s forearms.

“I’ll tell them for you,” Stella says.  “In a minute.”

Scully knows this will make no difference.  The only people they’ll listen to are wives and husbands and parents and children, the official relationships of the world.

“A fireplace?  A real one?”

“Mm, they come up and light it for you.”

She doesn’t have official relationships.  But what she has might be even better.

 Chapter 15

Chapter 16 

[itsallavengers]

Extract from one of your wips?

AH. OKAY. UHHH. After much debate, I decided to post a piece of a long highschool au thing I’ve been working on for about six months now (whoops other fics got in the way and i’ve kind of moved it to the back-burner rn but. I definitely intend to get back to it once I’ve finished my other two projects). This is about 1k, and Also. Halfway through the fic lmao  it’s just a part I thought was kinda good so. voila I guess.

(also vis a vis first part,,, Ty was just being a pervy asshole but. Minor warnings for consent issues maybe.)

When Steve had decided to wait on after school for Tony that afternoon, he definitely hadn’t been expecting events to unfold as they had.

Not that he was complaining, mind.

Of course, a part of him was still irrevocably angry. In the deepest, most primal sort of sense. He wanted to rip Tiberius Fucking Stone limb from limb for daring to lay a hand on Tony. In the heat of the moment, as he’d caught them; Tony struggling to get out of Ty’s grip as that scum had pressed his face into Tony’s space…

Steve had seen red. 

Everything else had been blocked out as he zeroed in on Ty and lunged. And it would probably have ended a lot more seriously if Tony hadn’t stepped in and snapped him out of it, his shaking hands tugging at Steve’s collar and dragging him back. 

Jesus… Steve didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been there. It made his skin crawl and his blood boil with fury.

One thing was for sure, though- if Ty went anywhere near Tony again, Steve would kill him.  Without hesitation.

Glancing over at Tony as they drove slowly through the New York traffic- his eyes dark purple bruises, and a general look of illness about him that made Steve want to just bundle him up in his arms and tell him to just rest for once in his goddamn life- he felt a fierce burn of protectiveness surge over him, and a brief, manic desire to turn around and hunt Ty down all over again. To punch him bloody, until he could barely remember his own name, and he couldn’t physically lay a hand on Tony again without losing his balance.

He’d reached for Tony’s hand before he was even aware, winding his fingers around Tony’s own and gripping tightly, focusing intently on the warmth that lay between them in an attempt to distract himself from his own fast-spiralling thought process.

Tony glanced over, his brow creasing in concern as he looked Steve over. “You okay?” He asked.

Steve smiled a little, and let himself relax against the expensive car seats. Tony was safe. Steve didn’t care for much else. He could save the over-analysing what could have happened until he was alone- for now; he needed to concentrate on more important matters.

“You really had a crush on me 3 years ago?”

Tony paused, and then jerkily turned his head back to the road, blushing a delightful pink colour that Steve wanted to follow with his mouth.

“I… basically? It’s embarrassing. You… you punched a guy I hated, one time, about three years and one day ago. It was- well, thirteen year-old me was very impressed. And turned on. Yeah,” Tony mumbled, and Steve laughed, playing absently with Tony’s fingers as he leant his head against the seat and watched Tony, who kept glancing nervously at him through the corner of his eye.

“Who’d I punch?”

“His name was Justin. You clocked him on the nose because you caught him while he and his friends were running some kid’s work under the sink in the boy’s toilets. Then Justin’s buddy punched you into the wall and gave you a concussion.”

Steve stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember the scene. “Are you sure that was me? I don’t remember ever doing that.”

Tony shot him a look. “No. You don’t. Because Justin’s buddy punched you into a wall and gave you a concussion.”

Steve ahhh’ed in understanding. 

“It’s not normal how casual you are about that,” Tony said, shaking his head amusedly.

Steve shrugged. “After the tenth time being told you got concussed, you stop caring. Anyway- sounded like the asshole deserved it- that kid might have spent a long time on whatever work they were doing, and it was getting ruined all because of a few jealous assholes. I stand by my actions,” Steve said proudly; chin jutting out a little as it always did when he talked about his fights.

Tony paused, before looking at Steve and smiling a little. “It… it was my stuff, actually. That’s how I saw it all. I was gonna go over there and try get it all back, but you kinda got there first. And by the time I reached you, you were already sprawled all over the floor with blood pouring out of you head. I thought they’d fucking killed you,” Tony’s brow creased a little in dismay, and Steve squeezed his hand in reassurance. 

“Hey, I’m tougher than that, Tony, come on, what do you take me for?”

Tony laughed. “An idiot who got into way too many fights. Anyway, yeah- I ran over to you and asked if you were okay, and you know what you said?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“You stared at me for a creepily long time, told me ‘it’s lucky I have my library card on me, because I’m totally checking you out,’ and then laughed hysterically for five seconds before passing out.”

Steve’s mouth dropped. “No way.”

“Totally did.”

“I… I wasn’t even out then! I didn’t even know-“

“Guess your concussion must have just knocked your level on the Kinsey Scale up a bit, then, because you totally said that to me, and of course, I immediately fell head-over-heels in love with you after that. It was a great pickup line.”

Steve stared straight at Tony, before dissolving into helpless laughter, his face scrunching in incredulously as he stopped low and brought his hands up to cover the blush that was now crawling up his own cheeks.

“What the hell are you laughing at, Steve, that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me! I’m not even lying!” Tony yelled, his own face stretched into a broad grin as he turned down into Bucky’s road.

Steve paused, lifting Tony’s hand up to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss against his fingertips. He was still getting over the kind of overwhelming shock that Tony had wanted him before he was Captain Rogers, the handsome quarterback, and instead had just been Steve, the skinny asthmatic. 

If Steve had still had any doubts about how he felt for Tony, they’d immediately evaporated upon hearing those words. God- he still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Well, we’re gonna have to see that gets changed then, aren’t we?” He spoke softly against Tony’s fingers, before letting his hand go and grinning again. “Trust me, I have a whole array of pickup lines from Bucky- he tries to make them as cheesy and weird as possible- it’s probably where I picked up the library card one, actually-“

“You know what, I don’t think I want to hear the type of pickup lines that Bucky Barnes has told you. They’ll almost certainly scar my delicate sensitivities,” Tony said, wincing as he pulled out the keys from ignition and opened his door.

“Are you my appendix? Because you give me a funny feeling in my stomach and make me feel like I should probably take you out,” Steve followed, getting out of the car and jogging around to meet up with Tony, who had a look of horror on his face.

“What the hell was that-“

“Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you’ve just got the sweetest ass,”

“Steve, stop it, oh my god,” Tony was blushing harder by the second, and it only spurred Steve on further, grabbing Tony’s hand and skipping around until he was walking backward, face to face with that adorable smile.

He kissed it, just because he could. And because he hadn’t in over ten minutes, which was honestly too long to wait, in his eyes.

Tony reciprocated immediately, his smile exposing teeth that Steve’s lip scraped against, before his mouth closed again and Tony pushed forward, hands coming up to hold Steve’s neck

“The human body is 70% water and I’m feeling thirsty,” Steve muttered against Tony’s lips.

Tony yelled in horror, and fell off the sidewalk. Steve only helped him up once he’d finished laughing.

[theunknown-ericfanfiction]

Chapter 43.

Unexpected: Part 43

The Unknown Chapter Index.

Unexpected Chapter Index

Morgan was shaken up, not in a million years she would’ve thought that she would have to live what she lived today.

The training of the outsiders had lasted a week, and since Eric was to pissed off with them, with Tanner more specifically, he didn’t accept Morgan’s request to have a ‘capture the flag’ match with them.

This morning was their departure, and Morgan had taken Aleks with her to say goodbye to the teams.

What she encountered was a very weird proposal from Tanner’s behalf.

“Morgan listen” he said, grabbing her gently and pulling her to the back of the truck they soon would be on.

Him and his team, the ones from the other project, had learned that there was a lot of abused woman in dauntless, and Morgan was among them.

“Listen, we’ve got a truck ready to take you girls out” he whispered.

“'You girls’” she repeated.

“We can’t let women in here get physically and mentally abused, so we’re taking them out and placing them into another project”

“Wow wait, I’m not going anywhere” she clutched Aleks closer to her and tried to take a step back.

She felt another person stand behind her, blocking her way.

In that moment her breath perked up

She still couldn’t understand how they’ve made this plan right from under her nose, they had even gotten people from the fence to help them smuggle people out.

When she heard all of this, she got really nervous, it was at least ten of them convinced that they had to take her out, and she had her baby with her.

“Listen to me Tanner” she said, her voice quivered, but she was still determined “if I have to put him down to put you assholes down afterwards I will. There’s no scenario in which you convince me or anyone to go with you. So you better let me go or I’ll make you regret every breath you take after you lose sight of me”

She saw Tanner give her a grim expression, then reach out to his back, he pulled out a gun and pointed at her.

“I’m sorry Morgan, but this is for your own good. Get in the truck”

Her throat closed, she looked down at Aleks, completely oblivious of the situation. Tanner clicked the safety off and slowly dipped the gun low enough to point at Aleks

“Stop pointing at him or I swear to God Tanner I’ll-”

“You don’t want her to finish that”

Morgan felt her soul come back to her body when she heard the voice coming from behind the truck.

“Now, there’s a hundred ways you can die today and I think me putting a bullet in your skull is going to be the most merciful of them all. All you have to do is keep pointing at Morgan and I’ll pierce the truck, and then your head with a bullet. I’m watching your movements from the camera right above your head. In any case it’s your funeral man”

Tanner’s grip tightened on the gun, but slowly he let it down.

Morgan walked around him slowly, but before she made the corner to safety she stopped, and looked at Tanner in the eyes

“I really hope you have a family I can kill. I’ll say hi for you”

Morgan cut the corner of the truck to find Creed pointing at the truck and watching the corner she came out of. There was also maybe another 20 men, guns raised. Creed holsted his gun and grabbed Morgan by the arm gently, she felt like she could barely walk. She felt like she had just came out of her worst simulation ever.

Creed took Aleks from her arms while Eric, who was standing next to the men with their guns raised, got ahold of Morgan and hugged her to his chest.

They moved behind the line of men and Morgan quietly cried in Eric’s chest, they heard a gunshot which startled both Morgan and Aleks.

“Yeah, there’s like 20 dudes here ready to kill anyone who isn’t dauntless so how about you guys wait behind the truck? I’ll make someone come talk to ya real quick” Creed said over the shoulder of one of the guards.

He turned to look at Eric hold Morgan’s face on his hands, Morgan was nodding, and he could hear how Eric faintly told her that she was safe now, reassuring her.

“Creed will take you up to our place and he’ll stay with you guys until I’ve dealt with this” he ran his thumb in her cheeks to stop her tears from falling. “Go up to rest” Morgan nodded again, taking a deep breath while her arms unclasped from his neck.

Morgan slowly turned to Creed, who was still holding Aleks. She walked to him and he put his arm around her shoulders. Eric and him locked eyes.

“Don’t take them out of your sight” he commanded.

Creed just nodded and began to lead Morgan up to their place. Morgan was still sniffing. Before he cut the corner Creed heard in the distance how Tanner was getting his much deserved punishment.

Eric slowly stood up from Tanner’s immobile body and received a towel to clean up the blood from his fist. Then he casually walked to Peter, who apparent had first row tickets for the beat up Tanner received.

“We are in full lockdown, no one gets in or out of the compound or the city. Check every truck and let’s do a head count. I want to know how he was planing to get people out. I want names and heads on pikes”

Peter seemed pleased and took off with a little smirk.

Meanwhile, Morgan was sitting in the couch, legs pulled up to her chest and chin resting on her knees. Creed had taken care of putting Aleks down for a nap, then he plopped beside her and let out a sigh.

He lead his hand to rub her back, then she slowly dipped her head to the side to rest it on his shoulder

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Thank you for staying” she muttered. Creed tsked his tongue and pulled her closer to him.

“I would’ve come even if Eric didn’t ask. It was… Scary, that situation. Straight out of initiation I did I think a month of city patrol. In that time I must’ve seen a hundred different hostage situations… You know, someone’s got a gun, the other person is scared, crying, yelling… It had never affected me, until today” he rubbed his hand on her back, Morgan remained quiet, listening to him. “You and that kid are all the family I’ve got left, and it’s not going to be easy for anyone that tried to lay a finger on you guys”

“Are you saying that because Eric put you on my detail or-”

“I’m saying it” Creed interrupted “because you two are the only people I’ve give a shit about since a very long time”

Morgan remained quiet while Creed still comforted her. She gave in to sleep after a while.

Eric was riding the truck towards the department. In their search they had found a truck off to the side of the road towards the fence, and apparently they were going to do a swap to get the women out. Eric could count until 20 woman that ranged all kinds of ages.

Something was happening, something that wasn’t being talked about, and Eric hated to be oblivious to things that happened under his watch.

Even after he knew that Morgan and Aleks were safe and sound on their home, the images didn’t leave him, he relived the knock on the door, the look on the man’s face when he told him that Morgan was in trouble, how he felt the floor shift beneath his feet. He relived the touch of Creed’s hand on his shoulder when he told him that he’ll take care of getting Morgan safe out of there. He dreaded the decision of letting his family’s lives on someone else’s hands…

His hand hurted like hell, it was more than likely broken, but he endured the pain, not as much as Tanner, he figured he died somewhere between the tenth and fifteenth punch. Or maybe it was when the bone in between his eyes broke and sunk in itself, pushed by his fist while he punched, and punched, and punched.

The tilt of Tanner’s gun to point at Aleks’ face was something that would haunt him forever.

The truck came to a stop, he climbed off it and began to walk inside, Jay was trailing next to him.

“Why don’t you let me do the talking?” He said, trying to smooth down the situation.

“Because you’re not nearly as mad as I am”

They ended up at a reception desk with a petite girl typing away at a computer

“Get me someone from the department right now” he commanded. The girl looked at him from over her glasses and looked to the side

“Do you have an appointment?” She said carelessly

“I think they would like to know why I heat one of their people to death” he lifted his hand and pressed it in a fist. He had refused to have it looked at before they took off to the department, he had bandaged it loosely, and now it was tainted red, seeping blood out of it. “And I’ll do the same with you if you don’t get one of them down here right now”

His patience was at a zero at that point.

He turned around and paced the room as he waited to be met with people of the department.

He had walked a bit far away, Jay called him after a few minutes and they were lead to a room to the side.

Eric slowly placed his hands on the table in which the members of the Department were sitting at. He took a deep breath and looked up at them.

“This is what we’re going to do, I’m done playing nice with you people. You wanted Morgan to train the groups, she put her family aside and she turns her back one second and she has a fucking delusional asshole point a gun at her baby, my son who is not even five fucking months old!” He grunted as he slammed his already broken fist down on the table. He took another deep breath to calm himself down, because if not he was going to continue beating down people.

“So either you have them trained back at dauntless with two of my trainers, two weeks tops, or either I have two trainers come here. And I’m warning you, if any more of them dares to take my family from me I won’t stop until there’s only Morgan, my baby and I in this world”

His voice had dropped to a dangerous tone, and he didn’t wanted to hear the rest of it, he wanted to go back to the city. He turned back to leave and let Jay deal with how they were going to proceed. As much as Eric didn’t wanted to keep training them he had to, he had all of the other leaders up his ass. Especially Christine.

He made his way back to dauntless early in the night, he walked back to his place after he took care of his broken hand, he refused it being casted, so he settled for a little restrained to avoid the knuckles from splintering more and more.

He walked into his place, he saw Creed pop the cap of a beer before closing the door of the fridge.

“And?” He asked

“Where’s Morgan?” He asked opening the door of the fridge and taking out a beer for himself

“She’s laying down with Aleks in the bed, I don’t think she’s going to eat anything.”

“And how is she?” He took a swig and sat at the island stool.

“She was a little shaken up at first, but then she was just mad. I mean…” He let out a sigh and shook his head “there’s been a lot of times when she’s been in that situation and she hasn’t done anything because of Aleks, and to a point that is good, because I think she would’ve gone even farther than you”

“Are you calling me soft?”

“Yeah” he said shrugging, Eric gave him a little annoyed look, taking a swig of his drink “but I know it’s all because of Christine, because you have to tip toe around her”

Eric remained silent for a while, looking down at his bottle as he stirred the content inside.

“I’m weak, when it comes to Morgan and Aleks I’m a little bitch” he muttered.

“Yeah you are” Creed replied, smiling and taking one last gulp at his beer. “You are, also, a little bit overprotective. And this is friendly talk OK? I don’t want to tell you how to treat your woman but… You’ve kind of… Set an example for some assholes.”

“How?” He asked frowning.

“They are like 'well, Eric treats his wife like shit so I can treat mine like shit and it’s fine”

“I don’t treat Morgan like shit” he said with a little eye-roll.

“Indoors. But outside… In the halls, in life… You’re a little bit of a dick”

Eric sighed a little annoyed and rubbed his forehead with his good hand.

“I’ve got to keep working tomorrow”

Creed took that as his queue to leave, before he took off he received a little thankful nod from Eric.

Eric walked to the bedroom, taking off his shirt while in the hallway, he glanced at the side to find Morgan putting Aleks down in the crib, tucking him in and covering him with his blanket. She then checked the baby monitor, seeing it was on, then quietly exited.

He stood in the doorway, waiting for her to meet him in the hall. She closed the door behind her slowly, then turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Eric held her and dragged her back to the bedroom.

That night they didn’t have sex just because, because they were bored or it was just what they did when they were alone, unbothered in bed. They did it because it was a reminder that they were both together, that they could, that there would be a dreaded day when they wouldn’t be able to do it.

Morgan slid off Eric’s chest after she rode him to both their ends, and Eric held her to his chest by the waist, Morgan’s head rose and fell with Eric’s deep breaths.

His hand caressed her back while he closed his eyes, Morgan’s body slowly molding to his. Her hand was slowly making its way up to his neck, where it rested finally.

“I don’t know why people are trying to break us apart” he lamented, Morgan let out a sigh and looked up at him with tired eyes.

“People are assholes” she said, closing her eyes, Eric led his lips to kiss her on the forehead. “And if we have to kill everyone until its just us, we will”

His lips remained on her forehead for a while before answering

“You can take out Christine for me”

He felt her smile against his shoulder, then she pulled herself closer to hide her face in his neck, giving him a kiss on it before sighing again.

“Gladly"