#'boy i hope she wears my skin!' a pathetic dog of a man

[likemosaic]

"benny gecko stop sticking your dick in crazy" challenge...

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 06 / all for us

summary: you wake up in your room, and you can’t help but try again. even if you might meet a strange doctor and their assistant.

note: another dark chapter. please read the warnings.

taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @stupid-stinky @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume

word count: +2.5k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide attempt, blood, suicidal thoughts, panic attack, suicide attempt, medical inaccuracies, a little graphic detail of glass being pulled from skin

YOU'RE disappointed whenever you awaken from your temporary slumber. you were sure that you were close to death with that blade on your vein, but it turns out you were wrong. well, that's what you think until you look at your arm.

each one of the cuts is stitched up neatly while the bandages trying to wrap around them are loose. you sit up while inspecting some of the bloodied bandages on your hand, must've been from whenever you broke the mirror.

you sigh sleepily, staring at the bedroom door in hopes that someone will come entertain you even just for a moment. luckily, your wish is granted whenever you watch erwin slip into the door silently.

he's trying to be silent, that much is obvious by how he's not wearing any shoes and instead socks along with him shutting the door gently. he turns to you, flinching at how your eyes bore into his head even as you lay down.

"you're awake it seems," he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed, large hand caressing your pale cheeks.

you start to sit up only to be fussed at by erwin, who softly shoves you back against the bed.

"how am i still alive," you stare into the ceiling.

"when you passed out, we managed to get ahold of our friend that's a doctor," of fucking course. of course they'd have a doctor friend, how the fuck else would they get roofies?!

"when can i get out of bed," you lay your hands on the collar around your neck.

"tomorrow, we didn't expect you to wake up today."

"how long have i been dead for?"

"an incorrect term to describe you, however you've been out for a day. our friend told us with your mental struggles it might take longer for you to wake up," he sighs and rolls his head while a gentle smile forms on his face.

"can you turn on a show for me? don't care what," you look to the ceiling fan.

"of course," erwin says in slight concern. he'd expected you to, at the least, shed some tears, whether it be from happiness or sadness. but you weren't reacting at all.

"you know.... when i was younger people didn't like me," you sigh, "but i was okay with it. as long as i didn't get hurt, i didn't care all that much."

"why are you telling me this?"

ignoring him, you let out a small and bitter chuckle, "when i got into high school, i made friends with a boy who had a twin brother. his name was marcel, he was so sweet and kind.

"he's dead now. it tore his brother apart, i'd never seen porco in that much pain before."

mistakenly, erwin ponders, "how did he pass?"

it's the first time you turn your head to stare at him with those dead fish eyes of your's. you looked almost sinister as you burned holes into erwin's head.

"suicide."

erwin left your room with stiff shoulders that night.

————

two days later, you're standing to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. you're surprised they didn't take the glass away from you, but you're sure it's for brushing your teeth or something.

as you stare at yourself, you allow your shoulders to shake as they hold up your arms leaning on the sink.

you wonder what your friends would say at seeing you like this. so desperate to get out that you're willing throw away everything you have just to get it.

there's an itch at the back of your mind, festering up against the walls over your brain.

'they'd think you look pathetic,' the itch, now a voice, whispers.

"porco wouldn't," you whimper. porco's been through this process before, he gets it, he understands. right?

'marcel died by his own hands in order to cleanse himself from his sadness. he'd look down upon you for comparing this to his case,' you squeeze your eyes shut and put your hands over your ears.

"pieck wouldn't. she's by my side forever," you sob.

'pieck fought with you before your disappearance. she called you a fuck-up. look at yourself, you'll find that she's right,' and with bated breath you look up.

you sob, shooting your arm back that's clenched into a fist. you punch the glass, which flies all onto your arm and hand. you storm out of your bathroom in fear, stumbling as you look at the stool used for your vanity.

you take it hastily, setting it up the ceiling fan and standing on it. with rushed movements, you wrap the chain connecting with the metal collar around the base of the fan. you step off of the stool, kicking it away with your foot while you choke.

you're starting to black out when you see levi run in with erwin, and you pray to the heavens that you'll wake up in hell.

————

once again, you're disappointed. you whimper weakly while crying, you just wanted to die. you don't want to be trapped in here anymore, you just want to escape.

your throat burns. and before you can try to test your voice, someone's unlocking the door while letting out an almost wicked laugh.

the door swings open to reveal a person, who's long brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail and wearing circled glasses on their face along with an eyepatch. behind them follows a much meeker man, one that's reprimanding their actions as they shout loudly in excitement at the realization that you're awake.

"moblit!! she's already awake," the person hoots to the man behind them, who you're going to assume is moblit.

"i can see that hanji! now, quiet down! you're probably scaring her," moblit scolds the person named hanji, who ignores the warnings.

"hello, my darling~! i'm your doctor, hanji zoë but feel free to call me hanji! do you have any recollection of what happened," they sing excitedly, shoving their face close to you.

you nod nervously, who the fuck was this person.

"i apologize for their behavior, they act almost as a dog," moblit emphasizes while pulling hanji away by their shoulder.

"we came to see if you sustained anymore damage onto your body besides your neck," he looks you over.

you hold up your hand, smeared with your dry blood. hanji gently takes it into their hands, frowning deeply at what they see.

"get my tweezers for me, moblit. she's still got some tiny pieces of glass in the wounds. i'm sure that's why you were hurting so bad before we came in, huh," hanji attaches a magnifying glass to their glasses while slipping on medical gloves. you'd just woken up, but you weren't gonna tell them that.

moblit hands them a tray along with tweezers, not to mention hydrogen peroxide.

"tisk tisk! that shorty and eyebrows really don't know how to put hydrogen peroxide in! losers," they cackle at the end, which has moblit slapping a hand down onto their shoulder.

"alright alright!" they smack it away, taking your hand—palm faced down—gently while adjusting their magnifying glass.

you scream as they start to pull out a piece of glass, not exactly expecting them to be either big or long. you sit up on your elbow to look, you don't exactly trust this person.

your scream has levi and erwin bursting in the door just as hanji pulls out a smaller piece of glass, that they had to dig a bit for and it made you cry.

"what'd you do?! what are you doing?!" levi bombards while erwin rushes to your side.

"well, i'm trying to concentrate on getting some of this glass out of her skin. unless you want it to get infected, i'm going to continue. it just hurts," hanji says in frustration, bringing your hand closer to their face.

"oh, thank god," erwin sighs in relief but immediately jumps at the sound of your teary shout.

"it's okay, you'll be okay," he reassures, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

bursting with slight anger and immense pain, you snap at him, "don't you think i know that?! it just hurts!!"

both erwin and levi look shocked at your outburst just as you hiss in pain again.

sighing, hanji looks at you, "okay, i saved this one for last since it'll be the most painful to get out."

"just get it over with," you sob, squeezing your free and bandaged hand into a fist.

you knew it was going to hurt, they'd just told you. however, you didn't realize that somehow a piece of glass managed to get stuck in the wound with one side of it being lunged under unharmed skin. it was like trying to get out one paper out of a stack.

you scream again, letting yourself fall onto your back again and swinging your arm over your eyes. biting your lip, you breathe heavy with shaky sobs.

"this is worse than giving birth," you cry.

"it's definitely comparable," hanji humors you while they poke at the glass.

it makes you chuckle a little, considering they're the one putting you through this.

whenever they pull the piece of glass out, it feels like an immense weight has been taken off you as you relax your body. you hiss at the hydrogen peroxide, but it's much better than the pulling of the glass. you reach up to your collar, only to realize that they've detached the chain connecting to it.

you're frustrated, even more so whenever hanji pulls away from you and acts like this is a totally normal occurrence. you're kidnapped for god's sake, shouldn't they be calling the police?

you let your eyes wander around the room, and when they set on levi, you tense. you scoot away from erwin, since he's on the same side of the bed as him, and place yourself at the edge of the bed.

"alright, we need to talk to you about some things," erwin brushes some of your hair behind your ear, completely ignoring your fear of levi.

"first things first, you can't be trusted alone," levi grunts and leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

"which means, you'll be spending time with levi during the day until i get home or if i request to see you," erwin cautiously and slowly says.

your eyes widen while they shoot between levi and erwin, absolute fear swarming your body.

"i only hit you whenever you disobey," he scoffs, "i believe pain is the best way to teach someone a lesson."

"he won't hurt you unless you give him a reason to," erwin tells you reassuringly. it doesn't work well.

"please, don't hurt me. i'll be good, just don't hurt me," you croak while looking to levi, who softens a bit at the statement.

"don't worry then," he nods, "now go back to sleep. i'm sure you're tired after all that screaming. you'll be with me at eight in the morning."

you nod, shakily grabbing ahold of the remote on your bed and turning your tv on. levi slips out of the room without a word while erwin stays back.

"good night, my love. get some rest," he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you hum in response, scrolling through the selection of movies on the netflix account levi and erwin provided for you. you choose a rom-com movie, seeing as you don't actually plan on staying up just to watch it.

you turn onto your side and close your eyes.

and for the first time, you rest easy.

the next morning, levi leads you through the home by hooking his pinky with your's. you were slightly thankful at the gesture. he knew that you were nowhere ready to be fully touched by him and that you weren't allowed to leave his side.

you sit on the love seat in his office, shyly taking the tv remote from his hands when he offers.

"watch anything, just don't turn it up too loud," he sits at his chair with a sigh as you scroll through movies on hulu.

you choose the movie footloose while you get comfortable on the couch. you try to ignore the small shivers running up and down your body as you're not covered up with a blanket.

you glance over to one of the bookshelves levi has up against the wall, trying to find if levi had any good reads. but before you could read the titles printed on the spines, a certain book that poked out from behind the others caught your eye.

'memories' the fraying writing was a messy cursive on the spine, something you assume levi wrote.

you get yourself lost in thought while staring at the bookshelf. if the book was in levi's office and in levi's handwriting, that means it has to be a scrapbook. and that it's levi's.

your eyes shine at the realization, but you try not to let it show. you'll wait for levi to get the two of you lunch before you'll look at it.

and so, you wait with patience. it seems so grueling as the time passes and you switch from movie to movie, but you hope it'll be worth it in the end. you hope that it explains why levi is the way he is.

"i'm going to make our lunch. the door's lock behind me since it's a keypad. stay put," levi says with slight annoyance, walking out of the room grumpily.

at the sound of the door locking, you jump to your feet and race to the bookshelf. you carefully pull the book out of its place, immediately flipping it open to the first page.

and there levi was, in all of his glory. levi was a baby in the photo, closed eyes and a peaceful look on his face as he curled into himself.

turning the page, you almost gasp at the image you see. levi's being fed by a gorgeous woman, who you can only assume is his mother. the next picture on the page shows levi wearing raggedy clothes with greasy hair shining in the sun as he crouched to hold stare disgustedly at a bug on his finger.

it made you giggle, but the next photo made you frown. levi, who looked to be at the age of five, was standing next to an older man with a casket behind them. you look at the note written under it.

'mom's funeral,' it reads, and you feel an immense amount of pity.

the next picture is a picture of levi at the age of seven standing in front of a beat up school with dirty and ripped clothing. his hair is long enough to be a mullet in this and his body looks so frail compared to now. levi's face shows not a hint of emotion, instead his eyes stare right through the camera and back at your's.

you jump whenever a book on the shelf falls onto its side. you hiss while rushing to put it back up, and as soon as you do, one from the top shelf falls onto the ground somehow. you hurriedly grab it and reach up to it on your tip toes, but you're barely able to reach.

you curse while you use the bottom of the bookshelf as a stool, not even realizing just how old this thing seemed and how much you weighed.

you sigh in relief whenever it doesn't fall down, it only wobbles a little as you step back onto the ground. you go to put the scrapbook away, but you notice that the stand hasn't stopped wobbling. it wobbles almost hauntingly back and forth, and that's when you realize it's going to fall on top of you.

you gasp while dashing to the floor while you slide out of the way, not even realizing that the scrapbook was being bricked by your arms holding it to your chest.

you cringe at the loud bang it makes as it falls, but the cringe turns to fear whenever you hear the pounding footsteps of levi.

you can't get up on your feet quick enough as he bursts through the door. his eyes dart to you on the floor and then back to the fallen bookshelf.

"what did you fucking do?! are you that stupid?!!" this has to be the loudest you've ever heard levi speak, and it makes you nervous.

tears well up in your eyes as you stare at him, completely petrified at how you might be beaten once more.

you hope levi spares you, just this once.

[justapoet]

falling for you

Three times Carlos had had his heart broken and one he could mend it.

2.5k

As a child, seeing a stray dog searching for food would be something to break Carlos' heart ― it still is, but he learned, as the years passed, that he couldn't help everyone. As a teenager, movies about dogs who died and listening to what people had to say on every single subject that didn't have to do with them would also be something to break his heart. As an adult, consequently, as a cop, humanity ― and the lack of it ― would be daily breaking the man's heart.

But, those were heartbreaks that he learned to deal with. Leaving dog food for a few stray dogs at his street, avoiding any Hollywood project that involved dogs, or pretending he was deaf when people started to mascarade cruelty with honesty. He also would repeat that "not everyone can be saved" after every shift, so he would not drive himself insane every night.

He didn't know, only, that none of those heartbreaks could've prepared him to see sadness and loneliness inside the most beautiful and shiny eyes he's ever seen.

He's been in love before, for a few times. If being honest, he could bet something around two or three, all of them being different for him to feel.

The first time was when he was thirteen, and that was this sweet boy that used to sit by his side at science classes. He never really talked about it, but he knew he could be in love with Morgan when, every time they hugged each other, a silly smile would come to his face.

But he never really tried anything. Firstly, because he was way too shy to directly talk to someone, and secondly because he would always imagine that it was nothing, and maybe it wasn't worth the risk. They were young, after all, and he was well aware that it was practically impossible for any relationship at their age not to have an end. He didn't like ends at all, so he would tell himself that it wasn't it. He never fell in love before that, so maybe he was just messing things up. It stopped hurting the next summer.

Falling in love with Morgan was easy and unnoticed. If he fell in love at all.

The second time, he was fifteen. There was this cute boy, always smiling and being kind and lovely, mainly with his girlfriend. Honestly, he would always laugh remembering how he loved to imagine what could be different in another reality, and how it lasted until he was seventeen and finished high school. It was even funnier to look back at those nights he would hold his pillow and let himself be sad for someone so out of reach.

Falling in love with Trevor was funny and lasting.

The last time still haunted the corner of his dreams. He was twenty-three, a young cop starting to get recognized by his supervisors, and he also dreamed about finding something ― someone ― as stable as his life was being.

He thought he had found that in Declan. It was sweet and soft, at the beginning. He was a kind, caring and picture-perfect man anyone could ever dream about. Until all those dreams became nightmares right in front of his eyes, and he seemed to be trapped in a severe case of dream paralysis.

He couldn't remember when the verbal aggression started, but he remembers the first time he stopped eating and worked out till exhaustion just because Declan said something about his thighs. He couldn't remember when he stopped talking, but he does remember the first few times the man said his voice was too weird and his opinions were shallow and irrelevant. He couldn't make himself remember when the first punch came, but he surely remembers the voice of the dispatcher telling him that the police were on their way.

He didn't remember when he last looked in the mirror, but he could never forget how his sergeant looked at him, that night.

That was a kind of heartbreak he never thought he would have to deal with himself. And it was so worse to think that what hurt the most weren't his broken ribs or the bruises all over his skin, but the way his heart seemed to be so small and so... Wasted. And what was even more painful was that that man didn't only leave his love aside, but made him leave himself behind in the darkness and doubt.

Falling in love with Declan was a mistake.

Carlos could still remember the pain of each one of the situations. How he would forget his feelings for Morgan by using the word "friend" again and again, or how he would just smile at Trevor and give advice about where to take Sarah on their anniversary. He could still remember the sleepless nights he spent at the hospital, the cruelly painful therapy sessions, or how ridiculous it was for a cop to flinch at anyone suddenly raising their voice or approaching him too fast or suddenly.

And yet, that none of those heartbreaks could've prepared him to see sadness and loneliness inside the most beautiful and shiny eyes he's ever seen. Nothing he'd been through could've made it hurt less to see tears streaming down his cheeks and his lips pressed so his sobs weren't too loud.

"TK?" he called as he opened the door. His eyebrows were almost pressed together, worrying at the moment he heard the knock on the door and not the keys clinging. "Babe?"

He moved so TK could walk in, and Carlos closed the door as TK sat on the couch, his knees brought up close to his chest and his elbows resting over it, his head buried in his arms. Carlos approached carefully, his steps soft against the floor. He sat beside his boyfriend, looking at him and waiting for anything; any move, word, sound, whatever. His hands were on his lap, and he didn't move at all.

"She's leaving again," TK said, still hiding his head on his arms, his voice heavy with tears and muffled by the position. "didn't even say a thing, she..." and a sob interrupted his sentence. Carlos stood still, not knowing what to say. TK was talking about Gwyn? Didn't she and Owen decide to try again? Weren't they expecting a baby together?

He had clearly missed something.

After a few minutes, TK was still crying, and he couldn't stop himself even if he felt pathetic. Carlos got closer, his knee slightly touching the side of TK's leg, and asked "Can I touch you, Ty?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he let his body slowly bend to the side, and Carlos quickly opened his arms so his boyfriend could make himself comfortable. TK put his head against Carlos' shoulder and his hand gripped tightly to the t-shirt the cop was wearing, as Carlos' arms were circling the smaller body and holding him tight. His hand drew circles on TK's back, trying to calm him down for the next few minutes until the paramedic was only sniffing quietly.

"Do you want to talk about it, babe?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. TK went silent for a while before saying anything, his tears, also silent, making Carlos' shoulder wet and his heart small.

"She's leaving," he said, his voice hoarse. Carlos couldn't be sure which were more broken; if TK's words and voice, or if his own heart. "My mom. She's leaving, going to New York again and-" he stopped, just for his next words to sound filled with anger and pain. "And she didn't even think about telling me".

Carlos kept quiet, waiting for TK to say everything he needed to.

"What was the point of all of this?" he asked, after a few amount of time.

"The point?" Carlos asked softly, considerably curious.

"Why did she come to Texas after all?" he said again. "Because I was shot? Because I can't remember a moment she sat by my side and talked to me. I can't remember of a second she asked if I was okay, or what was going on in my life" TK moved his head, looking at Carlos then. "The only time I heard her talking about me as if she was worried, was when she was blaming my father about me getting shot or about my overdose" he laughed humorless, looking at the ground. Carlos wished so bad he could take it all away. "And that's even ridiculous because they don't even remember that today's..." and he stopped himself.

Carlos frowned at his reaction to the half-said sentence.

"Today?" Carlos asked. "What is today?"

TK tried to pull away and Carlos let him, seeing how he seemed to try to hide among the furniture. He looked down, biting his lip and curling his body in a ball.

"Ty, babe" he called again, getting closer and touching his boyfriend's arm as he didn't pull away. "Amor, what is today?"

He murmured something that Carlos couldn't understand.

"Cariño..." he called again, and TK sighed.

"One year," he said. "I'm one year sober, today".

Carlos' eyes opened wide, and he let go of TK's arm for a second in his choked reaction. TK lowered his head as if he was ashamed of admitting it. Carlos couldn't help but smile, suddenly, and he made his way to be kneeling in front of his boyfriend.

"Ty!" he said. "Oh, God, Ty!" he laughed, and TK held his head up just a bit to see Carlos smiling with tears in his eyes and an oh-so-beautiful smile on his lips. "This is incredible, you're incredible! Oh, por Díos, I'm so, so proud of you, love" he said, and TK seemed to be confused, his bright green eyes still wet and vulnerable.

"You are?" he asked, his voice so low that Carlos could barely hear.

"Of course, yeah, I am," he said, holding his boyfriend's hands in his. "Eres tan fuerte, mi amor" he whispered, slowly getting up so he could press his forehead to TK's. "Tengo tanta suerte de tenerte"

"What does it mean?" he asked shyly, and Carlos laughed briefly.

"I'm so lucky to have you," he said. "You're so strong, my love".

There was a glimpse of hope before TK sighed, shrugging.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Not even my father remembers it, and I-"

"And you've been sober for a year, after all that happened to you. After moving out of New York to a completely new town, after getting a new team, a new job. After risking yourself daily, after getting shot" Carlos listed patiently, taking TK's face between his caring hands.

"After recovering from it, and deciding to risk yourself all over again. After having so many bad days, so many reasons to give up, you've been sober. You've been through your worst days wide awake and facing everything strongly and fiercely, just because you didn't want to give up. Of course, TK, it matters. You matter, love. To your team, to your father, even if he's being an idiot. And, to me, TK, you're just everything" his eyes were deep on TK's teary ones, and he could only smile. "It might not be much at all, but just so you know that you're so much for so many people and absolutely everything for someone else."

TK couldn't stop more tears to fall silently, as he stared into those beautiful brown eyes that meant the world to him. He sighed again, a little laugh getting out of his lips as he smiled just a little bit. Carlos smiled widely, happy that he could at least get a smile from the other man.

"It's everything" TK whispered, then, making sure his nose touched Carlos' and his breath reached his mouth. "It's not "not much at all". It's everything. You're everything," he said, leaning forward to press a kiss against the cop's lips.

Despite the salty tears, the kiss was just as sweet as all of their kisses were; it tasted like comfort and caring. TK could feel the tension and heaviness of the morning leaving his body as he slowly stood up just so he could wrap his arms around Carlos' waist. Between kisses, Carlos smiled and hugged his boyfriend back, just to break another kiss and leave a few ones on his boyfriend's pretty face. The paramedic smiled, putting his forehead against Carlos once more and tightening the grip on his body.

"I love you," he said, and the slightly taller man smiled.

"Te quiero, cariño" the latino whispered back. "You can't even imagine how proud I am of you, TK Strand. The strongest man I've ever known" his hands were kind while caressing TK's body slowly. The act was sweet, and TK could easily melt. "And that's not even the best part, to get to know you".

TK chuckled a little, knowing that Carlos's next words would be just as sweet as his tone.

"Yeah?" he said, hiding his face on the crook of his boyfriend's neck. "And what would the best part be?"

"I'm lucky enough to have this strong and incredible man loving me just as much as I love him," he said, and TK could feel his heart racing. He doubted he could ever react differently to Carlos Reyes. "Did I mention he's the love of my life?"

TK could feel tears in his eyes again.

"Yeah?"

Carlos nodded.

"Yeah" he agreed. "He's the strongest man I've ever known, he loves me and, one day, I'll marry him" his voice was barely above a whisper as he felt TK's grip tighten, and he smiles softly and put his lips against his ear. "Can you believe it?"

TK laughed against Carlos' warm skin, nodding happily.

"I can" he answered, moving again so he could face Carlos once more. "Thank you".

Carlos smiles.

"Always. And forever" was his reply. "And, although you're unfairly gorgeous even crying, I'd love to make you forget the reasons you had to cry for, especially today".

TK smiled.

"What do you suggest?"

"First? A nap" he said. "Then? I'll call Paul, Marjan, Mateo, Judd, Grace, and Nancy to come over so we can celebrate the strongest person we all know" his voice was soft and full of love. "while eating tacos and seeing Marjan destroy everyone on every videogame we can find. What do you think?"

"Only if you promise me cuddles too," he said, smiling just as much as Carlos.

"Anything else?"

"Nah," TK said, pressing a quick kiss to Carlos' mouth. "I don't need anything more than you".

While TK snored softly beside him, a few minutes later, Carlos could only think about how the sight of TK crying could break his heart more than anything else, and how the simple knowledge he was okay and even a little bit happy was enough to mend every crack in his soul.

Falling for Morgan had been easy and unnoticed. Falling for Trevor had been funny and lasting. Falling for Declan had been a mistake.

Falling for TK was just right.

[saladejin]

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’ 

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me) 

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :) 

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories. 

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.  

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.” 

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed. 

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

  ~ three months later ~

 “That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.  

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

~

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

~

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

~

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

~

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don’t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

~

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?  

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

 ~

~

 Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home. 

.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

TO BE CONTINUED

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[stoppit-keepout]

:) so i watched all of ted lasso that’s out (to date, so up to 2x11) this week, and i’ve been avoiding thinking of work and preferring thinking of a keeley/roy/jamie fic so uh: here is a concept, in the hopes that writing it out here will free me of its dark draw and let me keep focusing on my actual active wips. heads up that it starts kinda gross and gets more tolerable after the first 3 paras lol.

jamie’s dad is a real shit, we can all agree. he has decided to escalate that to a particularly literal level by just... (sorry for being gross, he’s gross) leaving shit on jamie’s doorstep as wretched, childish revenge for jamie standing up for himself in Man City.

The first time Jamie gets home after practice and nearly steps in dogshit, he doesn’t lie to himself. This wasn’t some rich idiot neighbour letting their dog do its business wherever. Years of living with his father’s fucking antics, he knows a ploy when he’s forced to scrape it off his front step with a garden spade.

And as childish and stupid as it is, the disgust from dealing with these regular deliveries of shit gets under his skin. It has a twisted element of genius, because it’s so fucking stupid that it’s not like Jamie can tell anyone about it and have them take it seriously. He’s not about to go whining to anybody that his daddy’s been leaving poo on his doorstep, that’d be psychotic. It’s not even threatening, really, it’s just nasty. It just means his dad’s keeping an eye on when Jamie’s at home, when he’s out, without Jamie knowing how he’s doing it. It means that even though Jamie’s a grown man of twenty-three, making more in a month than his dad ever has in a year, he can be humiliated and upset whenever his dad wants.

So he’s avoiding going home sometimes. After games, after training, after video review, after pints with the lads... He pulls sometimes, but the first time a girl’s got a roommate and he has to tell her they can’t just go to his to fuck (because he’s scared, pathetic), he stops trying quite so hard to get laid.

If the team still had a shrink, maybe he’d talk to her about it. Probably not, though. He’s already run through all the possibilities about a hundred times: pick a fight with his dad, call the cops, shut up and deal. Two of those options stand a pretty high risk of the world finding out, and frankly he’s had his share of bad headlines for the year, so he goes with the third option. He handles it.

Nothing new there.

The new thing rears its head about a month and a half after that fucking Man City game. Jamie’s stayed behind in the gym after practice for a bit of extra cardio (one plus: he’s in incredible shape these days), and Roy Kent lives up to his player chant by appearing out of thin goddamn air in the two seconds Jamie looks away from the mirror to take a drink of water.

There’s some cussing on both sides (Jamie shouldn’t goddamn wear himself out, Roy should wear a bloody bell if he’s gonna sneak around in the dark) and Jamie doesn’t totally understand how he ends up trailing Roy out of Nelson Road, into the passenger seat of Keeley’s car (he tries not to feel insulted that Roy’s got driving privileges that he himself had never earned), and back down the familiar road to Keeley’s place.

Conversation in the car is limited to Roy’s (hot, goddamn it) growls and insistence that Keeley wanted them to wait for her before talking. Jamie curses at him, but his heart’s not really in it. He leans against the glass and watches dashed lines on the roadway disappear from view under the car, one after the other.

Back at Keeley’s, Roy is blunt when he accuses Jamie of trying to practically move into Nelson Road, and if that old ballsack of a father he’s got has gone and done anything to his home, Roy’s going to fucking kill him. It’s all very... very, and Jamie feels like a total tit admitting that, essentially, he’s allowed himself to be terrorized by shit.

Keeley says he’s not a pussy for not wanting to deal with this. She’s being nicer than Jamie can handle, they both are, and it’s fucking weird and maybe Jamie hasn’t been sleeping well, because he can actually feel his eyeballs getting all hot and fucked up like he’s going to cry, but he absolutely won’t cry.

They bully him into staying with them just until he can figure out if he wants to move or anything. He lets himself be bullied. It might be torture for him, staying with the woman he’s in love with and the man that she loves (who he may or may not have accidentally created some early sexual fantasies about by virtue of bad poster placement in his old bedroom), but. Well, Jamie’s tired and they’re hot.

So he stays with them. Keeley wakes up later than either Roy or Jamie, so whichever of the boys is up first will go on a coffee run, and the other gets a start on breakfast, and eventually Keeley wanders down in fluffy pink slipper-sandals and kisses Roy. The first few days, Jamie looks away to not make it weird. When he’s feeling more like himself, he smirks and asks if she’s got anything for him too, and she winks and says not yet. Roy growls at that as well, and Jamie’s honestly starting to admit that it’s hot as well as scary.

When Keeley needs a bit of time to herself, Jamie somehow ends up spending the night at Roy’s place. They get sloshed and when Jamie wakes up he’s got blue sparkly nails because Roy had broken out Phoebe’s nail varnish. Phoebe compliments Jamie on his nails when he sees her later (and that’s a thing, Jamie’s somehow at a point in his life where he’s eating ice creams with Roy Kent’s judgmental niece?).

The domesticity just! fucking! escalates! and eventually Jamie’s forced to confront the fact that he’s stopped looking for new places to stay. He obviously reacts to this fact by trying to sabotage the good shit he’s got going right now, but (and I swear I’m not writing this!!) Keeley sees right the fuck through him, Roy’s not far behind, and they bully him into a better mood. Sexually. (And he’s OBVIOUSLY got a huge praise kink, and Roy OBVIOUSLY loves humiliating him with safe-sane-consensual love, and Keeley OBVIOUSLY takes advantage of having two fit footballer types at her beck and call, and they all live sexily ever after.)

fin lol

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

The Devil’s Daughter Ch. 2

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: The Winter Soldier X Reader (Bucky X Reader)

Summary: Born and bred to be a monster worthy to lead Hydra into a new age you must decide if you will become the beast they always intended or perhaps something greater… Someone worthy even, of love.

Warnings: Trauma. This one is lighter but I still advise to tread with caution when it comes to this series. 

A/N: I MISSED ALL OF YOU! I’ve been so wrapped up with work and another project that I haven’t had really any time to breathe. BUT I finally took like a half step back and remembered that fic is actually a form of self care for me. I LOVE writing these stories and needed to make time for this and, of course, to give those of you who are invested something to sink your teeth into. 

This is a shorter chapter but will answer that lingering question from the last chapter and, I hope, make up for the wait just a bit. 

Love you sweet pumpkins! 

TAGS ARE OPEN

If I missed your tag please remind me. 

You hadn’t expected sleep to come easily. It rarely did even before this seemingly endless day, and yet the moment you settled into the plush bed you fell into blissful unconsciousness. 

A few hours before sunrise, your eyes pop open. It certainly wasn’t the longest night’s sleep but you felt more than rested. Another side effect of the serum you suspected, and honestly, not a bad one. 

You had work to do. 

Tentatively you step from your room, both cautious of any potential threats and not wanting to disturb the presumably sleeping Soldier, wherever he may be. Thankfully, you found neither assailant nor your new muscle stalking around the space. 

Given your first goal of the day you were honestly more grateful to not see the Soldier awake than you were to not face an attack.

On the small dining table, the boxes of files on The Soldier sat just where you’d left them the night before. You lay your hand on top of one, almost reverently. 

There was no doubt that what these boxes contained was unpleasant if not horrific. Part of you almost didn’t want to crack into them, not wanting to take this journey now. 

With a deep breath, you shake your head, dismissing your hesitation. You’d made a commitment, albeit only to yourself, that you would give him his name back. And if his freedom could be wrenched from these files… Well, you’d do that too.

By the time the sun finally lit the windows you felt ill. No one could ever accuse you of having a weak constitution when it came to violence but still… some levels of depravity, especially sanctioned depravity, were more than even you could bear. 

The story told of The Soldier unfolded in the files on the floor around you. It was a lesson in just how deep the cruelty of man could go. 

Beyond the more gut-wrenching details, you’d gained a surface understanding of how he ticked. The triggers and tools available to you, none of which you intended to use, as well as his limitations. 

Part of his appeal was that he could be rendered a blank slate, a human weapon at the full control of whoever had a firm enough grasp on his leash. However, wiping him and bringing him fully back to square one had its risks. 

The insidious technique always carried the chance of simply leveling him to a state of drooling uselessness at best and death at worst. Because of this, they only wiped him entirely with the use of the chair when absolutely necessary. In fact, his last full wipe had been almost four years ago—which likely explained his remembering your encounter from several years prior. 

From what you gathered so far, this was one of the longer stints Hydra had gone without either icing or wiping him. The notes indicated that this was a great win. They thought they’d finally broken him. 

A smile filled your face knowing this was far from true. 

“Amusing read?” 

You had been so absorbed in your research that you didn’t hear his approach and embarrassingly jumped at the sound of his voice. 

“The content isn’t amusing. Their misguided ideas though…” 

His brows raise at this, “Ideas about what?” 

“That they have somehow finally broken you.” The moment the words leave your lips you regret them. His expression is unreadable, a combination of horror, disgust, and murderous rage that no language you knew had a word for. 

“Haven’t they.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Your presence here says they haven’t.” As did his attempt on your life last night and the fact that he didn’t kill you when you told him your plan. He doesn’t respond, just shoves his hands in his pockets, fixing his gaze out the window. 

“They think because they haven’t had to wipe you in so long that you’ve given in. It’s amusing because it’s the exact opposite, isn’t it? You figured out-”

“Even a dog learns not to bark when the shock collar goes off too many times.” His frigid tone makes you flinch. You think to respond but his cold glare freezes your jaw shut. “It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.”

“You’re wrong.” 

A muscle in his jaw ticks and you brace for his rebuttal. It doesn’t come. He simply turns and strides onto the terrace. 

To say that wasn’t what you expected would be an understatement. Last night he admitted to remembering you, admitted that what he did to Eric he did for the both of you. Clearly he had grabbed hold of a bit of autonomy, some level of self-awareness. Yet he didn’t see it as any kind of victory… 

Rather than push the matter, you sigh and begin repacking the boxes, tucking the nightmarish pieces of The Soldier’s puzzle away--all but one. 

The file was old, dating back to WWII, it’s edges frayed and flaking. Once more you flip open the cover. 

Held by a rusted paperclip is a black and white photo of a striking young man in military dress with a mischievous smile. 

Your eyes wander from the photo to the man on the terrace. Logically you knew they were the same person but at the same time, it seemed impossible. There was a spark in the person staring back at you in the photo, an effortless charm that couldn’t be dulled by the passage of time. For that energy to remain in a photograph and not in the man himself… 

Taking care to not damage the picture, you slide it from the paperclip. The document below held nothing but basic information, information he may want. The photo though--well it seemed almost cruel to present him with it when it was clear the man in it had died a long time ago. 

“Oh,” you breathe out as his reaction makes some kind of sense to you. 

Before you’d wondered if he may remember his name, it seemed marginally possible given that he’d known you. But after what you’d learned and how your words had clearly hurt you knew that wasn’t the case. He may have wrenched some control back out of sheer will over the past few years but it was, for him, a hollow victory.

With effort you swallow the lump in your throat, setting the file on top of the box before you head back to the room you’d slept in. 

Looking to take your mind off your bungled good deed you pick up the burner phone Mara had given you thinking to ring her to come on up until you note the early hour. The woman had been through hell, you could grant her a few more hours of what you hoped was restful sleep. 

Unable to think of anything else to do you get in the shower, turning the water to a scalding temperature. The sting on your skin grounding you in your body, making you feel present, as pain so often did. 

-

He wanted to… apologize? Maybe? Even though he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to or if he was just afraid of what may happen if he didn’t. 

She isn’t like that, he tries to tell himself. But whether that was the truth or just his own pathetic need for it to be true he didn’t know. 

If he was being honest, he could hardly tell up from down.

Sighing, he rubs his temples, forcing down a few deep breaths. 

She didn’t deserve that, a voice in his head whispers. It’s right. She may be the one who was wrong but he’d been needlessly cold. 

Squaring his shoulders he heads back inside only to be met by the sound of the shower. 

Relief floods him. He may have decided he would apologize but he hadn’t actually known what to say. Before he’s able to think more about it his eyes land on a single folder sitting conspicuously on top of the boxes. 

In the span of a heartbeat, everything around him falls away for just a moment. Then the alarm bells sound. 

He’s both too hot and too cold. His breath ragged, if not gasping.  In his chest, his heart threatens to break free. 

Still, he moves like a man possessed toward the unassuming document. 

All night he’d thought of coming out here and opening these boxes. Tearing through them with the hopes that he’d get back whatever they took from him or find out that there was nothing worth regaining. 

Really that’s what he wanted to learn. More than anything he wanted to open these boxes and know that he had always been this creature of Hydra. He wanted there to only be this. He needed the skinny boy with the busted lip and bright smile, the woman humming in a kitchen, and the little girl on ice skates who haunted his dreams to be figments crafted by his fractured mind. 

If the Soldier was all he ever was he could continue onward. Anything else… 

With shaking hands he lifts the file and opens it. 

It’s like being punched in the chest. 

Gasping he falls to his knees on the plush carpet. In his mind, he’s falling elsewhere. A man screams a word printed on the page. 

“Bucky!” 

It echoes through his very bones. Over and over. 

“Bucky, you promise I won’t fall?” The little girl wears a red scarf, her blue eyes big and trusting. 

“Bucky, take this to the table and tell your sisters to wash up.” The woman has the same blue eyes, her smile feels like home. 

“Bucky, I don’t need you to fight my battles.” The skinny boy says, wiping blood from his lip. 

“Bucky!”

“Bucky!”

It feels like the only sound in the world. 

“James!” 

That wasn’t right. 

“James!”

Another word. Another name. 

“James, you come back to us. You hear me boy?!” The man’s voice and face were severe but his brown eyes shone with tears. 

“James, you really bring out the best in him you know?” The woman’s red lips curl in a friendly smile. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake. James!” 

The sting of a slap brings reality crashing in sending all the nameless ghosts tumbling back into the fog always lingering at the edges of his mind. In their stead is a face with a name he knows. 

“Catherine.” 

She huffs out a breath, wet hair tumbling into her face smelling like flowers. When she looks back at him her eyes flood with regret. 

“I’m so sorry for hitting you. I… You didn’t seem to be breathing but you looked like you were screaming…”

“It’s o-”

“It isn’t ok.” Sighing, she sits cross-legged in front of him, her eyes lighting on the file still gripped in his hands. 

Only then do his eyes reluctantly find their way back to the page. 

Barnes, James “Bucky” Buchanan 

He fights down the bile rising in his throat. 

“James.” It comes out garbled like his tongue can’t quite make sense of the syllables. He doesn’t notice his trembling until her warm hand rests against his left forearm. 

“You called me, James.” 

“I did. Was that ok?” He meets her eyes once more, unsure of how to answer. “I won’t use it if-” Shaking his head he cuts her off glancing back at the page. 

“James is good.” Too many nameless faces whispered the other name. But James, there were fewer echoes there. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, James.”

Her voice is warm, soft. He almost thinks he’s imagining it. 

“Is it?”

“Without question.” She gives his arm a squeeze, and he knows this is real. 

“I assume you prefer coffee to tea?” Catherine asks as she rises to her feet, striding to the phone without explanation. 

“I-” He’s a bit baffled by the shift. 

“Well, you are American. So I assume you prefer coffee.” 

Did he? 

“I’ll get both and if you prefer coffee I win.” He can’t help but laugh a little. 

“What do you win?” 

“I’ll think of something.” She winks before picking up the receiver and James could almost swear his pulse quickened if only a little. 

TAGS

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[chicago-reeed]

Detroit Evolution

So

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S  IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say  c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k  right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH  S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

[loverofyaoi22]

Erin was terrified as she sat there before three measly, greasy looking hunters. Wing hunters that is. Wing hunters went around capturing any fairy they could get their hands on and ripping their wings out which they would later sell on the black market for loads of money.

It was a painful process that would either kill the fairy or would leave them forever unable to fly. The psychological affects of ripping a fairies wings out were devastating. When a fairy had their wings ripped out, it took away a fairy’s freedom to fly and enjoy the skies. Wings also changed form and shape as they grew which helped with magic development. When wings were ripped out it could lead to server depression, feelings of alienation and a slow descent into madness. Fairies needed to fly. Without it the crave to fly and be free would slowly drive the fairy insane as it took over.

That usually lead to death by suicide sadly or the fairy would slowly shut down as wings helped show emotions. They’d flutter when happy, droop when sad, be displayed when angry or challenging someone, etc. Fairies needed them and Erin had seen too many fairies die at the hands of greedy monsters like these! Erin herself was a fairy but she had hidden her wings from view because of the rumours of wing hunters within the local area.

"What a cute looking fairy, i bet your wings are gorgeous." One of the humans laughed darkly as he used his hand to lift her face up to meet his eyes. Erin glared at him, fear deep within her eyes. “Your wings will be the most gorgeous ones ever sold. Tales of gold and silver with hanging jewels off of the tips unlike normal fairies. The blood said to sparkle as the wings are pulled from the body and they twitch. God, I can’t wait to cut your wings off!” He laughed, eyes holding a psychotic and greedy glint. Such a disgusting human; with such a vice covered soul she was surprised he hadn’t been killed by his greed.

“Go fuck yourself! You won't have my wings." She growled angrily, shuffling about even though she had been bound up by rope, keeping her arms bound to her torso. Her ankles and wrists were bound together by made draining chain and her body was bound by strong rope that rendered her immobile. The guy chuckled and laughed, bringing tears to murky eyes. The guy was around the age of 26 with long greasy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. The man had been spoiled his entire life by rich parents -that was easy to see by the way he acted and dressed - and whenever he didn’t get his way would make sure the person suffered.

What a disgusting human being!

He wore a long sleeved white top with a blue waist coat overtop that had gold chains hanging out the pockets. His black leather pants were clean and were very pristine, showing he took care of them and prided himself with that. A good leader always keeps themself clean and presentable even when doing dirty work. The leather was that of top quality and was not cheap by any means. "Oh but Fairy Queen, your wings are the best out there. That is, unless you want us to rip the wings out of all your people. We’ll tie you up and force you to watch as we cut out the wings of every man, woman and child in your stupid kingdom!” He threatened, pulling her hair causing her to look at him.

Erin had to laugh. This mere human thought he could get past her kingdoms protection barrier?! Fuck no! Not even a boss monster could! Only she could break the barrier! “Hahahaha! Good luck you pathetic human! You can’t even make a scratch on that barrier. You wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near my people!” She snarled. The human man clearly didn’t like this back chat and got in her face.

“Oh really?!” He shouted. “And how would a slut like you know?! Humans are stronger than monsters!” He screamed, face red with anger. “I’m not a full monster!” Erin growled back and spat in his face. He didn’t like that and grabbed his knife from the holster on his belt. He grabbed it and began cutting down her face and eye with the blade. It caused her to scream in pain; crying and shaking.

She just wanted to go home! That’s all she wanted!

Erin's screams and the humans maniacal laughter echoed out into the surrounding foliage making Error stiffen. He could smell blood and fear and hear the sounds of sobs and skin opening. Looks like he had new powerful senses. He looked around wildly, his senses on overdrive.

The person was in pain, whoever it was and they were clearly not alone if the dark laughing indicated anything. His slit eye-lights were looking around and scanning for any indication to show where the screams and laughs were coming from.'its ok, i will find you! I’ll stop your pain! I won’t let you suffer like I did!' He thought in desperation. He didn't want someone to be hurt like him, someone becoming so broken it left them questioning as to why.

Null looked up at his daddy, wondering why he looked so frantic. Another pain filled scream sounded out making him whimper and curl closer to his daddy's chest. His tail curled around his legs as his ears went down. The screams sounded so sad and like his when he begged them to stop, when they hurt him with their needles. "Daddy, please stop those screams. They're hurt! Stop them like you stopped him." Null whimpered out, clutching onto the others ribs.

Error didn't have a chance to put his top on when he jumped into the void from the other multiverse so all he was wearing was his shorts and trainers with his makeshift, blood soaked bandages on his ribs which had stopped bleeding and dusting but he had to be careful as to not reopen his wounds again. "I WiLl nUlL, i WiLl sToP tHeIr sCrEaMs AnD tHe OnE cAuSiNg ThEm." Error promised. Closing his eyes, he decided to use his enhanced sense of smell to find the direction on which the screams came from.

The smell of flowers blended in with the smell of firewood, alcohol, tears and blood?! Shit, this was worse than he thought! ‘North west!’ He thought in shock, eyes snapping open.

The green plants and trees looked all the same to him so he didn't know as to where he was and how far away he was from the nearest town, but the place was beautiful and the perfect temperature. The forest called to him and his senses, making him feel somewhat alive. His nose caught wind of a floral scent with a hint of the sea. It was coming north west from then and the smell of blood clearly indicated the person was hurt.

He narrowed his eyes and growled, showing huge fangs as his lip was brought back in a vicious snarl. It seemed no matter where he went, someone innocent was getting hurt for no reason and it angered him. He didn't want anyone turning out like him, being broken beyond hope, being unable to be put together again.

His bones broke, his soul rejecting itself and ripping itself apart to please someone else who would never be pleased or satisfied. "BoYs hAnG oNtO mE, AlRiGhT?" Error said as he took off running. As he began running, he used all his body weight to give himself a boost which left a huge hole in the dirt.

Null giggled as his daddy ran, his movements jostling him and his brother in his tight grip as he held onto his fathers rib. This the most fun he’d ever had! He didn’t want it to stop! The scents and colours blurred together as they moved, making everything go by quickly.

"Fun, fun!" Null laughed happily, his tail swishing happily. Void giggled too and shrieked with laughter. "Ahwoo~ ahh! Hahaha!" He cooed out. It made no sense at all but he was happy and to Null that's all that mattered. He held his little brother’s tiny hand and smiled. “See? Daddy is very awesome!” voids little giggles were his answer.

Error panted as he ran, wincing as some wounds reopened at his harsh movements and began to bleed again. 'Please hang on just a little longer, I'm on my way!' He thought frantically. He wasn't going to let someone else get hurt if he could prevent it.

Erin hit the deck, her voice raw; face wet and sticky with tears and blood.

Her left eye ached and so did her cheek and eyebrow from the two large gashes cut into her eye and skin. She was glad she had super regenerative abilities as the fairy queen so she could fix her eye but she’d have scars. She ached all over, her muscles burned and the new cuts throbbed as they bled. Her left eye was shut even more tightly as a cut on her hairline bled and blood poured down the left side of her face.

"Fuck you!" She sobbed out, bruises forming on her cheek and staining the pale skin dark purple. She spat out some blood onto the others clothes, making him frown in displeasure. "Bitch." He hissed and used his foot to turn her onto her back and began kicking her stomach. Erin groaned and moaned in pain at every painful blow. More tears fell. All she felt was pain! ‘I don’t want this! I can’t protect myself and it hurts!’ She thought.

Bruises littered her arms and legs as well as bleeding cuts that were filled with the mud from the forests floor. Dirt stained her blue top and brown skirt. Her clothes were torn from the beating and covered in blood. The guys workers laughed as they sat on a rotting log nearby and drunk some whisky from their titanium flasks. Her wings would win them a fortune!

Their black and brown guard dogs sat by with red collars on, gold spikes sticking out as well as collars. They barked angrily, saliva going everywhere. "You get her boss." One laughed. He was a convicted sex offender and domestic abuser. He was a wanted man but with his boss’ help and constant moving around he was never caught.

He wore a black trench coat with silver seams and chains on the pockets with a brown top and grey jeans that were accompanied by scuffed black boots. His brown eyes was hazed by alcohol and his brown hair was swept back. His brother sat beside him, wearing a long sleeved button up t-shirt whose sleeves were pushed up to the elbow and some blue pants with brown shoes. His brother was a wanted man for murder and rape of a young child. He was truly disgusting. Their breaths reeked of alcohol and it made Erin feel sick.

Her body felt overloaded and her thoughts raced as did her soul. ‘Please, someone save me! I don’t want to die! My kingdom will be unprotected and Claudia..my friends...I can’t leave them!’ She thought as kicks kept going and screamed as a rib broke. ‘Claudia, help me! I’m scared!’ She thought with desperation.

The boss -who went by the name Terry- finished kicking her and kicking her onto her right side, making her face away from them. Erin coughed up blood and vomit, whimpering. All she had to do was go to the market to do some shopping, but her basket was lying in the bushes as they were ripped from her hands by the three assholes above her. "Show us your wings Fairy Queen." Terry hissed, smirking.

If he got the Fairy Queen's wings he could make a goddamn fortune selling them on the black market. He would be rich and he would be able to live in a grande Villa in the south of Snowdin. Erin sniffled and used her bound hands that were rubbed raw and bleeding due to the magic draining chains to sit up and glared. "Go to hell. I won’t show you my wings!” She hissed as tears flowed and blood dribbled down swollen and purple cheeks. She would never show a mere human who wanted to steal her wings what he wanted!

Terry grew angry and pulled out the dagger from his back pocket holster again. It was a fine blade of steel around 6 inches long and with a gold handle that was said to have been crafted by a local blacksmith within Snowdin's capital. "I will kill you!" He shouted as he lifted the dagger up

Erin closed her eyes and sobbed silently waiting for the final blow but all she heard was a scream of "what the hell?!"

Confused, she snapped opened her eyes and gasped. A tall glitchy skeleton with midnight bones stood before her in a crouched position, growling. His ears were pulled backwards, his six ombré tails swishing angrily as he guarded her. 'A...kitsune?' She thought in shock. For a second there, she thought she was going to die at the hands of greedy humans but it seemed that a demon fox skeleton had heard her cries for help.

Tears of pain turned into tears of relief. She wasn’t gonna die! She was safe!

Error stood before the tied up girl, fury coursing through his veins. They had tried to kill an innocent person for no reason, after tying her up and beating her to the point her skin was black and blue with multiple cuts. He came across the sight, panting and his bones creaking. Null watched the mean humans cut and kick their captive and he whimpered, burying his face in his fathers chest.

It hurt to watch!

Ir reminded him of the scientists who experimented on him. "Daddy, their mean." He whimpered. Error growled, his lips moving back in a snarl. Putting Null on the floor, he petted the younger kitsune.

"StAy HeRe nO mAtTeR wHaT. LoOk AfTeR VoId fOr mE." His daddy said before rushing off. Null hid within the bush, Void cooing and looking around; touching the leaves and flowers. 'Daddy can do it. If anyone could help her its daddy. Daddy is safe after all.' He thought.

‘You disgusting bastard! People like you should be burning in hell!!’ He thought in absolute fury. His marrow boiled. They hurt a mere child!

When Terry tried to go and stab her, Error kicked the human on his ass, snarling and crouching in a fighting position in front of the girl. The girl was bleeding and bruised to no end. He growled and snapped his head in the direction of the dogs who walked over to protect their masters.

The dogs growled and barked roughly but he roared loudly causing the dogs to whimper and their ears to go down, tails between their legs and lay their heads on their paws.

A sign of submission.

He turned to the human who scrambled back. "What the hell?! A kitsune?! What the fuck, i thought they were endangered!" He said in fear, his face ashen pale and sweating buckets. Kitsunes were rare and were hunted to pretty much extinction by humans for their fur which was not only used for rope making, clothes making and that, it made good medicine too.

His two goons pissed themselves from fear and screamed as thinly slit eye lights turned to them and big fangs snapped at them. "You're on your own!" One brother screamed and ran off into the surrounding foliage, his brother following as well as their dogs following him. They weren’t dying today!

"Hey, don't leave me you cowards!" Terry screamed in fear. This kitsune was angry, the feral eyes and growling as well as body position showing its fury and will to pounce. “You sick bastard!” Error screeched furiously and punched in him. He pinned the fucker down and proceeded to gut the guy with his razor sharp claws.

It was relatively easy as cutting into his abdomen was like a knife through butter. It was soft and fleshy, not a lot of resistance to his claws. As claws cut deeper and deeper past muscles, fat and tissue, blood spilled onto the ground. Terry screamed in agony and blood ran out his mouth making his screams gargled.

“Stop, please stop!! Stop, stop, stop, stop!! I’ll do anything just please stop have mercy!! Please have mercy! I beg of you!” He sobbed out. Error stopped and for a moment they locked eyes with eachother. Erin watched in shock as the Kitsune snickered and laughed with a static filled voice. “You don’t deserve mercy and whilst I’m merciful to people, I am not to you!” He growled and began cutting again. Soon he was at the intestines, ignoring the others screams. He pulled the intestines out and threw them aside staining the floor, plants and his hands with blood.

He continued to cut out and remove organs one by one, showing the organs to Terry before throwing them aside qirhna sick splat. Terry watched in pain and horror at his own organs and screeched as bones were also broken. Error laughed darkly. No he would feel the pain he inflicted on others! Soon screams fell silent and Terry was dead; chest cavity wide open and empty. The other hissed, standing tall and glaring down at him.

How pitiful. In the end he was nothing but a coward.

Error sighed. Humans truly were greedy and horrible; hurting an innocent person for no reason or for money. He would never get humans and their ways of life or thinking. Turning to the girl, he chuckled at her awed and slightly horrified look. Sure he was merciful and didn’t like being beaten or killing innocent people and their homes but people like him? He loved killing them slowly and inhumanely so they could suffer!

He would say the girl was around the age of 16 to 17 with long brown hair tipped blue that cascaded down her shoulders to her hips and blue eyes holding confusion and slight horror.

Dried blood caked her face and bruises littered her skin. Her cheeks were swollen and her left eye was not only badly cut up but swollen shut. From the tears in her clothes, he could see her stomach was a dark purple. The cuts had started to clot and he frowned. "YoU oKaY kId? YoU’Re bAdLy hUrT." He asked her as he bent down and began to cut the rope binding her. He got a good look at her clothes. She wore a button up, pale blue top that's sleeves ended at her elbows and a long brown skirt. The clothes were torn in places and stained with mud as well as blood.

Erin nodded. "I am fine. Thank you so much for saving me." She said with a wince and small smile as the chains came free. She was not telling the full truth. She wanted to cry, to scream and be at home safe but with how she was, she couldn’t be. She needed to heal. She rubbed her wrists and smiled up at the kitsune. She finally took in his appearance.

He was around 6”10 and he was wounded; badly. His skull was covered in tons of cracks and scars that made his skull look fragile and ready to cave in from the slightest touch. His ribs were broken or had healed wrong in many places; some being held together by blood-soaked make shift bandages. His spine was scratched to shit and she was surprised he could walk. She couldn't see his hips or his thighs but she could guess they were also covered in cracks and scars. His legs and feet were also covered in multiple cuts and scars, including his toes.

Wow, and she thought her wounds were bad.

She frowned at how someone could be so hurt and look as if it didn't bother him. She had seen grown men like him scream at broken bones before, so how this monster wasn't screaming in agony was beyond her comprehension.

His eye sockets were red and his left eye light was white whilst the right was yellow with a blue ring and pupil. He had blue lines on his face, showing he had cried so much he had been branded by it. His skull was black as was the palms of his hands but the rest of his bones were red.

The dark red areas signified defied blood or bruising which was so server, he shouldn't be able to move let alone be standing proudly above her. Her heart broke knowing that he had been hurt, abused even, by someone so much he had been branded by his tears of pain and he was no longer bothered by the pain; clearly he had gone though worse times.

His ears were black tipped navy blue and filled with red fur. His tails were the same bar the red. He glitched and had 'ERROR" signs all over her. The skeleton kitsune smiled and sat down cross legged before her. "ThAts GoOd. NuLl, VoId, yOu tWo cAn cOmE oUt nOw." He said, his Deep and glitchy voice startling her a bit but not much.

Null and void came out.

Erin smiled as the tiny kitsunes went over to their father and crawled into his lap. They were both small, one clearly under the age of one and the other just under age 4 and a half. They had white bones and didn't glitch like their father, leading Erin to believe he had adopted the pair. They had white furry ears and tails but the oldest had his tipped blue and the baby tipped pastel orange.

Both wore high end, silk dresses even though they were male, not that she cared. She had a male friend back home whom could pull off dresses perfectly. "You saved her daddy! Daddy good man!” Null squealed happily, Void cooing and clapping his tiny hands. Erin smiled.

"I'm Erin, I'm the fairy Queen." Erin said standing up only to hit the deck again. Everything hurt so bad!

Error helped her up gently. “Kid, you’re very badly wounded you shouldn’t be moving around as it could hurt you even further.” He said with a serious but soft tone. Erin chuckled. “I’m fine sir. As the fairy queen I have certain healing and regenerative abilities.” She watched the others eyes widen slightly at that. "I know I don't look like much but its because of my magic. Its nice to meet you and your kits." Erin said offering a hand.

Error started at her hand but took it and shook it gently. "HeLlo ErIn, I'm ErRoR aNd tHeSe aRe my SoNs NuLl aNd VoId." He said.

Null waved at her, smiling. Erin waved back. "Its my pleasure. Sorry about those assholes -never use those words boys, they're bad- are wing hunters." Erin said as she went over to a nearby bush and decided to pick her basket out from within the leaves. She ignored the organs nearby. It was a simple basket that Erin was glad wasn't damaged.

Error didn't like the sound of that. "Wing hunter, someone who pulls the wings from creatures and sells them for money and profit." He said in disgust. He didn't like them, he had seen them in pervious AU's where the inhabitants had wings such as RebornTale, Angeltale and BirdTale. He loved watching them fly so it angered him when people tried to remove the wings like he was removed from his AU years ago from fate.

"Yeah. They wont do it again thanks to you though." Erin said with a cough of blood as she began to use her magic to heal her wounds. She placed a green glowing hand on the cut on her forehead. It began to knit itself back together until the cut was gone and then did the same to her eye. Once the wind was closed she had two scars and blinked. She could see!

She moved to the bruise, wincing at the pain as it was tender and used it to bring the swelling down and get rid of the internal bleeding. The kicking had torn open and wounded her organs but luckily she could repair them and the ribs that fixed itself with a snap making Error wince.

He knew how that felt.

Once the bruise and swelling had gone down, green flame like magic surrounded her body as she used her healing magic to heal most wounds she had sustained from the beating, especially the one to the stomach which had done the most damage. Pulling her top up, she showed her dark purple stomach. It was badly bruised and super painful. Error winced even more Humans skin wasn't supposed to turn that colour, especially where it housed their vital organs.

"T-That looks painful. Will you be okay kid?" Error asked with concern. Erin nodded as the bruising began to fade as all internal damage was fixed. "Yes i am Error. I am fine." She said with a slight tremble. Everything that happened was starting to take affect.

‘No meltdown, no meltdown, no meltdown!’ She thought. She had autism so things like what just happened could overload her. Error frowned and hugged her which she didn’t expect. Null looked at the glowing flame aura and gasped in awe. "Pretty!" He said making Erin chuckle. "Thank you. It's healing magic." She said letting her top fall.

(I'm no longer doing Error's voice LiKe ThIs.)

“Kid you’re not ok. It’s okay to cry when scared so if you wanna cry, cry.” He said softly and hugged her lightly. She needed it. Erin’s trembles got worse and she began sobbing and hitting her head violently. She didn’t feel safe, she felt exposed and overwhelmed. She hated it! ((Authors note: I have autism as I was diagnosed at age 12. I have violent meltdowns and it isn’t nice at all so I’m going off of my own experiences.))

“Kid no! Don’t hurt yourself.” He said gently holding her hands to stop her from hurting herself. Null hugged her round the waist and Void held her ankle. Poor lady must be scared! ‘Don’t worry! Hugs and kisses makes it all better!’ Null thought kissing her hand and void her leg. Error chuckled. They sure liked making people happy.

Soon the meltdown was over and Erin was exhausted, leaning against Error. “Sorry. I still have so much to do and I just made myself look like an idiot.” She mumbled. Null frowned. “You’re not an idiot ma’am. You’ve been hurt and it’s okay to cry. Daddy saved us from a bad man too. It’s okay to cry.” He said with determination.

Erin chuckled weakly and let his skull. “Such a nice boy. Your daddy taught you well.” She mumbled. Error smiled and decided to change the subject.

"So, you said you were the fairy Queen. I thought fairies were supposed to have wings." Error said in confusion. She had no wings what so ever so how was she the fairy queen? He had seen his fair share of queens before, Toriel was always the queen and was a king ruler but some AU's were the exception. "I am but i can hide my true appearance with magic." Erin said as she finished healing herself and stood up on her own.

She felt weak from the magic use and meltdown but a little bit off food and some sleep would make her feel good a new. She activated her magic again to reveal her wings.

Error watched in awe as a pink aura burst around her form. Her messy hair straightened and became slightly curly at the tips as a forehead crown made of pearls and pink tear drop crystal in the centre formed on her head.

Her clothes changed shape, becoming a light pink, off the shoulders Dress, the skirt becoming slit just below her hips. The front half of the skirt had sewn on dark pink gemstones and blue crystals arranged to make a flower. The gems were also on the back around the sleeves edge that widened near the wrist and at the neck line. She wore a gold corset made of metal that sat above the dress. It looked heavy when in reality, it was charmed to be weightless. It was encrusted with rubies, sapphires and rose quarts.

Erin wore gold ankle cuffs that was also encrusted with gemstones. Her wings opened up, shocking him. They were like three wings in a pair of wings.

The wings had fuchsia outer boarder with blue and gold tips. There was three silver jewels in the centre of the wings and then light pink. She had some blue jewels dangling of the six tips and they sparkled in the sun.

"Now i can see why they call the Fairy Queen." Error said in shock. He had never seen magic so advanced before in someone who wasn't him or Inky so this person was very powerful if they could use their magic to conceal their true appearance and appendages from sight.

He sighed. He could never have a normal friend could he? He looked at her wings and wondered if they were made of living tissue or magic like Skeletons were.

"Its fine, my magic makes it hard for anyone to see my appearance once I conceal it." Erin said, carting her basket. "Error, may I ask, who has hurt you. I can assure you the person who has hurt you will be found and punished, this looks like inhumane torture!" Erin cried out, looking absolutely horrified at his injuries.

"Its a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?" He asked as he stood up; causing his bones to crack and creak from the movement.

Erin shuddered at the sound. It made her anger boil at the fact someone could be so damaged, so broken yet still be in once piece as if it was okay. "I would love to hear it. You can tell it to me as we walk to the market, i am not leaving you without a home after saving my life." She said with determination.

Erins wings began to flutter allowing her to fly right beside him. "Alright. Fate is cruel and has one child who they adore..." And so Error told her off Fate, of Inky, Of how he had been ripped from his AU and forced into a job of destruction, killing people so peoples AU's could grow and how they hated him for a job he had no control over because of an out of control creator.

He watched in shock as Erin again broke down in tears and sobbed at his tail, angrily sobbing about how if she ever met this so called 'creator' she would rip his body into pieces only to put him back together again and let her friends torture him in the most gruesomest way possible until he was begging to death.

Error had never seen someone so angry about his treatment. It happened everyday and he was see to all the fights, the beating, the insults.

She grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes with determination and sincerity. "I swear to you Error, no one will ever hurt you or your Kits again, or i will personally kill them myself." Erin growled out. Erin was furious. How could people be so ungrateful to a demigod?! A demigod who was forced and who was broken in both mind, soul and body?

Error would admit he drowned in fates strings, struggled to keep everyone alive.

He hated the pain, he hated that no one could see the truth and blindly followed the one who would lead to their death but when no one knew the truth he didn't blame them. Sure everything hurt -he screamed, begged, bones breaking and blood pouring whilst his soul broke and was reattached itself- he admitted he learnt thing they didn't know.

He checked her quickly. The last of her family, an autistic child and queen of a huge kingdom. She had many friends and a fiancé. She was powerful with over 1,800 in attack and 1,500 in deference. Her soul trait was SINCERITY so her soul was turquoise. What an Interesting character.

“But I’m used to it. I’m broken and chocking on Fates strings. Fate likes one and I am not that one. There is nothing you can do and even if you could, you have over millions of Sanses to fight.” He said as he followed her.

Erin narrowed her eye that flashed turquoise for a second before returning to blue again "Those so called Judges seem very blind in their judgement if you ask me." Erin said as they walked into Snowdin's Market place. There were shops and stalls for miles; each stall filled with food, clothes, meat, medicine and other things people would be interested in buying.

Clothes were lined on racks, giving colour to all the bleak grey walls. Baskets were surrounded stalls that were set out with things Error had never seen.

Null watched the stalls and looked around at the people who crowded the streets. The sun beamed down from the sunny sky and warmed his bones and fur up.

The chatter and laughter of the crowd made the atmosphere light and fluffy. He didn't notice his daddy's confused face at the beautiful fairy's words but he enjoyed the smell of the cooking meat that permeated from the cooking stalls.

"Daddy, I'm hungry." He pouted as his stomach grumbled, Void even beginning to cry as his little tummy rubbed too. Error frowned and rocked the pair of them, even though he was concerned. They had no money and he couldn't leave his sons to steal anything in such a populated area. It would be a disaster!

Guards would run after them and people would have to move aside and try and catch them and there was NO WAY in hell he’d let them go for his children. They’d have to get through him first! “I’m so so sorry little ones. I do not have the backpack on me so all food is as Toriel. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait till I can find us some shelter and get you some food.” He said with sadly.

Erin frowned as Void cried and Null whimpered In hunger. "May i?" She asked.

Error turned to her apprehensively and frowned. "Only if you explain what you meant earlier." He said. He was confused as to what she meant that their judgement was blind. Erin nodded and took Void from his arms. "Shh, shh, its okay. We'll get you something to eat." She cooed, rocking and nuzzling the small baby kitsune.

Void's cries slowly came to a stop and she smiled; wiping his orange tears away. "There we go, happy baby." She giggled.

Turning to Error, she flew beside him as he walked into the crowd. "I meant that they are blind to their own misdoings. They see their actions as good and only good, not considering their own actions immoral and wrong. They cant see that what they have done had lead to you having great pain and suffering. They are also blind lapdogs I guess you could say. This Dream sounds like a love sick puppy with his tail between his legs.

If they believe one persons words and not bothering to exhaust all options before violence; if they don't see the reasons behind someone's action and someone history, and just go straight ahead into violence, then they are the idiots and the ones who should take a step back and think 'Whoa, hold on a minute, is what this person saying the and do i know what he is telling me is true? What do i know about this person? Do i know their reasons behind their actions, do i know what they've been though?' If not, then they're blind and easily lead." Erin explained, angrily, not caring when Void grabbed her hair and began chewing on it.

Error stared At her and couldn't believe it. He had never thought of it that way. He could see where she was coming from and what she meant.

In ways, the sanses and papyruses were blind to everything, only taking Ink's words and falling upon their own knowledge. They knew nothing about him, about Nightmare's gang or the Chara's. They only knew what Ink told them but never decided to find out their reasoning behind their actions and their history; what they went through.

"I never thought of it that way. Like I said, i could only do so much without Ink having everyone breathing down my neck and beating me to pieces. I could never find time to do anything and when i could find time, I would spend time in the Antivoid watching Undernovela, making puppets and clothes or hanging out with Nightmare's gang and the Chara's." Error said as he looked at the crowd. They watched him in horror, whispering about his wounds and promises of pain to the one who hurt him.

Other bowed as Erin came though as she was the queen. Erin nodded, handing Void back to his father. "Understandable. They will pay for it. Anyway, as you're here you can relax and no longer have to destroy." She said as she began to buy what she needed. She brought bags of vegetables and fruits as well as packaged meat.

Medicine was a must, she brought loads of it and she got things such as bread, butter, potions and baby food for Void. Error was in shock that a tiny basket could hold so much but Erin divulged that there was a spell on it so some of it was teleported to her palace.

Erin explained how she lived in the palace her parents left behind when they died with her friends who he would meet when he went home with her as she wanted him to have an actual home. Error didn't understand why she was determined to help him as he was used to the pain and he would heal overtime after all, once he had been pulled into tiny individual pieces and he just went back together again but she was having none of it. He sighed.

Null smiled as Erin handed him a small basket of freshly baked chocolate cookies.

“Thank you!" He said happily as he took one and bit into it. It was soft and the chocolate melted in his mouth making him moan happily at the taste. She was nice and lot more friendly then the others they had run into. He liked her. "You're welcome Null." Erin said happily and gave Error a bottle of formula to Error.

"Thank you Erin." He said as he put the nipple of the bottle in Voids mouth and the small infant began to suck the formula down like no tomorrow.

Null munched on the cookies as Erin went over to her last stop. Error watched as she approached an elderly man whose long grey hair was pulled back in a bun. He wore a dark blue shirt and grey shorts with black shoes. She said something in a language he didn't understand and he watched as the man pulled a piece of clothing off the rack and gave it to her. Smiling, Erin paid him and turned to him.

"We can go now." She said, going in the opposite way they came in from. Error followed, ignoring the rest of the people. "Also, you need to start eating again." Error looks at her, eye brow raised. "Why?! I have no need for eat, i cant die! I can survive without it." He said. Error would never understand eating. "I know but it will make you sick. Not eating means your kitsune mana reserves will deplete severely and make you very weak and sick." Erin said seriously. "OH."

[hazzasgayvodka]

1 * FRESH * 1

Impact: Chapter one 

Fun fact: Each chapter in this series is titled after a song so feel free to listen along as you read, chapter one is Fresh by Artist vs Poet

JESS

"Come on Jess! It'll be so much fun, I went to the end of the year party before summer!" She whines, tugging my arm as she falls to her knees on our carpeting.

"Sam, the new semester starts on Monday! The fair is tomorrow, and I have to be there to help hand out fliers for student government to represent the freshman class." I remind her, raising an eyebrow as I pull away from her and collapse onto the couch.

"Okay, how about I promise you that we'll be home by eleven? Eleven thirty at the latest! It's going to be the biggest party of the year, Jess!" She shrieks, grabbing back onto my hand.

I roll my eyes and shove her off, feeling my wall shattering as I become more and more susceptible to her constant begging.

"Please! We said no parties without each other this year! I really want to go with Louis! He's so cute Jess, please!"

I finally turn to meet her puppy dog eyes and her smile grows as soon as she can see the defeat on my face.

"You totally want to go! I can tell!" She squeals, bounding onto the couch from the floor and wrapping her arms around me.

I laugh as she continues screeching, already obsessing over what she's going to wear. She stumbles up from the couch and runs to her closet, holding up various pairs of ripped jeans to her paper thin frame.

"This?" She asks holding up a pair of black jeans and a skin-tight tshirt that says "bite me".

I laugh, nodding my head and walking over to my own closet to decide what on earth I could wear to this stupid party. My eyes lock onto a plain white, form fitting dress at the back of my closet. I take it out just to get a glimpse of it but before I've even held it up in front of the mirror Sam is squealing.

"Yes! You have to wear that!" She gasps, reaching for the thin fabric and grabbing her white sandals from the corner by the door, "And these match perfect!"

"So do these." I smirk, holding up a pair of white converse.

She shoves the outfit onto my bed and gets to prepping her sleek blonde hair. She plugs in the crimper as she brushes her teeth twice, making sure to gargle some mouthwash before Louis gets here to pick us up.

"You better be getting dressed!" She calls over her shoulder, braiding the sides of her hair back into a fauxhawk.

HARRY

I walk in the door to a living room covered in streamers and balloons littering the floor. I kick a pathway to the kitchen to see Niall setting up a keg while Louis is stood on a chair, taping more blue streamers to the ceiling.

"What the hell?"

"It's the last Friday before the new semester starts! We've got to have a party!" Niall shouts, reaching up to high five Louis before returning his attention to the keg.

I shake my head, grabbing a beer bottle out of the fridge and walking back to the decoration covered living room. Everywhere I step, I'm tripping on balloons as I make my way to the boombox. I extend the antenna and switch it on, shuffling through radio stations until the static dies out and I can hear the opening lyrics of We Built This City by Starship.

"What time is everyone coming?" I ask, turning back to both of them.

"I said it started at eight," Niall shrugs, looking over his shoulder at the clock, "people will probably be here in like half an hour."

Suddenly Louis jumps, nearly falling off his chair as he squints his eyes to look at the clock hung on the wall behind Niall.

"Shit! It's almost eight! I've got to pick up Sam!" He stutters, climbing down from his chair and stumbling back to the front door.

He races through it, slamming it behind himself and running to his pickup parked in the driveway. It starts with a series of squealing and grinding before he backs out and slams on the gas down the road. I turn back to Niall with a laugh and push past the decorations to my room, conveniently marked with a piece of paper that reads DO NOT ENTER.

I collapse onto my bed and kick off my boots, waiting for the moment that my house is absolutely flooded with annoying house guests. I'm still staring at the ceiling, listening to the echo of the music playing from the living room when I hear the first shouts of partygoers. Suddenly the radio is back to static as someone goes searching through channels and lands on the channel advertising the best mix of Friday night party hits.

I drag myself off the bed and shove my feet into a pair of vans before trudging my feet into the party atmosphere. There's already more people than I expected, the crowd spilling outside into the lawn beside the packed driveway. The house is full of preps in collared shirts and khaki pants with their hats on backwards and red cups in their hands. I groan as I prepare to shove my way to the kitchen to get a much-needed drink just as I come face to face with Brittany, Ryland's girl toy for the past week.

She looks up at me with heavily lined eyes and orange makeup smeared all over her face and I can't help but laugh as her squeaky voice asks where the toilet is. I point her towards Niall's bathroom at the end of the hall and she smiles, pushing past me.

I roll my eyes, shuffling through the crowd and suffering through countless pats on the back and awkward handshakes with the regular frat boys that attend every party.

"Saw you fight last week, Styles! One for the books!" One of them yells, grabbing my shoulders from behind to congratulate me.

"Thanks." I quip, giving him a punch in the arm before finally making it to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the bucket of ice.

"This party is huge!" Niall shouts over the music, grabbing another beer and making his way back to the being the center of attention in the living room.

I laugh as he pushes back to the middle of the crowd and climbs on top of the table just as Poison comes on the radio, 101.9 HITS surprising me by blasting Nothing But A Good Time. He air guitars and the crowd cheers him on, rushing the coffee table and someone turns the radio up even louder, nearly deafening in my mostly sober state.

I turn around with my beer in my hand hoping to make it back to my bedroom before I get caught in the insanity when Ryland nearly bumps straight into me, reaching for a corona out of the bucket.

"Good to see you, Styles. You want to join me and the guys outside?" He smirks, nodding his head towards the front door and holding up a Ziploc bag full of at least ten blunts.

I entertain the idea as I take a sip of my beer and nearly follow him out the door just as my eyes catch sight of her. She's dressed in a fitting white dress, her dark red hair barely touching her shoulders. It's curly and wild, parted on the side and framing her tan face perfectly. She looks lost as she stands on the outskirts of the dancing crowd, her back against the wall as she nods her head to the music and gingerly drinks her way through a cider beer.

"Hold on a second." I cut in, shoving Ryland out of my way as he protests, and I work my way over to her.

I've barely looked away from her to say a quick hello to a group of girls calling my name when she's disappeared from her spot on the wall. I do a full 360, looking around the room hoping to spot her bright white dress in the sea of fishnets and fraternity tshirts.

"Dammit." I swear under my breath, craning my neck to look out the front door in case she just left.

"What is it man?" Louis asks, throwing his arm over my shoulders, a dazed look in his eye.

"Nothing," I laugh, shoving him off of me and leaning against the countertop behind us as I take the cup of beer from his hand as it's clear he doesn't need anymore, "I don't know, I just saw a girl and now she's gone." I think aloud, taking another sip of beer.

"What'd she look like?" He slurs, leaning more heavily on the counter.

"She had crazy red hair and she's in an insane white dress." I recount, picturing her figure perfectly.

"Oh my god!" He shouts suddenly, pushing off the counter to stand on his own, "That's Jess! She's Sam's roommate! I can introduce you!"

I try to decipher his slurred words and wonder if he's being serious or if it's the alcohol talking. I can't ever remember meeting Sam's roommate and I know for sure that if it was her I'd never forget.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive! We brought her here! She's probably with Sam!" He shouts over the music, grabbing my hand and drunkenly dragging me towards the center of the makeshift dance floor.

"Hold on," I laugh, tugging my hand away, "I'm gonna get another beer."

I turn away from the counter to go back into the kitchen when something, rather someone, knocks straight into me. I fall back against the counter behind me as their elbow jabs me in the ribcage and the force of the wall hitting my arm causes me to drop Louis's full cup. It hits the ground with a pathetic plastic clatter and a splat as the beer hits the tile. I hear a gasp as the liquid splashes back up at me and dampens my jeans. I look down to see her fiery red hair before my eyes travel to the amber stain soaking her white dress.

My heartrate is through the roof as I pick myself up off the wall and extend my hand to help her up. She looks up at me with dark brown eyes and huffs, shoving my hand away and getting up herself. I look her up and down and my eyes settle on her shoes, expecting to see a pair of heels or sandals but instead she's wearing a plain pair of white sneakers.

"Wow, graceful." She groans, running her hands through her messy hair.

She doesn't meet my eyes as she says it, instead looking down to examine the damage done to her dress. She rubs her hand against the fabric but rather than making it better, the amber stain only smears further, making her huff in frustration.

"Hey, I was just trying to-"

"Listen, sorry isn't going to fix the Coors light soaking through my underwear so why don't you make yourself useful and show me where the bathroom is."

"Of course," I smile, trying to mask the initial shock of her words and gesturing to the hall towards Niall's room, "after you babe."

She rolls her eyes but makes no comment as she walks past me, and I follow her, my brain working a million miles a minute just to keep up with her icy remarks.

"Which door?" She asks at the end of the hall and I'm suddenly smacked back to reality.

"Oh, the one on the right." I smirk, reaching out to open the door for her before slipping into the linen closet and grabbing her a towel.

I hand it to her with a cheeky smile which she returns before shoving me right out of the bathroom and slamming the door directly in my face.

"Excuse me dollface, you seemed to have locked me outside." I smirk.

"Oh dear, you might be right." She laughs, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I roll my eyes, lightly knocking my fist against the wood in an attempt for her to open up. In another minute or so the door swings open revealing her in nothing but a thin, tan slip dress with her white dress draped over her arm.

"You rang?" She asks, her voice emotionless.

"Actually, I knocked."

"Actually, you're irritating."

"Actually, you should let me take you out to dinner sometime."

Her facade breaks as her lips turn upwards into a small, shy smile. She rolls her eyes to mask her blushing cheeks but it's too late, I've already seen it.

"Come on dollface, you know you want to-"

"No thanks," She huffs, pushing past me, only turning to meet my eyes over her shoulder, "I don't waste my time on clumsy douche bags."

"Hey wait-" I call, grabbing her arm as I jog after her.

She shakes me off instantly, turning around to face me with wide eyes as she shoves me backwards.

"Don't touch me asshole!" She shouts, grabbing a stranger's cup from beside her and dumping the contents on my head without missing a beat.

I shut my eyes closed as the ice cold liquid drips down my scalp and into my face. I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands before looking up to see her face underneath my soaking hair on my forehead.

"Oops, my hand slipped, sorry." She apologizes, her voice laced with vengeance as she turns and walks back down the hall.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I yell after her, my brain finally catching up and my anger through the roof.

"Jess Lawson, it's been a pleasure." She calls over her shoulder nonchalantly.

"Well Jess Lawson, I have news for you," I shout, grabbing her arm roughly and spinning her around to face me, "You're in my territory at my fucking party and I'm definitely not the kind of guy you want to piss off."

I wait for it to sink in, for her face to fall, but the moment never comes. Instead, she narrows her eyes in on mine, her eyebrows furrowing together in frustration. Her face is scrunched up and her eyes are furiously burning into mine.

Does she think she's intimidating?

She takes a step forward and stands up impossibly straighter, though, she's still much shorter than me. She's still looking at me with those burning golden eyes, attempting to scare me in some sort of way I'm sure. I take another step closer and look down at her, my towering height having always been one of my favorite intimidation techniques.

Certainly, she doesn't think she can win this one.

I don't take my eyes off her, yet suddenly, my foot is throbbing, and she has the collar of my shirt gripped in her hand, yanking me down to her height. She's still staring at me but now we're eye level and my throat is brandished against the taut fabric of my collar. There's a smirk to her lips, a slight turn up at one side.

"Well I'm sorry sir, but frankly, I couldn't give less of a shit," She seethes, her eyes dangerously close to mine before she shoves me away from her, "Don't touch me again."

When I can't find my voice to reply she rolls her eyes and walks away. I rub my hand against my sore neck, but I can't seem to take my eyes off her and her sauntering hips.

"Who the hell was that?" Ryland asks behind me, sipping a beer.

"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt Ch 39: In Search of Finn

This piece is shorter than intended because I decided to break it in two - the setup and the search.  

~*~*~*~*~

"I think Finn would approve even if he got a little weird about it. And he might not. He'd come a long way by the time we became brothers."

 "What are you two talking about?" Carole asked, ears pricking up at the mention of her son.

 She gave Kurt a smile as he and Adam emerged from their bedroom hand in hand, the privacy spell having been banished with a spell-word from Adam. Kurt's vast collection of hygiene and grooming products had been put to good use, so that outside of the satisfied glow they both carried the two young men did not give any obvious signs of a couple who had just taken a quick roll in the hay. 

 Kurt smiled back at her, his cheeks pinking as he said, "I was just telling Adam that Finn would have approved of the honeymoon requirement for a Joining. He was disappointed when he found out that all gay couples didn't go directly from first kiss to, um, more than kissing. Apparently he had assumed that two guys would always go from zero to sixty without a second thought. Weirdly enough, when I told him that didn’t happen, it seemed to dispel the last of his latent homophobia. In the days before you and Dad made us brothers, I think he was afraid I would be overcome by his virile masculine pheromones one day and just pounce."

 The sarcastic statement drew a laugh, including a rueful one from Burt, who admitted, "I’m sorry to say that a lot of straight guys have that misconception, son. I know I did.”

 “Well a lot of guys do go directly from handshake to handjob without worrying about anything but fun,” Sebastian cut in, nudging Elliott in the ribs with a wicked grin as he added, “Thank God.”

 “Hey!” Kurt objected, glancing over at Mercedes and Sam, who were sitting on a sofa together listening with big grins on their faces. “Watch it. Parents, children, and straights present.”

 Another chorus of laughter and derisive noises met the warning. Adam’s little brother threw a popcorn kernel at Kurt’s head for the ‘children’ comment, and Kurt telekinetically flicked it back without a moment’s hesitation, bringing a startled look and then a beaming thumbs-up from Donnie, who had clearly not expected the quick defense.

 Adam grinned at their playfulness. “I think you and Finn could both be forgiven for your youthful misunderstandings, darling. We all have at least one embarrassing incident in our past that was necessary for growth and development. Dad and Gran certainly helped me over a couple of bumps that aren’t fun to look back on now.”

 Before he could go on, all three of his siblings exchanged a glance and crooned, “Katelynn!”

 “Who?” Kurt said with a laugh, astonished to see Adam’s face turn beet red.

 Bethany jumped in. “A school chum of mine when we were kids. Adam used to lurk in doorways whenever I had her over, mooning like a pathetic little puppy dog.”

 Celeste giggled. “Kate was in the class year between Adam and Bethy and she used to earn a few quid babysitting for Donnie and me after school. Not that I needed a minder by then, but we always had good times and it was a scream watching Adam lurk about with that lovesick expression on his face.”

 “See, he was a bit confused in those days,” Donnie added, giving his brother a condescending pat on the arm, followed by a cheeky grin when Adam made a half-hearted swipe at his curly blond head.

 Adam sighed and admitted, “She was very good about it when I finally declared myself, turned me down gently and whatnot, but it should come as no great shock to learn that my first and only girl-crush grew up to be the butchest woman in Chelmsford.”

 “I ran into her the other week,” Bethany said helpfully. “She has a bright blue crew-cut, sleeve tattoos, and biceps bigger than your head. Still a complete sweetheart, too.  She told me to pass along congratulations on your wedding.”

 Amidst the laughter of their group, and Dani slyly suggesting that they pass the Crawfords’ old friend her phone number, Adam held up his hands in surrender. “Thank her for me, but I think that proves my point. Fortunately for us all we grow up and, if we’re lucky, gain some perspective. And in this case, things happily seem to have turned out exactly the way they were meant to do."

 “I’ll drink to that,” Kurt said, helping himself to a large mug of coffee from the pot some blessed soul had freshly brewed and gulping down a large, slightly too hot sip. Ahhhh, bliss. They hadn’t been allowed to drink anything but water over the preceding 24 hours and he was dying for a good shot of caffeine. Especially since . . . “Speaking of things turning out the way they’re meant to, I’m ready to get started if the rest of you are. I’m just about jumping out of my skin with excess energy. If I don’t focus it soon, I’m afraid I might accidentally blow up the loft.”

 “Then let’s not waste any time,” Adam agreed. This intensity would not last for much longer, he knew. He could already feel the giddy charge of carrying some of Kurt’s shared power beginning to ebb.  The rituals, the surrounding aura of High magic, and the passion of their recent bout of lovemaking made him feel upbeat and wide-awake, but it would act on Kurt’s deeper magical sensitivity like an intense high, and he would feel a driving need to use it.  

 It was the entire reason they had chosen this day to attempt the rescue.  Kurt’s heightened power and sensitivity to magic was what made Kurt a coven leader and the rest of them ordinary witches. He might not even require the boost; Adam’s own rescue from the Void argued to that point, but Adam still wanted him to have every advantage.  

 “As we form the power circles, I’d like Adam to trade places with Sam,” Kurt said, unconsciously making the words an order. He looked at Adam with apologetic eyes. “I know you wanted to anchor me, but neither of us knows how you’ll react to being so near an open Void, and I’d rather not risk it. I want you to be protected no matter what happens, and I hope this doesn’t sound harsh, but I remember how badly it knocked me off stride when I shared your panic attack in Lima. Considering how much concentration it took all of us to search the Void for you, I don’t think I can risk being pulled in two directions if this experience triggers you.”

 His tone was regretful but his reasoning was sound. The coven belonged to them both, just as it belonged to Tubbington, Santana, Dani, Monica, Elliott, Brittany, and Johnny, but Kurt was the captain of this particular ship, as well as the one who would be risking himself.  So Adam simply nodded, kissed him for good luck, and moved to the back of the room, gently pushing Sam towards the center.  

 “Don’t worry, son,” Henry said to Kurt, who was looking at Adam as if he was already being pulled in two directions. The older man put an arm around his boy’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll look after Adam, the cats will look after Sam, and your mates will look after you. You just go in and concentrate on doing what you need to do.”

 “Thanks, Henry,” Kurt replied gratefully.  One distinct advantage to having such a large group of witches here today, family by both blood and choice, was that it freed up Kurt to do what he needed to do without worry. “I must admit I’m kind of nervous. The first time I did this, I had the advantage of not being afraid because I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

 The rest of their coven-mates exchanged satisfied glances as Kurt, in spite of his admission, moved to his place in the center of the ward and began quietly conferring with the Familiars. There were glad to see him so confident and strong as he began his preparations. A little fear would keep him grounded, whereas overconfidence in this situation might prove dangerous.

 Whispering a word in his grandmother’s ear, Adam, with his father to one side, and his brother, and sisters next to Dad, deliberately took the empty space next to Carole, while June moved to take her other hand. June and her grandson had agreed at a glance that this experience would, in some respects, be harder on Carole than anyone else in the room. They all wanted Finn back, but she was his mother and she would be on tenterhooks the entire time Kurt was ‘gone’.  

 Because no matter what happened today, there would be an amount of heartbreak at the outcome. Either Kurt would fail to find Finn and Carole would have to face her son’s death once again, possibly even more agonized by the addition of dashed hopes, or she would get him back in spirit but not in body. Regardless of the outcome today, the tall young man with the innocent brown eyes and his father’s crooked grin, the physical form of the little boy Carole had borne and raised, hugged, kissed, and comforted throughout his life, would never return. Finn would be sharing space with Sam Evans now, wearing Sam’s face and form, and that would be hard, no matter how much of a blessing it would be to know that his mind and heart lived on.

 The group rearranged itself for maximum usefulness, the three Familiars resuming their protective triangle and setting themselves a bit farther back to allow Kurt and Sam enough room to sit cross-legged on the floor.  The remainder of the coven, sans Adam, positioned themselves in a pentagon around the cats, leaving the rest to stand in a rough circle on the outside where they could lend power if necessary.

 Burt and Mercedes, the only people here with no magic to contribute, reluctantly moved to the breakfast bar where they could see everything without being in the way. They last thing either of them wanted was to distract, or worse, compromise the safety of those working. Mercedes was not a witch herself, but she came from a magical family and was familiar enough with the principles of a Major Working to allow her to quietly commentate the event for a bemused but grateful Burt.

 As Kurt closed his eyes and centered himself, the three Familiars, once more in their feline form, began a low synchronized yowling that made the hair on every human’s neck stand on end. The sound was picked up in a harmonic hum that spread through each layer of the circle, as though they were chanting without words and the special wards they had set earlier snapped back into place with a surge of energy so powerful that the ward actually became visible for a split-second.

 Burt stared wide-eyed, whispering to the young woman by his side, “Did I just see what I thought I saw? Was that . . .?” 

He had no words, but Mercedes nodded and whispered back, “Magic. They’re shielded like layers of a cocoon, protecting Kurt and Sam, but also protecting us and everyone else in the building in case anything goes wrong.”

 “Do I want to know what would happen if they didn’t do that and something went wrong?”

 She thought for a moment and then patted his hand. “No.”

 Burt grimaced and scrubbed his other hand over his scalp, trying to push away the impossible sensation that his hair was standing on end.

 In the center of the warded shapes, Kurt took a deep breath through his nose and let it go slowly as he lowered his personal shields. He felt strange and uncomfortable without them, as if he was suddenly naked to every eye, but he would have to allow himself this vulnerability to reach the in-between spaces. He would need to hold himself fully open to the magic and trust his family to keep him safe.

 He reached a thread of power out to Sam, needing to re-familiarize himself with Sam’s aura. Every living being, regardless of magical status, carried a unique signature. It was what made them visible to a witch with Sight or allowed those with psychic Sensitivity to identify a particular person in a crowd.

 He steeled himself not to flinch when he touched that poor corroded soul. Sam would never know, but it felt like a betrayal of their friendship to react to any part of him with revulsion. And it was difficult not to. Kurt had not realized it before when he had only glanced briefly at Sam with his Sight, but there was a slimy feeling to the damaged aura that carried with it a distinct signature. Touching it, Kurt could almost smell the peculiar mixed odor of light sweat, spicy cologne, and too-sweet raspberry hair gel that was so uniquely Blaine.

 Kurt wanted to pull away, but if he was lucky enough to find Finn, he would need to open another link to his brother and to hold both men in place, using himself as a go-between until Monica and Johnny completed whatever means they had devised to bind the damaged souls together.  

 Finally, he felt as if he had a lock on Sam and he pulled back the thread with intense relief to no longer be directly touching that spiritual rot.

 Opening his eyes, Kurt looked at Elliott. Tubbington was the leader of the feline trio, but Elliott was his Familiar, his guide and truest friend. “How do I begin? When I went searching for Adam, I had his physical body here in the form of that Apples poster. I need something of Finn to concentrate on.”

 From the outer circle, Carole called out a reply before Elliott could think of anything. “Use your pendant. The one your dad gave you at Christmas. It’s like mine, isn’t it? It has a little piece of Finn’s memory. His soul.”

 Kurt smiled at her. “That’s perfect.”  

 “It’s brilliant,” Adam agreed, giving Carole’s clammy hand a warm squeeze. “I never would have thought of that.”

 Elliott and Tubbington were both nodding in approval, and Sebastian looked as smug at his charge’s wise suggestion as if he had come up with the idea himself. Unable to project words in his feline form, Elliott looked at his mentor who said, “Good idea, Carole. Kurt, you never take that necklace off so it should be deeply imbued with your own magical signature by now, which will also have strengthened the traces of both Finn and Adam that were spell-cast into it.”

 Kurt beamed. His necklace also carried the trace of its giver, and of the witches who had so lovingly woven their own magic into the casting of the charm. Plus Adam wore the matching pendant, infused with the same spells. If Kurt used the jewelry as his focus, he could remain psychically anchored to the people who loved him best.

 “Perfect,” he said again. Wrapping one hand around the little silver knot-work pendant, he pulled the braided chain off overhead and held it out in front of him, concentrating on the tiny green stone in its center.  It took a moment, but as he concentrated on memories of his brother, Kurt found the trace of Finn that had been woven into the metallurgical magic.  

Following that feeling, he closed his eyes, centered himself and let go of the physical world as he gave himself over to the search.

[sampaii-ca]

Light my Fire (Klance fic)

Heh, I know that title is totally cheesy but I had to make at least ONE pun for this fic ;)  Sorry this is a day late but here’s the second fic for Klancetober/Keithtober, the prompt is fire.

Keith was NOT looking forward to today.  It already started off bad when he discovered that the coffee in the communal kitchen was all gone but now he had to get the firehouse ready for a visit from thirty fourth graders coming in later that day.

"Kolivan, why do I have to lead this tour?  You know I don't....can't, handle kids well.  They make me nervous and I feel like they can stare into my soul.  Not to mention most of them are walking, talking, giant germs."

Kolivan looks up from his paperwork and gives Keith his "why are you bothering me with this pathetic issue" look.

"Keith, you can run into a burning building that is about to collapse but you can't handle thirty fourth graders?"

".....yesss..???" Keith puts on his biggest puppy dog eyes and asks, "Why can't Shiro lead the tour, you know he's great with kids.  And every kid loves Shiro, they are all going to hate me."  Keith crosses his arms while wearing a slight pout.

Kolivan looks ten ways  to done with this conversation and pinches the bridge of his nose.  "Shiro has lead the last three tours while you were "mysteriously" absent.  So it is your turn to lead.  Stop complaining, Shiro will be right beside you to help anyways."

"But..."

"OUT."

"Yes sir."

Keith shuffles out of Kolivan's office and walks right into Shiro.  

"Whoa, hey Keith.  Why so glum?"  

"You know why Shiro."  Keith glares at the direction of the entrance where he can hear the school bus pulling up.

"It'll be alright kiddo," Shiro chuckles while ruffling Keith's hair and starts walking towards the entrance.  Keith shuffles behind and takes a few deep breaths.  It's only a few hours, it's only a few hours, I can do this.

Keith can't do this.  It's only been five mins and once the bus doors opened a stream of fourth graders poured out and ran right up to Keith.  They've been throwing questions at him left and right.  "Where is the fire truck?"  "Why is your hair so long?"  "Have you ever got burnt?"  "What's the hottest biggest fire you've ever seen?"  Keith was just about to turn and high tail it out of there when the chaperone came out of the bus followed by a kid who looked like he was green in the face.

"Kids!  Please line up in your groups and stop harassing the nice firefighter man!"

The chaperone tells the sick kid to join his group and then he's walking over to Keith.  Keith feels frozen, the chaperone is GORGEOUS.  Tall, about the same height as Keith, dark golden brown skin with brown hair to match and as he gets closer Keith can see his eyes are an electric blue color.

"Hi!  I'm Lance!  The chaperone from the YMCA for these little rascals here."  Lance holds out his hand to Keith.  Keith is staring and he thinks his brain is trying to restart.  Shiro clears his throat besides him and Keith is pulled out of his stupor.

"Sorry, I-I'm Keith," he takes Lance's hand and shakes it.  His grip is firm but Keith can tell his hands are soft, unlike his beat to hell callous ones.  "This is Shiro," Keith points and Shiro shakes Lance's hand as well.

"Nice to meet you both."  Lance glances at Keith for moment and blood rushes to Keith's cheeks.  He can see Shiro wearing a shit eating grin behind Lance.

"I've split the kids into four groups to go with each firefighter.  Is that ok?"  Lance asks as the other two firefighters, Thace and Ulaz emerge from the back of the firehouse.

"Ya, ya that’s fine."  Keith answers while he's still trying to find his voice again.  

Shiro steps in, bless him, and says, "Keith will be with your group and I'll take group two while three and four can go with Thace and Ulaz."

Keith's head whips up to stare at Shiro and he winks at Keith.  Keith doesn't know if he wants to jump with joy or pummel Shiro out of sheer embarrassment.

"Sounds good to me!"  Lance is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet and he starts to separate the kid groups with their respective firefighter.  

"Shirrrooo, what am I suppose to do now?"  Keith hisses through his teeth so Lance won't hear him.

Shiro has to hide his snicker behind his hand but he claps Keith on his back and says, "Well, be nice for one.  And second, get your flirt on son!  We all know you want to!"

"Shiro I'm terrible at flirting and you know that."

"Hey, come on kiddo.  You never know until you try, right?"

Keith rolls his eyes and has a retort on the tip of his tongue but Lance comes jogging back to him with eight kids following behind.  

"Alright!  We all set to go?"

"Yep!"  Shiro answers and walks towards his group giving a subtle thumbs up towards Keith.

Keith sticks his tongue out but can't help the subtle smile he has on.

He looks to Lance who was telling the kids to listen to Keith while on the tour and to not touch anything unless told to.  "Alright, let's go then."  Keith leads the group towards the front of the fire station where the garage is.

They have their newest truck out to show today, Keith and Shiro washed it that morning and once the kids saw it they practically screamed and ran to touch it.  Lance was laughing and ran to make sure no one got in until they were told to.  Keith took a moment to watch Lance as he interacted with the kids.  He made it look so easy, like it was totally natural.  Keith's heart skipped a beat when Lance looked up and caught his eye.

"Keith!  Can we get in?"

"O-o ya, here let me get the door."

Keith opened the doors and let the kids pile in along with him and Lance.  He sat in the drivers seat and Lance ended up smushed against him with the kids on his other side.  Keith tried not to think about his whole side touching Lance and willed the blush away from his cheeks.

All at once the kids were yelling questions at him.  Lance clapped once to get their attention, CLAP!  The kids followed with two, CLAP CLAP!  "Now, why don't we take turns and ask Keith your questions."  Lance turned to Keith grinning as the first kid shot his hand in the air.

Keith was trying not to stare at Lance's beautiful eyes but Lance was staring right back.  He broke eye contact and pointed to the first kid with a question, "You, what's your question."

"Can we hear the horn?!"

Keith couldn't help but smile, "Sure."  He pushed on the horn and all the kids screamed in delight.

"Now do the siren!"

Keith obliged and the siren was loud but the kids loved it.  They kept rattling off random questions and Keith was kind of, maybe, sort of having fun until one of the girls raised her hand and asked, shyly, "Mr. Keith, do you have a girlfriend?"

Keith sputtered at that when Lance said, "Melanie, sweetie, that's a very personal question.  Why don't you ask a question about the firetruck instead?"

She looked a little sad but immediately perked up with her next question, "Do you guys have a Dalmatian?"

Keith could answer to this one, "We do, his name is Kosmo.  In fact, lets go see him right now."

They all left the cab of the truck and Keith couldn't be more grateful to be out of the confining space.  They made their way through the firehouse and Keith showed them the kitchen and living quarters.  They ended up in the backyard where Kosmo was chewing on a giant bone.  The kids made a break for the dog and Kosmo jumped up and started to play with them.

"So do you?"  Lance asked as he stood next to Keith watching the kids play.

"Do I what?"

"Have a girlfriend?"  Lance turned to Keith with a glint in his eye.

"O, uh, ha no.  They aren't my type."  Keith said as he bit his lip a little from nerves.

"Not your type huh?  What IS your type?"  And Keith could see something in Lance's eyes, hope maybe.  He wasn't sure.

"I'm gay."  Keith blurted out.  Ugh, graceful Keith, graceful.

Lance's eyes went wide for a moment and a blush rose to his cheeks, he coughed into his hand, "Cool, cool.  I'm bi."

Oh, OH, Keith's heart fluttered in his chest.  Maybe he did have a chance here, Shiro's voice echoed in the back of his head "Get your flirt on!".  But just as he was about to continue talking to Lance, Shiro came through the back door and asked them to follow him up to the second floor.  His voice died out with the roar of the children pulling him and Lance along.

This was the final part of the tour, and usually the most favorite for the kids.  The fireman's pole.  They split up, Keith and Thace on the bottom to catch the kids as they landed and Shiro, Ulaz and Lance at the top to send them down.  One by one each of the kids slid down, grinning as they landed and jumping up and down saying how cool it was.  

"So did you ask him out?"  Thace asked as another kid landed and Keith couldn't help but roll his eyes at him.

"Ugh, Shiro."  He gritted through his teeth, "Had to go and blabber about me huh?"

THUD, another kid landed.

"Keith, I didn't need Shiro to tell me you think that boy is cute.  You were staring enough to burn a hole right through him."

Keith let out a little whine, "I'm that obvious huh?"

Thace chuckled and helped the next kid land.

"You should ask him out."

"Ugh, I want to...I'm just, terrible at this."  

"Coming down!"  Someone yelled from above and Keith looked to see Lance getting ready to slide down.  Thace shot Keith a grin and backed away from the pole leaving him alone.  Lance gripped the pole and started his decent but he was coming down to fast and to top it off he let go of the pole too early.  Lance fell off and right into Keith's arms.  

Both stood motionless, Lance in Keith's arms, bridal style.  Both wide eyed and red in the face.  Keith's brain had definitely shut down and from the look on Lance's face he wasn't doing much better.  

Someone cleared their throat, breaking their staring contest.  Shiro was standing by the pole, having just come down.  His mouth set in a smirk, "Lance you ok? You didn't hurt yourself right?"

Lance let out a tiny yelp as he hopped out of Keith's arms.  "I'm good!  Good good good.  Keith here saved me!"  He hit Keith in the chest to emphasize his point and Shiro just nodded trying not to laugh.  

"Awesome.  We should get the kids loaded back on the bus.  Hope you guys had fun today."

"Yes we did!  Right kids?"  Lance faced them and they all yelled out their thank yous. They all started to head towards the bus and Keith felt a little nudge on his back.  "Go ask him out before he leaves."  Shiro whispered behind him.

Ya.  Ya, he could do this.  Keith jogged up to Lance as the last kid was loaded on the bus.

"So, um, I had a good time showing you guys around today.  Hope you had fun!"

"Totally!  The kids always love coming here.  And I had a good time too."  Lance looked at Keith like he was waiting for something.

"That's good!  I also, was...wonderingifyou'dliketogogetcoffeewithmesometime.  When we're both not working of course."  That came out so fast he hoped Lance understood it.

Lance's eyes crinkled at the corners with how big he was smiling.  "I'd love to, I'm free tomorrow.  I know a cute coffee shop on Main we could go to."

"Yes!  It's a date!"  His voice cracked a little as he answered.  Calm down Keith, calm down. He cleared his throat, "That works out perfect because I don't work tomorrow."

Lance pulled out his phone and they exchanged numbers and chose a time to meet up.

"Bye Keith, see you tomorrow!"  Lance shouted as he boarded the bus.

"Bye Lance!"  Keith waved as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Just as he was turning around, Shiro pulled him under his arm and ruffled his hair.

"Told you, you could do it!  I'm so proud!  My baby bro all grown up and going on dates!"  He wiped at his eyes to get rid of the fake tears.

"Shiiirrrooooo, stooop!"  Shiro released Keith and they walked towards the fire house.

His day turned out way better than expected and tomorrow looked like it would be even better, because he had a date with a beautiful boy named Lance.

[royal-writer]

I’m love!! This!! Love so much... Soft Boy Amon is Good.

Dad(TM) too is good.

All things here are good I must protect this it’s so precious ;w;

He was thanking her? A strangled noise resonated in Essätha’s throat. Of all the absurd things; she should be thanking him for allowing her to wear something like-

Or maybe, not so silly. Maybe; just maybe, he was wanting to fill in a hole somewhere too. She didn’t wear her mother’s ring too much. It didn’t fit her fingers properly. Being a smaller size, it was a difficult squeeze and really she preferred not to get it tarnished and damaged. But when she did wear it, she always felt a little closer to her mom. Not in body true, but in essence. In her soul.

Maybe the necklace was just a way to make her feel connected to his family, or finding use of a stunning antique. It could be he was just wanting to try to make her feel happy and special on their day. But perhaps there was a part of him trying to bring his parents in to the ceremony, like she was. In fact, she could recall when he’d pulled out his father’s cufflinks some months ago to get her opinion on if they’d be appropriate for the ceremony.

Her sniffles turned to frantic little giggles as his cheek nuzzled against her throat, with lips to her neck.

“Nooo-ahahaooo! Ah-ahaha-Amon please!”

Warm air gusted against her nape in response, causing her to shiver and gasp as the last of the tears in her lashes fell away.

With a deep sigh of relief pressed to her skin, Amon murmured softly; almost to himself: “That’s better. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

Essätha smiled fondly. A shimmer radiated once again in her soft brown eyes as she raised her hand to mow fingers through his hair. The soft strands curled and moved to the will of her touch. Slowly dragging her fingers back and forth, listening in with awe to the gratified and pleasant groan that slipped out from her handsome fiancé and soon-to-be husband.

“Thank you,” she whispered gently.

A curious grunt in response; Amon’s lips busily caressing over her neck in steamy little kisses.

“For the necklace. Thank you… for letting me wear it. For trusting me with it. I’ll take good care of it.”

“I know you will, my beautiful Essätha.”

Tingles danced across her skin, breath hitching. She was never going to get used to that. The impact of her name on his lips; the depth of love as he savored each syllable, drew them out like a masterpiece that should be framed in a gallery. He called her his. A truth she couldn’t deny; a phrase she longed to hear every second of every waking moment of every day. His beauty, his darling, his love, his sweetheart; his, and his alone. His.

Hands roamed roamed against her sides. Following the shaped curves of her frame, moving around to her back and pulling her in so that she lost her ability to breathe entirely. Her back arched; curving in to the comfort of his sphere of presence and warmth.

She found her breath quickly once more as Amon tucked her in and rolled. Pulling her in; dragging her with him until she straddled his waist and her flats dug into the bed.

“M’lord Amon.” A sigh; part accusing and part flirty.

“Mmmm, yes, Lady Medüza?”

“Oh dear, I do hope you aren’t too infatuated with that title.”

“You will always be Medüza,” Amon murmured. “You will be both. A savvy Illiad and a proud Medüza. A lady of both houses. You are not obligated to pick one over the other.”

She giggled softly; fingers still running through dark hair as small kisses showered against her jaw and up her cheek. Steadily moving, following the outline of her cheek and over the bridge of her nose and across to pepper along the scales against the her nose and over to her other cheek.

“I do like both,” Essätha admitted. “But I’m going to love it when I can officially hear you call me Lady Illiad.”

Judging by the breathy shudder that ran through him, she had a good idea he was looking forward to that, too.

“I still can’t believe you said yes.”

Her eyebrows knitted together with confusion. Shifting, she placed her palms against the bed to pry herself away as Amon groaned miserably. His shameless mouth followed her as he pushed himself up on an elbow, pressing delicate but swift little pecks to her lips.

“Why wouldn’t I have?”

He didn’t answer. At least, not really. A grunt; falling back into the bed so he could reach up with both hands and cup her cheeks to encourage her back down to him.

It was rather impossible saying no to those dark, pathetic eyes and the slight indication of a pout. Giving up her breath for a kiss so tender and sweet was of little consequence. He already made her so breathless and weak-kneed. She marveled in the way he kissed her; deep, thoughtful, and blazing. Making her lungs ache to the point she thought she’d collapse into a supernova. Yet at the same time, giving her life anew; making her feel immortal, special, timeless in a way because he was her world, and the world would never forget her and who she was.

It was a secret meant for two. Even if placed in front of everyone else, it was still their secret if everyone else watched. They would show each other to the world with eagerness and pride. Mostly hand to hand but sometimes, occasionally, in kisses just like this so endearing and soft that anyone who saw would feel compelled to either be entranced or forced to look away. Too many gestures and promises of devotion and love in one smooch; a single delectable way to simply say that this person is mine without uttering a single word.

She breathed roughly against Amon’s mouth as they dragged apart. Hardly taking in enough air before going in for another; mingling exhales and inhales in more and more feverish spans of kisses.

“Pelor, there’s not enough time in the day to kiss you,” he rasped; lips mirroring hers in almost-there caresses against each other. “I could kiss you every second of every day and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“Mmmhm,” she breathed shakily in agreement.

His lips pressed to hers once more. It was every bit as soft and comforting as his heart. Divine heat so blissfully loving coursing through her. Down to the depths of her being; in ever crack and crevice and cold piece of her she could feel the radiance of the kiss. The love he spoke through it so tenderly.

She was trembling by the time he released her. The storm of his eyes staring directly into hers; breathing each other in with his fingers having worked into her hair where he could against the strain of her braid and hers still laced through his perfect locks.

“I’d say ‘yes’ no matter when, or how, or why or where you asked,” Essätha mumbled to his lips. “I’d say yes if you had no money at all; I’d say yes if I was cursed a fated death to wed, I’d say yes with my first and final breath; at the end of the world at the end of it all in the heat of battle. I’d say yes if you’d have asked me in the first months of knowing you, I’d say yes if you had the question spelled out in the stars or if you asked with no words at all but tossed the ring to me. I’d say yes if you only asked me because I was the only one left in the world. It was always yes.”

A shimmer of light moved in Amon’s eyes. No, that wasn’t just the light. The briefest glint of unshed tears was glistening in his gaze as he blinked steadily, pushing his emotions back.

“You couldn’t say yes if you were the only one left in the world,” he scoffed, briefly bringing a sharp pain to her heart before he continued as he kissed her nose, “because you are my world. You’re everything to me, my darling Essätha. You helped to bring me out of my shell and show me all that there is to enjoy in life, and I’m happy to share it all with you. I love you.”

Oh, how three simple words could make a person’s heart sing; so suddenly filled with the scalding warmth of a sun’s molten center.

“I love you too,” she breathed, kissing the corner of one of his eyes where a single stray tear had managed to escape. “All of me loves every bit of you, my beloved; my everything.”

A delicate, small kiss so briefly touched her lips as she leaned back.

“You’re doing a very good job at distracting me,” Essätha concluded, pulling away so that the glow of the necklace reflected off Amon’s face.

With a whimper; this time purposefully pouting out his lower lip a bit as he gave that big puppy dog look of longing, he tried pulling her back down.

“Ahh- tisk-” she hissed, placing one hand to the bed and another to his chest. “I have to go now.”

“Go?” he echoed, both wounded and curious. “Where?”

“Well I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

“Why not?”

“It’s customary! The bride and groom aren’t supposed to sleep together the night before their wedding. Besides, I need to go get my final fitting, and you aren’t allowed to see the dress.”

For emphasis, she tapped him gently on the tip of his nose.

“No,” Amon whined in a breathy voice. “Stay. Please.”

“Uh-no, no. Your sad puppy eyes aren’t working on me. Not this time. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Pleeaaasseee.”

“No.”

“But how will I get a good night’s rest for tomorrow otherwise?” he begged. “How am I supposed to sleep without you beside me, dear, please, reconsider-”

Her face was flushed by his openness. Licking her lips nervously. Eyes darting to and away as he sat up, inching closer and closer.

The temptation of his lips oh so close, but resisting. Not giving her what he knew she wanted.

“Stay,” Amon implored.

“I can’t-”

“You can.”

Oh gods. She leaned forward, hoping to steal from the lips she craved but he leaned back further into the bed, hands moving to her shoulders to hold her away.

“Stay.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Stay.”

“Oh, you wicked man,” she hissed, leaning in as far as she could from the pressure of his hands.

“Is it working?” he asked, both amused and taunting.

“Kiss me like you mean it and maybe I’ll flip my decision,” she teased in retaliation.

A look in his eyes, and she knew he loved the challenge. Smug confidence etched into his features, and Amon’s hands slid over her shoulders, back into her hair, pulling her in as she grinned with excitement-

There was a knock on the door.

Sharply gasping, Essätha flung her weight to the side. Only just hearing the swears in both common and elvish escape Amon as he tried to stop her and failed, until she thudded partly on her butt and partly on her knee on the floor.

She scrambled to her feet, one of her knees popping loudly.

“Lord Amon? Miss Essätha?”

Politely, Essätha sat upon the edge of the bed as Amon forced himself into a sitting position. One hand groping over his face, a heavy sigh as it ran to his somewhat rustled hair.

“Come in,” he rasped.

Her voice was stolen. Unable to speak; face red.

So close. He’d been so close.

The door came open with a timid, smiling housemaiden’s face peering in through a crack.

“Miss Essätha, your friends are waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh! Right, I’d better be going-”

She was only just up from the bed when Amon’s hand reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.

Oh please, please don’t make this hard. Please don’t, don’t make me turn around and see that face-

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, offering an apologetic smile while tugged her hand free.

If his devastated look was only theatrics, he needed to go to art school or bard college.

“They’re waiting for me,” she mouthed, stepping back as the sound of the service woman’s feet retreated from the door.

“Essäthaaaaa,” he whined, curling his gestures in a beckoning gesture for her to come back to him.

This time, she had to laugh behind her hand. You couldn’t have paid her to believe a few years ago that a man would be looking at her with so much heart-breaking sadness. And yeah, she would have taken the money if you’d only have said it was because he wanted her to stay. But if you’d told her he wanted her to stay because he wanted to hold her, kiss, cuddle with and whisper sweet nothings in her ears and gods knew what else, she’d have laughed herself into a coma.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she responded, quickly snagging her things off the nightstand before Amon could touch her and make her regret her decision further.

A glimpse at his agonized face, and she added on in a quiet whisper, “I’ll be there, I promise.”

For a moment, Amon appeared perplexed before his eyes opened with realization.

“I had no doubt that you would,” he stated with soft eyes. “I just hope I can sleep through the night.”

“Go to bed early,” she advised, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.

Before she could pull back, the scruff shadow rubbed against her cheek as he returned the gesture, his hand squeezing her arm lightly.

“You better hope your pillows will be adequate justice to the warmth and softness of your body,” he warned in her ear.

Her knees knocked together as she wobbled, giving a breathless laugh as she awkwardly fumbled a few steps away. She hit the edge of the bed as she backpedaled, spinning around to catch herself before throwing a sheepish grin over her shoulder. Only so brief; not trusting herself to stare too long.

“Wait a second.”

Essätha stopped dead in her tracks. She prayed this wasn’t another plea. Even a teasing one might have her doubt her will to go.

A sudden ‘oof’ of alarm as her arm was lifted, and something shoved beneath it.

Her eyes darted over to the pillow tucked there.

“Just in case,” Amon roughly whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple while her eyes fluttered shut, a smile on her face.

She had been certain she’d be able to manage if Abernathy was willing to lay in bed with her. A comforting, warm presence. Some sense of security and someone there for her. But she had to admit the added measure of having one of her beloved’s pillows to rest her head on; pulling in the smell of cologne, shampoo, and hints of sweat, it was going to lull her to sleep just fine.

As another kiss moved to her cheek, she slipped away. There was too much temptation to being charmed by him to dare stay nearer.

Her hand reached up to brush her cheek where his lips had just laid, only for her wrist to lay along the dangling silver and white gemstone necklace against her throat. Her eyes pulling down to look at it. A soft exhale from her lips, startled by how truly pretty it was.

“M’lord Amon, the necklace-”

“Take it with you. You’ll… you’ll be needing it anyway.”

His voice was gruff. Thick; a harmonious mix of gravelly low and honeyed softness.

She moved quickly, daring to retreat further from the circumference of heat that whispered to her. Called her to safety; called her to warm arms and promises kept.

It surprised her when he didn’t follow her to the door, but she could understand why. Flicking it open (bless the maid for not closing it all the way), Essätha boldly dared herself a look back to her final day of calling Lord Amon Illiad her fiance. Tomorrow, well, tomorrow and then on out it was going to be Lord Amon Illiad, her devoted and stunning husband.

A red tint instantly warmed her cheeks, watching the way he looked her up and down with a mixture of hunger and yearning.

She fled out the door, a bit pained. But the pain reminded her warmly that this fleeting gesture was only so brief, and she would find her way back home very soon, in his arms once again. Because Essätha Medüza had shed her decayed snakeskin long ago; and she was now Essätha Medüza to-be Illiad, and this reforged her found had found her happiness after all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A wheeze escaped her lungs as the laced strings roughly from behind. Trapping her lungs in a tight grasp, making her ribcage crush inward as though trying to snap bone.

“Not that hard! Her face is going to turn blue and she’ll pass out.”

“Beauty is pain.”

“Ravamora, no.”

Fingers pawed at the taut strings until Essätha could drag in a ragged breath of air. Sucking it in through gritted teeth gratefully. Her chest was aching with fire as she quivered, trying to bring in another rush of oxygen.

“How’s that?”

“Could be looser,” she gagged in response.

“Aww, if we keep loosening it you’re going to lose the definition of your hips and waist!” Rava pouted. “What’s the point of having a corset if you’re not wearing it tight?”

A ‘whoosh’ of mimicked dark magic emanated through the air as a crowing voice joined in: “Essätha not used to corset. She will become unconscious if no room is left.”

The small elf-child dragged out an unimpressed sigh from behind her.

“I thought you said you’d been wearing corsets and dresses more often to prepare yourself for this!”

“I have,” she whined. “Not. This tight. Though.”

A young maiden aiding in the organization of the wedding stepped around her. Feeling along her chest, tugging at the fabric here and there as Adela tugged the threads lax in small sections here and there, drawing them back just a bit each time. It was tedious, but the hug that had black dots dancing briefly in her vision started to become more bearable.

“Are you able to breath okay, miss?”

“Much betters,” Essätha nodded, drawing in short puffs of air.

The service girl exchanged a look with the tiefling behind her.

“A little looser?”

Adela nodded, and they began to fiddle once more.

“Say,” Ravamora piped up, “did Amon ever tell you how much that hunk of elven silver danging from your neck is? What’s that it has embedded in it, moonstone? Opals? Diamonds? Can I take a look-”

“Touch it, and I’ll break your fingers.”

“No need to be nasty,” Adela cut in sharply as Cackle gave a hoot of laughter to her snotty behavior.

“Easy there, no need to get all fangy,” Rava agreed.

Essätha’s face soured. Mulling over the words, her curiosity peeked.

“Elven… silver?”

A snort followed from behind her. “Well yeah, what did you think you were wearing? Do you think just any old silver gleams quite like that? Must cost a fortune too; that craftsmanship is to die for. I’ve never seen anything like it. Any idea how old it is?”

What did he put around her neck? What did she allow him to put around her neck? Oh gods, from the sound of envy in Rava’s voice, it had to be something incredibly tempting and important to elves.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Adela sighed, dropping her hands. “But Rava’s right. Whoever made this took a great deal of time and care to make it. I’d love a word with the craftsman, if Amon could offer a name…”

“No- better not- please leave him be-” she gasped, feeling a dizzy lightheadedness.

She knew this thing had to be priceless! Dammit, the instant she saw it the allure was too great. It looked crafted more for queens or goddesses then mere common women. Her head was spinning; words ringing in her buzzing ears:

“It looks  glorious on you, my darling Essätha. Like it was made for you.”

He’d said. He’d said that with a twinkle of knowing in his eyes and all the adoration in the world. It made her sick; it made her excited and so incredibly happy that that, too, made her feel sick.

Amon knew exactly what he’d draped on her. More than a family heirloom, more than an artifact from elven kind but some high-class, likely ungodly expensive piece of art. And she was wearing it. Trusting her with something both sentimental and incredibly invaluable in riches as well as fond memories.

“Oh Essätha, are you alright? Essätha? Essätha?”

“Oh- I um, yes?”

“Is this too tight?”

Her lungs expanded. Pulling air in; feeling the dull throb in her chest as she did so. She held for a moment, waiting to see if it would hit a point that tightness of the corset might might make her faint. When it did not, she blew her breath out with relief.

“I think that’ll do.”

“Wonderful! Okay, the slip seems to fit just fine; let’s see about that dress now shall we?”

“Thank you,” Essätha breathed in thanks, glancing over her shoulder to Ravamora and Adela and then off to the side where Cackle stood fanning out her veil and to the various handmaids aiding in adjusting not just her dress, but hemming and tucking and snipping clothes all around the room.

“Thanks to all of you.”

“Oohh you don’t need to thank us,” Adela breezily laughed, her tail giving a nervous swish. “Consider it fair payment for attending my wedding and helping out.”

Rava snorted. “How about instead of thanking me, you pay me instead?”

Adela jabbed her gently in the side with her elbow, making the elf-child mutter.

“Happy to help, Miss Essätha.”

“Always a pleasure, ma’am.”

“Of course, madam.”

So many bright, warm faces. So grateful to her, when she was the one indebted to them. It brought a quirky grin to her face. All this happiness, the enthusiasm, the joy. Everyone was coming together for one day. One beautiful day so carefully planned, so dutifully built upon little by little. One day to share love and commitment; one day to forget about all the was and could-bes to appreciate the here then and now with those you loved and with the one you loved and chose above all others.

“Cackle glad to assist as well!” the kenku shouted in delayed agreement.

An amused sound hummed in her throat as she nodded to the rather large wingless bird. Cackle’s feathers were ruffled, a beady black-eyed look and curve on her beak that showed her excitement that only made Essie feel more eager for tomorrow to come too.

Her eyes ventured to follow her fellow trio of adventurers and a squadron of women to the nearby bed. Slowly unwrapping tucked ribbons on either side of a soft cover over the gown that didn’t even fit the length of the bed, so they’d improvised by pushing the second bed in the room closer for it to have room to unfold properly.

She didn’t want to look until it was on her. Turning her eyes away, a giddy feeling bubbling up in her stomach as she resisted the urge to bounce on her feet. One hand ghosted up to feel the jewels upon her collarbone as she held up her other hand to admire her platinum engagement ring. A whimsical little pattern around the edges setting upon a rather sizable single diamond. Integrated in the pattern of dainty swirls were smaller sets of diamonds. On the inside, an engraving she knew all too well by now. Her fingers having run along it, smiling fondly.

A' amin fea tira. To my heart’s keeper.

It was the proudest title she’d ever had. Soon, it would be nestled beside her other favorite: Lord Amon’s wife. Both she would wear in equal pride. Defending him, loving him, protecting and cherishing every inch of him in every form and every way. Her beloved, gentle, dear m’lord Amon.

Essätha glanced to her right as she heard the rustling of so much fabric. Only a glimpse upon the dress she’d already seen and worn so many times, and she still squealed and had to look away nervously. Hands flitting in the air, a nervous giggle of delight filing out.

“You don’t want to face the mirror, miss?” one of the maidens inquired.

“No no, not until it’s on!”

The room filled with softened laughter from the other women.

It was suffocating on her personal space to have so many people pressed so close. Her arms were held up high in the sky. Someone was holding out her hair the best they could from the gown so it wasn’t caught (and thank the gods the hair was going to be done after this tomorrow). Murmured words here and there, people readjusting the dress so that it wouldn’t catch on the necklace or dangling earrings.

So many layers of tulle rained down upon as the dress was carefully shimmied. With the full underskirt as well adding extra fullness, it caused the bottom to flair out dramatically. Fabric folding elegantly in the ball gown look, with the hem only just sitting upon the ground.

Essätha squeezed her eyes shut to keep from staring as the bottom was unruffled. Hands on her waist, hands on her hips; hands everywhere. Someone busily rearranging the area around her bosom and another adjusting where the fabric lay against her back until finally, a satisfied team of women stepped aside.

“Turn back to the mirrors,” Ravamora sang with delight, bouncing on her feet.

Cackle crafted the effects of a wolf whistle in agreement, while Adela merely choked with emotion.

Timidly, Essie shifted around on her bare feet to stare in the mirror.

So she wasn’t perfect. Her hair wasn’t done and was a bit tangled. Her makeup wasn’t done, and the splotches on her face were evident.

But the dress… The dress was perfect.

A Basque waistline hugged her just right. Without heels, it was just about a floor-length instead of being an ankle-length.

The entire dress was a pure, freshly fallen snow white. The bottom so full that no one could even get close to her. Requiring a literal dive into the dress if they chose to try. The tiers upon tiers upon tiers of light and dense fabric contrasting, giving an elegant look of royalty. Upon the hem of the top layer, carefully hand-stitched embroidery that weaved in patterns that repeated all the way around. Amongst the floral appearance, discrete symbols of a snake hardly noticed unless one was staring intensely and at a close range, and the repeating hidden symbols found in the Illiad family crest.

The bodice had just as much glory. It was separated from the tulle in a sexy trim of silver and white with crystals mixed into the design. Low in the front, rising to show a suggestive line of her hips, and curving back down low once more in the back. Upon the front, thousands more crystals dotted in frame. Forming lines; drawing attention to the shape of her chest and the outline of silhouette.

Some of the larger cut crystals were centers to small floral designs upon the top. The neckline ended in a soft sweetheart, with a see-through overlay tucked beneath to add a touch of modesty and fullness to her smaller chest.

The back had a significantly deep plunge. Showing off the definition of her shoulder blades, ending in further lacing that had to be pulled tight to squeeze her inside. It was completely strapless; showing off the scales upon her shoulders. So many ruffles and so much frill in one enormous, impossible-to-hug gown.

She choked, looking at the floor.

A scree escaped Cackle, fanning her arms as though they were wings as she exclaimed, “No tears!”

“Don’t get worked up just yet!” Adela agreed, giving a flick of her hand to the black bird who came bounding over with the veil.

On her other side, Rava was attaching the bracelet she was borrowing from Adela to her wrist. It caught her attention and her eyes flickered down while trying to catch her breath. A smile, spotting the thin, simple band of silver on her right hand. Her mother would be there, watching. She was probably watching now, just as tearful and joyous as she was.

Though her hair wasn’t done properly for the piece, Adela and Cackle managed to slip the comb-like end of the veil into her hair and drape it down her sides. Small rhinestone glass pieces shimmered upon the thin material, with it’s occasional little flower and the edges once again embroidered with the matching pattern of her dress.

Eagerly, Rava slipped a small circlet on top. It was simplistic; glinting platinum interweaving and diamonds set throughout. The true extravagance of it was a few glistening crystal loop attachments she placed on that hung along the side of her face.

All three of them took hold of the veil to pull it over. Shadowing her teary-eyed face as some of the nearby helpers sniffled and held tissues to their eyes and noses.

Adela sniffled as well, waving a hand over her face.

“Oh, did anyone ever finish the handkerchief she was going to stuff in her chest?” Rava cut in.

Most of the women shot the elf-shot a look at her commentary; either irked or surprised, but Cackle broke out into a snorting caw of laughter.

“Yes, hankie pankie is with leg sex belt and other things not necessary for trial dress up.”

Essätha’s tears instantly vanished, her jaw dropping. Did… Cackle just refer to the garter belt as a leg sex belt?

“Ooooh you look like a pretty princess!” Adela cooed, ignoring the remark entirely as she bounded forward to wrap her arms around her.

She pulled away almost as quickly (well, almost fell away; there was a lot of dress), a hand to her mouth.

“Oh gosh the boys have been sitting in the parlor so long, I’ll go fetch them-”

Amused, confused, Essie gave a shake of her head as the tiefling shot past her. The door open within seconds, the door closing just as swiftly.

Rava’s sigh had her turning back to those in the room. Smiling nervously, her hands clasped in front of her poofy dress.

“I want to get married one day,” she sang sorrowfully. “I hope I marry someone rich so he can buy me expensive things.”

“Rava, I’m not marrying him for the money.”

“Tell Lord to share then.”

She passed Cackle a disapproving look, but the bird only offered a grin and a shrug.

A fist rapped at the door.

“Is it… safe to enter?”

“YES!” Cackle screeched, her volume so loud everyone in the room immediately clamped hands over their ears.

Essätha shimmied around carefully on the soles of her feet to face the door. Hands in the pools of layers, trying to lift them so they didn’t drag and get dirty on the pristine floor. She smoothed them as they fell flat, offering a smile as the door creeped open slowly.

“Oh would you quit being so nervous!”

Adela’s voice. And then her hand, grabbing the side of the door and shoving it open roughly.

Penimra’s voice was the first one to swiftly cut in, “Is that elven silver?”

“Right?” Rava huffed, crossing her arms. “Amon’s been holding out on us.”

“Rich bastard.”

A soft gasp, and Ilamin’s hand was over his eyes as he whispered, “I’m blinded… by her grace…”

Abernathy shoved past the high-elf with Sulhadur following behind him. The later, red dragonborn’s jaw hanging low as he looked her over. Mesmerized, and then his eyes lingering on the necklace too. The shininess drawing forth his impulsive hoarding that he had to resist acting upon seeing something so glittery and glowing so wonderfully.

Her eyes fell on Abernathy though. His footsteps slow approaching. The look on his face ever changing. Gradual; awe, inspired, a look of deeply pleasant surprise. Then happiness; an overflowing sense of joy and delight on her behalf.

Lastly, the welling of tears that came so suddenly and spilled over the edge.

“Oh Essätha you look spellbinding,” he choked, reaching up to wipe his eyes.

She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat as she spoke up in a cracked voice, “Thanks… dad.”

In a few long strides, Abe ate up the distance between them. His hands trembling, picking up the edge of the veil to toss it back as he reached up to wipe her face. Why was he…?

Oh. She hadn’t even realized the moisture had built up in her eyes.

“Oooh my little girl has grown up so much!” he gushed, blubbering as he seized her suddenly in an iron grip.

Essätha wheezed, gasping for air as she clung to the older gentleman. His soft clean suit smelling of chamomile and lavender.

“Look at how beautiful and radiant you are!” Abe gushed, pulling away to wipe at her cheeks once more as she giggled breathlessly. “You’re glowing, oh I- I never thought-”

Her laughter only grew; louder and less lady-like the more it did. Snorting, hiccuping through tears as she reached up to wipe at Abe’s face in turn. She leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

And then she was embraced once more in a hug so crushing she could almost hear her ribs cracking as Abe blubbered and sobbed.

“Does this mean you approve?” she wheezed, partly through tears and partly through breathless giggles and distressed lungs.

“Do I approve?!” Abe gasped in a strangled voice. “You don’t need my approval for anything young one, you’re an exceptional adult woman capable of her own choices. That said, yes I approve just look at you you’re enchanting, you’re pretty as can be, you’re so happy and I’m so happy for you-”

His voice cut off to the point of being mumbling and incoherent as he held her close, rocking her from side to side.

A hand suddenly slid across her shoulder, and Adela’s head rested there.

Then Rava was at her side.

Then Cackle.

And finally the remaining boys; Ilamin, Sulhadur, and Penimra, came shuffling over to find their spots carefully around feet and the bottom of the dress to join in wrapping their arms around her. Murmuring soft words, with the service women dabbing their faces and openly, softly weeping all around them.

Essätha could only laugh, and laugh, and wheeze through the arms and heads resting against hers and the tears on her face.

She had her family here, all around her. Loving her, supporting her, approving her choices. She had friends coming from all over now just to be there and witness the special occasion of her union. She had only a night’s rest and so many hours left, and she would be an Illiad woman for the remainder of her days.

Nothing could make her life more happy, and more fulfilling, then all that she had gained.

And to think, it all started with a couple of lonely, broken people with shattered hearts in a tavern looking for completely different answers, and finding so much more in each other.

[littlemissnellie]

Late morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Golgotha Manor and spilled across the intricately patterned rug that adorned the floor of the living room. Adorning the crushed velvet chaise lounge though, with ebony hair hung below her soft, porcelain jawline and her scarlett lips pursed in a sort of regal boredom, was none other than Morwenna Golgotha herself. Diamonds, a trademark of her attire, sat in her ear lobes, white, reflecting the light, toying with it like an infant with a rattle. But another, much more significant one sat atop a silver band, adorning her ring finger just as she adorned her husband’s arm. Her husband’s status. Her husband’s life.

It stood proudly, this diamond. This pride was not solely possessed by the diamond though; the mere act of getting to wear such a promise, of it being nothing but hers to hold onto was enough to make her treasure it, before worth was even brought into the equation. Just like her hair, like her heavily lacquered lashes, like the patent heels that were crossed before her, this diamond was black. Jet black. The colour of the ink that spilled out of her husband’s fountain pen across papers that wore facts and figures for business ‘much too complicated for you to need to understand, my dear’. The colour of the oil that would spill into the engine of the car she would glide along fresh tarmac in if a reason for her to venture past the mouth of the driveway ever dared to present itself. It never did. Too scared, pathetically so. The mere thought festered in her mouth, tasted bitter on her tongue. This diamond, capturing the sunlight like a feral cat catches a gutter rat, was the colour of forbidden secrets shared beneath a moonless, midnight sky. Something about it was unnerving, but exhilarating.

Daydreaming was not what women of Morwenna’s age, Morwenna’s status partook in, it was for silly little girls with dreams too wild for their future to comprehend. Immature, one might say. So Morwenna was not daydreaming, merely…reminiscing, reflecting on her life. Reflecting, like the diamonds that defined her.

She sat by the window, gazing out at the world beyond the manor through the invisible, gauzy curtains that warped her view of everything outside of these cold, brick walls. She was not relaxed, she couldn’t lower herself to such things. She could afford silken blouses and precious jewels, but she couldn’t afford to let her image slip for even a second, not even in her own company. After all, one slip was all it took to come crashing down, let the immaculate persona it had taken a lifetime for her to perfect disintegrate before her polished, mahogany eyes. Posture was key, a straight back meant a straight mind, and Morwenna needed that focus to get through each, mind-numbing day. She sat like a swan on a lake, calm and serene, or seemingly so. A black swan on a satin lake, nestled amongst reeds of marble, velvet and gold, basking in the glow of success, or at least her husband’s abundance of it.

Her eyes glossed over as she watched tree branches sway in the wind, each rustle of early autumn leaves, still clinging onto their emerald hues, bringing back a fleeting image of a year that had been and gone. The longer she stared though, the further back she fell and before she could help herself the image of a man she longed to keep locked away in the past looked to be right here in the present with her. Sunlight danced on wispy cedar locks and the ashes that rose from his skin. His jawline sliced through the wind like a sword through a training dummy. His eyes cold and hard as a glacier, but clear and captivating as crystals…as diamonds.

One word, one name stayed clamped between her lips. Red, cased in the blood that she tasted in her mouth, metallic and unnatural. Unwanted. Vladislaus Straud.

She blinked repeatedly, willing his figure to be a mere figment of her nervous imagination. Her rose-tinted lenses weren’t smudged though, this was as real as the polished wood beneath her white-knuckled grip. And as if seeing her ex-fiance after all these years wasn’t unnerving enough, not an inch of his appearance had altered since the last time that they had been together. He still looked like the fresh-faced, reserved yet innocent, especially when it came to their courtship, boy that haunted her past.

Looking at him, in that moment, it felt as if she were looking at an old photograph. A snapshot of her life, a memory pressed onto paper to keep and cherish. Wild hair, tamed only by an intricate braid, cascaded over her shoulders as she pressed herself against his side, hanging on his arm and every word that left his mouth. She would gaze up at him, she could remember doing it as if she’d done it just yesterday, feigning adoration that was slowly becoming more and more genuine.

But the photo, this particular memory, as she looked on it now, was far from cherished. Edges were torn and frayed until it was almost unrecognisable as ever being something of worth or meaning. This memory, their whole past, was damaged by bad blood, bitterness and broken hearts. So what the hell was he doing on her front doorstep?

Her heels tapped against the wooden floorboards like a fork against a wine glass, preparing her to make a toast, or more fittingly, to raise a question. She had managed to get to the door before he’d had a chance to knock, which meant that she could tackle this before Victor even knew that Vlad had ever set foot on his property. If she wanted this to end civilly, this is how it had to go.

As she pulled open the large, leaden front door she knew immediately that Vlad had not spotted her at the window. She didn’t even think that he had considered the possibility of her answering the door, because as soon as he laid eyes on her in all her sheer, silken, glossy glory his expression flickered like a candle in the wind. Panic and a strange, possible joy cracked his face for a split second when he let his composure slip. For a fleeting moment she saw the Vlad that she had entertained the thought of loving all those years ago, the one with a gentle side to his usually stoic demeanour, like baked apples on a biting winter’s night. But his solemn smirk returned with an all too familiar certainty. He didn’t let go of his composure for long, never long enough.

It was Morwenna who wanted to break the silence, but Vlad’s distress beat her to it.

“M-Morwenna,” he stuttered. He was startled, she could tell, but he masked it convincingly from then on. He couldn’t let her know that she had shaken him, but she was already one step ahead and had no time for games.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. Venomous, like a snake, slipping through Vlad’s mind as he tried to gather his thoughts amidst the tormented feelings that were resurfacing themselves with an alarmingly rapid pace.

“Well, I-” He coughed, buying himself time to calm down. “I heard the news that you were back in town-”

“How?” Morwenna’s tone was defensive, she bit down on her words like a rabid dog.

“Word gets around these days, darling.” A smirk curled at his lips. This superiority, this knowledge he could hold over her made him feel empowered, fed confidence through his coarse, cold veins like it was a drug.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I don’t have to call you anything, I just wanted to come and see how you and the family were…settling in.”

“Don’t you dare speak about my family-”

“Don’t worry yourself over little things like that, Morwenna. I’m sure that you have much bigger problems to concern yourself with.”

“The only problem right now is you being at my house, and…and looking like- like that,” Morwenna said, her own confidence faltering as Vlad’s swelled.

“It’s not a welcome surprise?” he smirked.

“There’s something you want, Vlad, there always is. Tell me what it is and be gone, you’ve put my family through enough as it is,” Morwenna snapped. Her tone was sharp, juxtaposing her beauty, like the thorns of a rose.

“Oh Morwenna, I barely even know your family-”

“That doesn’t matter, you don’t need to know them to damage-”

“Damage? Why Morwenna, I haven’t even started yet,” he chuckled. This torment was amusing to him, watching her red lips drop open and her perfectly plucked eyebrows furrow.

Anger blazed within her stomach. Her temper shattered like an expensive champagne glass, delicate and explosive. “You lay a hand on them, Vlad, and I’ll put you in your grave myself,” she snarled.

“Oh dear, I’d never dream of such a thing, especially being a father myself,” Vlad simpered. He reeked of insincerity, of lies.

“Then what are you doing here? What do you want from us?” Morwenna asked, growing tired of such insufferable company. “Money?”

He scoffed and spat out his next sentence. “No, dear. I want something much more valuable.”

Morwenna refused to reply, darkening her glare was all that that he would get.

“I came to warn you, of how things have changed around here since you left-” he continued.

“We don’t need your warnings.”

“The power has shifted, Morwenna. You don’t have the same influence you did all those years ago, and at times like this that can be a dangerous thing.”

“And your suggestion?” Morwenna said, arching an eyebrow.

“I didn’t have one-”

But as Morwenna turned to leave, seemingly done with their conversation already, Vlad caught her arm. She tried to wrench it free, but his grip tightened and he pulled her towards him. His breath tickled her cheek, cool, stale and lifeless. It made her squirm.

“-Until now,” he leered.

She swallowed and her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him, praying that he couldn’t sense the rising fear behind her eyes.

“I have a proposal for you, Morwenna. And this time, I hope that it will actually mean something to you,” he said bitterly. Any traces of a smile were long gone now.

“And what might that be?” she choked out.

“A rekindling of sorts-”

But before Vlad could go any further, Morwenna’s disgust overflowed and she raised her hand to slap the thought out of his twisted mind. But he was too quick and had her held fast once again.

“Never,” she spat.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t need to. I would never go back to you after everything you said about my husband, my children…me.”

“That’s all in the past, Morwenna. We’ve grown up, changed beyond recognition, you know that, and so do I. This could work, if you want it to.”

“It will never work, Vlad. I’m happy with the life I chose, and if you ever really loved me then you would be happy for me to. Let go of all this ancient bitterness, let go of me.”

But Vlad took another step towards her, his shoes touching hers, leering in her face like a monster from a nightmare.

“It will work if you want your family to stay out of harm’s way.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Morwenna said, choking back a gasp.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t…if you keep up your end of the deal.”

“No.”

“Come on, Morwenna. Let your heart beat for me once more and I’ll stay quiet. You and your precious family won’t hear a word from me again.”

He drove a hard bargain. His smirk smouldered on his face, knowing that his offer was burning away at her conscience with every passing second and every inch that his hand slipped down her side.

“Is that a promise?” Morwenna asked quietly.

“Of course, you have my word,” Vlad said, pausing as he let his offer brew and bubble in her mind.

“And you have mine,” Morwenna said, her words like velvet as she leaned into his touch and pressed her crimson lips to his with a startling certainty.

Her husband slaved over papers upstairs, determined to provide for his family, determined to keep them safe. But Morwenna played downstairs, toying with the emotions of a man who once toyed with hers. Their kiss was smooth as silk, forbidden, secret, unnerving yet exhilarating…anything to keep her family safe.

Her mind was made up, her decision clear, cold and hard. Rare, precious...like a diamond.

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Daughter Series - Monster Hunter McCree AU

Maybe it’s rather silly of me to write an AU with a character I’ve only recently introduced, but this was a lot of fun to write! No regrets :) 

This is inspired by McCree and Reaper’s Halloween skins from this year that I loved. Ended up being 3,600ish words. Put a break in the middle. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

More Daughter Series:  Hanzo, McCree, Reaper, Soldier 76, Genji, Roadhog

Halloween Daughter Series: Roadhog, McCree, Genji, Reaper

After years of trailing, searching, and tracking, McCree felt as if he was finally closing in on his prey. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Again. He had this feeling back in Liverpool and before that in New York, but nothing had come of it. Reaper continued to elude him, over and over.

“Damn vampire piece of shit,” the hunter hissed, rolling another cigarette. “I chased him all the way back home to the US just to turn right around and head back to this rainy shit hole.” London always made him cranky. He took a long drag and rubbed his temple. “There was another drained body here this morning,” McCree assured himself, “he must be close. He must be.”

He pulled his long coat tighter around his cold shoulders with a sigh, watching and listening. It was dark, but his highly trained eyes had no trouble scanning the streets. All he needed was a flash of movement, something darting by too fast, a rustle in the darkness – any sort of sign. He was getting restless. He needed a chase. Some action.

“Come on,” he growled after an hour of roaming with eyes peeled, “where are you?!”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and McCree grinned. He whipped out his gun, swiveled on his heels, and fired a bevy of shots at the figure. Then he realized the silhouette was too small to be Reaper’s. His stomach dropped as the body fell to the ground with a whimper. He’d always been too hasty, his mentors had told him that a thousand times. “One of these days you’re going to put a bullet in something that doesn’t deserve one!” He’d finally done it - to something in a tattered blue dress and a thin cloak.

“Oh God,” he sputtered kneeling beside her. “Miss? Miss?! Are you alright? Ah shit, please don’t be dead! Imma get you some help, ya hear? Just hold on!”

She grabbed his arm as he tried to stand up, pulling him back. She was strong. Too strong. There was another one of his bad habits biting him in the ass: he was too gullible when it came to women. “One of these days you’re going to let something bat a pair of pretty lashes at you and slit your throat.” His mentors were right again. Mostly. He saw her sickly red eyes and pointed teeth just before she lunged.

Much to McCree’s surprise, he awoke. Sore and confused, but alive. Wherever he was, it was dark and musty, making his nose crinkle at the mildewy smell. Dust coated his cheek as he sat up from the cold wooden floor.

“Son of a bitch,” he whined quietly, rubbing the bump on his head, “where did that little monster drag me? And where the hell is my hat?”

A low, sneering chuckle hit his ears as his hat drifted into the light, swaying back and forth teasingly. He recognized that pitch black glove and the elegant red cuff surrounding it.

“Reaper,” the hunter snarled, “not like you to let a little girl do your dirty work.”

The vampire laughed again, sauntering into the light. “What can I say – I wanted to test my new fledgling. And my, my did she impress! Pretty thing hauled your unconscious body back here less than an hour after I sent her out.” He sat down on a fraying velvet couch in front of McCree, lounging as if he didn’t have a care in the world after tossing the hunter’s hat flippantly to the side. “I will have to give her quite the reward.”  

“You gonna feed her a baby or something,” grumbled McCree as he traced his fingers across his belt. His gun was gone, his crossbow was gone, the sharpened stakes were gone. Even the dagger in his boot had been taken.  

“A baby,” Reaper scoffed, “that’s hardly a meal for a growing girl. I was thinking something a little more . . . personal.” His voice was suddenly sultry, and McCree instantly recoiled in disgust.

“That was very rude,” his captor scolded, “you’ll damage the girl’s pride! The way I hear it, you’re quite the Don Juan, but just rumors I suppose.”

“Oh I do just fine with the ladies, and I don’t even have to kill ‘em or hypnotize ‘em to do it,” McCree barked back. “Probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t wear a menacing mask or eat people.”

“Says the man with spurs and silver-tipped spikes on his metal arm. Glad you found a replacement, by the way – makes you a much more worthy adversary. More fun to toy with.”

“Or you could have not torn it off in the first place,” McCree fumed.

“Where’s the fun in that,” Reaper said swinging his legs onto the floor. The satin lining of his long overcoat glimmered in the candlelight – red and smooth and somehow ominous. His blood would glint like that when the beast finally got around to killing him.

“You are having fun, aren’t you,” the hunter asked sarcastically. “How much longer are you going to drag this out? There’s a lot of other shit I could be getting done right now.”

Reaper snorted. “Like what? For over a decade all you’ve been doing, day in and day out, is searching for me.” He stood and walked to McCree, stopping inches away from him. The hunter tried to lean away, but the vampire grabbed his chin and pulled him closer. “I am all you care about. I am all you think of. I am all you want, aren’t I?”

“No,” McCree automatically objected, but he could feel his face go hot. The truth in those words stung.

“Tell me the truth,” Reaper’s voice boomed. McCree’s vision went bleary as the overwhelming power of the elder vampire crawled its way into his mind. He had to obey, despite all the training he’d endured. Reaper was too old, too skilled.

“Yes,” the hunter admitted breathlessly.

“Say it,” Reaper demanded smugly.

“All I want is to kill you.” His own voice echoed in his head, bouncing about and rattling all the shame out of its hiding spots.

“You don’t even care about your order’s mission anymore, do you? ‘To seek all evil, to destroy all beasts, to protect all humanity.’ You could have killed a hundred of my kind in the past ten odd years, but no, you always come scampering back to me. Isn’t that right, Master Hunter?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t checked in with his superiors in ages. When they didn’t support his obsession, McCree branched out on his own.

“Tell me, boy, are you happy, chasing me all over the world always one step behind?”

“No.”

“Does anything make you happy?”

“The thought of killing you.”

“But of course,” Reaper sighed. “How predictable. You haven’t thought this through, though, my American friend.” The vampire kneeled down, the pointed edges of his mask much too close to the hunter’s face. “If you kill me,” he continued, “you’ll have nothing left! No prey, no purpose, nothing.”

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Damned bloodsucker was right, completely and utterly right.

“Judging by the paleness of your skin and the thumping of your heart, you know I’m correct, don’t you, McCree?” His kidnapper sounded so smug it hurt, but at least he was pleased enough to release his captive from the mind control.

The hunter was left reeling. It felt like some sort of awful combination of a hangover and a migraine was hammering into his skull. He sat there on the floor, curled over and panting as Reaper’s words seeped into his bones, filling him with dread and humiliation. He’d let this thing take over his life. He used to be a man – maybe not a good man – but a man with his own goals and desires and ambitions. Now? Now he was a plaything. A puppet for a fanged freak.

“Aw, poor little hunter,” Reaper cooed cruelly, “someone tear down your whole world?”

McCree glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

The vampire burst out laughing, his entire figure shaking with twisted joy. “You are a delight! All full of useless bluster and pathetic angst. And I’m not even finished yet! I’ve one more surprise for you ‘partner.’”

Hearing the old, undead man fake a Southern accent was strangely unsettling. A shiver ran up the hunter’s spine. “Oh goodie,” McCree mumbled, trying to be tough. He sure didn’t’ feel that way.

“One more question, then your treat,” Reaper promised like he was talking to a dog. “Answer me this: do you have any hope left? Any at all? You’ve failed to kill me, even after all this time, and now you know if you kill me, your life is pointless. Seems rather hopeless to me.”

“What does it matter,” McCree said with an angry huff.

“I told you to answer me.” Reaper rose from his bended knee, undoubtedly glaring down at his captive. “Do you want me to put you under again?”

He did not want that. Christ almighty he didn’t want that! His head was still throbbing.

Before he could come up with a witty reply, McCree was buckling over and writhing in pain. Evidently, Reaper had no patience. As the kidnapper man screamed and twitched on the ground, the question blared in his ears. “Do you have any hope? Any at all?” It was like a massive gong, sending agonizing vibrations into every fiber of his being.

“For fuck’s sake, no! I don’t have any hope,” McCree all but sobbed. “None! I don’t have a single fucking thing to live for anymore! Nothing!”

And the pain was gone, leaving the hunter in a panting, sweaty pile. He’d given in so fast. He disgusted himself.

“Not a ‘single fucking thing to live for,’ you say,” Reaper mused. “Wonderful!”

McCree wanted to smack the smarmy vampire right out of his fancy boots, but what good would it do? Reaper would probably just laugh at him, call him ‘cute,’ or some shit. The hunter had been defeated, once and for all. He was empty and ready to die, even if it was at the hands of this monstrosity.

“Chin up, cowboy,” Reaper sang, “time for your reward! A little something to perk you back up, now that you’re at your lowest.” He picked McCree up by his neck effortlessly, forcing the man to his feet. “My lovely little fledgling, time to come out!”

The girl that had attacked him tentatively stepped into view, head bowed and hands trembling. She looked disheveled, especially next to her master. Her clothing was torn in a number of places and her shawl was hanging on by threads. The shoes covering her feet had visible holes, and dirt smears were splattered all over her body. It would have been depressing if not for the blood on her chest and arms. McCree scowled at her. Her fingers were still stained red from her last sloppy feeding.

“Eyes forward, my dear, you are a fearsome creature of the night! Act like it,” Reaper said waving the young woman closer.

She tilted her head up when told revealing high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Her hair was matted with dried sinew and what seemed like weeks of inattention. McCree should have found her repulsive, sickening, but she looked so . . . scared. Her red eyes darted between the hunter and Reaper as her slender figure twitched erratically. Something was wrong with her.

Reaper wrapped his arm around his prisoner as if they were longtime friends, speaking in a chipper tone unbefitting of someone who burned villages out of boredom. “Master Hunter Jesse McCree, venerated member of the murderous Van Helsing Order, I would like you to meet your daughter, Juniper.”

McCree’s head flinched back, shooting Reaper a confused look. The vampire just laughed. “Don’t believe me,” he asked smugly. “Just picture the little dear with brown eyes the same color as yours, and that long brown hair tied back in a ribbon, just like yours. Not seeing it yet?”

He could see the resemblance, but the denial was still holding on tightly.

The vampire let out an exasperated moan, “Fine then, look at the freckles. Remind you of anyone? Perhaps a certain redheaded innkeeper’s daughter? From your homeland? One who liked to tell tales about the local history and ‘The Great Werewolf Hoard?’ Ringing any bells?”

“Ho fuck,” the hunter gulped before he could stop himself. He remembered that woman – her stories, her kind smile, her nose. This frightened newborn vampire had that same nose.

With an almost deafening laugh, Reaper shook the hunter’s shoulders like he’d just delivered a hilarious punchline. “You should see the look on your unshaven mug! All of a sudden all the work I’ve put into this reunion is worth all the trouble,” the masked man sighed contentedly. “She’s a cute little beastie, isn’t she?”

“She’s a monster,” McCree said quietly, trying to convince himself as much as Reaper. “Whatever she was before, now she’s just one more creature I gotta put down.”

“Oh,” the elder vampire said finally removing his arm from McCree, “is that so?” His mischievous tone made the other’s man’s stomach flop. “You don’t feel anything for her? No regret? No sympathy? No tenderness?”

“No,” the hunter grunted uncomfortably.

Reaper hummed curiously before shrugging and grabbing the young woman’s wrist. The girl’s eyes widened and she let out a pitiful noise as her master pulled her into a headlock. “I suppose if I can’t torture you with her, Juniper here has no use.” With an overly dramatic flourish, the undead man produced a wooden stake and threw his arm back, ready to strike. His fist came barreling toward her chest.

“Don’t!” McCree’s hands grabbed Reaper’s a fraction of a second before the mahogany pierced Juniper’s heart. The hunter had never been so terrified in all his life. He didn’t want to watch her die. He should have wanted to kill her, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“That’s what I thought,” Reaper crooned in a voice so low it could rattle a man’s innards. “We’ve been doing this dance a long time, master hunter, and I believe I’ve come to know you quite well. You’re a simple man with simple desires – so simple it’s a bit sad. You want love, McCree, plain and simple. That’s why you’re always so good to women you woo, why you always give your last few coppers to the gutter-rat children in the streets, why you spend your evenings happily listening to old men in bars blather about their past. And here’s your chance!” He let Juniper out from under his grasp, instead holding her by the waist, their bodies pressed together at the hip. “You have a child, McCree! A girl, at that! Someone to dote upon and dress in frills. Someone who will look up to you and hold you tight. Your very own family, small, but pure.”

The vampire’s gloved fingers began to snake up Juniper’s torso, massaging her tender flesh. She stood there, letting him do it, but stared at the hunter, desperately. Rage began to boil in the hunter’s core. Reaper’s hand groped the young woman’s breasts.

“You have a daughter, McCree, and she’s all mine!”

“You fucking – ” He lunged at the creature, knowing it was futile, but he didn’t care. If it meant the bastard stopped touching Juniper, it was worth it, but the hunter’s stolen gun was suddenly pointed right between his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah, my boy! Not so fast.” Reaper turned the gun to press against the young woman’s ear. “Violence begets violence, you know.”

McCree took a step back, arms in the air. “What do you want from me,” he spat.

“There is only one more thing you can give me, old friend,” the vampire said nuzzling Juniper’s neck. “I’ve broken you down until you were all but begging for death, and now I’ve given you something to live for – all that’s left is letting your precious daughter feast on your blood. I’ve hardly fed the poor dear since I turned her, so she’s famished!” He smacked her ass, pushing her toward McCree. “Kill him, my dear. Feast on him! Sink those pointy fangs into his neck and drink your fill!”

She slowly closed the distance between them and fell to her knees in front of McCree. Her body was shaking more violently now. He wanted to hold her close and wrap his coat around her. Even with her teeth bared, the hunter didn’t feel an ounce of fear.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her, “I promise.” Reaper chuckled.

Juniper moved closer, her nose nearing his jugular. She was a young vampire, but plenty fast. He didn’t see her hand as it moved to his neck.

“Don’t look down,” she mouthed at him and he frowned for just a moment, then he felt her slip something into his hand. He knew that shape, that smoothed edge. A silver-tipped stake.

“Help me,” she whimpered almost inaudibly, “I can’t keep resistin’ much longer. He’s – he’s in my head!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, filling McCree with a determination he’d never known the likes of.

“What’s the holdup, Juniper? I know you’re a ‘hick’, but surely someone taught you to not to play with your food,” Reaper joked.

McCree looked at him and scowled. “I need your help, baby girl,” he murmured back to his daughter.

“What was that,” the elder creature hissed, flying to McCree’s side, grabbing him by his long hair and yanking his head back. “Enough sniveling, Juniper, kill him, now!”

She cringed and gripped her forehead, yelping and quivering in pain, but she was strong, like her father. With an inhuman snarl, Juniper tackled Reaper to the ground, pinning him in place before he could react. McCree scrambled to his feet, weapon at the ready. With one practiced movement, he stabbed Reaper in her chest, making the vampire screech and squirm.

He was hurt, but far from dead. He whipped his arm from under Juniper and punched her in the throat, making her crumble to the floor. McCree clenched his silver metal fist and pummeled Reaper again and again and again. Until his mask broke and the hunter hesitated at the sight of the mangled face below him – all gnashing teeth and ashen skin and a too long tongue that lashed out like a spear.

McCree may not have been frozen in place for long, but it was long enough. Reaper pounced, stake still stuck insinde of him, but this time he was on top, grinning and dripping saliva on the hunter’s stunned face.

“I’m going to bleed you dry, feed the meat from your corpse to my dogs, and grind your bones with my bare hands!” He leaned in closer, licking the sweat from McCree’s brow. “Then I’m going to chain up your ‘baby girl’ and do every filthy thing I can think of to her supple little – ”

There was a blast and Reaper was tossed off of the hunter. The vampire’s body was still. McCree was panting, waiting for the beast to get up and chuckle, but he didn’t.

“Is,” Juniper rasped shakily, “is he dead?”

The hunter turned to Juniper, who was still holding his pistol in her shaking hands. It was covered in silver adornments, and McCree could smell his daughter’s burning skin. He jumped to his feet and started to pry the gun from her hands.

“No,” he said frantically. “I’ve shot him before – it just slows him down.” He began to wrap up her hands with a bandage from his pocket. “We have to get you away from him. We’ll get on a ship and just keep sailing, okay? I’ll keep you safe, alright?”

When he looked back to Juniper, he saw her staring at him with a dazed look. “You’re bleeding,” she said, swallowing hard. “From yer head. I can smell it. I can feel it.” Her chest heaved as her eyes dilated. “I’m so hungry,” she wailed.

He grabbed her wrists as they approached him. “Easy there, sweetpea, I can’t help ya if I’m dead.” She whined, but nodded. “Can you, uh,” he said eyeing Reaper, “feed on him?”

She leaned over and bit her lip. “Maybe.”

In the time it took him to blink, Juniper was crawling over her master’s body, mouth affixed to his wrist. She made a disgusted face, but didn’t stop until her body stopped shaking.

“Better,” McCree asked as she stood.

“You ever vomit in your mouth and have to gulp it back down,” she grumbled. “It was like that.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, hun. We’ll figure something out for next time.”

“Next time,” she said wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s gonna to be a next time.”

“We’ll find a way,” McCree said blocking her view of Reaper’s mangled form. “I dunno how, but I’m gonna take care of you, ya hear?”

“I didn’t want to be like this,” she sputtered at him, “he just found me and dragged me away and – ” Her hands clamped over her trembling lips.

“I believe you,” he said grabbing her arms. So damn cold. “It’s not your fault.”

She looked up to him with teary eyes and slowly leaned into his chest, crying softly into him. He held her close and rubbed her back.

“I’ve got ya, baby girl, I’ve got ya.” He didn’t know how, but he was going to protect his daughter, no matter what she was. She was scared and hurt and confused, but she wouldn’t be alone. Neither of them would be anymore.  

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Crapulous

Characters: Dean, Reader, OC Patsy

Word Count: 2700-ish (whatttt?? that’s it??)

Warnings: Language, alcoholic consumption, sass

A/N: The morning after an alcohol-soaked case, the reader is doing her best to recover with little-to-no help from Dean. I wrote this for @seenashwrite‘s 200 followers celebration. Prompts are bolded throughout the fic. I also managed to sneak in the Hiatus Challenge prompt from @thing-you-do-with-that-thing. *Nash, although I didn’t sign up for it, there’s a bonus prompt in there, too!! Many thanks to @idreamofhazel and @kayteonline for being fabulous and helpful betas. As always, feedback and constructive criticism are welcomed and appreciated!

I groan as I feel sleep drifting away from me. My head is rocking and bouncing with the potholes in the road, but I fight it, desperate to hide away from consciousness and the hangover that would come with it. The beginnings of it already start to creep in on me, my body sore and achy, the foul taste of hard liquor remnants coming alive as I lick at my dry mouth. My eyes scrunch further shut and my nose crinkles in displeasure as the heat from the sun beats down on me.

“Nooooo,” I moan, feeling the immediate jack-hammering to my skull, making my brain throb as I start to wake. “Oh. Bad.”

A feeling of nausea rolls through me, my stomach quivering as it threatens to heave up its contents.

“Well,” Dean says, gratefully gently, “Good morning, starshine.”

“No,” I grunt, cutting him off and making him chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m dying. I don’t ever want to drink again.”

“Aww, come on. Can’t be that bad.”

“Shut up.” I whine. Completely pathetic.

“Hey. Don’t pass out on me again.”

I wave him off as he chuckles to himself again, and once I swallow the nausea back down, I resettle myself to pass back out. I’m just finding the sweet spot when I feel the car swerve then start to shake and rattle, the loud thundering from beneath us jolting me upright as I cling to the dashboard.

“Ohmygod!”

Dean turns the wheel, pulling the Impala away from the rumble strip along the side of the highway. “You gotta wake up, we’re almost in Hays.”

“Ugh, again?” I look at him, my face scrunched up in pain. “Can’t we just go home so I can die in peace?”

He purses his lips, at least pretending to think it over. “No can do. I’ve got a date with a plate of bacon and a sweet, sweet woman.”

“Dean, it’s unhealthy.”

“Look, leave the bacon alone-”

“No, not the bacon - Patsy. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here.”

“Pshh,” he shook his head at me, “You sound jealous.”

“You. Wish.”

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls off the highway and into a lot overgrown with weeds and rogue patches of grass. The restaurant lacks a sign out front, and if it weren’t for the huge, dingy windows, no one would have known people were inside. Dean quickly hops out, waiting as I force myself from the car, every bit of me protesting as I go.

He pulls open the creaking screen door, following as I walk through first, and lets it slam shut behind him. The short, leather-skinned waitress pushes through the kitchen door, mouth curved into a wrinkled frown.

“There’s my special lady!” Dean shouts from behind me, making me cringe. I glance to my left, noticing a group of college kids looking like they’re still going from the night before, and on the other side, a few other stragglers who seem just as confused as I am as to why they are there.

“Well hey Dean, Y/n. Go on, sit down, you’re blockin’ the breeze,” she says, shooing us away from the entrance and the swiveling fan that pulls in nothing but dry, hot air from outside.

Dean shoves me into a booth, just settling in as she places down two waters, condensation already dripping down the sides of the slim glasses.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon. You keep up with all these visits and you’re gonna make my husband jealous,” she croaks. Her sandpaper voice, perfected by about 80 years of smoking at least 2 packs a day sends my skin crawling with irritation.

“Which husband is that - number four or number five?” I ask, rubbing my head on my palm.

She tilts a hip, setting her hand on it. “Four. And if I have my way, Dean will be my lucky number five,” she responds matter-of-factly.

“Ohhh, Patsy, I’m yours. Just as long as you vow to make me that pie of yours.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she scolds him. “You’re gonna be my trophy husband. Can’t let you go and get all plump on pies.”

“More like consolation prize,” I mutter.

“Please honey, this boy is arm candy and you know it,” she emphasizes with a bony finger pointed at me. Dean sits up a bit straighter, pleased to be so blatantly objectified as I roll my eyes, regretting it immediately as the movement strains my eye muscles.

“So what am I in this whole situation?”

Patsy eyes me up and down for a moment, clumpy mascara chunks sticking together as she lazily blinks.

“I’ll let you be his mistress. I’m sure he’s got the stamina for it, and Lord knows you ain’t got the brains to lock him down before someone else does.”

I bark out a laugh, setting off a fresh wave of pain in my head. “More like I’m too smart for that.”

She gives me a pointed look, droopy eyelids hanging down despite the eyebrow she’s raised.

“What? I am,” I insist.

“Right, because you walked into ‘Stripper’s Discount Warehouse’ and said, ‘Help me showcase my intellect.’”

I drop my mouth open, amusement and shock hitting me in equal measure. Dean slams a hand down onto the table, making the silverware rattle as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Patsy, go easy on her, she’s had a rough night.” He gestures at me and I glance down at myself, assessing whether or not I look as awful as I feel. I’m still wearing my ‘bait’ outfit that helped me blend in with the rowdy, drunk crowd from the night before. It’s more than a little off-kilter; I wipe under my eyes, pulling away the residue of eye makeup.

“Well, Dean, if that’s how you leave the ladies the morning after, I might have to reconsider our relationship.”

“Please, Patsy, you know I’d treat you like a queen.” He grabs her hand, holding it tenderly.

“And I’d never let you out of bed to see the outside world again.” She winks. “Now, let’s get some food in y’all before Y/n here goes green.”

Dean smiles and shakes his head in awe. “I love you.”

She pats his shoulder condescendingly as she walks away humming ‘Looking for Love,’ refilling a few coffee mugs and jotting down an order for the cook waiting at the griddle.

“So, fill me in on last night. I’m guessing the bloodsuckers didn’t give you too much trouble?” I ask, sipping the water and letting my fingers trail along the condensation.

“Nah, it was pretty easy to get the location of the nest. However, you...at last call, that’s a whole other story.”

“Yikes.” It’s as much of an apology as I can give at the moment, but he accepts it. I dig an ice cube from the glass and pop it into my mouth, “Next time, I’m dangling you for bait.”

“What? I don’t get an encore?” He smirks.

“An encore of what?” I ask with a tilt of my head. Desperate for the pain to go away so I can focus on remembering what happened.

His smirk spreads into a wide smile, his eyes shining with mischief. How he looks so good while I feel so terrible just makes me more frustrated and ready to backhand him. A flash of red and green zooms past before I hear it plunked onto the table, drawing my attention away from our staring contest.

“Quit makin’ eyes at my man and drink up,” Patsy interrupts.

I turn to her, getting a stern look in reply as she nods at the table. A short glass of thick, red tomato juice with a huge celery stalk sticking out of it rests before me, which I stare at suspiciously.

“Hair of the dog, hun. It’ll perk you right up.”

My stomach rolls and Dean laughs at the gurgle.

“Oh, well, I hope that’s got some whiskey, and some tequila, and let’s see -  does rum sound right to you?”

“I'll be...ugh….bathroom,” I mumble and gesture as I scramble out of the booth, tripping on anything and everything on my way. A watery belch escapes from my stomach, burning on the way up.

“Gross,” I whisper at myself, trying to ignore the giggling from the table of college kids that got an earful.

The bathroom smells like piss, and wet dog, and more piss - not helping my uneasy stomach, but at this point I'm sure puking would make me feel worse. I hover over the seat, weakly tugging at the fabric at my hips to pull it down, until the urge becomes too much and I shove them down, letting out an ahhh of relief, followed swiftly by a confused, “What the -?”

After taking a moment to wipe some cool water over my face and clean up the smudged makeup and drool marks, I do my best to walk back without wobbly legs, barely making it before collapsing back into the booth, sliding across the vinyl to unflattering noises, grateful to have to put little to no effort into sitting.

“Dean?”

“Yup?” he asks, popping the ‘p’ harder than necessary. His bottom lip is stiff and trembling as he tries to hold onto a straight face.

“Whose underwear am I wearing?”

Before I get two words out he's folding over in laughter.

“Fucking tequila,” I spit, angry at drunk me, and more angry at Dean for enjoying it so much.

He's trying to form words between laughter, but only gets out snippets that don't make any sense. “The band...and these paper hats...he had beef jerky...and you...and you…” He gives up as I stare at him flatly, not following a damn bit of it but certain I had violated at least a few local ordinances by his reaction.

“And what did you do that whole time?”

He digs his phone from his pocket, wiggling it in his palm. “Surveillance.” He winks.

My head hurts more. My brain rattles in my skull with every hard beat of my heart, the blood struggling to pump through my dehydrated body. I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the glass of tomato juice, hoping what's in there is enough to provide relief until we get back to the bunker. If Dean’s this thrilled, I must have done something good, but it's all blank, hours lost to a haze of alcohol and loads of blackmail. God Damn it.

“For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God.” I attempt to sound repentant.

“Prayers won't help you with this one.”

I open my eyes, staring at the cocktail in my hands and the absurd celery stalk standing in it like it's a Magic 8 Ball, ready to provide me with an answer as I continue my prayer. “Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me in the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen.”

“That was very moving.” I look up, surprised to see Patsy there with a tray of food and a smirk on her face. She sets the food on the table in front of us, moving things as she pleases to make room.

“It was something,” Dean laughs, shaking his head back and forth, staring at his phone screen.

“I'm too hungover for this.” With a groan and all the speed I can muster, I reach across the table, barely snatching the phone from his hand before he can react and dropping it right into the thick, red juice sending it splattering across the table.

I pick up the glass and hand it to Patsy. She takes it gingerly between her fingers, eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

“Patsy, dear sweet angel that you are, can I please get another? There's something in this one.”

“Waste of vodka,” she grumbles, walking back into the kitchen.

Dean has his head resting on his fist, a bored look in his face instead of the angry one I expected. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Sammy’s got everything backed up. The cloud, ya know,” he waves a hand in the air, “Now all you did was piss off Patsy.”

“Whatever, she knows you're an ass.”

“Blue ribbon ass.” He takes another bite, talking through his food. “Don’t forget, I’m a prize.”

“You sure are honey,” Patsy croons at him. “But darlin’, you mistreat this girl right here and I don’t care how sweet that ass is, I will beat it up and down main street.”

Patsy sets another drink down in front of me, sending a nod of solidarity my way as she sets Dean’s napkin-wrapped phone in front of him. I finally take a sip, only slightly gagging as I push more alcohol into my system.

“Careful, Patsy, I might like it,” he calls over his shoulder as she walks away.

“So would I,” she hollers as she pushes through the kitchen door.

“Could you be any louder?” I whine, grasping my head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to sink down into the seat and go to sleep again. “Next time you’re the bait.”

“You just wanna see me in a skimpy outfit.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“So, the case,” his picks up, muffled by a mouthful of food, “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Lord, take me now.” I pinch my nose in frustration.

“Okay, ignoring that. So, good news, the plan worked and we drew out the nest.”

“How could there be bad news?”

“We still gotta take them out.”

“Excuse me? H-how? I mean. Why?” I watch as he shoves more food into his mouth, ignoring me.

“Yeah, so it looks like we’re still on clean up, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Oh, I liked that show,” Patsy chimes in, breaking the tension as she fills up Dean’s half-empty coffee mug. “And, ya know, I like them Twilight vampires, too.” She walks away, not adding anything further to the conversation.

Dean’s face curls in displeasure, his voice dropping low, “Oh, Patsy. No.”

“Patsy, yes.” I smile sleepily. “You know, opposites attract. I can see why you like coming here so much.”

“Shut up.” He wipes his hands and face.

“So,” I gulp down more of the cocktail, “Where are they?”

He stares down at the egg residue on his plate, swirling it with the tines of his fork. “They’re, uhhh, West. Just over the Colorado border.”

I squint. “Dean. That’s where we just came from.”

He glances up at me, lips pinched shut as he chews. His eyes wide with a fake look of surprise.

“God damn it, Dean!” He freezes and I lower my voice. “You mean to tell me you just dragged my hungover ass two hours away from our hunt for some breakfast.”

“Not just breakfast,” he insists, shaking his head. “Patsy.”

“You’re seriously obsessed. Are we sure she isn’t a siren or a witch...or mayyybe some kind of rogue leviathan hybrid -”

“Please don’t ruin this for me, Y/n.”

“What if she’s got the whole town under a spell, and we’re screwed because she’d dumbed us down with food…”

“Please stop,” Dean begs, eyeballing the skillet in front of him.

“Oh no no no. Just imagine, we’ve got her cornered, torching this godforsaken place, but we’re too dumbed down to move, and like, a big sweaty fireman carries you out of the burning building and you think - Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth - but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just - flurp - falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.” I finish describing the scene with my hands clenched around the air.

Dean stares at me blankly, chewing uneasily on the food in his mouth. “That was cruel.”

“What was cruel? Something wrong, hun?” Patsy stops, nodding at Dean’s unfinished plate.

He gives her a skeptical up-down. “No, no, just gotta, you know, hit the road again.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Typical.” She shakes her head as she slaps down the bill. “Til next time, darlin’.”

He watches her shuffle away, eyes shifting between the waitress and me. He leans in, whispering, “You don’t really think? I mean, it’s Patsy.”

“Seriously. Grossly. Infatuated.” I shake my head in disbelief, “If we check her out and she’s clean, I won’t come between you again, I promise. Now let’s get back out there and you can tell me about what happened to my underwear before this vodka wears off.”

Tags y’all:

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[safestsephiroth]

An Incomplete History Of Ala Mhigo

Excerpts from coded messages left for Ashley Rosenheim within A Complete And Uncensored History of Ala Mhigo by Bernard Undertaker, given to Ashelia Riot for safekeeping.

Undercity in turmoil. Garleans have assumed control of the city. Approx. 1/4 staff report survival after escape attempt. Made the Garleans an offer. They think me cowed. They will learn their mistake. All I have to do is live long enough to see the day.

No word from Tia Malheur. Alma Malheur reported dead. Makes sense. They told me Ashley’s dead, too, but I don’t believe it. You’re better than that, Ashley. I know you’re still out there. I’ll find you, whatever it takes. I’m not losing you, too.

They think this book is me writing a historical textbook for fun. They cannot crack our cipher. But at least they think me boring. Good. Let them.

The man assigned to relay if your wife and daughter escaped safely was found dead today. Tried entering the city through the front gate. The depths to which I’ve had to resort, hiring idiots like that. Garleans won’t let me inspect the body or tell me what it was carrying. That might mean they’re fine, or it might mean they want me to have hope.

Persuaded the Garleans not to torture me. Sold several staff remaining in the city to them. Death and disability are unacceptable. I must be ready when the counterattack comes. When Eorzea fights back. It will happen.

Garleans demanded I marry. Intend to use a spy to watch me, think I’ll love her. As if that could happen.

The agent appointed to marry me is an idiot. I somehow find this even more insulting. She plays at being kindhearted. But she’s nervous. I can see she’s thinking too hard about what she says before she says it. Careful with her words. She’s got to have some sort of angle. All of their kind always do. She’s pretending she doesn’t notice I notice and it’s infuriating me. They’re force me to live on their compound, now, too.

The Garlean blinks twice every time you ask her a question that takes any thought to answer at all. Every single time. It’s a delay tactic. It’s irritating. Sloppy. This is the kind of spy they send to watch me, one who has such an obvious tell?

Gridanian source says Tia Malheur and Ashelia Riot have yet to be seen, but the horde of refugees is thick and the conflict with the city’s guards has made identification difficult. It seems likely the Garleans would kill them if caught and identified. And taunt me with the bodies.

The Garlean doesn’t stretch her joints enough. I can hear her ankles pop when she walks across the room at night. I hate her so much.

Sold another agent today. Still haven’t found you, Ashley. Can’t die yet. City needs freed. You need saved. She wasn’t doing anything of any real value, anyway. Her “Resistance cell” was her, her brother and their dog. No significant cost to the cause.

The Garlean asked to try the food I was cooking. I wish I could have poisoned her. She claimed to like it, too. Either she was telling the truth or she’s a great liar pretending to be a terrible one. I’m not sure which it is, yet.

Been reading further into voidsent summoning. Told them it was a book about Ala Mhigan rituals to track enemies by using their blood. The idiots believed me. They don’t know a single thing about our culture. 

Binding powerful things to my will? Still beyond me, and probably always will be. Tiny voidsent? That’s doable. Can see through an ahriman’s eye, but grow it too much, and... well. Testing will be necessary.

How ironic I used the eye of an ahriman as my icon and soon I’ll literally look through one.

The Garlean mentioned the way I sit reminds her of an old friend she knew. I’m not her friend.

The Garlean bought me a book, said it was because she saw me writing so often. ‘Garlemald: A Glorious History’. What a thinly-veiled attempt to brainwash me. Child’s play. 

After I read the book, she pretended to sympathize with me: “It was assigned reading at the Academy. It’s pretty thorough but has a clear bias. Can I read your Ala Mhigan history book?” They clearly want her to see if I’m writing in code. Good luck cracking this cipher. All she’s going to see is a boring history textbook.

I told her it isn’t finished yet. She offered to ‘help’ with research. As if she could. As if I’d let her. What an idiot.

“Bernard Noctine”. When the city’s free, I’m going to burn every single document they ever dared to write those words on. No one must know.

I also need to destroy every single image that exists of me in a suit. A suit! Rhaglr’s blood, I’m going to see them all burn.

Especially the tailor. “Red and black, perfect for your new country.” I’m going to figure out a way to see him burn.

I used to think your wedding was the most awkward and uncomfortable experience I’d ever been through. I remember Marco saying he’d be the best man at my wedding. I’m glad he can’t see this.

Garleans demand I sire a child. They’ll take the thing away, off to their Academy. As a hostage. As if I would care. But it disgusts me all the same. The thought. My blood, swinging a Garlean sword. Learning their culture as if it were proper to. Told they’re superior to what we grew up with.

A young idiot threw a grenade at a Reaper tank collecting taxes near a quarry. That sort don’t want a revolution, they want recognition. Nobody will remember his name.

I fail to understand the appeal of procreation. Spent the entire time waiting for the dagger I was sure she was going to pull on me when my guard was down. Still waiting.

Why would anyone want to be that close to someone? I tolerated hugs for Marco’s sake, but this is far, far worse. Uncomfortable. Irritating. A waste of my time.

Haven’t heard from Gustav. Worried he’s gone native. Boy was always more clever than smart. Maybe they’ve tortured him. Maybe they’ve broken him. Would be a waste.

Found what I was looking for - a concoction that will sterilize me. Should’ve done it years ago. What use do I have for a child? As soon as the first one’s born, I’ll make sure there’s never a second.

The Eorzeans show no sign of assisting us. When Baelsar goes West, they’ll see their folly. Perhaps then we can strike, while the garrison is gone.

The Garlean is with child. Good. I’ll kill it at birth, tell her there were complications, then play up that I’m so aggrieved the thought of making another is unbearable. That should work. If nothing else, the sterilization is something they won’t be able to deny is real.

Every time I look at the Garlean there’s something odd I feel. Not sure what it is. Some sort of spell? Garlemald doesn’t know this sort of magic, do they? Is she drugging me?

The Garlean offspring is due in days. Preparations are complete. I’ll finish the job myself. Can’t trust anyone else.

Couldn’t do it. Can you believe it? It was strange. I’ve never hesitated before. I’ve never felt the ‘guilt’ people talk of when they kill people. But I saw it... no, I saw him screaming. Crying. Pathetic. Weak. And yet Ala Mhigan all the same. I made a split-second decision while the Garlean was unconscious. It would’ve been so easy to make her death seem accidental, but not worth the risk. Took my son. Sent him away. Used his blood, my blood, the Garlean’s blood. Summoned and bound a small ahriman. I can watch the boy through it. This will work. This is good.

The Garlean’s attempts to convince me she thinks anything more of the boy than that he’s a tool to manipulate me have not deceived me. She cannot and will not be trusted. None of their kind can be. I will not fall for her faked tears.

He is my son. And he will be my only son. The concoction works. No more worrying about procreation.

The “agents in charge” were furious. Claimed I was making it all up. Their leader thinks he sees through me. Perhaps he does. But he can prove nothing, and I can prove myself incapable of siring another child. They demand the Garlean stay with me regardless. Continue this charade of a marriage. It’s a punishment, I’m sure.

His name will never be ‘William Noctine.’ He will not be named after the filth that sired his mother. He will never, ever meet that mistake of a family. He will never go to their academy, fight in their military, work as their slave. He will be free. He will be strong. He’ll have the life we couldn’t have, even if it means I have to get him out of here.

This ring stifles my hand. I refuse to wear it.

The Garlean cries. She is my enemy. I don’t care.

The Resistance is weakening. They were passionate, but disorganized. One by one they die or depart. They’re solidifying into various factions. The weakest will die, unable to support themselves. I can keep the strongest alive, possibly.

Garlemald continues to seep through this city’s skin. All the Twelve are absent. There are statues - of Garleans. Disgusting.

A child threw a stinkbomb at a Garlean patrol. They shot him in the street.

Children are sequestered away. My son is safe, but lives in filth. So did we. If he is more my son than hers, he will survive.

I hate them all.