#(she loves climbing inside plastic bags and its terrifying)

[theygender]

I wish cats were like dogs where you could take them to a cat park or kitty daycare or on a playdate and let them run around with other hyper energetic kittens for several hours and then you bring them back home and they're so played out that they're just chill the rest of the day. Astrid is in her preteen phase now and she has the most violent destructive zoomies of any cat I've ever seen. Our older male cat can't keep up with her when she really wants to play and neither can we. I just played with her until she flopped from exhaustion TWICE a few hours ago and she's already jetting around at near light speed knocking shit off every horizontal surface and doing kickflips off of us with her claws out again

[pappydaddy]

Nurse Simon (s.k)

A/N: I had absolutely no idea what to name this. This is just a quick fic I wrote up for Simon to kick off my Fear Street Masterlist so it's not very long, just a little blurb. I wrote this all last night at one o'clock in the morning because I couldn't sleep with my mouthguard in (I had to get it because I chew the inside of my cheeks and lip in my sleep when I'm anxious) and I just rolled with it. Anywho, I hope you lovelies enjoy this very random Simon fic💛!

TV Show/Movie: Fear Street: 1994

Pairing: Simon Kalivoda x Fem!Reader

Not Requested

Simon Kalivoda Taglist: @maybe-alistair

Warnings: Anxiety is mentioned, anxious tick is also mentioned (chewing the inside of your mouth). Not proofread, I'm going to read through all my fics so I will edit this better then.

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- not my gif -

Laying in bed, Y/N groaned, flipping over dramatically as she pleaded with her brain to shut up. Mouthing the uncomfortable mouthguard around in her mouth, she cursed her brain for making her this way. “Stupid Anxiety.” Her words were altered by the lisp the mouth guard gave her as she flopped onto her back once again, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the silver moonlight flowed against it.

She was still not used to having to wear the mouthguard her doctor instructed her to get after their last appointment. To make things worse, it was a random unopened mouth guard found at the bottom of her brother’s duffle bag. So there was no way of knowing the true cleanliness of the plastic guard (even though she boiled it three times just to be safe). Letting out yet another annoyed groan, Y/N forced her eyes shut, trying to manually shut her brain off so she could get at least a few hours of sleep before school tomorrow.

Just as her brain began to slow down, the unexpected draft suddenly invading her room kickstarted her brain right into overdrive. She froze, trying to figure out if the sheer exhaustion she was battling the past few weeks had finally gotten to her - causing her to hallucinate - or if there was actually a murderer climbing through her window right then and there. Both were possibilities in Shadyside.

The stumble of feet tripping over her knocked-over cardboard cutout of Nick Lachey made her blood run cold, but in a moment of sheer stupidity, Y/N shot straight up in her bed, flicking on her lamp to uncover her murderer. Stunned, she sat there blinking at her boyfriend as he blinked back at her, for some reason scared that he had been caught sneaking into her bedroom at three in the morning.

“What the fuck, Simon,” She exclaimed, her mouth guard making her talk with a lisp. She didn’t realize it was still in, instead, proceeding to grab her pillow from behind her and hurl it at her boyfriend. “You can’t do that shit in Shadyside, I thought you were a murderer.” She wished she hadn’t thrown her pillow at him since she had a strong desire right then to smack him repeatedly with it, but at the same time, she didn’t want to throw both her pillows.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, holding one hand in the air as he bent down to grab her pillow from by his feet. “Sheesh woman, you have good aim,” He muttered, rubbing his nose after being hit square in the face by her uncomfortably hard pillow. “How do you even sleep on these things? When I sleepover, I just use my folded-up t-shirt, it’s softer than this shit.” He asked, tossing the pillow to its rightful place at the head of her bed.

“Well I’m sorry that with all the great technology of the 90s, we as a human race have failed to figure out the perfect pillow formula, Simon,” She grunted sarcastically, still forgetting about the mouth guard. “Now why are you here,” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, inadvertently drawing her sex-crazed, always horny boyfriend’s attention to her boobs. “Simon!”

“Huh, what?” He snapped out of it before looking at her face, jumping back with a small scream.

“What?” She asked, looking behind her for whatever scared him, but there was nothing. Looking back at him, she saw the same look of terror on his face, his shaking finger pointed right at her.

“Don’t freak out babe, but there is something in your mouth,” He whispered, stepping hesitantly towards her bed, too scared to get close to it. “It’s all over your teeth and a tail thing is sticking out of it.” He pulled his top lip up, pointing to his top teeth before swooping it to indicate a tail.

Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling the mouth guard from her mouth, a string of saliva following it. She cringed, thankful their relationship was not new or that would have been mortifying. Simon had always been comfortable around her. At first, Y/N was more careful about what she did in front of him, not being her full self out of fear of him leaving, but being in a relationship with a person for over six months changes that. “It’s my mouth guard, you Baboon.” She told him, reaching over to place it in its case.

“Why do you need a mouth guard, scared of getting tackled in your sleep?” He asked, crawling onto her bed, flipping unceremoniously into the spot next to her, winching when he landed on the hard pillow.

“No, it’s so that I stop chewing the inside of my cheek when I’m anxious.” She barked, grumpy.

“Sheesh, someone’s a little grumpy.” Simon sucked in a breath, looking at her with gleaming eyes. She glared down at him, not wanting to admit that the wide, sparkling blue eyes he was giving her broke through her grumpiness instantly.

“No shit, I was just about to fall asleep when you came falling through my window, scaring me half to death and now you won’t stop talking,” She ranted, pointing at the still open window. “And you didn’t even have half the decency to close the window after you.”

He rolled off the bed, walking over to shut and lock the window. “Well, let’s go to bed together. Might help you sleep, then we can sleep in tomorrow morning.” He suggested, picking up the cardboard cutout, standing it in the corner of the room next to her extensive Cassette and CD collection.

“We have school in the morning.” She reminded him, not looking up from where she was fixing her bedsheets from him messing them up when he rolled out of the bed.

“You’re such a nerd that you want to go to school on Thanksgiving?” Simon asked jokingly, knowing full well that her exhausted brain completely forgot what day it was tomorrow (or today since it was the morning already).

“Shit-“

“It’s all right, I have the day off so I’ll nurse you back to sanity, babe.” He pretended he was doing her a great justice as he flopped back down beside her, pulling her down with him, pressing her back flush against his front.

“That’s not an overly comforting thought,” She grumbled, but he simply shushed her, petting her hair. “Fine,” She gave up, accepting it. “But the only reason I am not chewing you out for making me think I was gonna get murdered is the fact that I am too tired to argue.” Her words slowly became slower and more slurred as being wrapped in Simon’s arms made her feel protected and less anxious, basically shutting her brain off with the feeling of his touch.

Mustering up enough strength to battle against the sudden wave of sleepiness, she reached to turn her lamp off, bathing them in darkness that only the silver moonbeams broke up. Seconds later, her eyelids drooped, cutting out all light. “I love you, Simon.” She breathed out, forgetting her mouthguard.

“I love you too, babe,” He responded. She could feel him reaching over her to her nightstand, but she was too tired to care. “I love you so much that I can’t let you forget your terrifying mouthguard.” He whispered, thinking she was asleep. Gently, he managed to wiggle the mouthguard into her mouth before settling back down behind her pulling her farther into him, snuggling his face into the back of her neck affectionately.

[theflashdriver]

Rapunzel’s Tower (Silvaze)

The clatter and jangle of heavy bangles boomed above the sound of fast footsteps on cobblestone streets as a young knight rushed towards the tower. Blaze the cat, age seven, was not her usual self today; the young feline had taken on a guise, a façade to fit a role she was currently playing. While she was wearing her usual tattered robe and tights, a cape from a centuries abandoned costume store was flitting and fluttering behind her while the visor of and old plastic helmet obscured her vision of the cracked and burning streets around her. Those old trinkets, coupled with the rusted pipe that was her sword, might have given the illusion that she was a more pitiful and crude knight, but this was not the case.

Blaze was playing the role of a young knight who had set off to save a fair maiden from a distant castle in which she'd been sealed, battling her way over all manner of obstacles and destroying all kinds of beasts in search of her true love. Of course, despite the make-believe nature of this game, those obstacles and monsters were oh so very real. The flaming beasts that prowled this city had got in her way more than once, only to be seen off by either a thwack from her supposed sword or a burst of flame from her free hand. Every time she had to dispose of a monster or hurl herself across a lava filled gorge, she would question whether this game of theirs was the best idea but soon she'd fall back into her knightly persona.

This had all come about as a result of two ancient but very different sources. The first was the books they'd been reading or, well, more specifically; the books that the tower's maiden had rather fallen in love with. Since the destruction of their prior home, they'd taken up residence in a library on the edge of the city and rather fallen in love with the various books housed within it. They'd started by reading informative pieces, introducing themselves to the wonders of the past, before gradually stumbling upon the more fanciful tales of both regular and not so regular lives. Her partner, Silver, had rather fallen in love with tales of pirates and knights and kings and queens, often reading them to her and bordering on enacting them to her. His excitement had come to a head recently though, after they'd discovered a most peculiar shop. It seemed to have gone mostly untouched by time, no one had breached its windows or broken down its door, but both inside were countless treasures. Rings, bangles, tiaras, necklaces and other trinkets had just been left in glass display cases for no clear reason. Why someone would choose to buy those shiny objects rather than food or water, neither of them really knew but they did know that the objects belonged in treasure chests and adorning princesses.

Now, taking from long abandoned shops was nothing new for them (it was the only way to survive in their long-destroyed world) but, usually, they stole for either comfort or survival. All of these objects, despite how pretty they were, looked to be entirely pointless; they could gain no sustenance from them and they offered no comfort or protection. However, the naïve pleading of her partner, and a certain red gem that fit so well on her forehead, had convinced Blaze to fill a bag with those sparkling trinkets. On the way home he had proposed using them in a re-enactment; more specifically, that they re-enacted a scene from one of the shorter stories that he'd read to her. It'd taken some convincing, but she had agreed to play his little game under only one condition: that she got to be the knight while he played the part of the princess.

He'd immediately agreed, simply excited to play and not seeming to particularly care what role he took. While that had embarrassed her at first, she'd stood helpless as he scrambled to find some shining armour and when he had brought her a cape from his bedroom, Blaze had felt an excitement brewing in her stomach. A childish, foolish, excitement but excitement none the less. Her armour was adorned from most of their plundered goods, broaches and pins had been stuck through her robe to create small shining patches. Rings and bangles had covered her hands to take the form of makeshift gauntlets, but many had been shed as she ran. Admittedly, even with all they'd taken and dressed her in, she didn't look much like the knights they'd read about in history books or plays, but she did feel… different.

She dashed and leapt across another jagged chasm, using her sword as leverage to vault over an especially wide gap and land safely on the other side. Her eyes locked on a pair of prowling magma hounds, their maws snapped open as they caught sight of the small girl's form. She threw her left hand in one's direction, unleashing a blast of flame that threw it backwards. The second rushed towards her, arriving just in time for its face to meet with her rusted pipe. Without so much as looking back, she kept running; the castle now in sight.

The tower, in actuality, was a skyscraper that had broken and collapsed long before either of them were born. Though the majority of it now lay shattered over the shops and houses that were behind it, its stump still stood tall and proud over the majority of the surrounding buildings. Though Blaze could see it, she knew that the site was especially difficult to reach; that was why they'd chosen it as the stranded princess' keep, after all.

Focusing again on her role, becoming the knight, Blaze charged around the final corner and locked her eyes upon the tower's decrepit plaza. There was a lot on her way; several lava rivers had carved channels through this part of the city and earthquakes had displaced much of the land, segmenting the streets and pavement alike. She threw a glance to the top of the tower; she swore that she could see the flickering of cyan light but, from this distance and at this angle, she couldn't make out Silver.

She resumed her sprint, tracing along the angular central crack that ran along the street, but soon she had shifted to jumping and bouncing. Every third or fourth step was followed by more cracking, the ground had been made brittle by years of constant heat and pressure. She found herself more and more using her pipe to vault and ground herself, very almost losing it to the flames time and time again only to catch and swing it at the very last second. Fleet of foot and elegant, but perhaps not steadfast like the knight in the tale, Blaze soon found herself in the plaza beneath the broken structure.

It took her a moment to find a spot that would fully support her, it seemed as though her every step disturbed the ground somehow, but, eventually, she settled near the spire's base. In its working life, the building had provided homes to hundreds of people. Now it was but a jagged piece of the skyline, too rickety and impractical for anyone to really live in. Positioned closer and frowning upward, the kitten could see a psychic glow plainly emanating above her. After a bit more squinting, Blaze determined that Silver wasn't in view yet; he was hiding until she called out to him, just as the princess had in the story. The moment she spoke up, he'd make his appearance and recite his lines.

Blaze thought for a moment, trying to remember what the knight had said. She must have taken a while because, before she could hazard a guess, the very book that she was supposed to be enacting tumbled down from the skyscraper on a beam of cyan light. The young feline managed to snatch it from the air, finding it already open at the perfect page.

Upon reading no more than the first few words, the knight automatically recalled her lines. Holding the book behind her back, she pointed her sword to the heavens, "Rapunzel, my dearest Rapunzel, I've come for you!"

Now, finally, the princess showed herself. Silver, currently known as Rapunzel, had borrowed one of Blaze's hair ties and pulled back his usually over the top quills. In an attempt to further transform his appearance, the hedgehog had wrapped himself in a thick beige shawl and various silk scarves to give the outfit more colour. From down there it was difficult to see, but she knew that his fingers were covered in rings too.

"Who is it? Who has come to see me?" He called down, leaning precariously over what remained of a wall.

"It is I, your handsome knight!" She shouted back, unable to keep herself from thinking that the so-called knight in the story thought just a little too highly of himself. After all, his only name in this entire book was the handsome knight, "I've come to save you!"

"But how will you join me up here? My father broke the stairs when he locked me away in this tower, I'm trapped!" He exposited, "I've been alone up here for so many years, I'm oh so lonely!"

"But it is being alone for so many years that will bring me to you!" She replied, pointing her sword even harder, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

There was a beat of silence, a mutual realisation surely dawned upon both of them. In the story, the princess Rapunzel was supposed to let down her hair for the knight to climb up. While it was unclear how the happy pair had got down afterwards and left to live happily ever after, the story could not continue without the scaling of the princess' tower and the actual first meeting of the knight and their love. Silver's quills were long, but they weren't multiple stories long, there was no way-

"Dear knight! Do you trust me?" That wasn't in the book, "My hair may not yet be long enough, but I can bring us together another way!"

Blaze saw cyan light begin to pulse and flicker around her frame and creep into her vision, not imprisoning her or grasping her so much as it was making clear his intent. She bit her lip, both her fists tightened around the respectively grasped book and pipe. She was frightened, terrified of heights, but she knew the answer to what he'd asked. They were alone in this destroyed world, they worked and fought and lived and played together.

"Of course, I trust you, d-dear princess! More than I trust anyone else!" She called out, shutting her eyes tight, "J-Just promise that you'll get me up there safely!"

Aura began to tickle at her sides, "I promise, my knight! I'll get you up here as quickly as I can!"

"M-Maybe not quickly!" She felt his psychic touch hesitate, "But not too slowly either…" She grumbled, probably too quietly for him to hear, "Just safely! J-Just get me up there safely!"

The kitten felt a gentle touch, like some kind of hug, wrap around her shoulders before gradually spreading to encase her entire torso. Mere moments after she'd managed to get comfortable with that, her feet seemed to slip from the ground and a light wind began to whistle through her ears. Her toes curled and her teeth grit, she didn't dare to open her eyes even if she knew what was happening. She trusted him not to drop her, that much was true, but she didn't trust her fear not to stoke her powers and tear her from his grasp; sending her plummeting to the concrete below. Eventually though, she felt the air brush her muzzle directly rather than from above; she'd reached the correct elevation, she was being pulled towards him. The moment of truth arrived not with a sound, but something brushing past her shoulder and a hand taking hold of her book wielding wrist.

Her eyes opened, blue energy still tinted her vision, but Silver was the centre of all she saw. The small hedgehog was close, almost nose to nose with her, as he leaned out over the edge of the tower to manually pull her onto its top. She let her sword drop before she landed, it clattered onto the roof as she grabbed at his shoulder with her newly freed hand. Her fear of heights had gotten better since she'd met him, he'd offered to help her with it much too often, but there was still a way to go until she'd be comfortable jumping from building to building or even standing atop this one. They'd been up here before, she knew the floor was stable, but this rooftop was never meant to be a rooftop; it wasn't designed to endure rain, let alone the landing and spittle of lava monsters, and she swore it'd gained more holes since their last visit.

As if noticing her worry, as she made contact with the ground, Silver brought both his arms to tightly wrap around her. It was a comfort and contact that she immediately returned, dropping the book too as she took hold of him. It only took a minute or so for her to relax, feeling her heart slow to match his, but the moment that her features softened and she caught his eye, a smile broke onto his face.

"My knight, you have saved me from my isolation!" He continued the story, continuing to beam, "How can I repay you?"

"Just stay by my side forever, that will be more than enough," She recited from memory, attempting to regain the knight's cool air, "I've searched for you for so long, I don't want to lose you again."

"Then it will be done, I'll stay by your side forevermore!" He insisted, completing the scene by pulling her into an even tighter hug.

His fluffy quills brushed and ticked at her. Though she turned her head in an attempt to hide it, Blaze couldn't help but grin. It'd been very silly, they probably should've spent this time searching for food or reinforcing their home, but Blaze couldn't deny that she'd thoroughly enjoyed this pseudo performance. There was something almost regular about it all, almost as if it suited them better than doing what they had to. She supposed that made sense, they were kids after all and, according to the books at least, kids were supposed to imagine and play games. There was a whole section in the library meant for children and very little of its literature was particularly practical, even if those stories were far more fun to read.

She would never admit that, of course. She always insisted that silly games like this were the result of his sole machinations. But then, he displayed more than enough joy for the both of them.

"You did great Blaze, you really fit the part!" He was practically bouncing, beaming brighter and brighter with each passing second, "But… can I be the knight next time? That all looked really fun and I'll be able to fly up to you; you won't have to worry about getting scared if I do that, right?"

"We can take turns," She conceded but, as she through a small glance towards the ground, her grip on him redoubled in tightness, "But… I don't want to be up this high without you."

"Alright! We can find somewhere lower," He offered, grinning so widely that she thought his cheeks might break, "We could even just do it in the library if you prefer, there are plenty of fairy tales about princesses in dungeons too!"

--- --- ---

The memories of that time were a lifetime away and yet they were still so fresh in her mind. Blaze the cat, age eighteen, was stood on her bedroom balcony. The structure overlooked the royal gardens. Though the grounds were currently devoid of workers, the rose bushes, sunflowers and plants from far afield had been tended for generations and bloomed today with the same vigour they had a century prior. The sun had set almost an hour ago, the last trickles of pink and orange were slowly fading from the sky, and yet she was still wide awake. In a rather uncouth fashion, she'd brought her dinner to her bedroom with the promise to eat while she worked.

But she had done neither. Instead, she'd spent what little time she'd had pacing back and forth across the royal bedchamber; her mind had latched onto those old memories she'd so recently discovered. Memories of a life in which she played the part of a princess rather than lived as one.

They'd thought jewellery no more than interesting rocks stuck to shiny metals, their concept of value had been so jaded that the plate of cold paella on her desk would be worth all the rings and diamonds in the world. They'd been famished, they were delusional children clinging to each other against the odds. Any rational person wouldn't dare think back to those memories or, if they did, would consider them no better than tragic, the most difficult and dangerous time of their lives. So why did she feel like this, what were these bizarre thoughts that cluttered her mind and pushed out every other thought?

Why was she so nostalgic for that terrible place, what possible reason was there?

She'd left that world wishing it better, she'd given her life without so much as hesitating. She could remember looking down at him as her ethereal form drifted up and split the clouds as she passed from one life into the next. Blaze had essentially reincarnated, not only had she forgotten that life, but its pain and strain had been entirely removed from her mind and body. She'd been reborn, this new dimension had granted her an entire refresh of both mind and body, but yesterday had seen her regain half of that. Her mind was spinning, filled to burst with tumultuous memories that so heavily contradicted the life she'd just lived. The current mismatched form of her memory was already having impacts on her mind and body.

The sunset she'd just spent the past hour watching had occurred outside her bedroom window every night for the past eighteen years. Every night, she'd had the option to watch or even simply glance as the sun descended before slipping beneath the horizon. She never had though, or, at least, she hadn't since she was young. The glory and wonder of that sight had been entirely lost on her, she'd become desensitised to it. It'd been made mundane by its perpetuity, made a commodity by their daily occurrence, but now it wasn't so daily. Now she could remember fourteen years spent in a city where the clouds never parted, and it was as if this was the first sunset she'd ever actually seen.

Until her departure, the skies of that future had been overwhelmed by black sulphurous clouds that light refused to penetrate. She'd gone without seeing a sunrise or sunset for fourteen whole years, she'd seen nothing but the most dower of grey skies. This life hadn't been so different though, the sky had been there, but she'd never seen its value. It was all thanks to him; his returning of her memories had saved her from more than a dull castle view, he had unlocked the version of her that'd been hidden away in the shambling tower that was her newly unharmed body.

Unlike that once forgotten day, the first of many times they'd embodied those childish roles and played that silly game, she'd actually saved him. She'd given herself up for him and the world; she'd revealed the sky by leaving rather than arriving. It was painful to think how pointless it had all been though, that their loss of one another had only pealed back one of many layers of disaster that stood between them and the good future they desired. The peaceful world that he fought for was still sealed behind a two-hundred-year barrier of crisis that would surely take decades of work to unlock.

It was with that thought that a speck of cyan light fluttered up and found its way into Blaze's vision, soon being followed by a handful of larger glowing globules before, finally, a grey-white figure masked by that that same energy floated up to enter her vision. Despite his arrival and their reuniting just yesterday, she hadn't been able to see him all day. Her work as both guardian and princess had taken up far too much of her time and refused to halt regardless of her headspace. Silver the hedgehog, age eighteen, was floating just outside her grasp. His body was bound in bandages she'd set just yesterday,

He hung before her in the air, smiling as he reached out to her, just as he had in days long past when he had played the role of knight and she had been princess. Without so much as blinking, she took his hand and lead him to stand on the balcony beside her. The contact seemed to stun him just a little, it took a moment for him to round from his position to land beside her.

He'd quickly gone from grinning to looking sheepish, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, I know you said to get here before sundown but I got a little lost and distracted," Before he could even fully apologise, his eyes were flickering back to the outside world, "This place is just so pretty, even the garden down there, it's…"

"It's beautiful," She finished his sentence before continuing, "The sun sets every evening only to rise the next morning without fail and, in the time between the two, the stars come out to dance so wonderfully."

"It's a very different sight from the one I've been seeing," He admitted, plainly scanning the sky for the twinkling of the first star, "Well… not very different, but different enough to notice."

"Oh?" She hummed, briefly managing to tear her gaze from his softer smile.

"Yeah, I don't recognise any constellations, your moon's just a little different too. In the past of my world a lot of it got destroyed. This one looks perfect," She couldn't see it now, but she had last night so she understood him perfectly. Alike the sunset, the moon had stolen a place in her heart, it was undeniably beautiful.

Still, her eyes returned to his frame and the feeling of his hand in hers sapped all of her thoughts. For as overwhelmed as she felt, struggling to rise after that rush of old memories, he was struggling more, even if it wasn't showing so plainly. He'd arrived in a world that perhaps embodied his perfect future only to receive a clear reminder of how long he'd been working at his task, all that it'd already cost him and the future trials ahead of him. Even if he hadn't considered such things yet, those thoughts would surely materialise and bring him to worry; he could be so insecure when he was on his own, so she didn't plan to leave his side.

Blaze tugged his hand, turning him to look away from the sky and to her. He stumbled a little, almost colliding with her as he was made to align with her and the entryway to the royal bedchambers. The hedgehog was framed by the descending sun, even without looking, she could see the stars flickering into visibility behind him. He'd never quite looked real to her, always just a little otherworldly; a figure of bright colours that stood in stark contrast to the burning city that had surrounded them. Here though, flanked by the cosmos beyond this world, he looked more at home than he ever had before. It was almost as if he belonged in this tower rather than her, she couldn't imagine that she looked so stunning with that vista behind her.

Despite how he'd arrived, despite him hovering up to meet her, Blaze knew the role she wanted to play. Fortunately, it was the one she most often took She knew that she wanted to look after him before even considering letting him look after her.

"You know…" She couldn't help but primitively roll her eyes at what she was about to say, a small grin had surely snuck its way onto her lips, but she spoke in her usual dry tone, "I think I liked things better when you were the princess."

Tensions were still so high, these feelings and memories were just so raw, but she couldn't hold a straight face for long and, naturally, neither could he. Their frames reunited, her hands found his shoulders while he came to hug her and their heads heavily pressed against one another. Laughing, even if neither of them were quite sure why they were, they found themselves slowly shifting deeper into her room.

Once they were beyond the threshold, Blaze managed to shift her head from his and take the hedgehog in again. Silver was still laughing, eyes shut as he so casually leant against her. He was quite the mess, his quills still thoroughly overgrown and his fur made mismatched lengths by the injuries he had sustained across this second life, but the warmth behind his smile still shined through. Though his form was slightly different to the Silver she'd known, that smile told her that the naïve hedgehog she'd once known lived on in this new shell. As his eyes finally reopened, she recognised the flash of excitement in them.

"W-Well then, my knight," He was struggling to keep a straight face as he continued her joke, "I made a promise to you once, I don't intend to let it break again," He was playing his role from way back then, perfectly falling back into it, "Now that I've arrived in your tower, I would ask no more than the same from you."

"If that is truly all you wish, my dear princess, then of course, I agree to your terms," At this distance, though she'd been distracted, the scent of salt, smoke and sweat was deeply rooted in his person. Where her soft fur met with his coarser fluff, she could feel the bizarre friction; she'd given him some care yesterday, but it hadn't been enough. No matter how nice he looked with that skyline behind him, there was no denying the truth, "Come on, I'll draw you a bath. You're filthy."

"I jumped in the sea this morning though," He earnestly responded, looking down at himself, "I thought that would be good enough… it took ages to dry off."

"You're still so naïve," He still had so much to learn about living normally, let alone this world, "Just as it's a knight's job to protect the princess, it's my job to look after you. You're dirty, hurt, overgrown…" She noticed that his gaze had drifted past her, his nose was wrinkling. A glance over her shoulder revealed her cold dish of rice and fish, "And clearly famished. Let's get you more comfortable. I won't let you struggle alone for another moment."

All it took was another tug at his wrist to pull his stupefied frame after her. Though this wasn't the role she'd been reborn into, she knew it was the one she suited far better. That and, as the innocently perplexed look on his face proved, he did make for a rather adorable damsel, even if he didn't much need the guardian's more literal protecting.

[ms-maj]

Do You Hear What I Hear

All the thanks in the world to the amazing @theheavycrown​ for the incredible header. I think I’ve said it before and surely I will say it again but, Sarah is best. This is for prompt #29- A very special present has a fluffy, four-legged surprise inside requested by the lovely @reinhartdeyes​. Enjoy!

“Do you see anything?” The flashlight shook in Betty’s hands, biting cold working through her mittens as she tried to illuminate a path for Jughead.

“Do you?” Her husband questioned back from deeper inside the garage. 

She took a step in, the snow and wind blowing at her back. “If I had seen anything, Jug, I wouldn’t have torn you away from your last-minute wrapping.”

At that he stood, shined his flashlight at her and sighed. “I’m not saying you were hearing things, Betts, but...maybe you were hearing things. It’s not exactly a nice night.”

The snow had been falling steadily for a couple of hours, turning their very green Christmas Eve into what would undoubtedly be the white Christmas everyone had been dreaming of. “I was not hearing things, Jughead. I heard a very specific sound. It was crying!”

“Then why haven’t I heard anything? We’ve been out here for fifteen minutes and all I can hear is your teeth chattering,” he took a step toward a pile of haphazardly stacked boxes, carefully trying to weave his way through the maze in the dark.“Betty, it’s close to midnight,” Jughead took the first box down and set it aside. “It’s nearly blizzarding, and we still have to get everything ready for the morning. Five more minutes and I’m…”

Squeak. 

“Did you hear that!?” Betty moved closer to her husband.

“No, I didn’t, shockingly enough,” he muttered, heaving another box off the pile. An old plastic dollhouse sat between him and the wall; his boot caught on it as he tried to turn in the dark space. “Shit!” 

Keep reading below or check it out here

Jughead managed to keep his balance but had apparently stirred something in the darkness.

SQUEAK.

Betty’s light cut a swath in the dark before them, his boot now purposefully tapping at the dollhouse.

The squeaking amplified; not just in volume but also in frequency. 

“Jughead, if you try to tell me you still don’t hear anything I’m going…”

“No, Betty, I hear it. I can’t unhear it. I think that if I move—oh my god.”

Betty rushed over with her flashlight. “What? What is it?”

“It’s a little...” Leaning over the dollhouse, after a little bit of a struggle, Jughead pulled up a very small, very loud puff of fur. “...kitty.” 

Betty had set her flashlight down on the snowblower before rushing over to her husband and taking the very tiny kitten from his hands. “It has no tail! Oh my gosh, Jug, we need to go get milk and bottles and—”

“Whoa, whoa, it’s Christmas Eve, Elizabeth,” he said, retrieving their flashlights and walking back to the door. 

“Fine, Forsythe, you take it and I’ll go,” the too-young-to-be-alone kitten is held out in front of her, nearly lost in Betty’s hands. It was blizzarding now with at least six inches covering the driveway and sidewalks. The one store that was sure to be open was a good thirty minutes away on a good night, but Betty knew that if she continued to look at him in just that way he’d cave. Jughead craned his neck back, gloved hands pulling his well-worn beanie back over his head.

He sighed. “Go start a fire, get it warm or find something for it to sleep in. I’ll take care of everything else IF you finish my wrapping for me.”

“Deal!” Betty lunged forward, cradling the small creature to her chest as she kissed her husband in thanks. Unzipping her jacket, Betty stuffed the kitten inside and ran off to the house, her less than enthusiastic husband following behind her. 

“I’m gonna start the car, maybe shovel a little bit, you’re not listening to me at all so I’m just gonna go and hope to God I make it back before daybreak.”

Betty waved him off, too busy trying to figure out where to put their newest little friend for the night. The door closed in the distance, taking a resigned Jughead with it when she spied the tote full of presents by the tree. Of course, not one of them was wrapped. She nodded to herself in acceptance, she could make short work of that and have a place for the kitten to sleep. The kitten, however, had different plans. 

“Fire, right,” she mumbled to herself, setting the kitten down in an attempt to set up the wood. The small, terrified cat began to cry as soon as her paws hit the hardwood, crawling back up Betty’s still-booted foot before she could get any logs laid. “Okay, okay, I’m not going anywhere.” Betty picked up the whining fluff ball and realized it could do with a good cleaning, it’s bright blue eyes searching the room for something familiar and only finding Betty. 

Softly she smiled as she kicked her boots off next to the fireplace. They made their way up the stairs, kitten firmly pressed to her chest so she could grab throw blankets and old towels from the linen closet. It was careful dance to not instigate the kitten into alerting the neighborhood of their presence. 

It was well after two but the fire was lit, the kitten was bathed and currently curled up in an old blanket in the tote and all the presents wrapped and arranged under the tree. Betty was starting to fill the stockings when the kitchen door blew open, bringing with it her snow-covered husband with multiple bags of supplies. 

“Jesus, Jug. You look like the abominable snowman!” Laughing, she steps into the room, garlands still lit in the windows and takes the bags.

He shakes off the snow, mostly on his still laughing wife, and drops his coat over the back of a kitchen chair. “Well, it’s a blizzard, Betty. I’d say a good foot of snow has fallen since I left.”

Grimacing as the bags transfer from him to her, Betty sets them down quickly before she grabbed Jughead’s slippers and threw them to him. “Wonder if we’ll be leaving the house then.”

“Hopefully not. Which is why I also grabbed extra food,” he dropped into the recliner, pulled the lever on the side and groaned.

Betty was getting the morning coffee ready when the crying started.

“Uh-oh. Someone knows the food’s here,” Jughead sing-songed from his reclined state. Betty just smiled, dealt with the groceries and checked out the directions on the kitten milk replacement. One of the many bags he walked in with also held some toys, a bed, and a collar with a bell that looked far too big for the hungry kitten in her living room. 

“Just like a Jones already,” Betty muttered to herself while readying the bottle. She grabbed the rest of the kitten’s gear and walked into the living room where the scene before her had her heart catching in her throat as she spied her husband with the tiny cat curled up on his chest. 

She pulled a blanket from the sofa and draped it over their two sleeping forms, Jughead’s gentle snoring provided the soundtrack as she finished the last of the stockings and ensured the fire was out. The bottle was sat next to him on the side table in case it woke, but, knowing her husband, they’d be out until first light.

“Mooooooomm, come on!” In his excitement, their five-year-old son Christopher practically pulled his mother down the stairs Christmas morning. He had been sitting on the edge of her bed for nearly an hour, prodding her to wake, but having gone to bed past two, Betty managed to convince him to wait for his sister.

It was just after six-thirty when the three descended, Jughead still asleep in the recliner by the tree, the kitten now nestled into the crook of his neck. 

“What’s on Daddy?” Adeline asked, peeking from behind her mother.

Betty placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulders and guided her and their son over to where the kitten had begun to rouse. “That is your very special Christmas present.”

As if on cue, the kitten began it’s wailing, so loudly that Jughead nearly flew out of his chair and into the tree. Unable to contain their excitement any more, the kids ran from their mother to the small grey puffball that cried out from their yawning father’s embrace. 

“What is it?” Christopher asked.

“It’s a kitten!” Adeline pushed in front and climbed up the chair to sit on the arm, pulling the cat off her dad and holding it up for her brother to see. 

Christopher looked at it confused. “Uh, where’s the rest of it?”

“It’s a baby, bud, we’re going to have to take real good care of it too because we’re it’s family now.” Jughead sat up in the chair and pulled his son up on the other arm. 

“Why’s it squeaking?” 

“And where is its tail?” 

“That squeaking is because it’s probably very, very hungry. Your daddy fell asleep before it could eat. Do you two want to help feed it?” Betty walked back into the living room, cup of coffee in hand that Jughead took from her gladly. She swapped the old formula for new and handed the bottle to her husband. “And we don’t know, sweetie. It doesn’t look like anything happened so maybe she was just born without one.”

Jughead fed the kitten who greedily slurped down her bottle as his kids watched enrapt. “We’ll find out when we take her to the vet?”

Eyebrow raised in question, Betty turned to her husband. “Her?”

“Just a hunch,” he shrugs as the bottle falls from the kitten’s mouth. It mewled loudly, pawing at Jughead’s practiced hand before the bottle found its way back to where it was most needed. 

“Do you guys want to open any presents?”

“Not right now, Mom,” Christopher said mesmerized. 

Addy waved her off and laid her head on her father’s shoulder. “Maybe later.”

Betty nodded, swooning at her husband before grabbing her phone and uploading a picture to InstaGlam. Her family was completely caught up in the kitten with the tree glowing behind them. Cinnamon and pine and snow in the air, Betty, though extremely tired, had never felt more blessed. The picture was pretty, but it would never do justice to what she was feeling at that moment. 

Meow-y Christmas from the Joneses! Baby kitty is currently nameless, but the kids have just met it so I doubt it will be that way for long.

Update: Kitty is named Meowth. Of course.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Hey can you do a th or pp fic (preferably pp) based on the song good old fashioned lover boy by Queen?

This is so damn long. Recently I was thinking of writing a lyric fic and this just made me realize how bad of an idea that is cuz this blows haha. Blue italics are the lyrics.

[[MORE]]

Ooh love, Ooh lover boy. What're you doing tonight? Hey boy.

You'd always thought Peter was attractive. But he'd never had eyes for you. He was all over girls like Liz and MJ. Or so you thought. Little did you know, he'd wondered, out loud to Ned, if he thought you'd ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance, which Ned was unsure of. But you had no intention, and Pete was growing mopey at the idea of it not happening. And of course, one of your friends overhears him discussing it. So she went straight to you.

"Ask him." She pushed. You shake your head, clutching your book harder to your chest,

"No, absolutely not. He does NOT like me. It has to be another Y/N. There's no way." You reply quickly. She clicks her tongue,

"Its you. Its 100% you. I saw the way he looked at you. You HAVE to ask him or you'll both he disappointed." She says, grabbing your wrist and turning you sideways in the hall. All of the others squeeze past you, intent on getting to their next class, but Peter is there through the crowd, unruly curls a mess on his forehead. He holds a book under his arm, talking to Ned. However, when he looks up to scout out the halls, you lock eyes and your heart jolts up into your throat.

Set my alarm, turn on my charm

"Go. Talk to him." Your friend drags our, giving you a slap to the arm. You pout,

"I-I can't. I'm terrified. H-he doesn't like me. I know that. I can't be humiliated."

"Y/N, HE'S BLUSHING AND NED IS SMACKING HIM! IT'S YOU!" She practically yells. You huff, staring at her for a moment. She gives a geeky nod before you roll your eyes. When you turn to start towards him, Peter returns the slaps Ned dished out, eyes widening.

That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy

"Dude, dude dude dude. She's coming back here. She's coming. What do I do?" He rushes, some of his words slurring together. Ned let's out a breath,

"Just... act like yourself. She loves that." Ned replies just as quickly, watching Peter smooth down his flannel as you nudge your way through the crowd of people, nearly running into him. Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him,

"Oh, hi." You mutter almost breathlessly. Peter smiles, the freckles on his cute little nose shifting,

"Hi." He replies softly.

Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat

His heart pounds out of his chest as you stare up at him for a moment, nearly lost in his eyes. But he thinks it's cute when you blush, because he's lost in your eyes too. You glance down at your feet,

"Uhm... okay, so Sadie Hawkins is comin up-" You start,

"Yeah?" He eggs on. Ned watches, a somewhat goofy smile on his face, eyes darting between the two of you,

"I was thinking that, if you want, not that you have to, but uhm... maybe... you and I can- you would like to be my date. But uhm, you don't have to. Or if you want to go, it doesn't have to be a date. We can-"

"Yes." Peter interjects your rambling. When you look up into his eyes again, a smile creeps to his lips again. He fiddles with the straps of his backpack as you smile.

Ooh, can you feel my love heat?

"Yeah?" You ask, almost in disbelief. He nods, looking down at the long nimble fingers on his hands, his eyebrows raising,

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to. As a date too." He implies, looking up again. Those soft, brown, puppy dog eyes are locked in yours again after searching your face and the full smile he possesses returns. You smile and nod yourself,

"Cool. Uhm... maybe we could... go out to eat and pick out our outfits and all. I mean... I know there isn't a steady income in your house so maybe like... I could get extra money to buy you a tie and we could maybe go to- well... nevermind, it was dumb."

"No... maybe we could go to Prom or something together. It's not a stupid idea. I like it. But uhm... you don't have to buy it. I can. I have some money for a tie and I have a tux kinda." He explains. You nod, licking your lips. It's his turn for his heart to jump up into his throat.

Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love

He gives a breathless smile as you nod,

"Okay... yeah, uhm, how does Sunday sound?" You pose, cradling your book to your chest tightly. He nods,

"Yeah... I'd love to. May can drive us-"

"No, I got it. I can drive us." You tell him. He nods again,

"Cool, uhhh," pulling his phone from his pocket, he unlocks it and holds it out, "put your number in and I'll text you my address. You can come pick me up and we'll go to lunch." You nod, quickly typing in your number, book held with your forearms to your chest. He scans your body, licking his lips. He's always liked you. Sure, there have been other girls, but you're always a reoccurring one. You're bright and funny and smart as hell and Peter loves it. He loves the intellectual challenge he gets from you. You smile and you hand his phone back. He takes it, pocketing the device,

"Can I uhh... can I walk you to forth period?" He inquires. You nod, pointing down the hall,

"Yeah, sure." You reply sweetly.

And tell me how do you feel right after-all

Pete turns to look at Ned, his best friend shooting him a thumbs up before he follows you, stepping up beside you. He holds his hand out for your book which you wave your hand between you to show it's not necessary,

"Oh come on, you just offered to buy me a tie for Sadie Hawkins, it's the least I could do." He says playfully. You smile, offering up your book shyly. He takes it, stacking it over his and holding it at his side. You lick your lips at his bicep tensing to support the weight, head lost in bliss that he actually said yes. You're actually going to Sadie Hawkins with Peter Parker. He smiles when he glances over and you're staring. He's thinking the same. You're perfect. You always have been and he can't get over it. He's going to Sadie Hawkins with his long time crush. He swallows before speaking up again.

"Do you... have a color... or dress in mind?" You look up at him and shake your head,

"Not particularly. Uhm... there's a white floral dress at one of those fancy shops in the mall. It's pretty but I don't know how I'll look in it so..." You trail off and Peter turns to squeeze between you and some other kids,

"I'm sure you'll look perfect." He says. You look up at him, smiling gently,

"Thank you Peter." You reply, holding your hand out for your book as you pause in front of your fourth period class. He smiles and hands it over,

"You're welcome. Uhm... we should hang out around here before Sunday. We could like, sit together at lunch or something, I dunno. I just feel like we shouldn't be strangers." He elaborates. You nod,

"Yeah, sure, you have my number now." You say with a smile. He nods,

"Yeah, oh, I'll uhh... yeah, I'll shoot you a text." He replies with a goofy smile again. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck before you place your hand on his arm,

"Just text me Pete." You say almost in a coo that almost has Peter's legs giving out. But you don't see it as you turn into the classroom. Ned does, high fiving Peter again as they reconvene,

"Nice!" Ned says. Peter nods, big smile covering his face again,

"I know." He says in an almost gasp.

I'd like for you and I to go romancing

After you and Peter had spent Sunday together, you walked out closer than ever, the blue and white floral dress in your bag and the same color blue tie in his as well as a new pair of shoes, the both of you had stopped in at the floral shop to see if any of the corsages and boutonnieres matched you both and you enjoyed. But Pete had other plans.

The night he arrives at your house, he rings the bell, waiting with corsage and boutonniere in hand. When your mother answers, he flashes her a bright smile, letting her lead him inside and call for you. The second you come into sight, makeup and hair done up, dress and heels adorning your body, he's at a loss for words. You're beautiful beyond comparison, more than Peter's little heart can handle. His hands shake as you approach him,

"You look nice Peter." You say shyly. He nods, watching you stroke up his arm,

"Yeah, yeah, so do you- pretty I mean." He stutters, watching you smile. He holds the small, plastic container with his boutonniere out,

"You can uhm, you can pin that on me, and I'll put this in you." He explains, holding your corsage up. You smile and nod, pulling the pin out of the box as Peter follows suit, pulling your corsage out. Ge straightens up as you pin it on him, before he slides the ribbon over your hand and onto your wrist, taking hold of your fingers and smiling. You smile back up at him, your parents looking between the both of you. They know that look, and they know how genuine it is.

Say the word, your wish is my command

After a few pictures together, your parents and the both of you are climbing into your family's car and they're driving you to the school. Peter smiles at you across from the cupholder,

"We uhm- c-can we just like, hold hands a little bit?" He asks shyly, pursing his lips. You nod, placing your hand palm up on the armrest. He smiles down at it before lacing his fingers with yours, letting out a sigh. You smile, glancing out the window beside you as Peter runs his thumb over your knuckles, his heart calming now that your hand is in his. All this time, the two of you have thought the other didn't like each other. But now you've showed your true feelings to each other, you've expressed how you feel about the other and you're both excited to see this ride out. And all those girls that you thought Peter preferred over you, they were long gone from his mind.

Pulling up in front of the school, you and Peter climb out, him guiding you with one of your hands in the arch of his elbow. You smile at each other, being the only ones other than Ned and your best friend that know the both of you are going together. Walking up the steps, the music matches your dual heartbeats, the both if you taking a deep breath as Peter reaches for the door. He holds it open for you, following you inside, fixing his jacket. Once you both find your melded group of friends, they drag you to get punch, and then out to the dance floor.

Ooh love, Ooh lover boy

Pete can't take his eyes or his hands off of you. Sometimes you're holding hands, moving them back and forth, or they're placed at your lower back, your arms around his neck as you slow dance every so often. But if he and Ned escape to your table to sip at their drinks and take a break, his eyes are still locked on you.

"How are things with you both? You've been spending a lot of time together." Ned asks. Peter nods with a smile as he sips at his punch,

"She's great. God she's great. Yeah, that time at the mall was well spent. We held hands on the way here." Peter tells Ned with a cocky smile. Ned's mouth hangs open,

"That's amazing." Peter nods, looking around,

"Yeah. And I think at the end of the night, I wanna pull her in really close and kiss her. Or try to. But if she isn't into it-"

"You'll know." Ned says. Peter nods,

"Yeah, I'll know and I won't try." They share another nod before they're drug back out to the dance floor by you and Betty, Peter's hands held in yours by your hips.

What’re you doing tonight? Hey boy

When you let them go, but don't turn back to him, he places them over your hips. You don't move away and it spikes Peter's confidence, his hips swaying in tandem with yours. You lean back a few times to sing to him, your heartbeats having calmed now that you're comfortable being together. Peter loves holding you, and you love being held. Your friends think its adorable and people outside your group seem to admire how you look together.

After a few more songs, it's you and Peter that escape to the table, Peter watching you stare out over the crowd over the rim of his cup. He sets his cup down rubbing his lips on the back of his hand,

"Are you having fun?" He asks, almost inaudable over the music. You glance at him and nod and even despite your slightly smudged makeup, you look beautiful to him,

"I'm having an amazing time. I'm glad I asked you. And I'm glad we came." You reply. He smiles, nodding and looking down into his cup,

"Me too. I'm having a great time... with you." He says sweetly. You smile and set your own empty cup down. You take a step forward and fix the crooked boutonniere, a loving smile on Peter's face.

Write my letter, feel much better

When the DJ announces that the last song of the night is the next slow song, you and Peter stare at each other for a moment before he swallows and holds his hand out,

"Let's do it. Hopefully this'll be the one we remember." He says. You smile and nod, taking his hand and following him not back to your friends, but just onto the dance floor again, his hands at your lower back again, yours around his neck again. He breathes into you, eyes looking past you, around at those on the dance floor. He wants to remember all of this if you agree to kiss him. When he feels your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, he glances down at you. You cock your head,

"What's on your mind?" He smiles before shaking his head. He could tell you. He could ruin the surprise. The hand holding was welcomed and he wants to keep the kiss a secret. Just in case.

"Nothing much. I just want to remember this. Its nice." He half lies. But you eat it up as you look around, your eyes sparkling in the string lights that provide the only light. You nod,

"It really is. I've loved tonight." You tell him. He agrees. He licks his lips, looking down at yours. When you look back to him, you catch him staring at your lips, smiling to yourself,

"I think I know what you're thinking." You say slyly. He clicks his tongue, playing it off,

"Now I am." He jokes. You giggle. The song nears its end and Peter knows he has to make the move. You didn't verbalize a denial. And when you look back at him, he knows you want him to take the jump.

I’ll use my fancy patter on the telephone

The want sparkles in your eyes and Peter licks his lips again, ready to take the initiative. As the song begins to end, you both stop dancing. Pete leans in, giving you enough time to back away before the reassuring hand on his cheek and onto his neck guides his lips to yours. Its sweet and for a moment, the both of your hearts stop. Pressed chest to chest, his hands holding you tight by the dress you wear, your hands in his hair and splayed across his face, your lips work together softly, not rushed or impatient, just passionate and long overdue. He sighs into your mouth and you pull back just slightly.

He gives you one more quick before pulling back almost completely to stand straight, but still remain holding you. One of your hands stays at his neck, the other on his chest as you sway again. He chuckles,

"I like it. I like us." He says. You nod, smiling big with your heart thundering all over again. Pete likes you and you like him. This is working out and it's the best thing that's happened to you. For once, your crush has returned the feeling and he feels the same. The world has aligned you both perfectly and its magical. Once the song ends, the both of you separate, but you hold pinkies, his suit jacket finding it's way to your shoulders as you wait outside for your parents. And soon enough, his arm is around your shoulders. Oh yeah, this is gonna work out beautifully.

[nightwingshero]

All I Wanted

So...I did a thing. @sapphicvalhallas maybe I wasn’t as innocent as I claimed. Anyway, so I’m gonna be honest, I just wrote this out because I got inspired by a few songs. Mainly Misguided Ghosts and All I Wanted by Paramore. Hence the name. But...yeah.

“Do you think he’ll be happy?” I whispered, glancing up at Rowan as insecurity ate at my insides. She met me with a glowing smile as she stuffed the little booties in the gift bag with the paper.

“I know he will be. Having a miniature version of himself running around? He’s going to be ecstatic.”

I smiled, feeling reassured as I finished tying the bow around the plastic stick and setting in the bag. I was about two months, or at least, that’s what one of the doctors in the Project had said. Luckily, she still stuck with the doctor/patient confidentiality. The idea that the family was growing elated them, and I was curious if she had been more excited than I was. But that was what led us here, Rowan and I, away from her cabin in the woods with Jacob, and getting out of the ranch from John’s watchful eye.

If I was being honest, deep down I was terrified. So fucking terrified. The absolute joy the woman expressed, forced me to put a smile on my face, but I didn’t feel it. I went home, vomited up all the anxieties, fears, and trauma that went along with news like this for someone like me. Not that I was alone. No, many women have had to deal with stuff like I had, and I reminded myself of that. But to me? That defining moment haunted me enough that even the bliss twisted my nightmares into reality. Something that was supposed to be uplifting, showed me just how much my heart still bled.

But this was a new beginning, the real fresh start of my life, unlike what had happened when I first moved here. The blotched arrest, the constant fighting…falling in love with the enemy, and the ultimate betrayal. It was like I had free fallen into absolute chaos and it wasn’t until I realized what made me happy, that I was able to breathe.

“Wren?”

My eyes snapped back up to Rowan’s dark brown ones, a bit startled. “Hmm?”

Rowan frowned, leaning forward to squeeze my hand. “Hey, are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine! I was just deep in thought. Did you say something?”

She opened herself, but there was a sharp knock on the door, drawing both of our attention. Without waiting to be called in, Jane burst through the door. I smiled at the presence of my favorite redhead, something smart on the tip of my tongue, but I stop as her frantic eyes meet mine.

“Sister Wren, we need to leave. Now.”

Rowan glanced at me as my frown deepened. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She swallowed, closing her eyes briefly. “The ranch. It was attacked. The alarm had been triggered.”

“When?” Rowan demanded. I couldn’t move, let alone speak, as I went cold.

“About 20-30 minutes ago—”

“That long?!” I shriek, shooting up. “How the hell am I just now hearing about this?” I stormed out of the room, heading outside with both women on my heel.

“I just found out—”

I yanked open the driver side door and climbed in. Jane looked at me in shock, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need my Chosen driving me around, I only relented sometimes for John’s sake. I didn’t trust Jane to throw caution to the wind. I glared at her through the window. “Get in the fucking car.”

She pursed her lips before climbing into the passenger side, Rowan climbing in the back. I didn’t think about seatbelts, I had barely given Rowan enough time to close the door. Gravel flies as I slaw on the gas, Jane looking at me like a crazed woman, and in this moment, I was.

“John is still at the bunker, right? Has he been informed?” I asked. “Fuck, Randy is at the house. Was he the one that called? I hope he’s okay.” Jane hesitated, not saying a word. I looked at her, but the second our eyes met, she looked away. “Is he at the bunker, Jane?” I breathed out, panic rising in my chest from her silence.

“Wren—”

“Damn it, Jane, where the hell is my husband?” I snapped. “He went to the bunker like he had planned, right? He told me this morning that that’s what—”

“He never left.” She whispered, but it was as if she screamed it straight in my ear, a ring beginning to sound. “He stayed home, he wanted to make sure he was home so he would have time to surprise you with a date night. He…he insisted that he wouldn’t beat you home from the bunker.”

The sound that escapes my throat is strangled as I grip the steering wheel tighter, my foot pressing down a little more. Rowan clutches my shoulder. “John is surrounded by Chosen all the time, there are guards stationed at your home 24/7, Wren. I’m sure he’s fine.”

I tried the best I could, but I began to panic, on the verge of hyperventilating as my mind ran wild with the possibilities. Finally, I turned on our drive with Jane insisting I slowed down. I paid her no mind as I left a trail of dust behind us. My heart sank as we passed the YES sign, bullet holes and blood stains tainting the white paint. Jane squeezed the door handle as we came around the corner, slamming on the brakes and coming to a skid.

Jumping out, the breath escaped from my lungs completely. Blood, bodies, and chaos covered the lawn of my very home. I staggered, my hand over my mouth as I saw faces of my own loyal followers and people I had once helped, lifeless. A few more of our people milled around, trying to do what they could to clean up the devastation, but their faces were grim, heartbroken and mournful for the family members they had lost. I looked crazed as some newer members spoke to our Chosen, shaken and a bit hysterical, as they eyed me.

“Is that--”

“The Judge, his wife. You know Sister Wren, don’t you?”

“Does she know?”

There words barely register, and I rushed to the house, not caring for a second if Rowan and Jane were with me. The hairs on the back of my neck had stood on end as I ran. Randy was with John, John was safe. I repeated it tom myself over and over as I made it through the threshold. My legs push harder to get me up the stairs faster, and I stumble to a stop as I come to the top.

The door is barely open, just ajar enough for me to see the sunlight coming through. My heart hammers against my chest as I take a step forward. Normally, he would either keep it shut or decide to keep it open wide. I shouldn’t be this scared of a door, but I’m shaking. Suddenly I’m a heroine in one of those horror movies I force John to watch. We’ll both laugh at my comparison to Laurie from Halloween, and that’s the only comfort I can cling to in this moment.

“John?” I called, taking another step. “Baby, are you okay?” Nothing, but silence. My breath quickens even more. “This isn’t funny, you stubborn ass. Just please tell me you’re okay.”

I picked up the pace when I got no reply, a panicked sob choking me. “Please be okay. For the love of God, baby, be okay.” I shove the door open, looking and seeing nothing at first. But then I take it in, the messy desk, papers scattered, his laptop on the floor, and that’s when I finally find him.

I’m on my knees in seconds, my hands on his chest, as the tears pour. His eyes are closed, a tint to his cool skin that doesn’t settle well with me. He’s blue. He’s too fucking blue. “Baby, I’m here. I got you.” I cry harder when he doesn’t move. I barely notice the blood soaking through my jeans. I’m too busy shaking him. “John, wake up, I’m here. It’s okay.” I pull at his hand to place it against my face, but its cold and it won’t stay. My eyes squeeze shut as a painful wail finally escapes, all my feelings refusing to be bottled any longer.

I grab him, pulling him on my lap as I cradle his head, my lips pressed against his forehead as I cry. I rock back and forth, because I don’t know what else to do. The movement disturbed something in his other hand, drawing my attention. The frame was broken and the glass shattered, but our wedding picture was still in decent condition. My rocking increases as I sob harder. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

I squeeze him harder, willing him to open his eyes. To cough, and scoff, only to make a stupid remark that would only make me smack him on the arm. To snap at me to stop because I’m making him dizzy. But none of that comes and I hear a distant shrieking as my hand fists his hair, placing my forehead awkwardly against his. I hadn’t had the chance to tell him, he would never know that I was carrying our child. And I was alone. I would have to do this all alone, without my partner, my anchor. It was crushing, I could barely breathe. As the soreness in my throat builds, I realize that I had been the one shrieking. “You promised! You swore to me that you would never leave me!”

Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back, but I only held on to my husband tighter. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let go. But the person was stronger. And I turned as they ripped me away and swung blindly. Jacob dodged it with ease as I tried to pull away, only to slam my fists against his chest. He pulled me forward, engulfing me in a hug as I collapsed against him. “He’s gone, Jacob. He’s gone.”

“I know.” Jacob replied, his voice gruff. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer condolences, just stood there as I fell apart. I pulled away, glancing to see Rowan and Joseph there in the doorway, both silently crying. “Get her out of here, Ro.”

Rowan nodded, gently pulling on my arm. I followed, allowing her to pull me along. I was too numb, too out of it to protest. This wasn’t real. This didn’t feel real. I wanted nothing more than to just go back to this morning, laying in bed with him laying on top of me and snoring lightly. I would give anything to go back to two nights ago, to relive the fight we had. The way that he had slipped down the stairs to carry me up from the stairs because I was too stubborn to sleep in our room. I wanted his arms around me.

“I’ll get you some tea.” Rowan whispered as she helped me to couch. I say nothing in response, and she leaves.

I had been sitting there what felt like hours, a mug full of cold tea in my hands. I had only been sipping it here and there. They had already carried him out, plans on what to do next being thrown around. I couldn’t believe it, even as I sat covered in his blood. The sound of someone clearing their throat drew my attention to see Joseph standing next to the now lit fireplace. I couldn’t remember when that had happened.

“May I join you?” he asked softly. I just nodded aboundingly in response, still struggling with finding words. So, it’s silent for a while, until he decides to break the silence. “I’m sorry for your loss, Wren. This is hard on all of us.”

I sniffed, glancing down at my cup. “I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think for a second that they would attack here, because…”

“Because of you?”

I looked at him, his soft eyes meeting mine. “I still have some friends…they didn’t exactly understand, but they love me. I thought that they wouldn’t attack either of us because of me. It was so stupid, because I lived in my own world where I believed that we were untouchable because I was an ally at one point. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. And John paid the price for my pride.” My voice broke as my shoulders sagged.

“That wasn’t pride, Wren. You wanted, and wished, for a happy future for the both of you. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“I can’t do this without him, Joseph. I just can’t.” I sobbed.

He placed his hand on my shoulder. “It will hurt for a long time, I know. But you can—"

“I’m pregnant…I’m pregnant and John’s dead, Joseph. He’s gone, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Joseph hesitated, a bit shocked at the reveal, but brushed it off. “He left you everything, Wren. You and the child are well taken care of. It’s in his will—”

“I don’t give a fuck about his will or his money!” I shrieked, my eyes squeezed shut as a broken sob wracked my body. I want my husband!” I began to shake, my breath quick. “Who am I without him? What am I if I don’t have him? How the hell am I supposed to do this without my other half? I can’t do this alone!”

“You are not alone.” He replied softly with passion. “I know you’re not religious, and you don’t believe in what I preach. But you hold a pivotal role in our community, an example of strong faith and leadership that people follow. This community is your family, Wren. We are your family.” Joseph whispered, his voice softly giving way to that Georgia drawl he could sometimes hide.

“False faith? I’m pretty sure that’s a sin, Joseph.” I sound hollow, a shell of myself as the words tumble out. Words that was meant to be something like a joke coming across robotically and empty. All I could do was stare at my blood covered hands numbly.

“You had faith in John.” His name cuts deeply and its enough for my eyes to meet Joseph’s. Despite the fact that they were technically the same color, they were so different than John’s. A serene calm vs the playful mischief that my husband always portrayed. “The trust you had in him, the love you had for him, created a loyalty that spread and touched those he was loyal to, bringing you into a family that welcomed you with open arms, that still accepts and loves you. Your faith in him was enough for that. And he…he loved you more than he loved himself.” My face contorted, fresh tears following the trails of old ones as the pain throbbed. “That was something John struggled with every day. He would take, because he loved himself more than he loved others. And you saw that, didn’t you? The night you first met him.”

“The Cleansing.” I replied lowly and Joseph gave a single nod.

“That’s right. And it was your fear of him not being able to love you in return, not as you did him, that drove you two apart before. My brother John was loved by few and feared by many. He wasn’t always like that. When we were young, he was full of joy, easily preyed upon. He wanted to watch the world burn. And after he met you, after this started, John would have done it all for you if he had to. Because he finally understood what I meant. He loved you more than he loved anything.”

“Except you.”

Joseph hummed, closing his eyes momentarily. “Do you have any siblings, Wren?”

I knew he already knew the answer, but I appreciated that he was giving me the courtesy and respect to offer me the chance to tell him myself. “No.”

“Well, when you have siblings, there’s this…feeling. This bond that is interwoven in your very nature to protect and love them. Jacob knows that better than all of us. But it isn’t a bond or a love you choose.” Joseph placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You are the bond, the love, he had chosen. You’re what kept him in the light. At the end, it wasn’t Eden’s Gate that gave him the redemption he longed for…it was you.”

My face contorted as my heart twisted painfully. “He didn’t always do good, but he loved me. He loved this family and his people. He learned to love, Joseph. And for this to happen to him…?”

“We can’t explain the bad that happens. Only fight it with love and faith.”

I scoff lightly, but Joseph doesn’t say anything. “How did it happen?” I whispered. “Nobody has told me.”

Joseph shifted, removing his hand as he looked down at his book. “Jacob believes it was a sniper. Someone came in, and John fought, but it was a sniper that…”

I swallowed, clenching my teeth as I glared tearfully at the flames. “Grace.” I hissed. He glanced back at me as I dug my nails into the meat of my thigh.

“What do you plan to do?”

I looked at him, the fire in my eyes burning as my mouth twisted in a sneer. “What I’m meant to do. I’m the Judge, Joseph. So that’s what I will do. I will Judge their actions accordingly. All their sins, their transgressions.”

“And then?”

“And then I will release every once of Wrath that I have left for what they’ve taken from me.” My voice is icy and dark, but I don’t care. “They will not be given forgiveness. They aren’t worthy of it. And they’re going to realize just what John’s death has cost them. And I will show no amount of mercy.”

[house-of-tykayl]

cystar tho (headcanons)

imagine

cyborg and starfire are the cuddliest couple ever. the PDA is incredible. star will perch on his shoulders like he’s a climbing post/bird perch and generally just drape herself all over him bc he’s got a lot of surface area and she wants comfy. and cy will just grab her out of midair for huggles before letting her float away again like a balloon headed straight for the atmosphere. star will float higher when she wants to look over his shoulder at something (bc hes the only titan taller than her) and sometimes cy will just reach up and touch her waist and lead her around in the air like that while they chat

the other titans support them, but are simultaneously disgusted by the excessive amount of PDA. cy sometimes milks star’s affection to troll everyone, especially at the breakfast table. “hey star i havent had my morning kiss today” “oh apologies” “do that long tongue thingy again babe” “if you two dont let me eat my waffles in peace for just ONE morning i will open a portal to the seventh circle of hell and chuck the both of you inside”

star is living for the unabashed affection bc cyborg has no qualms about being proud boyfriend in public. like he’ll wrap an arm around her and go “hey star’s my girlfriend :)” and the grocery store clerk’s like “we know, that’ll be $15.99″ and star’s just beaming, holding the plastic bags full of snacks and unorthodox food combinations

if cy’s generous with the lovin wait till you see star lmao. “you are looking most beautiful today!” she keeps saying shit literally no one else will say, either (possibly) coz of the robot thing or just coz starfire’s being starfire, and cyborg’s just like *clutches_chest.jpeg* because she a lil weirdo but she makes him feel normal and appreciated and that he’s great the way he is, that he’s desired even if a lot of him isn’t organic anymore. like yes!! my boyfriend is comprised of 80% robotic parts!! he is extremely strong and the “cool”!!! is he not absolutely wonderful???

ok but starfire can almost never get enough touching, and cyborg’s just like aight *picks her up and carries her around on his arm for an hour* and she’ll just be giddy the entire time

more under the cut

star doesnt have a lot of preconceived notions of what a normal human relationship is, outside of things she sees on TV and robin’s incomprehensible push-pulling over the years. so she doesn’t care one bit about the fact that she’s cuddling a robot. she’d figured starting a relationship with anyone on earth would be something different for her regardless– so a lot of the things cyborg used to think a partner would find problems with, end up not happening because man, this alien chick. “may i lay together with you in your bed?” “girl are you saying you wanna sleep while standing up?? on my charging port???? surrounded by 3478012 cables and wires?????” “is there no room? then may i sleep on the floor?” she just wants to be with him

heck more bed shenanigans would involve like, cyborg awkwardly trying to lie down on star’s bed, and it feels weird coz he hasn’t slept in a real bed for years and while it feels nice he’s kinda sinking into the mattress and he’s self-conscious about leaving a dent in the frame?? or like rolling over at night and squashing star which would be awkward coz he’s more than a little heavy?? then star hops in and cuddles close and is all like shhhhhhhhh slep time

silkie is usually very happy about cyborg’s presence in star’s room, if only because he can gnaw on cy’s legs while they sleep. cy begins to think it’s also revenge since there’s a lot less space on the bed with himself in it, and silkie struggles to find room near starfire to sleep at night. they eventually just get a bigger bed. silkie is a lot less stressed– but cyborg still wakes up with chew marks in his legs

if either of them are too tired from a battle that day, the other will carry them to bed. BB laughed his ass off the first time he saw starfire princess carrying cy to his room (star’s perfectly capable of carrying his weight but her arms aren’t necessarily long enough to hold onto him properly, making it a little cumbersome and awkward), but cy just tiredly gives B the finger

cy will talk to star in awkward broken tamaranian and she’ll get all giggly. everyone else assumes it’s cute flirting, but he’s actually whispering dirty, raunchy shit. that she taught him. and she continues to teach him tamaranian, occasionally dropping new words while otherwise speaking english, and waiting for him to ask about what they mean.

cy will sometimes smack star’s ass and then run for his life before she can return the favor, because he always ends up with an overly-enthusiastic handprint-shaped dent in his ass. it’s a terrifying game of tag. BB will chase them chasing each other with a camera to add to his album of “cyborg’s dented ass” photos that he shares with the whole titans network

cy teaches star about the niches in earth/american culture, the kinds of things that are a little harder to learn about on your own, or things she otherwise wouldn’t have had a reason to learn. he tells her about old american tv shows and explains obscure slang words and how to make telemarketers hang up first and what the contra code is and why he mashes it in every time he boots up a new video game. it’s a crash course mix of useless trivia and miscellaneous culture that makes star’s head spin– but she’s excited about learning all the same, the power of just knowing more makes her feel more comfortable on a planet where she is always a foreigner

it’s kinda why star adores all the different nicknames cy has for her like “fly girl” “baby doll” etc because it makes her feel “in” coz she gets all these cool nicks of names like other earth people!! she fits in!!!! and he’ll say it so fondly it makes her blush half the time. cy definitely notices and thinks its super cute at how excited she gets over pet names. she tries to nickname him back at one point but it felt awkward and she struggled to come up with them, and cy reassured her that he liked her saying out his name anyway, its cool. just be yourself babey

cy loves teaching star things in general, he’s patient and she’s always an eager student. he once took a few hours showing her how to play video games and while she didn’t really take to it, she did learn how to not break the controller whenever her virtual car’s about to crash into the divider (she still shrieks when it happens though)

initially, star is a bit nervous about touching some of cyborg’s robot parts like the implants and consoles coz she’s not sure how to deal with them? alien tech is one thing and earth tech is another, and then there’s the advanced shit that made up cyborg’s body and literally keeps him alive. she’s petrified at the thought of accidentally breaking something like what if she presses the button that turns off his lungs???????? and cy is like why the fuck would i have a button to turn off my lungs?? so one day cy just sits her down so she’s leaning back against his chest, and he looks over her shoulder as he shows her how to navigate his arm console. press this button and choose this option, no the screen wont break even if you press hard, dont use the browser to download malware on my arm like BB did, etc. the ui’s pretty intuitive and star gets it pretty quickly, then she gets all excited. cy teaches her about all the maintenance he does on his body and how his charger works and all that shit and she like oooooo

“if the t-car is your baby, does this mean i am its mother? cyborg does she like me enough? should i assist in changing her oil? *panicking* WILL SHE ACCEPT ME AS HER ADOPTED K’NORFKA?!”

(the t-car is a sassy one, easily jealous and protective– but ultimately, she does approve of starfire, if only just barely)

they spend a lot of time in the garage together. whether cy’s fussing with the t-car or putting together a new gadget, star’s a helpful assistant when it comes to welding or heavy lifting. and while she doesn’t necessarily get programming, she still helps cy with all the calculations and math involved in it; the concept of physics as she has encountered on earth is primitive compared to tamaran, and cy will often challenge her to crack a tough equation before his computer can. while the computer usually gets a result first, star will just explain that its answer was wrong in the large scheme of things, before she starts going in depth into that nerdy science shit to find a more effective way to wire whatever project they’re working on and cy’s just like  ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ heart eyes ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ at how smart she is

they fucking love food. while all the titans are hanging out in the common room, star and cy spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen. star will literally eat anything, at any time, and cy would go like “yo star want a sub??” and shes like “YES I WOULD LOVE THE EDIBLE SUBMARINES” and they go make the tallest sub ever and then Eat it

they just cook together a lot, one of them being head chef for the hour and the other being the kitchen assistant. cy’s usually in the lead when they’re making food for the other titans (to prevent food poisoning), and star is happy to learn new recipes that aren’t lethal to her friends– that, and licking all the mixing bowls clean. cy purposely gets sauce etc on his face so that star will see and lick it off too. then star will very unsubtly smear food on her face so that cy will wipe it off with his finger and then things get handsy. (they’re both aware it’s a game, but they pretend like they don’t.)

cy gets them matching aprons and a tiny chef hat for star. she asks him why it’s so tiny or even necessary but he just thinks its cute af on her lol

it helps cy’s ego when star will also eat literally anything he puts in front of her while enjoying it unironically. of course, cy quickly learns that starfire’s favorite “earth” foods are things that most people wouldn’t consider food at all, so while he’ll prepare Real Food for himself, he had to start a new custom cookbook for the random combinations of ingredients that starfire likes to ingest. he’s torn between feeling like his chef skills go to waste on her, or being proud at how good he’s become at figuring out the kinds of food combos she likes based on the flavors and consistencies she’s inclined to. but ultimately she’s just so cute and happy when she smiles at the taste of m&ms on raw steak that cyborg’s just like ahh. fine.

cyborg: *sighs while writing* “edamame in a cherry-chocolate reduction: get a handful of fresh edamame, washing is optional, pour hershey’s chocolate sauce all over it, add cherries but don’t remove the pits or the stems, sprinkle in some drops of 7up, then cover that shit in mustard. stick it all in the microwave for 1 minute, doesn’t really matter what temperature? prep time: 3 and a half minutes. the fuck did i just write”

star: *wolfs down that edamame shit like its the best goddamn thing ever*

raven:

meanwhile, while cy can’t stomach star’s tamaranean food, he does go out of his way to learn how to prepare the stuff himself, for whenever star’s sick or feeling down. the nostalgic taste of home tends to help her feel better. the bowls of wustlepus might keep trying to strangle him, but hey, cy can handle it

cy used to think we was master of stuffing his face, but he quickly found out that you do not challenge an alien with 9 stomachs to an eating competition and expect to win. it’s still fun, of course, to pick a restaurant and watch her slowly but surely put away food with a grace that cy doesn’t (care to) have. robin and BB cheer will them on, raven is disgusted but plays referee anyway (even though it’s not like the result ever changes)

“are the table manners required for today’s duel of excessive food consumption?” star will ask cy innocently, but she’d be smiling a lil smugly because she knows she’s gonna win like always

(at some point, the restaurant manager will start eyeing them nervously from the doorway of the staff room, unsure about whether to ask the titans to leave before they run the kitchen dry, or to take advantage of the publicity.)

cy and star are a couple that isn’t inclined to subtle about anything. that means smooching all the time. mwah noises. flirting. glomps. yelling at shit together for fun– cy just expresses himself loudly, while shouting at each other is a form of affection on tamaran. they’ll sometimes wrestle, sometimes arm wrestling and sometimes all out full-body on the floor (actual wrestling tho, not a innuendo; star usually wins). they keep denting walls and furniture with their messing around and the other titans are like /(e_e)\ *passing out earplugs* and at some point robin is like guys… just… keep it in your rooms please

but being loud isn’t exclusive to daytime. nobody fucking knows how the hell an alien and a robot get it on, but based on all the god damn noise at night, they’ve apparently figured something out. maybe more than one something. it is a mystery

“hey, star… ever heard of a vibrator?”

most of their making out happens in the gym tho, let’s be real. they’ve been checking each other out for years in there. now they just get frisky after (or during, or before) a workout, culminating in yet another “workout”. they never lock the door, and after enough incidents the other titans just end up boycotting the gym entirely in lieu of the other training room

with the added privacy, star opts to work out in the gym without a top on. or a bra. then she heads for the treadmill

“you never wear clothing, cyborg, so why should i?”

cyborg keeps dropping his weights on himself and just ends up covered in dents, two mangled prosthetic legs, and having done no training at all

they’re such a peppy excited pair that sometimes things can get a bit too wild. there’s a pile in the back of cy’s room made up solely of dented/crushed/melted/ripped arm and leg prosthetics, all damaged because cy was busy pampering his superpowered alien gf a lil too much. starfire feels super bad but cy is like, he has to fix his limbs after a lot of battles anyway, it’s no big deal. he also hasn’t bothered to suggest a workaround yet because watching her lose control is hot (and maybe getting his hand melted is kinda kinky)

they sometimes troll the other titans– usually robin– by whispering in tamaranian behind them and snickering, pretending like they’re talking about them. robin used to be extra miffed by this, but after learning that cy’s tamaranian is actually still shit enough that he has yet to learn to string together a proper sentence longer than 3 words, robin knows they’re just fucking around with him. at one point robin turns around on the couch and throws some tamaranian right back at them and cyborg’s like :O what the fuck? what the fuck?? and star’s like yeah actually robin asked me to teach him tamaranian too. and robin’s like :) and cy is grumpy he can’t antagonize him with it anymore (and that it’s not exclusively his and star’s code language anymore, but really, you can’t own a language like that)

star likes to cart cy around while flying, but he’s just so bulky that he doesnt look all graceful and shit like robin; he just looks kinda goofy dangling in the air with her holding him under the arms. but even if he felt a little self-conscious, he forgets it quickly when she lets him skim the ocean with his feet or take him up over the clouds– he’d thought he lost everything with the accident that left him a robot, but getting to fly like this is something he never could’ve even dreamed of even when he was all human. like. this must be what it actually means to be living. everything happens for a reason

cy gets a UV lamp installed in his body just in case they get stuck somewhere and there’s no sunlight for star, he can’t replace the sun but it might help

he also turns his heaters up a bit when they’re cuddling coz he knows she likes warmth, as long as he’s not running the risk of overheating his system, but his metal parts can be cold to the touch and while she doesnt mind it at all he just wants her to be cozy….

cy’s like the only titan taller than star, so she usually floats to be eye level with him. he big and bulky and strong and he reminds her of galfore, and that’s part of why she always felt protected and safe around him. not to mention star’s been getting taller than most earth people her age; she sometimes feels like a tall poppy, sticking out of the crowd too much. so she lowkey enjoys being smol for once compared to cyborg, especially if she ever feels like hiding behind him, or being carried by him, the comfort of a sort of bodyguard that she doesn’t necessarily need but is there if she wants

i keep bringing this up but star sitting on cyborg’s shoulders/arms like. the result is this tall stack of a couple that towers over all the other titans– then like everyone will be chilling on the couch when they hear making out noises from above and they look up and its just star floating around cyborg’s head as they smooch and everyone’s like -_-

all the meme fun aside, they’re always able to confide in each other whenever they’re upset. they’ll sit together in silence and just lean on each other or hug and wait for someone to spill. if (when) it comes down to “will i ever fit in?”, because that kinda worry never completely goes away, they’ll be reassured that they know the few places they’ll always be accepted– and that’s in the titans, or in the unconventional relationship between a half robot and an alien nuclear bomb

star likes being around cy coz he’s so sturdy, in more ways than one– he’s strong enough to tank stuff so it’s safer to roughhouse with him. she loves being able to give the biggest of hugs without worrying too much about crushing a ribcage (earthlings and their Fragile Little Bones!)

cy loves how small star is compared to him bc shes fun to pick up or pluck from the air and cuddle ♥ and she’s so warm, just radiating heat both literally and metaphorically and she’s so full of life and heart, and cy’s once again reminded of what it really means to be human– by a goddamn alien, no less

they like to touch each other’s faces, just caressing n stuff like they do in “how long is forever” and the teen titans go comic #24, staring into each others eyes and shit and going all (uwu) they just love to touch each other okay even back when they were just friends!!!!!!!

HAVE I MENTIONED THE SMOOCHES. star will just kiss cy all over his face because its fun and she knows he likes it. then cy returns the favor, except with increasingly exaggerated kissing and nomming noises because it makes star laugh and blush like crazy. it’s horribly embarrassing for anyone else watching. star & cy are usually standing in the middle of the corridor by this point, and then robin was gonna head to his office, but once he sees the path is blocked– by this no less– just returns the way he came without a word

if anyone tries to make star feel uncomfortable for being alien or misunderstanding something, which does still happen sometimes, they’ll quickly find out they’ve got the goddamn terminator comin for their ass. or they’ll turn around and see 6 foot tall robot man with arms crossed and red eye glowing and he’ll be like (: hey there (:

star keeps leaving the garage with motor oil all over her face. none of the other titans knows how to address it, or if they even should, so they don’t

anyway theyre in love

[paintingwithdarkness]

37 bluepulse?

“Can I kiss you?”

It wasn’t something Jaime had originally intended on asking. It had more or less been an accidental slip of the tongue. Usually his anxiety prevented him from ever voicing his thoughts in fear that he would not use the proper words to convey his message. But this time, he was actually glad that he had slipped up, because where he was now, was exactly where he wanted to be. It was the best mistake he had ever made.

His crush on Bart had been slow developing and incredibly intense. The saying that small flames burned the brightest certainly had evidence to back it up; Jaime could attest firsthand. It had taken him awhile to come to terms with exactly how he felt about his best friend, and what that meant for his personal identity, but once Jaime realized he was in love with Bart, he fell hard.

Suddenly he was noticing every little thing about the speedster. The way his auburn hair moved as he ran and bobbed and jumped while fighting. The way it settled in smoothe, silky waves as it fell across his forehead when Bart was at rest. The way his beautiful chartreuse eyes lit up in excitement and anticipation, or the way they dulled to a forest green when he was sad or angry. Jaime couldn’t help feeling butterflies fill his chest whenever he heard Bart’s joyous laugh, and the way Bart liked to incorporate Jaime’s own Spanish lingo into his own speech patterns touched his heart. The speedster was a beautiful, kind, loyal, fun-loving person, and Jaime loved him fully and completely.

The only problem was that Jaime didn’t know how to express himself. What would happen if he did tell Bart? Would the speedster feel the same? Would Jaime be rejected? What would others think? Jaime knew that gay relationships were not looked upon very favorably by a large chunk of society, but how could love ever be wrong? That was something Jaime just didn’t understand. Loving Bart didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the most right thing Jaime had ever experienced in his life. He wanted to tell Bart, but he was terrified of messing it up.

[You are being irrational, Jaime Reyes.] Sometimes Jaime talked to Khaji Da for advice. Usually, the scarab was actually pretty helpful, when he wasn’t demanding Jaime kill or destroy something. Khaji Da prioritized Jaime’s health above all else, and mental and emotional health regulation were part of that, so most of the time, the scarab was actually eager to give Jaime answers, even if they weren’t exactly practical.

‘I just don’t want to mess it up. I don’t know what to say,’ Jaime thought back at the scarab. He was sitting on his bed in his room, phone held between his hands as he waited for the telltale text from Bart to come through. He had invited the younger boy over to ‘chill-hang’ as Bart liked to call it, and was awaiting the message that would tell him Bart had arrived at his house and was waiting to be let inside. After a scolding from Jaime’s mother one time not to use the window to sneak into Jaime’s room, Bart had grudgingly agreed to use the front door from now on.

[Explain to the Bart Allen that you desire to make him your mate. Tell him you wish to partake in tactile stimulation, osculation and intercourse with him.]

Jaime blushed bright red. He was definitely NOT going to say that. ‘I don’t think that’s the right way to phrase things.’

[Is honesty not a requirement of romantic and sexual relationships?] Now Khaji Da sounded confused. It wasn’t very often that the scarab didn’t have a definitive answer for something, but the AI was still learning when it came to human interaction, etiquette and emotions.

Jaime sighed. ‘It is, but being that blunt will scare him off. I have to be honest, but I can’t be too forward, otherwise Bart will never want to be with me.’

[Incorrect. The Bart Allen experiences increased heart rate, respiration, dopamine and adrenaline releases when in proximity to Jaime Reyes. Jaime Reyes experiences the same symptoms when in close proximity to the Bart Allen. Conclusion: Jaime Reyes’ sexual and romantic attraction to the Bart Allen is reciprocal.]

Jaime fell back onto his bed, dropping his phone onto the duvet next to him, and slapped his hands to his face in resignation. ‘Even if that is true,’ Jaime thought at the scarab, ‘I still don’t know how to tell him how I feel. And I’m NOT telling Bart that I want to have sex with him.’

[Jaime Reyes does not want to have intercourse with the Bart Allen? Dream records are indicative of the counter-] Jaime cut the scarab off before he could continue any further. He could already feel his cheeks blazing with red.

‘I’m not going to tell Bart I want to have sex with him,’ Jaime repeated himself. ‘It’s more than that. I want to hold his hand, and hug him, and cuddle together. I want to make him laugh and I want to watch cheesy movies together and hear him talk for hours and hours. I want to go on dinner dates and star gaze in the desert with him. At the end of the day, I want to be able to curl up in bed with him, and hold him close. I want to be the one to tell him that everything will be okay when he’s upset, and I want to be the person he’ll tell all of his secrets to. I want to be the person who has his back no matter what, and keep him safe, because I know that losing Bart will destroy me.’

Jaime thought he could hear the slightest tinge of pride coloring Khaji Da’s response. [Will those words not suffice?]

Jaime found a smile curving his lips. Those words would work. And to think that all it had taken was an argument with the technological ride-along attached to his spine...

A ping from his phone was eventually what drew him out of his daydreamy state. Bart was here.

Jaime got up from his bed quickly, but once he reached the top of the stairs, he paused. Despite the clarity he had found and the assurance from both the scarab and his own conscious that he had chosen the right words, nervousness was squirming its way back through his veins. He took the steps slowly, one at a time.

When Jaime finally answered the door, he was greeted with Bart’s bright, beaming smile. Upon seeing it, a warm feeling spread throughout his chest, momentarily making him forget his nerves. Bart held open his arms for a hug and Jaime quickly reciprocated, a smile gracing his lips now, too. He loved how Bart seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, like he had always been meant to stay there, and he was probably drawing out the hug longer than would normally be acceptable, but Bart didn’t seem to mind, so Jaime was going to savor the moment while it lasted.

When Bart pulled out of the embrace, Jaime let his arms drop back down to his sides and stepped back to let Bart into the house. He called out to his mother who was in the kitchen making dinner, to let her know that he and Bart were going up to his room, and then ushered the speedster up the stairs once they were given acknowledgement.

Once in Jaime’s room, Bart flopped down onto the bed and rolled over, creating room for Jaime to flop down beside him.

“So,” Bart sighed, “whadduya wanna do?”

Jaime shrugged. “Movie?”

Bart sat up and nodded. Jaime followed suit, reaching over to grab his laptop from the nightstand beside him. He passed it to Bart.

“You know the password. Pick something on Netflix. I’m gonna go make popcorn.” Jaime got up from the bed with a groan and walked over to the door.

“Mix in some M&Ms?” Bart asked.

Jaime turned back towards the younger teen and answered with a rhetorical question. “Is there any other way to eat it?”

Bart laughed, and Jaime felt a smile break out across his face as he turned quickly and exited the room. He flew down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen, socks sliding across the tile as he came to a stop in front of the pantry.

“No corras en la casa,” Bianca scolded him gently. She was standing at the counter, folding cornhusks around masa dough and pork for tamales.

“Lo siento,” Jaime sheepishly apologized. He reached into the pantry to grab a bag of popcorn, and tore the plastic wrapping off before walking (this time) over to the microwave and tossing the bag in. He hit the popcorn button and then went over to the fridge to retrieve the large bag of M&Ms sitting on the middle shelf. Jaime idly snacked on the little multicolored chocolate candies while he waited for the popcorn to finish, watching the bag slowly puff up as it span round and round on the turnplate. When the microwave beeped, Jaime removed the bag and retrieved a large bowl, pouring both the popcorn and the remaining M&Ms inside. As he turned to leave the kitchen, Jaime peeked over at his mother to see how the progress was coming along on dinner. It looked as though she had the majority of the tamales folded, and they were ready to go into the steamer.

“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” Bianca said, confirming Jaime’s guess. Jaime nodded and then left the kitchen, popcorn bowl tucked to his chest to prevent from spilling as he took the stairs two at a time.

When he got back to his room, Bart was leaning back against the headboard, a pillow tucked between his back and the wood, and Jaime’s laptop sitting at the foot of the bed. Jaime passed him the popcorn while he climbed up onto the bed for himself, deciding to lay down on his stomach, with his head closest to the laptop. (Khaji Da always complained whenever Jaime had his back pressed up against hard surfaces for prolonged periods of time, so it was just better to avoid provoking the beetle altogether).

“The Heat?” Jaime asked, when he saw which movie Bart had selected. The preview showed Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy both dressed up in FBI gear. “Haven’t you watched this movie like a million times?” Jaime’s eyes drifted from the laptop to Bart.

The speedster shrugged. “You like Sandy Bullock, I like Melissa McCarthy, we both like action-comedies; it’s a win-win for both of us.”

“Sure.” Jaime reached out and tapped the play button. If he got the opportunity to hear Bart laugh his way through the movie, and got to see the mirth shining in the younger boy’s beautiful jade eyes, he wasn’t going to argue.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, they ran out of popcorn. Bart had been meticulously picking the M&Ms out of the mixture, largely ignoring the popcorn, which Jaime hadn’t really minded. He preferred eating the popcorn anyway. What was unfortunate was the fact that after he had eaten all of the candies from the bowl, Bart decided to go back and eat about three quarters of the popcorn too. Jaime didn’t even think he’d gotten two handfuls of the buttery snack before Bart was shoving the last kernels into his mouth.

Immediately Jaime’s eyes transfixed on the speedster’s lips as his pink tongue darted out to clean the butter and melted chocolate from his fingertips. Jaime often found himself staring at Bart when he knew he wouldn’t be caught, and the other boy’s lips were a popular attraction. Jaime’d had numerous daydreams and regular dreams reflective of thoughts about kissing Bart and how it would feel to have the smaller boy pressed up against him as they participated in other more intimate acts. It ultimately always fell back to the kissing though.

Would Bart’s lips be soft? Chapped? Jaime had noticed Bart always kept a chapstick on hand (strawberry flavored) and a spare in his locker, back when they’d still been operating out of the cave. When Jaime had asked him about it, all Bart had told him was that windburn sucked.

How would Bart kiss? Would he be gentle? Eager? Rough? Where would Bart put his hands? Jaime had always wanted to tangle his own into the speedster’s silky auburn hair and tug at the long strands to see what kind of sounds he would make. He wanted to pull Bart close by the hips and feel all of the lean musculature of his thighs and backside. He wanted to know what Bart would feel like sitting in his lap; what his creamy white skin would look like littered with love bites...

“-me.”

A pale hand waving in front of his face blocked Jaime’s view of Bart’s pretty, pink lips.

“Jaime, we’re out of snacks.”

The voice didn’t completely register in his ears. Jaime gave a slow blink.

“Can I kiss you?”

It slipped past Jaime’s mind-mouth filter before he could stop it. Immediately the realization of what he had said sobered him up. Red blazed against his cheeks so hard, Jaime could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He quickly turned his eyes down towards the duvet, panicked thoughts running rapidly through his mind.

He had just messed up MAJORLY. Jaime hadn’t even given Bart any type of indication that he was bisexual to begin with. For all Jaime knew, Bart could be straight and have absolutely no interest in him. He might even be disgusted that Jaime would want that from him in the first place. He and Bart had never talked about any of it. Now Jaime was springing questions like this. He had to try to backpedal.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-” Bart pressed a finger to his lips, preventing him from getting the rest of his explanation out.

The speedster had his head tilted slightly and his eyebrows drawn together. Jaime thought that it was a cute look on him, but it wasn’t really the time to be thinking about that when he should have been panicking.

“You did mean it. The one thing that I did learn from my dad- my real dad- was that people don’t say things they don’t mean.” Bart removed his finger. He didn’t look mad, which was a relief, but there was still something off about Bart’s expression that made a feeling of unease squirm around in Jaime’s gut.

“Why did you ask if you could kiss me?”

Jaime’s blush was not letting up. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Bart’s eyes. “I-” He couldn’t force himself to answer either. How could he explain this?

Bart waited for him patiently. He wasn’t going to let Jaime get away with not answering.

“I-” Jaime took a deep breath. He he spoke, he could hear the shame and embarrassment coating his words. “I like you, Bart. A lot. I-I didn’t really know how to tell you. I was too afraid of messing things up. Dios mio. I have messed things up. I just- you’re really special to me and I wanted to tell you, but I don’t know how you feel about me, and that’s scary too. I was afraid of messing up our friendship, because if that’s all I can ever have from you, I’d rather be friends with you than tell you how I feel and lose you. You mean everything to me, Bart.” He still couldn’t force himself to look up.

There was a moment of silence. Throughout it, the feeling of shame squirmed faster and more intensely inside of Jaime. He didn’t want to see Bart’s reaction.

“Do you still want to kiss me?” Bart’s question was soft, and not unkind.

“Yes,” Jaime whispered. He couldn’t get his voice to go any higher in volume.

Pale hands tilted his face upwards. Jaime’s eyes reluctantly found Bart’s own.

“Okay,” Bart said.

Jaime blinked.

“You can kiss me.”

Jaime was confused. Bart was granting his request? Why? Was he doing it out of pity? Jaime didn’t want a pity kiss. The only reason he wanted Bart to kiss him was if the speedster felt the same way.

“D-do you want to kiss me?” Jaime was afraid of the answer.

Barely a second passed before Bart nodded. “I like you too, Jaime.” There was a cute blush on Bart’s cheeks now, covering up his freckles. He reached forward and settled both of his hands on Jaime’s shoulders before slowly pulling him forward.

It took Jaime’s mind a second to process that it was actually happening. Bart wanted to kiss him.

When their lips met, a small, pleased sound escaped Jaime before he could stop it. He’d been imagining this moment for as long as he could remember and now it was finally happening.

Bart’s arms slipped around his neck as their mouths slotted together completely. He tasted like melted butter and chocolate and salt from the popcorn and M&Ms. His lips were soft and warm.

Jaime’s hands slipped around Bart’s waist as he tugged the younger boy closer. Bart worked with him until he was settled comfortably in his lap. When Jaime gave a little squeeze to his hips, Bart hummed against his lips.

When they pulled away from one another for a breath, Bart was returning the dopey smile Jaime had on his own face. Bart’s fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Jaime found his own hands massaging soft circles into Bart’s hips. He met Bart’s captivating chartreuse eyes with his own, looking up through his lashes, still a bit shy.

Jaime bit his lower lip. “Can I kiss you, again?”

Bart let out a laugh that made Jaime’s heart skip a beat. “You don’t have to ask.”

He dragged Jaime back in and they fell into a comfortable pattern of push and pull, lips, teeth and tongues all eventually coming into the mix. Jaime slowly worked his hands up Bart’s torso before tangling his fingers into the long, auburn strands and giving a light pull. Bart let out a musical sounding moan against his lips. Deciding he liked the sound, Jaime quickly did it again.

They almost didn’t hear it because they were so involved with each other. Between the panting, little gasps and moans they were able to draw from one another, Jaime was amazed his mother’s voice broke through his consciousness at all. Perhaps Khaji Da has been improving his hearing.

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” A second later there was a rapid knock at his bedroom door.

Bart and Jaime quickly pulled away from one another before Milagro came barging into the room. Upon seeing them, she raised an eyebrow, as though trying to piece things together. Jaime tried really hard to control his breathing and the flush he was sure was gracing his cheeks. After a few minutes of scrutiny, Milagro appeared to give up.

“Mom said the food’s ready.”

Jaime gave her a look. “Bart and I have ears, you know.”

Milagro stuck her tongue out at him, which Jaime maturely responded to by sticking out his own tongue. The younger girl huffed and flounced off.

Bart laughed. “Your little sister is pretty crash.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “She’s a pain.”

Bart laughed again. “What’s for dinner?”

Jaime gave him a knowing smile. “Tamales.”

Bart fist pumped. “Yes! I love your mom.”

Jaime chuckled.

Bart pecked him on the cheek. “But I love you more.”

Jaime found a blush rising to his cheeks. “I love you too.” He told Bart.

The two met for one more kiss before Bart grabbed his hand and dragged Jaime down the stairs, eager to eat, as always. Jaime smiled to himself. Slipping up had been easily the most embarrassing thing he’d done in his life, but he wouldn’t have gone back to correct the mistake in a heartbeat. He had Bart, and he was perfectly content.

[huphilpuffs]

flares

chapter: 31/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 4k (103k total) rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: As always, immense thanks to @obsessivelymoody for beta’ing!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

They settle into bed that night with no intention of going to sleep.

Dan’s laptop is open, resting on his thighs. Phil propped up two pillows against the wall for him to lean against, his back and neck still tender from the pressure point test Dr. Kissel performed. The duvet is draped across his lap, his toes sticking out from the end of it. 

Phil stares at the screen over his shoulder. Dan can feel the warm puffs of air from his breathing against his skin.

He types fibro mialgia into Google. 

Its response is Did you mean: Fibromyalgia, just enough to have a quiet breath rumbling between Dan’s ribs. 

He clicks on the first link, a webpage from the Mayo Clinic. He’s pretty sure that’s in America somewhere. It probably doesn’t much matter. The top of the page tells him it’s believed to amplify painful sensations by changing the way the brain processes pain. He thinks that’s what Dr. Kissel said. 

Dan’s not entirely sure what fucked up pain processing is supposed to feel like, but he thinks this is probably it.

The next paragraph is about trauma, about how it sometimes triggers fibromyalgia. Dan tries not to let the fact that he doesn’t relate make his insides twist too much. 

Phil must be able to tell, because he leans in close and whispers, “It says ‘sometimes’.”

The one after that includes a list of other conditions that may be related. Dan reads it once, twice, three times before his gaze lingers on the last two. His stomach goes tight. He doesn’t realize his fingertip’s tapping his computer until Phil reaches over to grab it, snagging one of Dan’s hands and drawing it into his lap.

He doesn’t ask what Dan’s staring at. It’s probably obvious. 

Dan’s spent years trying to convince himself he definitely wasn’t depressed, that definitely wasn’t his problem, and now it’s splashed across the page again in the clearest of sans serif fonts. Dr. Kissel didn’t mention that one. He wonders how much of his chart she’s read, if she knew it would make him feel like this.

He almost shuts the laptop and gives up on research. Maybe he doesn’t want to know after all.

But then Phil reaches over and scrolls down for him, leaving the list of symptoms lighting up Dan’s screen.

Everything after that is overwhelming in a different way. There’s a lot of symptoms. A lot of possible treatments. Dan’s never considered most of them. Massage therapy sounds incredibly unpleasant. Acupuncture, too. Getting enough sleep sounds so implausible that Dan actually laughs, too loud, too sharp. 

The next page on Google is a lot of the same. So is the third, and the fourth. 

Exercise is mentioned a lot. Dan’s joints ache at just the thought of trying to go out for a run, at the memory of how painful it was just to walk to class back at uni, of how sick he used to feel after gym class back in school.

There’s a lot they don’t know about fibromyalgia, he learns. There’s no cure, no definitive answer on why things hurt. There’s a bunch of studies that show little abnormalities that might cause it but none of them agree and none are conclusive and Dan doesn’t much care.

He knows, finally. And there’s some stuff they do know.

It’s not fatal. It’s never fatal. Dan reads that bit out loud, because Phil’s sitting next to him, gaze tripping across the page just a bit slower than Dan’s. Dr. Kissel already told them that more than once. The extra layer of reassurance makes Phil lean in close, his body pressed against Dan’s side.

He dusts a kiss to Dan’s bare shoulder, soft, loving. 

There was a time when Dan might have been terrified by the prospect of a lifelong condition with no cure and no potential to be let out of his misery. It’s still scary now, not knowing what to expect for any of his future. But giving this up isn’t really an option anymore.

Phil lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around Dan’s shoulders instead, leaning in close so his head rests right above Dan’s collarbone. 

“I’m glad you have an answer,” he says. His voice has gone low and gravelly. 

He sounds tired. And he has to work in the morning. And Dan suddenly feels bad for keeping him up for so long with a cycle of redundant articles that say the same little bit of information in slightly different ways. He closes his laptop, scrolled only halfway down the page. 

“You’re not gonna keep reading?”

“I can read tomorrow,” he says. “Apparently I need to focus on getting enough sleep.”

Phil chuckles. He pulls away just enough slip down the mattress until he’s lying down. Dan tosses the extra pillow onto the floor and rests his laptop precariously on the corner of his bedside table before doing the same. He reaches out, draping his arm across Phil’s stomach, cuddling up against his side.

He can’t handle the pressure against his back tonight. Phil doesn’t seem to mind.

His palm settles flat against Dan’s ribcage, head dipping down. Dan looks up to meet his mouth in a quick kiss goodnight.

When he pulls away, he’s smiling.

---

Dan dreams of being old that night. 

He’s sitting in a mostly empty room with white walls and a sofa. There’s a blanket draped over him and an ice pack sitting uselessly atop his head. It’s just like his life now, except when he looks down, his hands are wrinkled and spotted with age. 

He wakes up. The room is still dark, hardly a touch of light filtering through Phil’s curtains. Phil’s still sound asleep, snoring softly.

Dan’s brain is echoing his nan’s complaints about how achy her knees were, the ones he could relate to when he was only fourteen. 

He swallows, presses himself tighter against Phil’s side, and stares at the window until he falls back asleep.

---

His chest is tight when he wakes up in the morning.

Phil’s not in bed anymore. There’s a note on Dan’s bedside table telling him Phil’s already gone to work. It has a silly little smiley face drawn in the corner. Dan’s laptop has been moved to sit on the chest of drawers instead, more stable there than where he placed it last night.

He sinks back against his pillow once he’s spotted it. His breath comes out as a sigh, his hand coming up to rub hard at the line of his sternum, as though that will ease the pressure there.

His knees crack when his climbs out of bed. There’s still a tingling, radiating sort of pain where Dr. Kissel pressed against his body, all down his legs and up along his spine. Some of them feel swollen, but when he rubs at the back of his neck, there’s nothing there.

Dan grabs his laptop and changes his pants before moving to the lounge.

He turns to look back before he leaves, hand gripping the door frame to steady him. The duvet is ruppled on both sides, a giant ball of fluff where Dan’s feet were. There’s a pillow on the floor and two pressed close together at the head of the mattress. Dan’s phone charger rests on his bedside table, plugged into nothing. 

Something spasms in Dan’s chest.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s anxiety.

---

The kettle is half full of water on the kitchen counter. There’s a smoothie in the fridge with a straw already sticking out of it. Phil left the cereal box out, plastic bag half poking out the top of it, and the cupboard door open overhead. Dan closes it as he sips at his breakfast.

He doesn’t turn the TV on this morning.

He drags his computer onto his lap and opens the article he’d left half read last night. He doesn’t finish it. There’s other things on his mind this morning than symptom lists he’s already read and collections of advice that only seems half effective.

Working with fibromyalgia, is what he types into Google today.

The first link is to a WebMD article. Dan clicks it without thinking much.

People can work with this, is the first thing Dan learns. It makes his chest feel funny, something half relief and half not blooming there. Keep working, is what the article says, and Dan tries not to think about the day he handed his resignation to Sue, body aching so much just getting there had been a hassle.

He fails. 

He thinks about it for so long that his vision goes out of focus, the article sliding into double. It snaps back into place when he blinks and scrolls down to the next part, too many lists of too many questions to address way too many problems. 

The advice is … a lot. It’s flexible work hours and working from home, extra equipment at work and less tasks. It’s finding a job that’s not too stressful and lets you sleep in, and one where you don’t need to do manual labour but can also survive when your brain isn’t working right.

Right in the middle of it, there’s an ad for some pill that starts with, Does your penis curve when erect?

Dan laughs. It’s only then that he realizes his throat’s gone tight and his eyes are stinging. His fingers are shaking over the keyboard when he jams the down arrow to read the rest of the page. It takes him too many tries to stay steady enough to click the arrow bringing him to the next one. 

Can I get disability with fibromyalgia? is its header. 

Dan almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t read it. He doesn’t go back to Google. He closes Chrome entirely and slams his laptop shut and tells himself it’s because the advice was about American law and not because his stomach suddenly really doesn’t like the smoothie Phil made more him.

A tear rolls down his cheek.

He stares at the blank TV screen until it falls off the bottom of his chin.

---

The lounge is full of both their stuff.

There’s a PlayStation and a Wii on the TV cabinet, above neat shelves lined with a shared collection of games. There’s two DS chargers plugged into the wall. There’s a stack of DVDs by the door to the balcony, Dan’s piled on top of Phil’s from when he first moved in.

The blanket Phil got him is draped over the sofa. Decorations he had before Dan moved in are all laid out on the furniture and hanging on the walls. There’s a throw pillow that used to live on the sofa that now sits in the corner of the room.

Dan thinks too much about how none of his A-levels or GCSCs will ever be enough to get him a job that would give him any of the things on WebMD’s list. 

And then even more about all the horror stories he’s heard about people living on benefits.

And then, once his chest hurts and pressure is welling at his temples, about how he doesn’t really have a choice but to need one of them if his body’s not going to be fixed.

It’s not. Dan expected that. He tries not to care. Part of him doesn’t.  

But the other part of him reminds him that Phil’s parents are still paying his part of the rent, echoes his mum’s warnings about leeching off Phil until tears are welling in his eyes once again. It pictures the people back in Wokingham who told him he’d never go anywhere if Dan didn’t learn to deal with a little bit of pain.

His brain flashes a quick image of being back there.

He reaches for his phone, just to distract himself. He ends up texting Taylor instead.

Dan: can you come over? i have news

Taylor: already on my way out the door

---

“You look less shit today,” is what she says when she opens the door. There’s a smile on her face, wavering just enough to let Dan know it’s her attempt to act normal. 

He doesn’t feel less shit. The post-appointment high has settled into something just as heavy and insecure feeling as before, just tainted with different memories, weighted with different fears.

“Yeah,” he says, “Well, stuff happened.”

He leads her to the lounge without explaining first. His body is achy and she knows he needs to be sitting down. When she settles down next to him, it’s with her whole body turned towards him, legs tucked under her and arm draped across the back of the cushions, like she’s waiting for something.

She doesn’t ask for it.

Dan takes a moment to steady his breath before saying, “I’m not dying.”

She chuckles, breathy and uncertain. “That’s good,” she says. “You better think it’s good.”

There was a day, back in at uni, when she’d tossed her textbook aside and said killing me would be less painful. And Dan, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t try to send him to a therapist, lest the advice be turned back on her, had admitted sometimes I wish I was dying just so I’d know the pain would end.

“It’s good,” says Dan. He turns towards her, offering a smile that actually feels genuine. “I have a diagnosis.”

“Oh!” She bounces on her knees. “And?”

“It’s fibromyalgia.”

She nods, just once, brows going a little furrowed. “Is it bad that I don’t know what that means?” 

Dan laughs. “Neither did I,” he says. “I reckon most scientists don't either, if Google is a reliable source.”

“Sounds accurate, if my quarter of a bio degree is anything to go off,” says Taylor. A smile quirks at the corners of her mouth. 

Dan’s not sure he’s ever seen her smiling when talking about those classes. It’s nice.

“Yeah, most of my old doctors confirm the theory,” he says, smiling too. “Dr. Kissel’s actually good, though.”

“Yeah?” says Taylor. “And this fibromyalgia thing, is it good?”

He shrugs. The anxiety from before burns in his chest again. His head tilts back against the sofa, and he watches Taylor’s brows furrow in concern. 

“Probably shouldn’t be. The symptoms are royal shit and there’s no cure and I don’t really know where to go from here,” he admits. “But having an answer? That’s good.”

A smile spreads slowly across her face, close-lipped and content. Dan watches her eyes flick between both of his, her head falling to rest against her open palm as she stares.

“I’m not gonna pretend to understand,” she says. “My diagnosis– I knew what was wrong, I just didn’t want to admit it, you know?”

Dan nods. He wonders if that’s one of the things she learned about herself in therapy, wonders how he never really saw it that way. Maybe because he couldn’t relate. He never felt like he knew what was wrong with him. Until now.

His heart clenches at that, eyes falling closed against the rush of anxiety-tainted relief that floods the already too-full space between his ribs. 

Taylor reaches over, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her voice is quiet as a whisper when she says, “I’m so happy for you.”

He laughs. It comes out as a puff of air that sounds half like a sob, but it’s the best he can muster without actually breaking into tears. 

She must be able to tell, because she pulls away and settles back against the sofa. Dan counts his breath for a moment afterwards, until the steady rise and fall of his chest feels less fragile. When he opens his eyes again, Taylor’s staring up at the ceiling with him, lips still quirked up.

“You get to join me in the arduous process that is recovery now, you know,” she says. “Welcome to the dark side.”

Dan smiles. “Shouldn’t it be the brighter side?” 

“Hush,” she turns to him. Her smile’s reaching her eyes, like it rarely used to before. “I’ve been rehearsing that in my head for the last, like, two minutes, let me have this.”

When Dan laughs that time, it actually feels genuine.

---

Taylor stays for dinner. Phil invited her.

They eat around the coffee table. Taylor lets Phil have his usual spot next to Dan with a joke about how she’s pretty sure it’s morphed to their spines by now, and drags over a chair from the dining table instead. She tells Phil all about her new courses as they eat, a grin wide on both their faces.

Afterwards, they play a round of Mario Kart, because they can. Dan wins. Taylor comes in second this time, and Phil complains about how she’s never allowed to play with them again because, even if he can’t beat Dan, he can beat the computers. Usually.

Dan teases him with that last bit. He points out how often Phil ends up stuck in the item clusterfuck and, when he pouts in response, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. Because he can.

It feels normal. As normal as it can when, a few months ago, he and Taylor were playing this game on their DS’, miserable in Dan’s uni bedroom. 

So, not normal at all. 

Taylor’s laughs so much happy tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Dan has an answer for why his chest aches when he laughs too much. Phil reaches around him, and flattens a hand against Dan’s ribs when his breath catches around an exhale. 

He whispers a quiet one, two, three, against the round of Dan’s shoulder.

Dan leans his head back against the cushions again, and enjoys the company of the two people who will give him a second to steady the broken parts of his body without making him feel bad.

When he looks back up, he smirks at them both, and starts a round of Rainbow Road without warning.

---

The anxiety starts to come back when darkness falls. 

Phil leads him to the bedroom without a word. Taylor’s just left, the sky’s just starting to go dark. It’s been a long time since they last sat up and watched a movie late into the night, Dan realizes, but he doesn’t much mind. It means he gets to wrap himself in cozy blankets and rest his head on a fluffed up pillow and feel Phil’s arms around him.

He gets to reach up and chase away the tedium of the day with soft kisses pressed to Phil’s lips. 

Tonight, though, he doesn’t. His mind is too preoccupied by the time he slips under the covers. He stares up at the ceiling and tries not to think of all the long nights he spent with just his pain and his questions to keep him company. Days when the brush of his duvet was too much against his skin, when his pillow pressed too much against the back of his neck.

It’s because there’s tender points there. Dan knows that now. 

It doesn’t feel like he should.

He reaches out into the space between them and catches Phil’s hand over the mattress, squeezing once. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“‘Course,” says Phil. He rolls over, so he’s curled up on his side facing Dan, head resting against the crook of his elbow.

Dan doesn’t look back at him. He feels weird when he asks, “You know that thing you made me do the other day? To get my thoughts out of my head? With my webcam?”

“Yeah,” says Phil. “Why?”

Dan swallows. Phil must be able to hear it, because he squeezes Dan’s hand, just for a second.

“Would you find it weird if I wanted to do it again?”

“Why would I find that weird?” asks Phil. He lets go of Dan’s hand, only to reach out and clumsily search for his fringe in the darkness. He swipes some curls away from his eyes. “I told you I used to do it, didn’t I?”

Dan shrugs. It’s awkward, with his pillow tucked right above his shoulders. “Yeah. Just feels weird.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to, if it helps,” says Phil. “Do you want me to set it up for you?”

Dan considers it. There’s comfort in the idea, a weird kind that soothes his mind into thinking Phil actually can’t find it weird if he’s willing to help Dan do it. But it’s getting late, late enough that Dan’s pretty sure if he peeked outside he could see the the flashing trails of airplanes over the city, and Phil worked all day.

“I think I can manage,” he says. “Pretty sure I haven’t forgotten how to use my laptop just yet.”

Phil laughs. His hand trails across Dan’s chest as he slips out of bed. When Dan turns to look back from the doorframe, the hallway light lets him see just enough to tell that Phil’s still curled up on his side, smiling.

---

He sets his laptop up on his pillows, with the grainy window of his webcam app filling the screen. 

The room stays silent for long seconds after he hits record. Dan adjusts his hair, all curly in the way he hates but can never spare the energy to fix. He fidgets around on his bed until his too-bony knees are out of shot and you can see the waistline of his pants so he doesn’t look naked.

Part of him wants to laugh at himself. It doesn’t matter. No one will ever see this. Dan doesn’t even think he’ll ever look back at it. 

He takes a deep breath, brings his fingers to his head, and says, “Hello internet,” just like last time.

And then he rants into the camera until he’s lost track of what he’s already said and isn’t sure any of it is making sense and the anxiety in his brain fades into some sort of mental fatigue. He’s lying down on his side because he lost the energy to sit up and his laptop clock is telling him it’s been over half an hour.

His hands are shaking when he reaches over to shut the recording off. Dan’s not sure when that started.

He’s not sure about a lot of things, he realizes.

Dan rolls onto his back, and stares up a ceiling that’s just like Phil’s but feels way less familiar until he musters the energy to hold his body upright again.

---

Phil’s still awake when Dan goes back to their room.

He looks up from his phone as Dan closes the door behind him and walks over to crawl into bed. He pulls the duvet over his body, right up to his chin, and curls up on his side. There’s a headache welling in his temples, and a heaviness lingering in his chest.

“Were you listening?” he whispers.

“No,” says Phil. He reaches behind him to set his phone down, sending the room dark, and then reaches out to tuck a strand of Dan’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Dan hums. His eyes drift closed as Phil’s thumb traces small circles on his cheek. 

Part of him wishes Phil had overheard, so he could soothe Dan’s anxieties without him needing to ask any scary questions. Most of him just wants to hold Phil close and pretend he isn’t suddenly questioning the stability of his entire fucking life, of all the wonderful things in it.

So he does. He grabs Phil’s hand, and dusts a soft kiss to his palm, and then presses closer until Phil’s arms are wrapped all the way around him, holding him tucked against his shoulder in an awkward horizontal hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Phil doesn’t respond with words. He just brushes a kiss to the top of Dan’s head and then, when Dan looks up, a second to his lips. 

And a third and a fourth and a fifth until they actually settle in to sleep.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Bottom: Part 2 of 2

A/N: This was originally supposed to go...very differently. But then I had a revelation in the shower this morning, and everything changed. And I guarantee you’ll like it better this way. If you’re curious about the original ending after you read this bad boy, pop into my messages and i’ll tell you all about it. 

Warning: descriptions of overdose, drug use 

Word Count: 4841

When Logan’s name flashed across the caller ID, Juliet answered without a second’s pause, expecting her brother’s tone to be bright and warm as it had been for the better part of two years. He probably wants to meet for lunch. There was a time when meeting her brother for lunch was in a completely different realm of impossible. There was a time when seeing his name appear on her screen brought a chill to her chest and a dizzying headache as her heart began pounding in her brain; a time when a call from Logan meant that he was in some kind of trouble, or that he’d been rushed to the emergency room, or that he was contemplating filling his veins with enough poison to permanently curb his pain. But his recovery had been going so well, and he’d been working so hard to uncover the light that he’d lost inside of himself, that those feelings of dread, that conditioned, involuntary response had become just a memory. 

 “Hey...Juliet? Can...can we talk?... I’m at the hospital and-”

 And just like that, those memories came speeding back to claw at her lungs and tear through her mind. Logan’s face; cheeks hollow and covered with too many days worth of unkempt growth, dark eyes completely matte and dull, pupils so small they were barely there, rimmed in grayish purple circles that only made his pale complexion seem more colorless. His skin; sweaty and clammy and thin beneath her fingers as she hoisted him onto his side, saving him from choking, arms and legs dotted with bruises and blotches. That slow motion sound to his voice, the small cracks and tired quality. The things he would say and how little sense they made, how not a thing from his mouth was credible- none of the promises could be believed, none of the apologies or threats or curses really meant anything at all. How he’d swing from livid screams of “Fuck off, Jules, I fuckin’ hate you!” to desperate, pleading, painfully sorrowful sobs of “I’m sorry, I’ll be better, Jules, I promise…”

 Hearing him say those words- “I’m at the hospital”- made her heart rate triple and her eyes grow wide. She stood abruptly from her desk, manicured fingers clutching her phone in one hand and grabbing her keys with the other. No. Not again. Please don't make him go through this again. She wasn’t sure who she was pleading with, but the thought of Logan falling back after reaching such a peak, after the rigorous climb to sobriety that he’d made, filled her heart with lead and sent it dropping into her stomach. 

  What? Logan? What happened? Are you…” she paused, swallowed, clamped her eyes shut against the dizzying question whipping around in her skull: Are you relapsing again? Even though he hadn’t backslid in over two and a half years, that was where her terrified mind went. “Are you sick? Logan? Are you hurt?” The words were tumbling out and over one another too quickly for him to answer, too quickly for her to stop them, their bitter taste leaving her tongue numb.

 “Hey, no, Jules...I’m okay. I’m here because…” she listened to his tone- not bright and cheerful, but not broken or slurred. He sighed and it sounded heavy, but it had the distinct weight to it that only came from carrying someone else’s burden. She knew that sigh well, having emptied her own lungs in that same soul shuddering way plenty of times. I swear, if this is about… “Jules, I’m here because someone needs me to be here.”  

 Juliet froze halfway to her office door and spoke your name into the phone. It wasn’t a guess, she was sure he was talking about you. Her stomach churned uneasily as she exhaled through semi flared nostrils. I thought I made it clear to her that Logan didn’t need- 

 “Yeah… yes. It’s, fuck. She… Jesus, Juliet. She called me because she thought she was fucking dying. And… and I think she wanted to...at least, at least last night I think she did…” 

 He sounds so...so sad. “Is...is she okay?” Juliet regained a normal, even tone from the relief of knowing that he was still safe, still healthy. But he’s still in pain. Why does it have to be her, Logan? She adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag before meticulously fixing the few errant strands of her dark curls, letting out a painfully patient sigh. 

 “She’s...stable, yeah.” He sniffed and cleared his throat, and when he spoke again it was anything but clear. “Jules...when I saw her…” he swore and his voice lurched with the distinct unevenness of uncontrolled breathing. “When I saw her, Jules… I- I realized what it was like...what I was like when you… shit.” She heard a rustling sound and imagined that he was rubbing his hand over his face, knowing that this wasn’t easy for him. “Juliet I’m...thank you. I love you, Jules.” 

 Juliet could taste her heart on her tongue and forced her eyes shut. “I love you too, Logan. You don’t have to-” 

 “No. I do. I know I said it before. But now I know. I know what you...what you saw, what you felt.” No, Logan, you can’t have any idea. You’re my brother. She’s just…  “and how you...what you had to do and… And I know now, Jules.” There was a deep understanding in his tone, as though everything he’d been through- overdoses, hospital stays, rehab, withdrawal, the meetings, the back slide, sobriety- all of it was punctuated with a final level of acknowledgement now that he’d seen it from the other side. 

 “I hope you never have to see it again, Logan.” Her own voice had lost its sharpness, and though she was far from your biggest fan, the sincerity in her words was genuine; she truly hoped with every bone in her body that Logan wouldn’t have to go through anything like what he must have spent the last several hours going through- what she’d spent too much time going through herself. 

 “I’m gonna help her, Jules.” He sounded more resolute than she’d ever heard him sound, even in the boardroom or in negotiations, when he could be a downright cocky son of a bitch. But… help her?  What did he mean by that? “I want to… she’s… I need to help her.” 

 “Logan are you-” Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’m not. What if she can’t be helped? Are you thinking straight? Does she really mean that much to you? “Are you still at the hospital? I’ll meet you there.” And to think I thought we’d be meeting for lunch when this call started… 

 “Yeah...yeah, I’ll be here until they release her. Don’t want her to be alone, her family’s out of town and she… fuck even when they are in town she’s got no one, Jules.” 

 Juliet left her office and strode down the hallway, heels clicking against the hardwood. “Okay. I’m on my way now. Be there in about twenty five minutes, okay?” And then we’re going to talk about this help. 

 “Yeah, okay Jules. Thanks. Thank you for coming.” Tired, determined, hopeful, scared… he was all of those things and she completely understood… and she completely hated it. 

 “Of course, Logan. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up and pushed her phone down into her purse, passing her assistant’s office. From the corner of her eye she saw him spring up from his desk like a jack-in-the-box, darting out to follow her. 

 “Ms. Delos, do you need a car? Should I call you a driver? Make any arrangements?” Juliet didn’t slow her steps or even turn around. 

 “No, Jeff, thank you, I’m going to drive myself.” Don’t want anyone to know I’m meeting Logan in the ER. “Just cancel all my afternoon meetings, please. Reschedule them for any time after Wednesday. Thank you, Jeff.” She raised her right hand in thanks as Jeff stopped following and returned to his office to start contacting the several clients and vendors that were likely already on their way to meet with her. Turning down the hallway that lead out to the parking garage, she kept her brisk pace until she reached her sleek black convertible, getting in and pulling out towards the highway. He needs to make sure he knows what he’s doing...Oh, Logan… why does it have to be her? 

 .  . .  .  .  .  . .  .  .

 When you woke up again after the doctor had been in to check on you, everything ached. Parts of yourself that you didn’t know you had, parts of yourself that you didn’t think still had viable nerve endings, parts of yourself you thought you’d already damaged beyond repair, were burning and throbbing, dull and hot and well past the pain level that you were comfortable with. Nausea rose in angry waves, corrosive bile eating at your stomach lining, your esophagus, staining the inside of your mouth. Your lungs felt tired despite the oxygen tube beneath your nose and around your ears, the plastic rubbing against your skin with the sensation of tiny sawblades, and with each breath you felt yourself grow closer and closer to the sleep that your pain kept you from.You raised your right hand to try to move the offending tubing, but you were stopped. Realizing that you’d had your eyes closed this whole time, you struggled greatly to open them and found Logan’s long fingers wrapping gently around your hand and pushing it back down to your side. You felt his forearm against your own, his skin warm and soft, yours thin and cold. 

 “Hey, nope, you need that, leave that there, okay?” There was a patience in his tone that you never would have associated with Logan Delos. He was used to instant gratification; demands, not requests, confidence, not uncertainty. Clearly, more had changed since the last time you had seen him than his sobriety. You weren’t delusional enough, even in your current state, to think that he was simply this patient and understanding for you. 

 You let him hold your wrist down against the sheets until you nodded and he was satisfied that you wouldn’t try to disrupt your oxygen tube again, and even then he didn’t take his hand back. Instead, he moved his thumb back and forth against your prominent wrist bone, protruding like a marble from the base of your hand. “Just hurts,” you mumbled, trying to explain why you wanted to move the tubing. 

 He inhaled shakily through his nose and nodded. “I know. I know it does.” His dark eyes narrowed briefly and he swallowed before your name fell from his lips- lips you could still feel all over your body even years later, lips that had always indulged whatever whim you were on, lips that were now set in a firm line to keep from quivering. “Do you...did you hear what the doctor was saying before?” 

 You shook your head as much as you could, no recollection of a conversation with your doctor. 

 Logan’s fingers curled around your wrist again and tightened in a brief squeeze as he sighed. “You need to stay overnight again tonight. You had… there must have been… there must have been something else in your stuff...some additive or, or whatever but it caused some blood clots- small ones, but they were near your lungs so… so they just want to be sure that they dissolve before you can go home.” 

 So that’s why it's so exhausting to breathe. You watched him wince as he explained what you’d done to yourself, and immediately you felt guilt add itself to the roiling waves of withdrawal nausea in your stomach. He shouldn’t be here. This isn’t fair to him. 

 “So you need this,” he brought his free hand up to your face and traced the line of plastic tubing over your cheek and around your ear. “I know it hurts. But you need it. Need to leave it alone so you can get better.” He combed his fingertips through your hair, grazing the top of your ear, featherlight before his palm conformed to the side of your head, cradling it against the pillow. “You need to get better. You will.” He swallowed again and you closed your eyes as the lips you remembered found a spot on your forehead. You felt a tingle spread out from where he kissed you, like a protective aura had been cast over you with that kiss. If only it were that simple. 

 “Logan,” your voice was raspy and your throat felt like you’d swallowed box cutter blades, but what you had to say was important so you pushed through the pain. “Logan, I’m sorry that I called you last night. I...you shouldn’t be here.” One had was still tucked against the side of your head, the other still holding your wrist, thumb brushing the skin beneath the plastic bracelet with your intake information. Why doesn’t he see that? 

 “What do you mean? Don’t apologize. I’m...I’m so glad you called me. What if-”  The look of confusion on his face was yet another new development. The Logan you knew was always sure, even when others weren’t. He shook his head and a few pieces of hair fell out of place. 

 “No, Logan, I am. I’m sorry because,” you took a breath. “Because you’re clearly doing so...so well and I didn’t mean,” another breath, “to bring you back into this and…” you exhaled, coughing and he tried to silence you but you shook your head through the cough and took another breath. “You don’t need to be here with me, Logan. You’re not...obligated or…” 

 “Stop.” There he is. Finally, the Logan you remembered showed up, voice full and commanding. “I know I’m not obligated. I’m here because I want to be here, and I want to be here because I...care about you. I always have...I-” the sureness wavered again but he gathered his eyebrows together and rallied the command back into his tone. “I know you cared about me, too, back then. I...I know we did a lot of...of fucked up shit together. And I know it was fucked of me that I never reached out to you after I got clean. And, no, stop-” you had tried to raise your hand under his touch, tried to cut him off and speak, but he didn’t let you. “Let me...please let me say this?” You nodded feeling tears dripping from the corners of your eyes. “I should have. I know Juliet told you to stay away. I know. And I know why she thought that was best. And maybe it was for a little while. But...but I know that I should have reached out to you. I... even after everything...I missed you. You… you always saw me, you know? You saw me for more than what was wrong with me. You saw that I was trying… you saw that I wanted to be better...you… we were just… it wasn’t good timing before. We couldn’t help each other because we were both drowning. But the truth is, I would have drowned a lot sooner without you- without knowing that there was someone who knew me like you do. Maybe Juliet was the one who finally pulled me up, and for that I owe her everything. But you… you were important, too...are. Are important. And… and it doesn’t have to mean anything now or right away or ever. Even though I…” his tongue came out to wet his lips, a flash of pink before it disappeared behind his teeth. “Even though I care about you...I never stopped caring about you...but more than that… I want to help you. Someone helped me. And now I can do that for you. Please...please let me.” 

 This was it. He was laying it out and you had to decide if you were going to let him be there for you, let him help you. You knew you’d have to take this seriously if you let him, knew you couldn’t let him down. It was hard to believe the things he was saying- that he cared...that he always did and still does...that even in his drugged out haze of years past, he knew that you cared, too, knew that you saw inside of him then the man that sat beside you now. What difference could there have been if your father or brother had done for you what Juliet had done for Logan? They’d both given up on you years ago, writing you off as the black sheep with issues, probably hoping you’d just hurry up and off yourself so they wouldn’t be burdened by your destructive cycle. You had no idea where they even were at the current moment, or if they knew where you were, and honestly, you didn’t care. You’d read once about how important it was to distance yourself from the people who you were close to when you were trapped in the repetition of heroin use disorder. You always thought that referred only to suppliers and people that you used with. But you realized now that it included enablers, too, and that in their absence, they’d enabled you to believe that you had no one. But that wasn’t true. You looked up through your tears at the man beside you. You had Logan; he was right here, and he was telling you that you weren’t alone. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone. 

 “Okay.” It was all you could muster, but you felt so much more than those four letters could hold. The pain and exhaustion were still the most prominent things that you felt, and you knew that what you were feeling was only the tip of the iceberg, but maybe...maybe if you had Logan...maybe you could get through it. 

 “Okay?” His eyes widened and you saw them lighten a few shades. “Okay? Yes?” You nodded and his sigh of relief changed the set of his face back to the relaxed, quiet expression he’d been wearing when you woke up. He leaned down and kissed the same spot on your forehead again. “Thank you,” he whispered. You felt the tip of his nose buried in your hair, and his scratchy facial hair brush at your temple. “Thank you.” When he pulled back and sat up again, he took his hand away from your head and wiped at his eyes. 

 You twisted the wrist he’d been holding so that your palm could slide over his wrist instead, fingers not making it all  the way around the way they used to. It was hard to keep eye contact with him- your eyelids each weighed a ton, your tears were flooding your vision, and the emotion in his eyes was near blinding, but you locked in as much as you could. “I’m gonna get better, Logan.” 

 “Yes. Yes you are. I promise you. It’s worth it.” 

 Looking at him now, able to sit here and watch you struggle, able to sit next to you and know the pain that you were in, know how every cell in your body felt swollen and sore, know how all you wanted was to sink back under the warm surface and float all the way down to where the pain couldn’t reach you, and still say that it was worth it, meant everything. If he can do it, I can do it, especially if he’s helping me. And if he’s helping me… I have to do it. 

 You were going to say something else, but there was a knock on the door and you both swiveled your heads towards the nurse who stuck his head inside. “Mr. Delos, there’s someone at the nurses’ station for you.” 

 Logan turned away from the nurse and back to you. “That’s Juliet.” Your heart thudded out of rhythm. Oh. She’s not going to be happy. Your anxiety must have shown on your face, because his fingertips were back on your forehead, brushing soothingly across your clammy skin. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything. Rest, okay? I’ll be back.” He kissed that same spot one last time before crossing the room. Upon reaching the door, he looked back at you and gave you a tired smile, ecstatic that you’d agreed to let him help you, before disappearing out into the hall. 

 Juliet is going to be pissed. You tried not to dwell on how your involvement in Logan’s life would shake up his relationship with his sister, trying to remind yourself that she was just concerned about her brother, and that he wanted to be here with you, and that neither of those where bad things. 

 .  . .  .  .  .  . .  

 Juliet chewed her thumbnail, a habit that she hated, but one that came out involuntarily under stress. She stared at the same reproduction painting in the private waiting room that she’d stared at time and time again, thinking to herself, I could paint that. I’ve looked at that ugly thing so much now… I could paint it with my eyes closed. The sound of the door opening broke her out of her artistic contemplation and she turned, dropping her hand to her side. “Logan,” she exhaled his name and crossed the small space to wrap her arms around him. Turning her face to kiss his cheek, she squeezed tightly and felt him squeeze back before she pulled away. He’s okay. He looks okay, just tired, just sad. 

 “Hey, Jules,” he responded before letting out a long and ragged breath. He found the arms of a chair and gripped them before lowering himself down into it. 

 Juliet crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her back foot. “How’s...how is she doing?” 

 Logan blew out another breath, this time not as shaky, coming out in a spurt through his lips. “It was rough for a minute… and she’s… she has to stay tonight, maybe tomorrow, too. I didn’t tell her about tomorrow, but…” he shook his head, messy hair flopping against his brow. “But she,” he looked up then, and the smile that lit his face shocked her. “She agreed to let me help her, Jules. She’s gonna go to rehab… she’s gonna get clean and-” 

 Juliet quickly spun to take the seat next to her brother and reached for the hand closest to her, which was still gripping the arm of the chair. “Logan. This girl. How...how can you be sure that she means it? Any of it? How can you trust her, Logan?” She felt her eyes fill with concern and hoped that’s how her questions came across. Juliet’s worst fear was that he’d get involved with helping you, and either he’d fall back into old habits, or you’d relapse… you’d OD and die and leave him hurting worse than ever. It had to be her, didn’t it? Nothing you do is easy, is it, Logan? 

 Logan surprised her by sitting up and leaning forward in his chair. He didn’t rip his hand away, didn’t raise his voice or use an irritated tone. “Jules, let me ask you something.” 

 “Okay…” 

 “When you dragged me to rehab. When you found me, choking to death on my own puke, eyes rolling back and-” Juliet looked away. “Hey, no come on, look at me, please.” She pressed her lips together, held her eyes shut for a few more seconds and then obliged and opened them. “When you found me like that, Jules, how did you know it was going to work? Did you trust me when I said I would try?”

“I...Logan, you’re my brother. I knew it was going to work because I believed in you. I trusted you because I believed that you could do it.” 

 Logan nodded. “That’s right. You believed in me. Dad thought you were nuts, remember? And William?” 

 “Fuck William, Logan, he-” 

 Logan held up a hand, dismissing her hatred for her ex-husband. He hated him, too, fucking prick, but that wasn’t the point. “Agreed. Fuck him. But he thought you were crazy to believe in me. To want to help me. Remember?” He opened his arms and spread his fingers. “But you did. And here I am. I made it because you believed in me when no one else would. Because I wasn’t alone. I had help. I had you. Jules, I know I wouldn’t have made it without you. I know that. And now… now I get to do that for her. She’s got no one like you, Jules. Her family doesn’t give a fuck about her. They’re not even here. They’re not even coming. But I want to be here. I believe in her, Jules, in what she could be and do when she’s out of this. She’s smart. She’s bright and I know that’s hard to see but...but even back a few years ago...it was about more than the drugs with her, Jules, I...I didn’t know it then, because it was buried under everything else...but I loved her, Juliet. I couldn’t...I wasn’t able to see it, but even in the numbness...it was there. It’s still there. I love her. I don’t really know what that means yet, and I know it can’t mean anything until she’s healthy again… until she’s clean and can focus on other things...but… but I'm not just going to let her drown.” 

 “Logan...I’m scared for you.” 

 “I know you are, Jules. I know. I know you probably thought that I was strung out again when I called you earlier.” She made to protest even though that was exactly what she thought, but he tilted his head and held up a finger as he finished. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you. But you believed in me once, right? You believed that I could get clean and be healthy and get better, right?” 

 “Yes. Yes, Logan, of course, but-” 

 “So I’m asking you to believe in me again. Believe in me one more time, Jules. Believe that I can help her without falling back down. I know I can. I just need to you know it, too.” 

 Juliet hadn’t realized that she was crying, but the fact was that the changes that Logan had made in his life went far beyond health and habits. He’d let go of the resentment and the selfishness. He’d made room for compassion and love and a desire to do good. He’d become exactly what she always knew he could be, and she couldn’t stand in his way. “Okay, Logan. Okay. I trust you. I believe in you...and in her. I… I love you…” 

 “Love you too, Jules. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be great. It’s gonna be hard but it’s gonna be great. You’ll see.” He got up then, and the smile that he kissed her cheek with felt like a swath of sunshine on her skin, his happiness contagious as she felt her own lips curve upwards. 

 It’s gonna be great. I believe you, Logan. 

 .  . .  .  .  .  . .  .

 Ten months later, you stood next to Logan with about twenty more pounds on your frame, a significant shine to your hair, a healthy complexion, and light dancing in your eyes as the Delos Philanthropic Fund opened The Door- a rehab and wellness center funded entirely by Delos Destinations. Beside you stood Juliet and her new husband Tony, and the four of you stepped down on ceremonial shovels to break ground for the center’s new facility. A few months ago there was no way that your frail and failing body would have had the strength to shovel sand, but you felt the blade of your shovel bite down into the hard packed dirt and scoop up a large rock. This rock can’t stop me. This rock’s not gonna stop anyone. This center is going to help so many people… and I get to be a part of it. I get to be a part of it because of… 

 You looked left and saw that he was already beaming at you. He held his shovel in one hand after the official ground breaking scoop, reaching out to wrap the other around yours. I get to be a part of it because of him. You looked to your right, where Tony had his arm around Juliet. And he gets to be a part of it because of her… Help. Everyone needs help sometimes. And now you’d be a part in making sure that others got that help. The past ten months had been the hardest in your life, and you knew it wasn’t over. But you remembered what Logan had said to you in the hospital, and you turned back to him. 

 “Logan? Remember when you said it would be worth it?” 

 He nodded, eyes on you and smile climbing up into them. 

 “You were right.”

    @something-tofightfor  @its-my-little-dumpster-fire@suchatinyinfinity @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @ymariejp @songtoyou @skwriddle @thesumofmychoices @obscurilicious @ilkaeliseb @belladonnarey 

[lilcutieana]

Dark Desires ( JJK/ Demon AU)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook| Reader Words: 6.3K Rating: NSFW (18+)  Genre: Demon AU  Warnings: pwp. smut. fingering, oral (receiving/giving), cumplay, edging,                     orgasm denial, dom/sub undertones.   Synapse: You’re a herbalist looking for herbs and the reason behind the mountains being off limits. Surely, the hills must have more medicinal plants, but, what lies there, is something far more sinister. 

For my lovely wife @barbika1508 who requested me with a prompt that turned absolutely filthy under her influence. I've got no regrets whatsoever. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Masterlist || One shots Masterlist

“Why don’t you just buy the herbs like every other normal herbalist out there?” Josephine whined dramatically with a hand on her forehead and sat down on the lone stool by the window.

Josephine was a lovely woman in her late forties and she’d been working alongside my grandfather in the quaint little herbal medicine shop that he ran. I’d inherited it about five years back and have been trying my best to run it smoothly with the little knowledge I have and the years of experience I’ve gathered.

And for that, I’d need to handpick the best of herbs and mix them myself for the best medicine. Yes, one could certainly say—I was too nitpicky. But it was just the way I’d liked doing things. My way, or no way.

“Define normal.” I retorted back with a smile, knowing I’d made a good point. Placing the last of the sterilized glass jars into my side tote bag, I was set for my little travel.

“There are twelve packages, named, labeled with instructions within.” I started counting things that needed be done while I was gone for the day.

“If new customers come, ask them to visit again and don’t mess with the ingredients.” She parroted me in the exact tone and rolled her eyes. “I know, kid. It’s the same thing every time.”

Giggling under my breath, I nodded sheepishly. “Just making sure, Fifi.”

Jogging up to her, I hugged her tightly, inhaling her sweet scent of cinnamon and rose with my eyes closed, hoping she’d hold onto me a little longer. I wanted to ingrain her earthy scent and her warmth to my memory, to have something to keep me sane as I traverse the mountains for the rare herbs.

“Be careful darling, and as always,” She pulled away and looked into my eyes. Smiling, I parroted the saying I’ve been hearing since I was ten. “Don’t go looking for a dark cave, or you’ll end up walking into your own grave.”

Kissing my forehead, she stared at me a moment longer, her eyes downcast and teary. Closing her eyes, she sighed and patted my cheeks fondly. “Off you go, young lady.”

Biting my lips, I nodded and turned around. Without looked back, I padded my way across the room and climbed the stairs down to the exit of the little shop. I knew I was going to break the one promise I had made to her all these years.

Maybe she knew it too. Maybe that was why she looked sad and resigned. But I was determined to find out what held in those mountains that caused the people to come back delusional and sick out of their minds. I just had to.

                          *＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Tired and out of breath I sat on a boulder, huffing and puffing out through my mouth. As I climbed up the steep roads, I saw many herbs that were uncommon to the woods down below. From Aralia, Dianthus, Cassia and even Vervain. They were much needed almost regularly and required a long time to extract. Finding the fresh herbs was just my luck.

But the collection soon became too much to carry. I’d collected some wild mushroom and berries on my way too, just in case I got lost, I’d have something to snack on or make a soup out of. Considering it rained or I found my way to the spring on the other side of the mountain.

As the day grew closer to noon, the heat became unbearable and I decided it was time to start on my way finding what I came here mostly for.

Finding the true cause of the locals getting sick on this mountain. The women never came back and the men became insane. From hallucinations to night terrors, the symptoms were wide-ranging showing only one conclusion—they encountered something that terrified them to their wit’s end.

The local legend said a monster was sealed here in one of the caves, another claimed it to be a demon’s lair while yet another spoke of a handsome young man trapped inside a cave by a demon as its prey to bring in humans for it to feast upon.

Not that I believed in any of those, but, by the looming cave in front of me decorated with human skulls in pikes and shattered bones as carpet to its entrance, you could say I was pretty close to believing in one of those tales.

Now, either I could walk in there—free the boy and tackle the demon with deodorant spray and matches. Lighting up a demon on fire seemed like a really good idea to me. The pyromaniac in me jumped in glee at the prospect.

Or, my inner-self whispered in the back of my mind. I could listen to Fifi and just walk away before I became my own patient.

There was no herbalist who rivaled me. The town needed my expertise. Yup. I’d walk away and bring back the herbs like promised. The demon was bringing me customers and money anyway. If it was a demon’s doing in the first place. I’d seen enough for the day.

Home, sweet home. Here, I come.

Even though I said that my heart didn’t quite agree with it. Crunching on the little bone shards spread out on the dirt path, I walked on my way to the portal of death. My palms were sweating in anticipation. Heck, even my sweat was sweating. It was certain there was something in there, something not dead, and something definitely not alive. Because, despite the area being decorated with filthy and gruesome things, it didn’t stink. Not one bit. Instead, the air tasted fresh—like spring water and morning dew and it smelled of vanilla cakes. The only things I loved the most in the world other than, of course, a heavenly slice of glazed dark chocolate cake.

Suspicious. Very suspicious indeed. Tilting my head, I sniffed the air some more and my eyes widened as the aroma intensified, became richer, beckoning me to lick the air itself with how deliciously good it smelled.

Licking my lips, I threw all caution to wind and brisk-walked the rest of the way to the entrance of the cave. Hesitating, I stopped for a moment. Just what was I doing? 

I was supposed to head home. Even the birds overhead had started to fly back home. If I didn’t turn around now, I’d never make it back by tonight. I had a shop to close, shower and order some Chinese takeout. Yes, takeout was unhealthy, but I was sore from all the walking. I didn’t have it in me to cook for just myself.

Despite me rationally wanting to go back, I couldn’t bring myself to actually turn around and go back. There was something about this place— something that made me walk towards it like a moth to the flame. I could feel the little hair on the back on my neck rising, my skin being dotted in gooseflesh. And despite the obvious warning signs—I kept going.

Staring down at one of the spears with a human looking skull on it, I wondered if it was plastic or plaster of Paris. Didn’t seem unlikely at all. Maybe it was some kind of unfinished haunted house shit? Well, whatever. It was in my way and I’d get it sorted. 

Picking up the spear and shaking of the skull of it, I was satisfied as it flew past my shoulder and split open with a satisfying crack. Smirking, I shook my head. Plastic indeed. Someone was really out there trying to keep people out of here. At least they could have had something rotting to make it more believable. 

The cave loomed in front of me now, shrouded in absolute darkness. Whatever was in there, I hoped it was worth me risking a heart attack solely from the way it was trying to beat its way out of my chest. 

Me? 

Scared?  

No. I was just nervous I’d hurt the wrong person, or demon, or whatever being was in there. Were they trapped? Or were they a bait? Or was there anything at all? At this point, honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if this was some haunted house setting with fake dummies that light up as recordings of weird voices go on in the background. 

Steeling myself for the worst, I rummaged through the bag, looking for the matchsticks. Great, just great. I had stuffed so many things in here, it was practically impossible to find the tiny little box.

“Can I help you?” A voice piped up from somewhere deep into the cave, and it echoed back to me. That only meant the cave was empty because if there were other things, they’d have not let voices echo. A flock of birds flew past my head, making me crouch down. I didn’t quite like them. From far away? Sure, they were beautiful. But on my face? Nah, bro, stay away.

A bright light shone in my eyes, blinding me for a split second. A torch! Of course. I knew I was forgetting something important when I left the store earlier in the day. I wonder if the customers collected their due medicine today.

 "Are you possibly deaf? “ The voice asked again and I shivered at the sweet honeyed tone of it. He sounded like a teenager, maybe close to my age too. I was no expert when it came to voices, but it was soft, soothing and calm like no other. 

"No, I’m just blind thanks to you.” Rolling my eyes, I turned my head and heard the ticking of his faint footsteps walking away. 

“I’m sorry about that.” He drawled, not sounding sorry at all and switched off the light. Blanketing everything into darkness once more as he dragged something into position. Huh. Rude much? Was he may be lost in the mountain? Or dared to spend a night here? Whatever the case, if he was as comfortable being in the darkness, maybe there wasn’t anything scary at all. 

A hole opened up at the roof, letting the moonlight in and the whole cave lit up as if there were a thousand bulbs lit inside. Walking around awed, I noticed it was filled with crystals hanging from the ceiling and all around the cave that glittered as the moonlight shone on them. 

“Pretty, aren’t they?” He whispered next to my ear, holding me to himself. I could now feel his well-defined chest muscles behind me as his arm snaked around my waist.

 "They are. “ I breathed out. My voice a soft whisper and huskier than I’d intended. His presence was doing things to me I’d never admit it out loud. Demon or not, there was something about this cave, that had me staying and now my blood boiling in anticipation.

Dropping the spear from my hands, I turned around in his arms and froze on the spot. Nothing in this world had prepared me for the beauty the man was. No wonder he hid in the shadows. His strawberry blonde hair parted to the left and messy, dark eyes set on me, looking into my soul. They looked so sad, hurt even, as I stared back at him. His nose was just a tad bit crooked and lips thin and so pink that curved just a smidge when my gaze lingered longer than deemed appropriate.  

“See something you like?” He asked with a smirk, his eyes dancing in mirth. Narrowing my own, I stared down at his crotch that seemed to be bursting at the seams. Raising my brows, I poked him there, and sure enough, he was hard, a damp patch already forming on too tight jeans. Flinching away from my touch, he grabbed me by the throat, though his grip was harsh, his touch was gentle.

I wasn’t scared of him. I wonder why.

Maybe it was the calming scent that surrounded him, or maybe it was his gentle eyes. But something made me want to trust him. Something in his gaze as it lingered on my eyes made me want him. He was lean, yet there was something powerful about him that thrummed in the air and made me want to touch it to see if it really electrocuted me. Yet, I kept my hands to myself. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“You have some nerve not just entering where you shouldn’t but also trying to touch me. Are you possibly out of your mind?” He spat out his words, eyes narrowing and jaw clenched. The veins on his neck became more prominent as I stared at them. He truly was a piece of art, and so were the accessories on him. From the leaf shaped black earring, to the multiple rings on his fingers, he was decked in jewels, and I don’t think they were the fake kind.

“So what if I am?” I challenged him and was satisfied to see the fire in his eyes burn brighter. He was angry, but for what? Surely, he couldn’t have owned the cave. It didn’t belong to anyone. Unless…

“Do you even know what you’re dealing with?” He asked, dragging a finger over my slit as he buried his nose on my neck, biting it until I winced and let go of my neck when I shook my head. “I’m a demon, an incubus. You should have stayed away like the priest intended.”

Demon? Him?

He looked more like a fallen angel dressed in all black. If demons looked anything like him, I’d gladly have him locked up in my basement, tied and naked. But that was just me being horny. Right. He was an incubus. No wonder my sex drive was through the roof and I was in a trance as soon as I got a whiff of him. But a priest?

Well, not my business. As long as he fucked me good.

Snarling, he tore through my joggers and showed me his ink black nails as if he could read through my thoughts. If he thought they’d intimidate me, he was wrong. If anything, it only made my pussy clench in need. I wanted those beautiful fingers of his buried deep inside of me, making me scream, but only in ecstasy.

Peeling off my joggers, he looked at my body appreciatively. The cold air making my nipples pebble and body squirm in need. “Look at you, being so needy for me.” Licking his lips, his eyes turned golden and nose flared as he noticed the thong I was wearing underneath. “I’ll reward you if you can satisfy me.”

“I’m sure I can.” I nodded confidently. I loved giving pleasure, it turned me on to no ends. And his body was a heaven I’d wanted to explore. The sheer black shirt he wore did nothing to hide his gorgeous, delectable muscles; those dusky pink nipples and a very mouthwatering neck. I wanted to bite it, mark him my own.

“But can you keep up?”

"I’m certain I can more than keep up, kitten.” Tilting his head to the side, he nodded to himself, “I prey on your life force, in exchange for a night of pleasure. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of, will come true, in exchange for a few years of your life.”

Even though he was warning me, his tone seemed deeper, huskier. If he was turned on before, he must be beyond help now. He was a sex demon if his life depended on sharing with others, and he chased away people from approaching him, he must have been starving.

A selfless, starving demon. Never in my life, would I have thought it possible. Was it a choice, or was he forced into it? Maybe it was because of the ‘priest’ he mentioned. Well, I suppose, as long as he didn’t suck me dry of my life force and spread my bones as the ivory carpet to the entrance of the cave, I guess I was fine with a couple years taken away. I was doing so with unhealthy diet anyway.

“I don’t care if you’re a demon. If I’m going to hell, I’d rather fuck my way to it.” Shivering in delight at his voice and his confidence, I wanted to bend over and let ram into me. It was hard to even stand still under his gaze, but it was the same piercing gaze that held me in place.

Smirking, he dragged his nail from my neck until the hem of my panties, slicing his way through it. It didn’t hurt, but it stung as drops of blood beaded on the trail he formed. Peeling off my ruined flannel shirt and black bra, he thumbed my nipples all the while staring at my face. “Bad, bad girl. You defy me, even though you want me.”

“I’m sorry if I’m not what you expected.” Glaring at him, I held onto his cock over his black jeans and holding a fistful of hair at the back of his head, I guided his lips down onto mine.

His lips were far softer than I’d imagined them to be, warmer and they molded just right onto mine. Biting his lip, I dragged my tongue onto the seam of his lips and as soon as he opened his mouth in a whimper, I smiled in victory. He tasted of caramel and coffee, a heady mix that had my head spinning, my thoughts muddled and before I knew it, his hand was stroking my core, gliding his fingers over my nether lips.

Gasping aloud, I spread my legs a little, hoping he’d take the hint and touch me properly. Sucking on my tongue, he smoothed his fingers up and down my slit and every time he came close to touching my clit, his fingers shied away making me groan in frustration. Pulling away from my mouth with a string of saliva connecting us, he chuckled, “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, you.” I glared at him, my core clenching in need and almost dripping past my thighs. I needed to feel something inside of me before I was driven to insanity.

“Jungkook” He demanded, lifting my chin with his forefinger. His claws now retracted back. “My name is Jungkook.”

“I’m Y/N, please, touch me,” I whispered, making my eyes look larger, hoping he’d take pity on me. It was all his fault anyway. Growling, he pinched my clit, making me jolt in surprise and yelp. Before I could retaliate, he got down on his knees, lifted my left leg over his shoulder and with a wink, dived in as if I were a feast he was starving for.

“Your scent has been driving me crazy since the moment you looked at me”, Licking up my entrance, he inserted his index finger and looked up at me, “And you taste delectable too. Just hope for your own good, I don’t get addicted to it.”

Whimpering as his finger hit that spot inside of me, my knees buckled, and he held me up with his shoulders.

"Ju-jungkook"

"I know"

Inserting two more fingers at once, he scissored them inside me, drawing out light moans of pleasure. The more I squirmed, the faster his pace became and as soon as I'd clench on his fingers, he'd stop and start building his pace all over again. This was more frustrating than it was satisfying and now I just wanted to clutch onto his hair and shove his tongue right over my clit. But, somehow, I knew I shouldn't be as greedy.

Clutching onto his defined shoulders for support in a deathly grip, I was sure I had left behind crescent moons where my nails had dug into his skin. Squirming, I tried to get his nose to rub just the right way over my clit. I needed to cum, but he just wouldn't let me. It was the fifth time when he finally took mercy upon me as my breath hitched and I rocked against his palm.

"Cum for me, Y/N", Jungkook demanded in a harsh whisper, his fingers twisting inside with each flick of his wrist. I whimpered an incoherent response, lost in the haze, body spasming and feet numb. Curling my toes as I felt my abdomen clench, I held onto his hair tighter than before, urging him to do something. Just a little more...

With a nip to my clit, the tiny band that was holding me back came undone as my orgasm took over. "Fuuuuck, Jungkook!" I gripped his hand, trying to slow him down as he continued to thrust his fingers inside me, dragging out the intense orgasm, showing me no mercy as his tongue relentlessly lapped on my clit, over and over again.

Whimpering, my body tilted and lost its balance. Catching me midair, he cooed near my neck, petting my hair and praising me. "There, there, take it easy." As I opened my eyes, I saw his cock straining, angry and red, leaking cum from the tip. It was the probably the prettiest cock I had ever seen in life. But before I could reach for it, he tilted my head away with his forefinger, looking into my eyes. "You okay there?"

His body was tense, eyes flickering over my face and neck, sad and empty. I wondered if he became self-conscious and worried. There was absolutely nothing to worry over. If anything, I was on cloud nine right now. I felt invincible.

"Yeah." Nodding, I tried feeling my body. I felt alive, my skin thrummed in satisfaction. "Fuck, that was amazing."

"Yeah?" He asked, a slow smirk forming on his lips, replacing his earlier frown of concern. "Want to continue?"

"More than anything, Jungkook", I replied, with absolute honesty. If that was just a preview, I wanted to enjoy the movie, the merchandise, and all the fan fiction. I wanted to devour him. Incubus or not, I wanted him. Letting go of my thighs, he stood up as soon as I'd regained my balance. Ripping open his shirt and pants, he threw them somewhere behind him, unbothered. As hot as that looked, I wondered if he owned any more pairs.

His skin glowed from the sparkling crystals, every ridge and sinew of his body carved to perfection. He truly looked so beautiful under the shimmering lights, I wanted him, and I wanted him all for myself.

“There’s still time to back out now.” He whispered as he came closer to me. Shaking my head, I looked around us. There was practically nowhere we could do it. Then where?

“Hold on to the wall, be mindful of the sharp crystals.”

Nodding, I spread my fingers along the rough surface of the walls.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Dragging his thumb across my lips, he looked me in the eyes as I pulled his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it as his gaze darkened, “With every kiss, you lose a little of yourself. If I was starving before, I’m a little satisfied now, which makes me all the more ravenous for your body.” Pulling his finger out of my mouth with a pop, he peppered tiny kisses all over my neck and chest, licking in between as I held onto his hair in a tight hold.

His demeanor changed, he became gentler, yet assertive in his movements. Slowing down, he dragged out every movement of his tongue, lighting my skin on fire. I was burning for him, my skin feverish for more of his touch. His hands were like magic, every inch of skin that they mapped, came alive under his calloused touch, drawing out gasps and moans of his name.

"You’re so hot like this, writing under my touch and I haven't even started." He then traced the shape of my breasts, his hands tender like the touch of a feather. Licking his lips, he then attached his mouth to the twin mounds, giving them equal attention. Even though his touch was gentle, his mouth was completely unforgiving. His hot tongue flicked over the nipple, biting on it until I squirmed away. Holding onto my waist, he laved away the sting of his bite and smiled at me innocently, his doe eyes sparkling with promised dark pleasures. "These are possibly the prettiest fits I've ever seen."

He whimpered as I caught hold of his hot throbbing length in my hands. He was hard within, but oh so soft, and warm in my hands. I wanted to taste him, to feel him come apart on my tongue. To hear him moan my name and become desperate under my touch. "Why don't you fuck them?" I challenged him. If I was proud of something, it had to be my boobs. If he found pretty, who was I to stop him?

Jungkook straightened up and looked down at me through hooded eyes, a slow smile spreading on his lips. Mussed hair, lips bit red, dark eyes and neck littered with love bites; Jungkook was a sight to behold. But when he smiled, all rational thoughts flew out of my head and I stared back at him flabbergasted. He was absolutely ethereal, an angel. His smile made him look like an innocent child, so happy and bright until I saw his eyes, dark, lethal and oh so sexy.

Getting down on my knees, I regarded his cock that twitched under my harsh glare. It was so beautiful, flushed red and veins bulging at it sides, a drop of precum oozing from the top. Before it could drop on the floor, I licked its head tentatively, savoring the bittersweet taste on my tongue. He smelled somewhat earthy and his deep musk made me clench my thighs and rub and together to create some form of friction.

Gliding my tongue around the head, I dragged it all the way to his balls and sucked them into my mouth tentatively. Gripping onto his hot length, I flicked my wrist and dragged his skin lower and licked my way back up, enveloping the bulbous head into my warm mouth.

He shuddered above me, I could feel his thighs tremble underneath my fingertips of the hand that wasn't jerking him off. Groaning low in his throat, he threw his head back and bit his lip until they bled a dark crimson.

Opening my mouth wider, I pushed him deeper inside until it became too uncomfortable for me. He was just too big to fit in my mouth, and thick too. Swirling my tongue, I coated him with a thick layer of saliva and popped him out of my mouth.

With a wink at his astonished face, I pushed my tits together around his girth and moved over him once, twice, until he moaned pushed the bangs out of my face. "This has got to be the hottest sight I've ever witnessed."

"Yeah?" Smirking, I licked the head as it reached my chin with an upwards thrust. Every time I bounced down, he'd thrust along with me, setting a fast pace that was tiring me out. But the look of absolute pleasure on his flushed face was absolutely worth it. Sweat beaded on his forehead like tiny glittering diamonds and I was proud that I ...was the cause of it. Me.

Spitting over his cock, I watched as it glided smoother than before, the friction almost is gone. I could feel it get hotter and swell inside as he chased after his high. Squeezing my tits tighter, I bent forward, licking his abs and he stilled momentarily, bucking his hips faster against my chest.

“I—I’m cumming” He whimpered and pulled back, pumping his length with his right hand. Pulling and twisting the skin with a sharp jerk of his wrists.

“Cum for me, Jungkook, let me taste you.” Opening my mouth, I stuck my tongue out for him. Pointing his cock straight towards my face, I saw his eyes dilate further and brow furrow in concentration. “I’m cumming Y/N, shiiiiiiiiiiit” With a shout, his chest stuttered and mouth opened in a silent scream and I closed my eyes just in time for him to paint my face and chest in hot thick strings of his cum.

Blinking my eyes open, I saw him fall back, breathing heavy with his eyes closed and an arm thrown over his face. Smiling satisfied at rendering him breathless, I crawled over to him on all fours and kissed his cheeks.

Removing his hand from his face, he blinked up at me, confusion marring his face and then surprise. Raising his finger, he wiped his cum from my cheeks and smeared it over my lower lip which I sucked in and relished on his bittersweet taste. Wiping my other cheek where his cum had started to thicken and dry, I licked my finger clean and watched as his mouth hung open.

Smirking, I picked up some more of his cum from my chest with my fore and mid-finger and raised it to his lips. “Lick them clean for me.”

Flicking his tongue out, he licked them clean slowly, dragging his tongue around my digits with slow careful strokes. “Enough,” I whispered, liquid heat pooling once again in my core that clenched around nothing. I needed him inside of me, and now. Glancing down further, I noticed him hard and ready to go once again. Raising a brow, I looked back at him in surprise.

He shrugged and smiled, “I’m a demon.”

Shaking my head, I climbed on his lap, positioning myself over his cock as it strained once again and glided over it back and forth, slathering it in my essence. Moaning at the way the tip of his cock hit my clit just right, I threw my head back and held onto my boobs, squeezing them.

“Gosh, you look so gorgeous like this”, Jungkook breathed out beneath me and raised his hands, replacing mine and tweaked my nipples, pinching them harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Shivering, I jerked back and in one smooth glide, he was sheathed inside of me drawing out collective gasps from us both from the slight burn of sudden intrusion.

He felt like nothing I’ve experienced before, nobody came close to being the perfect fit inside me. He stretched me just right and I had to stop and take a few moments to get used to being so stuffed full of cock. Can’t say I didn’t like it. Far from it, I was possibly going to be addicted to this feeling, I just knew it. No human could satisfy me the way Jungkook did.

“God you feel so incredible inside of me.” I breathed out, with my eyes screwed shut and leaned with my hands flat over his chest. The way his cock was pulsing inside of me, I was worried it might just burst and fill me up with his hot cum once again. Gosh, won’t that just be perfect? Me. Swollen full of his cum.

“I could…” He gritted out through clenched teeth, squeezing my hips in a bruising grip, “say the same about you. Move, please.”

Instead of answering him, I raised my hips and slammed down all the way down. He was now balls deep inside of me and I felt so full, I swear he was almost reaching my womb. Scratching his chest, I raised my hips once again, “Look me in the eyes as I fuck you.”

Holding onto his jaw, I started at a fast pace. Even though it was straining my leg muscles that were already crying from exhaustion, it was worth the sweet, sweet pain. The look on his face as I dominated him was priceless. He was aroused and confused. His eyes were wide, yet they were demure, submissive.

Leaning down, I kissed his temple and patted his cheek. “You’re doing so well, Jungkook” I whispered by his ear and felt him jerk inside me, hitting my G-spot and I keened, moaning out loud.

Feeling me clench around him, he gripped me by the hips and started thrusting upwards into me, far harsher and stronger than I could have. Taking me by surprise, he sat up and I had to wind my arms around his shoulder to balance myself. Pistoning his cock into me at a fast pace, he breathed harshly into my mouth. We were chest to chest and face to face now. Nudging his nose, I licked his lips and glided my tongue over his as he opened his mouth to me.

Patting my ribs, he halted our movements completely, making me whine in need. I was so close. “Up”

Getting up, he pushed me by the spine onto all fours and got behind me. Pepper little kisses from my neck to the tailbone, he bit my ass cheek and chuckled as I jumped in surprise. It didn’t hurt but stung a little. Just a tad bit. “Pull on my shirt and jeans and tuck them under your chest. I know you’re exhausted. Keep your ass up and body low.”

Scrambling forward, I balled his torn shirt and jeans and bunched them under my collarbone. Surprisingly, they were soft enough and didn’t chafe my skin. Leaning down, I crossed my arms and supported my chin on it. “I’m ready, Jungkook.”

“Good”

Sliding his dick in between my ass cheeks, he slowly inched closer to my asshole and I stiffened. I had never had anal before. I wasn’t even sure if I was ready for that yet. “One day, I want to claim you here too. But, not today.” Sighing in relief, I slumped my shoulders.

Just then, he pulled back and slammed into my pussy all at once, jerking me forward just by the sheer force of his thrust. Holding onto my hips, he pulled me back only to slam back inside once again. Setting up a brutal pace, he moved with no mercy in and out of my core, fucking me raw.

The collective moans echoed around the walls of the cave, forming a sweet melody only we could hear. Letting go of my hips, he held onto my arms, holding them behind me. The new change in position caused his cock to reach places it didn’t before as he hit that sweet spot inside of me repeatedly, making my head fall forward as I cried out his name in earnest.

I could feel it again. I was close to cumming again and it scared me. It was going to be far more intense, I just knew it, and maybe Jungkook did too because all too soon, he let go of my hands one by one and wrapped his hands around my chest instead. I could feel his heart beating a staccato on my back as he kissed all over my shoulders and neck. Mapping my skin with his lips, whispering words of encouragement into my ear.

His husky voice, the heat from his body, his scent, his aura, him, and everything was overwhelming and I could feel the coil in my stomach tighten with every harsh thrust. His soft moans from before were downright broken gasps and grunts as he continued pounding into me. Biting onto my shoulder, he stilled above me and shuddered as he came into thick spurts inside of me, causing my walls to tighten further around him and flutter as I shattered around him, milking him for what he was worth.

Collapsing on the floor, he slid away from me and flopped beside me, breathing harshly matching my own. Flushed a deep red, his face was beaded in sweat and hair messy, yet his eyes—they glowed in happiness. Remembering what he said from before, I propped myself on my elbow and leaned towards him, kissing him fervently.

He tasted of himself, and of me. A taste, I never wanted to forget. Cupping his face delicately, I coaxed his mouth open and drew him in, moving my tongue alongside him in slow, soft movements. At this moment, I wished he was mine. Truly and completely mine.

Pulling away, I looked at his hooded eyes and soft smile that mirrored my own.

“You did so well, Jungkook.” I kissed his temple, and his button nose, looking at him fondly.

“Of course, I did. I’m a sex demon.” Scoffing, he scrunched his nose up, looking all annoyed and so very innocent, making my heart tug and beat twice as fast. 

“Thank you, Y/N, really.” He looked at me in earnest, all traces of humor gone from his eyes. 

“What for?” I asked puzzled. Surely, he can’t be thanking me for fucking him. That was consensual. We both wanted it. 

“For kissing me, for losing so much of your life--- to a demon like me.” Biting his lips, he raised his hand when I was about to speak again, halting me right there. Closing my mouth, I stared back at him annoyed. “I have been trapped here for about thirty years, these crystals drain my energy, my life force, and I couldn't get out with what little energy I had. The first time you kissed me, I was filled with so much life and vigor and then--- now when you kissed me for the third time, I’m finally strong enough to take revenge on the priest who tricked me inside.”

“Do you think he’d still be alive and here?” I asked astonished. Being trapped inside to die from starvation mustn't have been a good experience, especially when he tended to scare away whoever chanced inside anyway. He was an enigma. Or was he just chasing me away, since he was close to death already?

“I wouldn’t know the world outside, Y/N. That was what I wanted before. Now, I just want to go wherever you are.” As soon as the words were out, we looked at each other shocked. Both in absolute disbelief over what he uttered and then, a realization dawned on me.

Maybe, I was falling for an incubus. Maybe it really was foolish of me. But I didn’t care. At this moment, I knew I belonged to him, just as he belonged to me. Even if just for tonight…

“Come back home with me then.”

“Why? Saves all the walking?”

“That. And I’m not done fucking you yet.” I smirked, looking back at his already hard cock, leaking at the tip.

“Let’s teleport to your bedroom then”

[sawyer-saucee]

Fight or Flight

Title: Fight or Flight

Word Count: 1817

Summary: Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Roman are all relatively average college students that share an apartment. One late night, Virgil heats someone breaking in, and it’s on his shoulders to decide what to do - does he run, save himself and hope for the best, or fight to protect his friends?

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, a bit of a spotlight on platonic analogical

Warnings: Blood, fighting, break-in, crying, knives

AN: God, I’m so nervous about posting this. I was told it was good by someone whose opinion I really value, and that’s probably the only reason you’re reading this! Enjoy fam

Virgil sat wide awake in his room, his phone in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. It was just past 2:00am, and the house, for once, was quiet. Virgil loved this time of the morning, when it was dark and serene, and he could hear his three roomates’ breathing if he listened hard enough. Roman Prince, the bombastic thespian who Virgil’s room was right next to, snored delicately, often sighing longingly at nothing in particular. Virgil hoped it was because he was having good dreams. Patton, the far calmer and often kinder child development major tended to talk in his sleep. It was usually incoherent strings of words, but occasionally Virgil could catch a few. Hearing Patton sleepily mumble the word ‘pancakes’ always made him smile. Logan was the hardest to hear, as the studious astronomer was the farthest down the hall. However, he made up for it by having the loudest snore Virgil had ever encountered. The three sleeping men all made a sort of unconventional harmony together, with Roman’s frequent sighs punctuated by Logan’s heavy breath and Patton’s dreamy giggles. Virgil found it strangely calming. Everything was in place, everything had a rhythm that he could count. Perhaps this is why the vigilant college student noticed immediately when an unfamiliar sound interrupted his special symphony.

Clink, clink, clink.

It was the sound of metal on metal- faint and intermittent, but it was definitely there. Virgil’s stomach began to churn with anxiety. They didn’t really keep anything metal in the house, did they? All of the dishes were plastic, and it made no sense for one of them to randomly be clinking together their silverware at 2 in the morning. In fact, the only thing that really made sense would be the brass door lock-

‘Oh. Oh, no.’

Hastily, Virgil listened for all of his roomates’ breathing. Maybe one of them had gone out to pick up a late-night snack and wasn’t in their bed anymore. But… no, he could hear all three of them. Patton’s mumbling and Roman’s sighing and Logan’s snoring. Which could only mean that the person at the door wasn’t one of them.

Virgil was frozen with terror, his head flashing with every possible scenario. It could be a robber, a rapist, a drunk, a murderer! They could all be dead tomorrow morning and no one would know what happened! His whole body was shaking as he desperately reminded himself to breathe, and with unsteady hands he dialled 911 on his phone.

“Hello, this is 911, what’s your emergency?”

Virgil’s social anxiety tried to step in as he was placed on the spot to answer, but his fear of the unidentified clicking at the door quickly overwrote it.

“M-my name is Virgil Shea, I think there’s someone in my house, I don’t know what to do-” He spoke into the phone in as much of a hushed whimper as he possibly could.

“Okay, honey, please stay calm. Can you give me your address?” The voice was calm and even, grounding Virgil enough to let him speak more clearly.

“24 East Ash Street, my apartment number is 236 on the second floor.” He whispered. “Please, I-” He paused as the clinking sound stopped, and was replaced by a soft creak. Virgil felt ready to cry, recognizing the sound of their squeaky old door swinging open. “I heard the door open, they’re inside, please help me-” He breathed, slowly sliding off his bed and over the carpeted floor to hide in his closet.

“Please stay calm,” the dispatcher repeated. “I’ll stay with you on the line. Are there other people that live in the house with you?”

“Mm-hmm. My roomates”

“Okay. If you can, you need to make sure that they are awake and have some kind of weapon so that if it comes to an altercation, they can defend themselves. Can you do that?”

“I can text them,” Virgil mumbled, hyper-aware of every sound that he made. He sent a message to the group chat the four of them shared.

[someone broke in, stay silent, i called 911, find something to dfend yrself and hide in yr closet but dont make any noise]

He sent the text and a moment later heard some gentle shuffling in his friend’s bedrooms, followed by the nearly indiscernible sound of pattering footsteps on carpet. Good, they were all hiding. He updated the dispatcher and they told him that they were sending the police. So, all he could do now was wait and listen. Luckily, listening was what he was best at.

It seemed that at the moment the intruder was just shuffling around in the living room and kitchen. Virgil could hear the rolling of the drawers and the sharp slams as cabinets opened and closed. He flinched when he heard a giant object thud onto the floor of the living room, hoping a bit selfishly that it wasn’t the TV or the Playstation. He’d saved for months to get them. Shaking his head, he silently scolded himself for thinking about something like a video game console when he and his friends could literally all end up dead.

He redirected his attention to sounds of the intruder once again, trying his best to dismiss the frightened nausea that was tickling his throat. To Virgil’s dismay, his panic only grew as he heard the footsteps getting louder.

Dear fucking gods, they were coming down the hall.

Virgil nearly screamed when he heard a loud BANG at the opposite end of the hallway, but a familiar voice beat him to it.

“Logan!” His best friend’s name ripped its way out of his throat, and before he could even register what he was doing, he seized a discarded X-Acto blade from the top of his pile of art supplies and ran to Logan’s room.

When he arrived, he was distraught to see Logan cowering in the corner opposite his door, as if he’d made a run for it from the closet but hadn’t been able to make it out. Even more terrifying was the figure looming over him. The guy was tall, dressed in all black, and the only discernible features on his person was the bag slung over one shoulder and the silver kitchen knife in his other hand. The man spun on his heel, his brow creasing beneath his cheap plastic mask. His eyes, dark and malicious, surveyed Virgil’s form. He hesitated for a split second, fingers tensing around the knife as he glanced briefly back at Logan. Whatever sick decision he had been debating made, he swiped the knife at Virgil. He ducked out of the way fast enough to avoid getting stabbed, but a cut was opened on his shoulder. He cried out in pain as blood gushed down his arm.

“Logan! Get out, run!” He ordered, gripping his X-acto blade in his other hand.

“No, Virgil, I won’t-”

“Shut up, Lo! Just get out!”

Finally, Logan did as Virgil said, climbing to the window and sliding out onto the ledge underneath. Thank god they were only on the second floor.

Virgil shoved his blade into the intruder’s shoulder, sending him stumbling back a step with a yell. All too quickly, though, he recovered, yanking to blade from his skin and pinning Virgil against the wall. He opened his mouth to shout for Roman and Patton, but before he could, he felt the knife pressing up against his throat.

“P-please…” He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to disappear into the wall. Hot tears began rolling down his cheeks as he felt the knife pressing into his skin, opening the tiniest of cuts on his neck. One wrong move and he was dead.

“Shhh…” The intruder’s voice was deep and menacing, and it sent goosebumps crawling across Virgil’s skin. He had to get out of here before his throat was slit. But… if he got away, then Roman and Patton would be in danger. So, he had a choice to make. Fight, or flight.

He had no time to hesitate.

He brought his knee up into the man’s stomach, knocking the breath out of him. The knife dropped from Virgil’s neck and he didn’t waste a second jamming his elbow into the man’s nose, the sickening crack an indication that he’d been successful in breaking it. He seized the man’s wrist and twisted it as far back as he could. He almost let go after hearing the shout that the intruder released, but didn’t let go until the knife clattered onto the carpet. His injured arm screamed in protest as he brought it up to slam the man’s head into the wall, but it was worth it when Virgil saw him collapse into the floor, unconscious. His entire body was trembling from the adrenaline, and he was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t notice the sirens outside. When police stormed into the room he was still staring blankly at the man, heart beating a million miles a minute.

He heard a woman’s voice in his ear. He couldn’t make out what she was saying. It could have been hours or seconds before Virgil was snapped out of his haze by a pair of hands on his shoulders.

“Virge? Hey, can you look at me?” Virgil eyes flicked up to find the source of the sound. He was sitting on the floor now, he didn’t know how he’d gotten there. Patton’s face stared back at him. “P-pat…” He stammered, reaching out with shaking hands to pull him close. Patton gathered Virgil in his arms immediately.

“You were so brave, kiddo.” Patton whispered, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair. Another set of hands joined Patton’s, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

“You saved us,” The person attached to the hands spoke. It was Roman. “There are no words that are strong enough to thank you, my dark and stormy knight.”

Virgil finally managed to look up, surveying the room with tear-filled eyes. The intruder was nowhere in sight and police were everywhere. His arm was still bleeding, every tiny movement agonizing to make. Though his throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper, he managed to croak,

“Where’s Logan?”

“I’m here,” Logan’s voice replied immediately, his shape settling in front of Virgil. “Y-you… Virgil, I would be dead if it weren’t for you.” He mumbled, his eyes filling with tears. “Thank you.”

Virgil chuckled, reaching out to wipe Logan’s tears away. “Don’t mention it, Lo. I’d throw myself into a volcano for any of you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but please…” He returned Virgi’s laugh, though his was slightly more uneasy. “Why don’t we just do our best to stay alive?”

Carefully, Virgil shifted out of Patton’s arms and buried his face in Logan’s shoulder, squeezing him as tightly as he could with his good arm.

“Okay.”

[originalhybridloverfics]

Bodyguard CH7

A/N: Here’s the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it. I apologize for any mistakes.

Felicity worked tirelessly pulling up the man’s file only to realize he was Andrew Evans, ex-boyfriend to Deniece Carter. Deniece was one of the first women she took in. She had been 24 and was hospitalized on several occasions with signs of not only physical abuse but sexual abuse. It was recorded that she had a miscarriage due to her fiance’s abuse. She hadn't known she was pregnant until she lost the baby. Deniece had been hesitant to come to the shelter. She had refused Felicity’s help on several occasions. Felicity had kept trying because she wanted better for the young woman. Deniece changed her mind however when she learned she was pregnant for the second time. Wanting to protect her unborn child she sought out Felicity for help. 

Deniece stayed with the shelter until the baby was born and then Felicity had set her up in a small town in North Carolina with a job at a newspaper thanks to Deniece’s reporter degree. She had set her up with a new name and identity and paid for an apartment lease for the next sixth months, she had used money from freelance jobs at major companies to do so. She kept in touch with Deniece every now and then. She knew Deniece was doing well and her daughter, Megan, just had her second birthday. Andrew Evans had a record that would make anyone cringe. Assault, drunk driving, drug possession and so on. He was someone to be wary of but Felicity wasn’t going to let his sudden appearance shake her up. If he was showing up now and approaching her directly, it was because he was trying to find Deniece again and Felicity wasn’t about to let that happen and clearly, he couldn’t be that bright approaching her and thinking she couldn't figure out who he is. She pulled up the files and printed them out, she gave a call to Lance, planning to meet with him. She was just hanging up the phone when Oliver pushed his way into her office, followed closely by Diggle. “So what did you find out?” Oliver asked, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. Felicity stood from her seat and retrieved the papers she just had printed out, placing them in a folder. “What makes you think I found something already?” “Because you’re Felicity Smoak and there’s nothing you can’t find out once you set your mind to it,” Oliver responded without missing a beat. Felicity smiled, she loved how much faith he had in her abilities. “Okay, so the man who approached me at the bar is Andrew Evans, he was the boyfriend of one of our former girls, Deniece Carter.” she moved around to the front of her desk, leaning against the edge and held the folder out. Diggle accepted the folder. “I remember her, she was pregnant when she came to us. She had a little girl, she named her Megan.” He opened the folder, looking over the information she gathered and the picture of Andrew Evans. “Felicity, you need to be careful, we know what that man was capable of doing to Deniece, a woman he claimed to love, there’s no telling what he’s capable of doing to someone he has no connection to.” Oliver frowned. “How bad of a guy is he? I thought we were dealing with the run of the mill woman beater.” “He’s possessive, controlling, has rumored ties to a local gang in the Glades who deal out crank and opioids, had girls working the streets.” Felicity listed off the facts they knew about Evans. “And physically and sexually abused his girlfriend. He caused her to have a miscarriage with their first child. His own family is so terrified of him they got restraining orders and ex parte just to keep him away.” Oliver jaw clenched at what he was hearing. “Sounds like this guy should have been locked up long before now.” He hated the idea that a guy like this had gotten so close to Felicity. It made him feel like he was failing at looking after her and that was not acceptable. Not by a long shot. “You can say that about a lot of criminals doesn’t mean it’s going to suddenly change,” Felicity stated. “I was able to find his current address and phone number. No employment currently. No shocker there.” “Oliver and I will check it out and find out exactly if he was the one behind the threats and the break-in. In the meantime, I’m putting Sara on your detail until we get back,” said Digg “What are you planning on doing?” Felicity wondered. Oliver's jaw clenched tossing the file onto her desk next to her. “We’re going to find this scum bag and put the fear of God into him.” he stepped toward her, his jean-clad legs brushing against hers, his hand locked around hers. “Last night is the only time this guy is getting anywhere near that close to you as he did.” She nodded, squeezing his hand. His words sounded like a promise to her. He was so damn determined to protect her. He never failed to make her feel safe. 

. Oliver drummed his finger against his pants leg impatiently as Diggle drove down to a neighborhood in the glades, passing by a corner where a business deal was being made and pulling up to a rundown two-story apartment building, the windows boarded up, furniture littering the porch, empty bottles scattered across the broken fenced yard. “Are you sure this is the place?” Oliver asked looking out the window. “You would think a drug dealer could afford a better place than this.” “Maybe, he doesn’t care about living in a rundown house. Could be he wanted to stick close to his area of dealing.” Diggle suggested. “Keep an eye on who was moving in on his old streets.” “He used to deal in this area?” Oliver looked around, noting the two men in hooded sweatshirts on the corner, the streetwalker just across the street, talking to a man through a car window, her chest barely covered. “He used to run this area and a couple more but this was the area he was most known for selling his drugs and working his girls.” Diggle turned the ignition off to the car. Oliver exited the vehicle and walked up the path to the house, Digg rounded the car and fell into step with him. Oliver stepped over shatter glass from a broken bottle and onto the porch, kicking away the pile of newspapers that littered the porch. “Doesn’t look like he’s been here in a while,” Digg commented, crouching low and sifting through the dates on the old roll-up newspapers. “The latest is dated back at least three weeks.” Oliver tried to peer into the windows but it was too boarded up for him to make out the slightest detail from inside. He moved back toward and knocked on it. His fist rapping loudly on the door. Digg listened closely shook his head. “I don’t hear any movement from the inside.” Oliver nodded, he looked around and saw no one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to them, he brought his knee up and slammed his foot into the door, kicking it open. Digg and Oliver entered the home, their guns raised and searched it room from room, taking in how the doors had been emptied, a few stray packed boxes scattered through the house. Oliver moved toward the bedrooms while Digg moved toward the kitchen. Oliver frowned, stepping into the bedroom, the mattress was stripped, the closet wide open and empty of clothing, plastic and wire hangers littering the floor, drawers pulled out of the dresser. He cursed under his breath realizing the man had cleared out. He heard a noise behind him and saw Digg in the doorway, slipping his gun back into its holster. “The rest of the house is clear.” Oliver nodded, holstering his own gun. “He’s gone. Looks like he cleared out.” Diggle nodded his agreement. “I’m under the same impression, The kitchen’s been cleared as well as the other rooms. All emptied out and by the amount of dust gathering around this place and the newspapers on the porch, he's been gone a couple of weeks.” Oliver nodded clenching his jaw. “Let’s get back. Hopefully, Felicity can find another way to find his location.”

Felicity had been disappointed to find out Andrew had already cleared out of his old address. She sent Oliver and Digg to scout out his old hangouts but he was a no-show. She gave Lance a picture of Andrew Evans and filled him in on the situation as much as she could. Lance circulated Andrew's photo around the precinct with little detail other than he was a person of interest not having a lot to go on as of his whereabouts. Felicity had spent the rest of the day, using facial recognition and every tracking program she knew but she was coming up empty. Oliver let her work without disturbing her hoping she would get a hit, only interrupting to urge her to take breaks and eat something. She barely noticed when the sun fell, barely noticed that she had worked all through the night and that morning had come again. She was a little surprised that Oliver hadn’t insisted she call it a night. Obviously, he really wanted to find Andrew just as much as she did. She chanced a glance at him, he stood by her open door, tension clear in his body. “Why don’t you take a walk, Oliver, or you can go home and get some rest,” Felicity suggested in concern. Oliver turned his gaze to her, his eyes piercing through her. “I’m not leaving here without you and I don’t need rest.” “You’ve been up almost twenty-four hours.” Felicity countered. “So have you, I’ll rest when you do,” he said, arching a brow at her pointedly. Felicity pursed her lips. She would not be resting until the end of the day. “Oliver,” Felicity sighed. “You’re tense.” “I don’t need to be told that,” he said shortly then grimaced. “I’m sorry I don’t mean to be so short with you. I’m just frustrated about not finding this guy yet.” “I know, so am I.” she slipped her glasses off and rubbed at her forehead. “I’m running out of ideas.” Diggle appeared in the doorway. “I think we’re on edge with this guy out there possibly painting a target on your back.” He looked between the two. “You guys have been here all night, haven’t you?” “Is it that obvious?” Felicity wondered. “Just a bit,” said Diggle, looking at Oliver. “You look about ready to climb the walls.” Oliver shot him a look. “I just have some frustrations to work out.” “Then hit the training room, I’ve got our girl from here.” Oliver opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off before he could get a word out. “Go. I’ll be fine. It might do you some good.” Oliver huffed out a breath. “Fine.” he looked to Digg. “Make sure she gets breakfast in an hour and another cup of coffee. She's running on nothing but fumes already.” Felicity rolled her eyes as he headed out. Diggle moved into the room. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a moment, too? You look stressed. Maybe taking a moment to relax will help.” “Of course I’m stressed. This bastard’s in the wind and I have no idea what he’s planning.” she snapped but a moment later, she was looking at Diggle apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just feeling on edge.” “It’s understandable,” Digg assured her. “I think we’re all a little on edge. No one can blame you for that. I’m here if you want to talk though or if you just want to take a moment to yourself and decompress.” Felicity smiled at him gratefully. “I know and I appreciate it.” 

Oliver’s fist slammed into the bag repeatedly, ignoring the heat burning through his muscles, or the sweat that slid down his back and neck, gathering on his arms, his brow. He didn’t know how long he had been at it, just that the ache coursing through his muscles was a welcome distraction as he pummeled his frustrations into the bag. “Hit that bag any harder and you might just tear a hole through it.” Sara's voice sounded from behind him. He gripped the bag stopping its motion and turned to her, wiping a hand down his face. “Better the bag than someone innocent.” Sara nodded. “If you wailed on some poor soul as you did on that bag you would be going to jail for murder but hey, maybe my dad will give you a pass if its a scum bag like Andrew Carter.” Oliver didn’t react to her attempt at humor. “Did you know who he was when he approached Felicity that night?” “Hell no, I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near our girl if I knew who he was,” Sara said fiercely. “I would have beat the crap out of him before delivering his ass to my dad for questioning. I mean, it’s a hell of a coincidence this guy pops up right after the break-in at Felicity's home.” Oliver nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Did you come early because of what is going on?” “Oliver it’s almost midnight, I figured you might want to call it a day,” Sara suggested. “I didn’t realize.” How the hell did he spend the entire day in here working off his frustrations? “Clearly.” Sara tossed him a towel and a water bottle. “Hit the shower, Digg’s gonna head home once you and Felicity clear out for the night.” Oliver nodded, he followed Sara out of the gym and split off from her without a word heading for the showers just across the hall. “Nice talking to you, too,” Sara called after him, moving back down the hall. Oliver kept his shower short, while the water felt amazing against his aching muscles, the need to check on Felicity and her progress was more important. He changed into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt and headed for Felicity’s office. Diggle was standing guard, speaking with Sara but turned to him as he approached. “How are you feeling? When I said work out your frustrations, I didn’t think you be in the gym all day.” “Did Felicity have any luck in finding new leads on Carter?” asked Oliver. “No, hopefully, tomorrow she'll have better luck when she's more rested,” Digg answered. “As it is, she at least needs eight hours.” “You made sure she took breaks to eat, right?” “I did. She's good on that front but she needs rest.” Oliver nodded, clapping Digg on the shoulder. “Go on home to your family. I got it from here.” Digg nodded and exchange his goodbyes and headed out. Oliver pushed the door to Felicity's office open, frowning when he saw her slumped over her desk, having fallen asleep at her desk. He moved around her desk, quietly powering down her systems knowing she had a prior system for running programs that would keep going. He grabbed her bag with one hand settling it in her lap and gently lifted her into his arms. Her body seemed to curl into his instinctively, her cheek pressed into his shoulder and her hands gripping his shirt. “Do you need any help?” Sara stood just outside the doorway of Felicity's office. “No, I got it,” he answered, passing by her. “I'll see you tomorrow.” Sara nodded and even though she said he didn't need any help, she walked out with her to Felicity's car and held the passenger door open. He settled Felicity into the seat and she didn't so much as stir. He reached over buckling in her seatbelt and quietly closed the door. He nodded at Sara and rounded the car, getting into the driver seat and pulled away.

Oliver gently pulled back the covers on the bed and generally laid Felicity down, taking her hands in his releasing her grip on his shirt. He paused, debating whether or not to wake her up to change into something more comfortable to sleep in but one look at her peaceful expression he decided against it. He moved down to her feet and eased her high heels off her feet, before gripping the covers and pulling them up to her shoulders tucking her in. He smiled softly when she turned her head to the left, turning on her side and burrowing further into her pillow. His hand reached out moving a strand of her hair away from her face, leaning down he pressed a kiss to her forehead unconsciously, the action coming to him so naturally. He stood slowly and moved out of the room, casting one more look at her sleeping form. He moved into the kitchen and whipped him up something quick and fast to eat, a simple turkey sandwich not really bothering with anything more. Once he finished his food he checked on Felicity one more time. She was still resting snuggled into the covers her hands curled in the fabric. He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. Closing her door back, he slipped into his own room and kicked off his shoes, and stripped out of his jeans and shirt, too tired for anything more now that he was home with Felicity sleeping close by. He collapsed onto his bed. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

Oliver tensed, spatula in hand, hearing the tell-tale sign of his front door being open. Other than himself and his sister no one else had access to his home. “Ollie, are you home?” He relaxed at the sound of his sister's voice and turned to the doorway just as Thea entered the room. “Hey,” Thea smiled in greeting. “Something smells good.” “I was just fixing breakfast. Did you want some?” Oliver asked as Thea took a seat at the counter. Thea glanced down at all the food spread out. It looked like there was plenty to go around. Toast, bacon, sausage and gravy and pancakes. “I could eat besides I doubt you could eat this all by yourself.” “Oh, I wasn't planning on it,” Oliver responded as he got down a set of plates. “Oh, do you have someone coming over then?” “Not exactly.” Oliver glanced at her. “Not exactly?” Thea repeated. “Wh-” “Hey, Oliver, is there coffee made yet?” Felicity stepped into the kitchen still dressed in her clothes from the day before, expecting to see only Oliver but that wasn't the case. There was a very pretty brunette seated at the counter. “I’m sorry, I didn't realize Oliver was having company over this morning.” Felicity apologized, she looked at Oliver uncertainly. “I was gonna say the same thing except maybe I should say I wasn't aware he had company staying over.” Thea turned her gaze to her brother. “Really, Ollie, I thought you were done with taking random women to bed?” Felicity flushed. “It’s not like that. I did not spend the night in his bed. The chances of that happening are very low.” Oliver arched an eyebrow at her and Thea sent her an unconvinced look and it only made her flush harder. “Not that you’re not attractive or that I haven’t thought about it,” Felicity told Oliver. “I mean, clearly a night spent in your bed would no doubt be great-” her eyes widened. “Oh, for the love of God can someone please stop me before I embarrass myself further.” Oliver chuckled, turning the stove off low, laying the spatula down and placing it on the counter before moving toward Felicity and settling his hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I enjoy your rambles.” “I’m sure that’s not all you enjoy.” Thea scoffed, scrutinizing them with her gaze. “Thea,” Oliver said sharply. “I would appreciate if you didn’t make snide remarks about Felicity.” Thea’s arms fell to her side. “Felicity?” her eyes widened. “Your new boss, Felicity?” “Yes.” Oliver nodded. Her brow furrowed. “Why are you sleeping with your boss?” “We’re not sleeping together. Felicity’s had some threats to her safety and her home was broken into. She’s staying with me until her contact with the police catches the one responsible.” “Oh,” Thea's eyes fell, looking contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” she stepped forward holding out her hand. “Thea Queen. Ollie’s little sister.” Felicity cast a look at Oliver. So this was the little girl in his photos around his place all grown up. “Felicity Smoak.” she shook her hand. “I know. Ollie’s mentioned you a few times.” Thea cast a teasing look at her brother. “Thea,” he sighed, ears turning red. “Oh, yeah?” asked Felicity. “Yeah, he said how much he enjoyed working with you.” Thea paused. “I don’t know exactly what you do. Ollie, wouldn’t tell me much other than that you help people in bad situations. I think that’s admirable.” “Thank you.” Felicity nodded. “And it’s great to meet you.” “You too,” Thea looked her over and then looked at her brother. “You’re really not sleeping together?” “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Felicity shook her head. “That is in no way happening or ever will. For one I don’t mix my personal life with my business one and secondly, I’m not his type. Oliver doesn’t see me that way.” Felicity took a step back. “I’m gonna hit the shower, get changed into something else. It was great meeting you, Thea.” “You too,” Thea called as the blonde disappeared out of the kitchen and turned to her brother.  “So that was Felicity.” Oliver frowned, looking at where Felicity had been standing. Felicity had denied so vehemently that they were sleeping together and while that was true that wasn’t what bothered him. It didn’t even bother him all that much that she was under the impression she wasn’t his type. No, what bothered him was that she didn’t even seem to consider him beyond her obvious attraction for his body. “Ollie, you okay?” Thea asked in concern. “Yeah,” he answered after a moment moving back toward the stove, returning to fixing pancakes. “I’m fine.” Thea smiled sympathetically. “She has no idea how you feel about her, does she?” Oliver’s head jerked up. “What?” “Oh, C’mon, Ollie, it was clear as day, the way your whole face lit up when she was talking. It was like Christmas morning.” Thea insisted. “Doesn’t matter.” Oliver dismissed, flipping the pancake he had going. “You heard her she’s not interested in started something with someone she works with.” Thea clucked her tongue. “You can’t control how you feel and if she returns your feelings even a little bit, it’s only a matter of time.” Oliver’s lips tugged up at the corners at her words as he made her a plate and slid it across to her. “Enough, playing matchmaker, Speedy. Eat your breakfast.” Thea sent him a playful glare and made a show of taking a bite from a strip of bacon. Oliver chuckled in amusement, shaking his head fondly. 

Breakfast with Oliver and his sister had been interesting, to say the least. Felicity had enjoyed listening to them bicker playfully which only increased when Thea had started telling her embarrassing stories of Oliver from their childhood much to her brother’s dismay. She loved seeing Oliver laugh with his sister, the way his eyes softened. It was heartwarming to see. Felicity genuinely liked Thea once they got past their first initial meeting, she seemed like a nice young woman. She was witty and smart and kind and she loved teasing her brother for the fun of it. Felicity could see the love they shared easily and it made her think of her own mother and that she should make an effort to talk to her more.   She has been so busy with the shelter and her freelance work, she barely had time to focus on other things to the point she hadn’t spoken to her mother in weeks and hadn’t seen her in over a year. Maybe when this was over she would take some time off and leave John and Oliver in charge for a bit and head out to Vegas and visit her mom for a week or two. Thea left shortly after breakfast and Felicity and Oliver headed into the shelter. Felicity checked on her running programs, she still had nothing regarding Carter but after a good night's rest, she was confident it was only a matter of time before she did get a hit on one of her programs. She looked up when her office door was pushed open by Oliver. “Roy is here with Miss Waltkins.” he opened the door wider and admitted Roy and Gina inside. Felicity stood from her desk, rounding to greet Gina as she stepped in her office. “Welcome, Gina, I’m glad you are here. You’re doing the right thing.” Gina nodded. “I hope so.” “You are,” Felicity assured her. “I hope you finished up with the things you said you had to do before coming here.” “I have.” Gina nodded, she glanced at Roy. “Thank you for looking after me.” Roy nodded. “It was nothing.” “Thank you, Roy.” Felicity nodded at him. “You can return to usual post starting today.” “Got it.” Roy nodded in confirmation and knowing that was Felicity's polite way of dismissing him from her office, he turned and headed. Felicity turned her attention to Gina focusing completely on her. “Have a seat, please.” she gestured to the chair in front of her desk before rounding it and taking a seat behind it. “Now, I'm just gonna need a few things from you and then we'll get you settled in a room and I'll show you around so you can familiarize yourself with the place.” Gina nodded slowly. “What do you need from me?” “You're cell phone if you have one but don't worry I'll be giving you a new one. I will need your family and friends contacts information, business contacts. Then I will need your email and social media handles, I know it might seem drastic but I'm just covering my basis so I can monitor if Michael tries to contact you. Your safety is my top priority.” “Okay,” Gina nodded accepting the clipboard Felicity held out to her and placed her phone on Felicity's desk. Felicity reached into her desk and pulled out a burner phone and handed it to her. “Your welcome to talk to my family but you should avoid contact with Michael or people who are in contact with him as a safety precaution." Gina nodded, accepting the burner phone and began filling out the information Felicity requested. Felicity rested back in her seat, turning her focus to the programs she had running. Still no hit on Evans

“Now we do offer self-defense classes if you're interested. It's not required but it is an option we give everyone here.” Felicity said as they finished up the tour, she pushed a door open and stepped inside. Gina followed her in and she was surprised by how much it looked like a dorm room more than anything except instead of two beds there were four and the room was bigger than your average dorm room. “This place isn't anything like I expected it would be.” “I hope that's a good thing.” Felicity smiled. “It is,” Gina nodded. “I know I gave you a hard time when we first met. It just this is hard.” Felicity took her hand in a show of support and understanding. “I know, it's hard to admit there's a problem when the person you love is the one who is hurting you and I'm sure it doesn't make it easy when your heart is telling you, you're still in love with him after everything. But you did the best thing for yourself.” she dropped Gina’s hand. Gina nodded, opening and closing her mouth as if she wanted to say something but couldn't quite get the words out. Felicity frowned. “Is there something else?” “No,” Gina shook her head. “I was just wondering if I ever just need someone to talk to..” she trailed off uncertainly. Felicity smiled comfortingly. “My door is always open and I may talk a lot but I'm also a really good listener.” “Thank you,” Gina said gratefully. “Your welcome.” Felicity turned to leave. “I'm going to let you get settled in.” she offered Gina one last smile. Walking back down the hall, she checked the time on her phone. it was almost time for her self-defense class with Digg and Oliver. Oh, joy, her favorite part of the day. Well, at least she will have the beautiful sight of Oliver shirtless. The thought had heat fanning across her cheeks. It wasn't very professional of her to ogle her employee but she was only human after all.

Felicity hit the mat hard, she grunted against the floor. “You’re leaving yourself open,” Oliver stated, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to her feet. “Clearly or else I wouldn’t be getting flattened into the ground.” She muttered rolling her shoulders. “I didn’t flatten you,” Oliver stated, moving behind her and rubbing her shoulders. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” Felicity bit her lip to keep from making any sounds. His hands felt good on her shoulders. His hands felt good on her body. Period. “Here.” Digg handed her a towel and a bottle of water. She accepted the towel wiping the sweat from her arms and torso and then placed the towel around the back of her neck, opening the bottle of water and taking a large drink.   Her phone buzzed on a table at the edge of the room where she left it. “Do you want to get that?” Oliver asked, dropping his hands from her shoulders, accepting a towel from Diggle. “No, let the voicemail get it.” She murmured distractedly as her eyes followed the movements of Oliver's hand as he wiped down his glistening chest and abs. She swallowed thickly, her eyes jerking back up when her phone fell silent only to start ringing again. “Has Lance had any luck on his end?” Diggle questioned. “No.” Felicity shook her head. “I talked to him earlier but he assured me he’s not giving up on finding him. He’s looking into other leads, searching for some of Evan former contacts.” The sound of her phone ringing again filled the air and she sighed, wiping her sweaty palms on her black yoga pants and crossed the room to answer her phone, frowning when she didn’t recognize the number flashing across the screen. After a brief moment of hesitation, she swiped her thumb across the green answer icon and placed her phone against her ear. “Hello?” “Hello, I’m looking for a Miss Felicity Smoak. This is detective Miller.” “This is her,” Felicity answered, her voice falling into her business tone when she heard it was a detective she was speaking to. “What can I do for you, Detective?” Felicity listened carefully, her face paling as his next words echoed in her head, her eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry to inform you Miss Smoak but Cooper Seldon escaped prison 5 days ago and with your history, it is a high possibility you could be in serious danger until he is found and apprehended. Felicity slowly lowered her phone from her ear, her face ashen, his words echoing in her mind on a loop. Cooper Seldon escaped prison 5 days ago.   Cooper Seldon escaped prison 5 days ago.   Cooper Seldon escaped prison 5 days ago.   Her heart pounded against her ribs, her chest tightening. How the hell did this happen? And why the hell was she just finding out now?

A/N: Reblogs, comments and likes are encouraged.  Tags: @scu11y22 If anyone else wishes to be tagged let me know!

[dassala]

In Focus

Rated M - Chapter 7/7 (Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6)

Emma Swan’s CEO fiance Graham Humbert has hired a wedding photographer to capture every aspect of the wedding planning process. Killian Jones usually hates these stuck-up, spoiled rich brides he captures on film, but Emma is different.

Disclaimer: This fic contains elements that may be squicky or disturbing to some of the CS audience. I want you to know that both Emma and Killian have sexual relationships with other characters in this fic (NOTE: NO SMUT). They also both get very drunk at different times throughout the story. So if you have an aversion to alcohol abuse (especially as a crutch), and you can’t stand the idea of Emma and Killian being with other people, this may not be the story for you. However, that said, you should know that I never write CS fic without a happy ending. :) So if you can stick it out, I promise satisfaction.

@awkwardnessandbaseball is totally responsible for everything good about this chapter and I love her for it. <3

Read it on AO3

This was his happy place. Killian was stretched out on the Captain’s chair on the deck of his boat. He lifted a beer to his lips, watching the horizon as he sailed down the coast, taking in the sight of the small fishing villages along the way. Roger padded up beside him and laid down.

“This is it, Rog,” Killian said to his pet, “we’re getting out of that insanity. We’re heading out on our own, no troubles to think of, and just...relaxing.”

The dog sighed heavily and flopped over onto his side, closing his eyes as the waves gently rocked the boat.

Killian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. They weren’t far enough from the shore to lose signal. He silently wondered if it might be worth it to head a few more miles out, just for the sake of peace. Instead, he lifted the phone from his pocket and swiped.

Message from Liam: You need to come back.

He groaned and replied.

Why? I’m happy out here.

Message from Liam: The wedding is off.

Killian swallowed hard and stared at the wheel in front of him. What would happen if he did return? Did he think Emma was just going to run into his arms? Unlikely. His brow furrowed. Damnit. He had to turn back. Emma had put the kibosh on her wedding because of him. He had an apology to make. Grabbing the wheel, he gave it a tug, shifting the rotor to starboard to turn his course North.

--

The bar was much quieter than the night of her bachelorette party. Emma sat on a bar stool, swirling her drink slowly with its thin black straw.

“Hey,” Ruby said, approaching. She took a seat next to Emma and asked the bartender for a water.

“Water? Drink with me so I don’t feel like an alcoholic,” Emma muttered to her friend. She leaned over and rested her head on Ruby’s shoulder. “Am I an idiot?”

Ruby swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around Emma. “No, you did what you thought would bring you happiness. I’m proud of you.”

“I hope I did the right thing,” Emma sighed and pulled back to look up at Ruby. Only in that moment did she realize her friend looked, well, awful. She wore no makeup (completely weird) and had red-rimmed, dark-bagged eyes. “Woah. You look like shit.”

Ruby frowned. “Thanks, exactly what I needed to hear.”

“Sorry, I’m...just...is there something going on with you? With Mulan?” Emma realized she hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to her friends’ relationships since things had gone sour with Graham.

“I need to tell you something,”  Ruby whispered, her voice cracking. “And I need you not to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Emma laughed incredulously.

“I’m late. Like...two months late. And…” Ruby trailed off, staring at the bar top. “I’m sorry.”

It took a moment for Emma to register what her best friend was saying, given the overall mental fog and alcohol combination. She cocked her head to the side. “You’re pregnant?”

Ruby shrugged, a tear running down her cheek. “I might be?”

“And it would...have to be Killian’s,” Emma breathed.

With a bitter laugh, Ruby nodded. “It sure as hell ain’t Mulan’s.”

Emma wrapped her arms around her friend and pulled her close. “How many tests have you taken?”

“None,” Ruby answered quickly, “I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Have you said anything to Killian?” Emma paid for her drinks and grabbed her handbag. Ruby shook her head in response. Emma took Ruby by the hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m going to buy you a test, and you’re going to take it. You have to know for sure, and then...we can...I don’t know. Call him, discuss options…”

The brunette drew in a deep breath and nodded, angrily wiping at her face with her free hand.

The pair climbed into a cab. Emma never let go of Ruby’s hand as they rode down the street to a corner drug store. What it all meant for Ruby and what it meant for Emma herself were two very different things. She considered Killian’s reaction to a child. He had seemingly hinted before at wanting kids of his own. But with Ruby? Each of them had agreed that the relationship was hardly forged from a deep connection. But would that change if they shared a baby? Handing a tip to the driver, Emma hopped out and hurried into the store.

As the cab idled outside, a terrified Ruby within its back seat, Emma rushed through the store to the family planning section. She eyed rows and rows of condoms before coming upon pregnancy tests. In her younger years, she and Graham had experienced a scare of their own. They were young and stupid and they stood for what felt like hours in the aisle, trying to figure out which one to buy. Experience had now taught Emma that brand was not important, but quantity was a more reassuring quality. She grabbed a three-pack of tests and hurried to the counter.

The cashier lazily swiped the barcode over the scanner and yawned out the total. Emma paid with her phone. “Good luck,” the clerk said with a smirk. Emma rolled her eyes before jogging back out of the door to the waiting cab.

“I got three,” Emma exhaled as she scooted closer to her best friend, who seemed absolutely wrecked with anxiety.

“Three? Why do I need three?” Ruby’s eyes widened.

“If you get three tests with the same result, the results are more...reassuring,” Emma rubbed at Ruby’s arm. She gave directions to the cab driver.

Despite the supposed pregnancy not even being her own, she was a mess. Emma’s eyes remained on the asphalt in front of them as they weaved their way downtown to the hotel where she was staying. Ruby was silent, with the occasional rubbing of a tear from her face. It was obvious that Ruby hadn’t had the ability to go through with taking the test on her own. Despite everything, Emma was glad she could be there for her friend.

Inside the hotel room, Emma fought with the packaging on the box. She pulled out the plastic-wrapped sticks and waved them at Ruby. The taller woman stared at the tests as if they were alien species.

“You pee on it,” Emma urged her, shaking the tests. Ruby took the sticks with a shaky hand and disappeared into the bathroom.

“How long does it take?” Ruby asked from inside, her voice echoing in the small room.

Emma grabbed the box, her brow furrowing. “Uh, three minutes?”

“Jesus,” Ruby muttered, followed by a string of curse words and plastic wrappers.

After a few minutes, Ruby emerged. “I left them on the sink. You’ll have to look for me.”

“Sure,” Emma nodded. She reached out and pulled Ruby into a tight hug. “Listen, no matter what, I’m here for you. And I promise everything will be okay.”

Silently, Ruby nodded in response and feebly hugged her friend.

Longest. Three minutes. Of their lives. Emma flipped on the TV and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She tapped the ‘Channel Up’ button on the remote, surfing through to find something watchable. Surely that was three minutes’ worth of time, yes? She looked at the clock. 2:46. Ruby had taken the test at 2:45.  Jeez.

Ruby paced up and down the hallway next to the bathroom door. She was biting her fingernails, staring at the ugly hotel room carpet as she moved back and forth.

Emma tapped her fingernails on her cell phone. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. If Ruby was having Killian’s baby...how would she even fit into this? It was ludicrous to think that she could just adopt the baby on a whim and offer to raise it with him, right? Right. Stupid. Don’t make plans like that until you’re sure about all the moving parts.

“Is it time?” Ruby asked, turning to the clock. 2:47. Emma shook her head and flopped back onto the bed.

“Why does this take forever? They should have made an app for this by now,” Emma muttered.

Ruby snorted. “I’m not peeing on a phone.”

The tension in the room broke as Emma laughed. She scrubbed at her face with her hands. Ruby howled with laughter alongside her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. God, the whole situation was ridiculous.

“I can’t be a Mom yet, Emma. I’m not ready,” Ruby said finally, after their laughter died. “Just...give me some good news, okay?”

Emma glanced at the clock. 2:48. Three minutes were up. She bent to give Ruby a hug and kissed her forehead before stepping into the restroom. The three sticks were laid out on the counter. From her angle, she couldn’t see the results. At this very moment, it was Schrodinger's Pregnancy Test. Both positive and negative until she looked. Taking in a deep breath, she leaned forward.

Each of the white sticks showed only one pink line in the indicator window. Emma raised the box, examining the directions.

“Well?” Ruby shouted from the bed.

Emma grinned and bolted from the restroom. “No baby!”

Ruby screamed and threw her arms around Emma, dancing in the hallway with her. “I’m not pregnant!”

The two women laughed loudly, screaming away their nervous energy.

After a moment, Ruby shook her head. “I thought I had ruined it all for you,” she confessed. “I want you to be happy. So you need to talk to him. Tell him how you feel. And maybe don’t mention this?”

“Yeah, probably not the best thing to tell him right now,” Emma laughed, relieved. She hugged Ruby one more time and grabbed her phone, thumbing in a message to Killian.

--

Maybe his timing wasn’t the best, but Killian knew what he had to do. He’d made arrangements already to meet with Emma later in the day to talk things out. But for now, here he was, standing outside of Graham Humbert’s apartment. With a deep breath, he raised his fist and knocked.

There was some motion inside. Someone was there. As the door swung open, Graham appeared and sighed.

“Last person I expected to see,” the Irishman muttered. “What do you want, Jones?”

Killian cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened with Emma. I never intended for any of this to happen.”

“You’ll go out of business if you keep seducing the brides. Can’t say my online review is going to be particularly stellar,” Graham raised a brown bottle to his lips and took a swig.

Blinking, Killian nodded, supposing that was deserved. He shifted his weight. “Mate, look, she kissed me and...yes, I kissed back for a moment. But I was already having second thoughts about this gig. I knew I was in trouble right around the time we had the engagement photos, and…”

Killian never saw the fist coming. He stumbled back against the elevator, white light before his eyes, his jaw aching. He groaned and pushed himself up, spitting blood onto the fancy marble floor.

“How dare you. You should’ve bloody left the moment you thought you had feelings for my fiancee. She was going to be MY WIFE, you idiot!”

“You weren’t right for her!” Killian shouted in return, clenching his own fists. “You never had her interests in mind!”

Graham stepped back and took in a deep breath. He stared daggers at Killian for a moment, then sighed. “You’re right. I let her slip away. You’d better treat her like a goddess.”

“I don’t know that I have any intention --” Killian had to be honest, here. He wasn’t sure an actual relationship with Emma was in the cards. Especially after all of this.

“If you love her,” Graham interrupted him, pointing a finger, “you had better keep her. She’s the most amazing woman in the world.”

Of course he had to agree at the moment, but the question was, did Killian even deserve a woman like her? He was a brooding drunk most of the time, and he had no money or connections like Graham did. Would she accept him? After all of this, after calling off a wedding so huge it was in the society sections of the New York Times, would she even want him?

“I know she is,” Killian licked his lips, tasting blood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck up your life. But if I’m being completely honest about this, she wouldn’t have come looking for me that night if she wasn’t dissatisfied with your relationship in some way.”

Graham’s gaze fell to the floor. He shook his head. “Too much work. She and I started this company together, you know. But at some point, I just wrestled it away by myself. It wasn’t fair, and I ended up overburdened. The thing is, I liked it. And instead of nurturing my relationship with Emma, I nurtured the business.”

Killian listened in silence. He let the man vent.

“Every time I turned down a dinner arrangement with her or canceled a Saturday excursion, I could see it in her eyes,” the Irishman looked up at Killian once more. “I saw those pictures you took. You got her to glow. She was happy when you were there. And with me, that same look wasn’t there.”

“Had things been different, mate,” Killian began, but he couldn’t finish it. He merely shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” With a nod of acknowledgement, but he suspected not acceptance, Graham stepped backward and pulled the door shut.

Killian stepped out onto the street minutes later and sighed. He’d been Robert Gold in this situation. He’d stolen someone else’s woman, and he felt like the scum of the earth for it. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Liam and made his way back out of town.

--

“What?” Liam whispered into the phone as he answered.

“Did I wake you? It’s almost noon,” Killian frowned, glancing at his watch.

“No, I’m just trying not to wake Elsa,” Liam muttered.

He couldn’t help but smirk on his brother’s behalf. “Way to go,” he congratulated him before continuing, “I just apologized to Graham.”

“And?” His brother’s voice was louder, and he suspected he was in a safer spot to speak.

Killian sighed. “Got a bag of frozen peas I can borrow?”

--

Elsa poured a cup of tea for Killian before shuffling back to the kitchen. He smiled at Liam, who looked way more rested and happy than he had in ages.

“I told her I’d handle this, but...she insists,” Liam had a hint of pink in his cheeks as he watched Elsa work in the kitchen. “Did you know she runs one of the top architecture firms in New York? She’s the Queen Bee there and yet she’s spending time with a lowlife bartender like me.”

“Quit,” Elsa rolled her eyes as she wandered back in and took a seat next to Liam. Killian gave a slight smile and pressed the peas more firmly against his bruised jaw.  “How are you feeling?” She asked, picking up her own cup of tea.

Killian shrugged and put the peas down to take a sip of his tea. “Like maybe I shouldn’t talk to Emma later.”

“I think you need to, little brother,” Liam warned. “She’s given up a lot for you.”

“I wish I’d have known,” Elsa sighed, “but I guess Ruby did.”

Killian’s eyebrow raised. “Even when…”

“No, no,” Elsa insisted, raising her hands and waving them quickly, “I mean after you guys broke up, Emma told her she had a thing for you and was worried about the state of the wedding.”

Putting down his teacup, Killian groaned and leaned back against the armchair. “It’s just so fucked up. How do you start a relationship on the tail end of this?”

Liam and Elsa shook their heads. It seemed an impossible task. Facing their feelings for one another and apologizing for the mistakes of the past and then trying to piece together some semblance of a relationship?

--

They’d agreed to meet uptown at The Chipped Cup on Broadway. She hadn’t wanted to be there too early, so Emma walked the three blocks from her hotel. As she approached the coffee shop, she drew in a heavy breath and closed her eyes. This would be her first time meeting with Killian as an unattached woman. How would he act? Would he kiss her again? Her lips ached to be kissed like that once more. Or, would he dismiss her entirely, as he had at the bar? She had to keep reminding herself that no matter what, she had not left Graham for Killian. She had left Graham for herself. To become her own person. To define her life outside of the company they had built and the life they had forged under the context of their professional relationship.

Emma was dressed in jeans and a flowy pink top. She walked down the stairs to the entrance and stepped into the rustic space. Killian was at a table near the windows. He looked up as the door chime sounded in the mostly-empty shop. She watched him fumble slightly as he stood to greet her.

“Hi,” he said, almost dropping his phone as he attempted to put it on the tabletop next to his coffee.

“Hi,” Emma echoed, pausing and licking her lips. She forced a smile, her heart pounding with overwhelming anxiety in the moment. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Have a seat,” he attempted a smile, but it looked pained. Emma then noticed the bruise developing along his jaw. She reached out to him. He flinched slightly and cleared his throat. “I went to see Graham this morning.”

Her eyebrows raised and she sighed, taking a seat at the table. “Well that wasn’t the best idea,” she muttered.

“I had to apologize,” he replied, sitting back down in his creaky wooden chair. “I ruined everything.”

Emma paused and watched him, her head crooked slightly to the side. “You know I did this for me, right? I didn’t leave him for you.”

Killian looked as if he’d been slugged again. His lips parted, but he seemed unable to form words.

“I mean, yes,” Emma nodded, “kissing you was kind of the catalyst and it gave me a boost to do what I needed to do. But I was unhappy with Graham for a while. I left to figure myself out.”

His shoulders slumped slightly. “So you’re not, you didn’t...you aren’t interested in…”

“Oh, I’m interested,” she laughed nervously, a blush in her cheeks. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Very much so. I just don’t know if now is the right time to jump into everything.”

Killian sat for a moment and touched his tongue to the spot where his lip was split, presumably by Graham’s fist. He reached out a hand. Emma glanced at it and moved to give her own to him, but he shook his head.

“Your phone,” he said.

Emma’s brow furrowed. She took her phone from her pocket and placed it in his hand. She unlocked it, as she assumed he’d want access to it.

Killian took the phone and fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it back to her. She glanced at the screen.

“Killian from the Coffee Shop” was now his name in her contacts, as opposed to ‘Killian Jones Photographer’ as it had been. She cocked her head to the side and glanced back up at him. He had obviously fiddled with his own phone as well. He held it up to her. “Emma from the Coffee Shop” was next to her number in his contacts.

“I don’t get it,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Killian offered his hand once more and Emma moved to put her phone back into it, but he laughed. “Hi, I’m Killian. I’m a photographer with no money, I’m divorced, I live on a boat with my dog, and I hate hazelnuts. It’s nice to meet you.”

Starting over. Forgetting everything. She let a grin creep slowly across her features and slid her hand into his. “I’m Emma. I have no job, a lot of money, I don’t much care for boats, and I’m freshly out of an eight-year relationship. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Can I buy you a drink, Emma?” he nodded toward the counter. “The coffee’s pretty good.”

She bit down on her lower lip. “Sure. Hazelnut if they’ve got it.”

“As you wish,” he stood and wiggled his eyebrows before sauntering to the counter.

It felt right. It felt natural. She was starting over in every way possible. No longer had she been involved with her wedding photographer. Now, he was just some guy she met in the coffee shop (at least to them).

[overwatchladieslover]

You ready for angst? Satya’s bf finds out she’s been sleeping around for favors to advance her agenda.

You decidedto surprise Satya, you thought it was a great idea, she had been staying lateat work lately, you supposed she had earned for some well-earned rest.

You hadbrought dinner, her favourite, from an Indian restaurant on the other side ofthe city, yet you didn’t mind all this time spent in your car, you knew Satyawould love and appreciate the effort.

Yourgirlfriend’s office was on the last floor, but the elevator ride seemed quiteshort, as you were imagining your love’s surprise and joy at the sight of bothher favourite meal and her lover. You scratched your chin, you were cleanshaven, and wore a shirt.

You smiledat your reflection in the elevator’s mirror, grinning cockily at yourself.

“Lookinggood, handsome.” You winked at yourself. You were in a particularly giddy mood,which was a more frequent occurrence ever since Satya came into your life andchanged it for the better.

The dooropened, you stepped out and were greeted by the secretary.

“Here tosee Miss Vaswani, I presume?” She smiled with a knowing look.

“I am. Goodevening Michelle.”

“I fearyour lady is currently busy, an influent client from Oasis had a particularproject he needed help with.” The secretary gestured towards the architect’s office.

You nodded thoughtfully,Satya’s influence and reputation were growing fast, to your pride. She wasalways so humble, and was not nearly as proud of her progress as one would’vebeen.

“Well, mindif I wait here a bit?” You knew she would never mind, the younger girl had quitethe crush on you, unbeknownst to Satya.

“Of coursenot! I was about to take a break anyways.” She grabbed her pack of cigarettes,and headed for the balcony. You were trying to stop smoking, so when sheoffered you a cigarette, you just smiled and pointed at your vape.

“Satyareally changed you, uh?” She giggled.

You wereabout to object, but you realized that dressed with a shirt and a vest, cleanshaven, with a new haircut, you were in no position to claim the contrary.

“I stillremember the first day you came here. With your old leather jacket, thickbeard, sunglasses...” She trailed off, and you nodded, remembering that time.Lord, were you lost, working as a thug for Vishkar. Satya showed you the wrongof their ways, and with a little time and a lot of love, you were a changedman.  

“Not thatyou look any less handsome now.” She added, and even in the dim light of theoffice beyond the glass doors, you could see her blushing.

Youchuckled, and stroke a pose, before the two of you burst out laughing.

Once hersmoking break was over, you headed inside.

“Wow, Iwonder what’s taking them so long?” Wondered Michelle, like an echo to your ownthoughts.

You wereabout to answer that perhaps Satya’s presence was so delightful that themysterious client couldn’t force himself to leave.

But a loudmoan interrupted you.

You knewthat voice, you knew that noise, you had elicited it from your lover’s lipsenough times to know it, to love and cherish it.

Michellelooked at you, you didn’t even feel her hand on your bicep, as you stormed inthe room.

You thoughtperhaps he had been hurting her, but you knew Satya’s moans of pleasure andpain enough to know the difference.

You stoppeddead in your tracks. Satya Vaswani, the love of your life, her legs around astranger’s hips, his pants around his ankles, and you could see her panties onthe desk.

The way shelooked at you, this mixture of surprise and fear, it ignited pure wrath withinyou.

The plasticbag hanging around your wrist dropped to the ground, you clenched your jaw, andthe man turned at you with a frown.

“Can’t yousee we’re busy?!”

Satya gotoff the desk and off this fucker’s dick, and walked towards you, pleading.

“My love, Ican explain, wait!”

“What thefuck is there to explain!” You snarled, feeling the familiar warmth of boilingblood in your veins. You rolled up your sleeves, while the man fumbled with histrousers.

You pushedher out the way, she collapsed in the chair, her eyes wide with fear. Never hadyou ever treated her with the slightest bit of anger. The man stepped back,terror in his eyes.

You yankedhim by the collar, and hit him in his fucking hideous mouth. He would’ve fallento the ground, had you not been holding him in a death grip.

You hit himagain, you heard his nose breaking.

“Youbloody, hideous fat ass motherfucker!” You roared, throwing him on the desk,the computers and lamps crashing to the ground, as you climbed on it, on top ofhim, as you smashed your head against the wood, until a spot around his headwas covered in red.

Satya andMichelle tried to hold you back, but you wouldn’t have any of it.

You keptgoing, kept punching. To the guts, to the throat, to the head, rinse andrepeat, as your mentor once told you. He had been out for a while, yet you kepton massacring the bastard who had the audacity to fuck your girlfriend.

“I’m goingto end you, get it?” You looked at his hand. A ring on it. An alliance.

“Oh, nowthat’s just rich.” You snarled, yanking the ring from his finger. You forcedopen his mouth, and made him swallow it.

You laidback, admiring your work. Probably didn’t have much teeth left, his nose was brokenin two different places, stuck in an odd angle, and you heard a few ribs break.

You hoppedoff the desk. And you thought, that this was where Sat- this bitch cheated onyou.

Hittingwomen was not your thing. You wouldn’t stoop that low. But you had to take thatanger out somehow, eh? You grabbed his leg, and pulled it towards his knee,hearing the bones break was intensely satisfying.

The painwoke him up, he screamed in agony.

“You thinkthat I was the only one? Terry sent me here, he was sent by someone whom wassent by someone else!”

Your headsnapped to look at the mess of a man, who had trouble speaking, and wouldprobably forever struggle, since you had broken his jaw.

“How doesit feel to be in love with a whore!?” He yelled, and that was it.

You lostit.

You grabbedhim by the collar, and threw him against the French window. You kicked him inthe dick, once, twice, thrice, with all the strength you could muster. Youheard the window crack, a few tears appeared on the glass.

Satyastepped between you and the beaten-up man.

“Enough,that’s enough, please, no more violence!” She cried, and tears streaming downher cheeks.

“How couldyou!? How could you, you fucking monster, you slut!” You screamed, your throatdry and raspy.

“I amsorry, so, so sorry, my love, please, but you must underst-”

“Understandwhat? Understand that you cheated on me, of course I should’ve expected it,what would a woman like you want from a street rat like me, Vaswani!?”

“I neededmoney, I needed power, it was for the greater good! I beg you to listen to me!”She sobbed, as you turned heels, ignoring Michelle’s terrified look.

You grabbedthe bag of food, opened the Tupperware, and throwing its content on her.

“Now youlook as filthy on the outside as you do on the inside, you whore!” You spat inher direction, before leaving. She ran after you, but you slammed the doorshut, perhaps it had landed on her, perhaps not. Who cared?

You didn’tbother with the elevator, and used the stairs inside.

You ran toyour car, and drove to your shared apartment.

As soon asyou were inside, you grabbed a chair, and started destroying everything youcould. You smashed the TV, her computer, broke the windows. You grabbed yourold knife, and tore the curtains, the couch, the bed. You slammed open the doorto the dressing room, and grabbed all of her stuff, and yours as well. Yournice shirts, your blazers, everything she had bought you. The man she had madeout of you was naught but a lie, a lovely façade, to a most disgusting beingwithin. You carried the clothes to the balcony ..

You grabbedyour lighter fluids, you rarely used them, since you stopped smoking. Yougrabbed an old pack of cigs you had in your backpack, you grabbed one, and yourtrusty lighter.

You coveredthe pile of clothes in lighter fluids, you lit up your cigarette, and finallylit up the piece of atrocities she called clothes. You looked down at your blood-soakedclothes, and took them off, throwing them in the fire, with your vape.

“Do I looklike a fucking hipster, ya snake?” You groaned.

You wentback to your backpack. Inside was the clothes you had back when you had movedin. The rugged jeans felt good against your skin. You put them on with delight,your old tee-shirt, with a few old blood stains here and there, and your trustyleather jacket.

You walkedto the living room, putting on your favourite Nirvana album in the recordplayer.

Who evenowned a record player now? You thought, as the familiar notes of ‘The Man WhoSold The World’ started playing.

As you wentinto the kitchen, you felt a pang of pain in your heart. You had spent manyhours here with Satya, talking, drinking tea or coffee, cooking. You went inthe fridge, and groaned.

“There’snot a drop of alcohol in this hellhole…” You cursed, before grabbing yourbackpack, a handful of cash you shoved in your pockets, before leaving, thedoor still open. If anybody wanted to steal anything, that wasn’t your problemanymore.

You thenheard the familiar sound of high heels and panting in the stairs. Satya. Youquickly hid around the corner, hoping that she wouldn’t notice you. You didn’twant to get noticed nor followed. She ran into the apartment, screaming yourname, her voice shaking.

You quietlyleft, and once in your car, you drove as fast as possible to the park. You leftthe rest of your belongings in the car, cash included.

You saw afew men standing near a bonfire, under the small bridge over the artificialpond. You eagerly joined them.

“’Sup Joe.”You greeted your old friend with a slap on the back. Even though they were gladto have you finally back, they were concerned about what happened, but theyknew better than to ask too any questions.

You fellasleep among a choir of snores, under the stars.

You didn’teven notice when the tears started coming, but once you realised you werecrying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

When youwoke up, you felt groggy, and the wounds and tears on your hands hurt.

A familiarvoice called behind you.

“It’s beena long time, (y/n).” Desdemona. Of course, it had to be her. You slowly got up,your back still sore from sleeping on the ground.

“Got a jobfor me?” You didn’t want to bother with useless questions.

“Obviously.”

And that’show you fell back into your old habits of drinking, fighting. Anything to clearyour mind off this demoness. You gained a few new scars, but left a lot more ofthese in your wake. You changed your name, moved back to the slums. Yet,something still felt awfully wrong.

You feltlike you still needed vengeance. You considered burning down her flat, but youdidn’t want to attract any unwanted attention from the cops, that’s the lastthing you needed.

And that iswhy you found yourself in front of the building where Satya worked. Desdemona reluctantlytold you that Satya still worked there. Never had the elevator ride seemed solong. It was midday, which meant that Vaswani was probably somewhere eatingdicks for lunch. You chuckled at your own joke, cracking your neck. You lookedat your reflection in the mirror.

You gaineda new scar across your cheek, but only the end of it was visible, the other oneburied beneath your beard. Your hair was back to its usual length and dishevelment.You pulled out a cigarette from your pack, and flipped off the ‘no smoking’sign.

The doorswished open, and you revelled at Michelle’s surprised expression.

“Been along time, ain’t it?” You grinned, as her mouth fell open in disbelief.

“(y/n)! It’sbeen so long, we were so worried, Sat-” You interrupted her by raising yourhand.

“Not a word‘bout her, alright? Anyways, time for a smoking break.”

“Looks likeyou’ve got a head start.” She shook her head, grabbing her pack, heading forthe balcony. You caught by the arm.

“We cansmoke in here, it’s pretty chilly.” You huffed a cloud of smoke.

“But therules-”

“Screw therules.” You lit up her cigarette, and pulled her towards you.

Her bodywas pressed tightly against yours.

“You know,the only thing I missed in this hellhole’s you, darling.” You winked, and hadto refrain from laughing at how red she turned.

Shemockingly hit your chest, but her hand stayed there.

“You know,I was thinking that screwing the rules isn’t nearly as fun as screwing a beautifulwoman. Feel the same?” You grinned, your lips inches from hers.

She closedthe gap with impatience, pulling her body even closer against yours, and soon,she had her legs on your shoulders, as you mercilessly pounded into her.

You lookedat the clock on Michelle’s desk. Anytime now.

The dooropened to Satya, who was looking at something on her tablet, earphones on.

You decidedto up your game, and reached further, grabbing the secretary , and pummelling intoher, eliciting actual screams from the young blond. Satya looked up, her eyeswide. When she recognised you, you saw her expression switch from surprised toshocked, then sad.

Shescreamed something in Hindi, and you waved her hello. She darted to her office,the door slamming shut.

That brokethe mood for Michelle, didn’t matter to you, wasn’t the first round for you, andcertainly not for her.

“Shit,shit, shit!” Panicked Michelle, gathering her clothes. You put your pants backon, and knocked on Satya’s door.

“Happybirthday, love!”

You heardher sobbing through the door, and left with a smile on your face, whileMichelle tried desperately to open Satya’s door, blubbering about being sorry.

A fewmonths later, your contract bore Satya’s name. She was your target. Youswallowed the lump in your throat, the last few months had proven hard for you.Despite being used to this life, it was starting to take its toll on you, butdespite all that you had done in the past, the most painful wound was what youhad done to Satya.

You knew ithad been well-deserved, but still, you did not feel like killing her, even witheverything she had done to you, she had spent too many night awake soothing youfrom nightmares. You had shared too much of yourself with this woman to justend her life like this.

Breaking inwas not hard, you smiled at the sight of the old couch, she probably spentendless hours or money on getting it back to its former glory. You had broughtwine, and a gun. Work was work, after all.

You pouredtwo glasses, and drank both of them.

Thefamiliar sound of her keys turning in lock woke you up from your internalreflections.

Sheentered, and stopped.

“Hi.” Yougrinned. She closed the door, her eyes full of disbelief.

“You… Youare back?”

You nodded,inviting her to sit on the couch. She sat down, she just couldn’t believe it.

“We gotsome stuff to talk about, don’t we?”

Sheswallowed, hard, and poured herself a glass before drinking it all in one go.

“I’m sorry,I did not want you finding out like this. Nor did I want things to go this far.I was in over my head. I was not aware of what I was about to put myselfthrough. I was not aware of what I was about to put you through.” Sheexplained, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.

“Why, Satya,what we had was not enough?” You gestured to the living room, impeccable asalways.

“I thoughtwe needed more. I wanted the best for us, for all. More power meant moreinfluence against Vishkar, I thought… I thought that my self-esteem was a smallprice to pay.”

“What about/us/, was it such a small price to pay?” You felt a pang of pain through yourheart.

“I am sorry…I didn’t think it through enough, I used to do it before, back when I was withVishkar. It was normal there, expected of me even. I did not want to hurt you,my love.” She looked at you with such pained eyes, such devotion and hurt.

“Don’t callme ‘love’, you’ve lost that right the moment you opened your legs to someoneelse.” You whispered, before pouring yourself another glass, even thoughnothing could ever soothe the bundle of guilt and hurt stuck in your throat.

She lookedaway. You pulled your gun from its holster, hidden under your jacket, and putit on the coffee table.

“You knowwhat they asked.”

Sheremained silent.

“Now, letme ask you a question.”

Satyaperked up, attentive.

“I’ve checkedin with a few of my contacts, and I was wondering why you put a contract overyour own head.” You felt her twitch in her seat.

“Would youbelieve me that I only wanted to see you again? To talk? We never had thatoccasion ever since…” She trailed off.

“Since Ifound out that you had been sleeping around for power and influence in my back?Yeah, wasn’t really feeling like talking back then.”

“Do youstill love me?” She bluntly asked.

You raisedyour eyebrows, surprised, before laughing.

“After allyou’ve done to me, girl? You’re serious?” You asked between a few chuckles.

She grabbedyour hand, and put in on your gun, before leading the end of the revolveragainst her forehead.

“Prove it.”

You hadforgotten how brave Satya could be.

“I won’tshoot you, you know it.”

She closedher eyes, a single tear running down her cheek. You felt tempted to swipe itaway, but it was what she wanted.

And that iswhen you also remembered how intelligent this woman was. Giving in and killingher was what she wanted, in the end. Giving up was the proof that you stillcared for her.

Whateveryou did, she was going to win.

You took adeep breath, your finger on the trigger.

Longstrolls on the beach, how beautiful she looked in her dresses before you wentfor your weekly restaurant date. How marvellous were her eyes when she laughed.How passionate, and lovely was this woman you had once called yours. Howpleasant was the smell of freshly cooked dinner when you came home.

Home. Youhad almost forgotten that word. To have something to call yours, to have aplace or someone to call home, someone you could depend on.

You couldn’tdo this to her. You couldn’t do this to yourself.

You put thegun down, you had not even realised that your hands were shaking. Her eyes werestill closed, but she let go of the gun without resistance. You got up. Andremembered this novel she had been reading you, when you couldn’t sleep.

It was a Frenchtragicomedy, written by Corneille. Le Cid.

“I shallgo, for I have no hatred for you.”

Youremembered the exact quote, in french. ‘Va, je ne te hais point.” Go, I do not hate you. Act IV. How delightful had it been to hear Satya speaking french,translating the play as she read it. You got up, but not before laying a chastekiss upon her cheek. Before leaving.

 On the rideback to your apartment, you wondered if Satya got the meaning behind yourwords.

Of courseshe did. She spent all night thinking about it. She knew what it meant. In theplay’s context, it was a hidden declaration of love, an act of forgiveness.Satya also knew that it meant that you would come, that the two of you wouldspend hours mending your wounds, your broken hearts.

You did nothate her. You loved her. And like Chimène forgave Rodrigue for the murder ofher father, you forgave her for the murder of your trust, of who you had oncebeen.

                  And as another French writer had once said:

               “He who wants a rose mustrespect her thorn.”          -André Gide.

[imgilmoregirl]

A Thing Between Light And Darkness (Chapter 8)

AO3 Link

After what happened at the garden, Gideon needed sometime for himself in which he didn't think about anything, just breathed fresh air and felt normal, however it didn't happen until he had a nice dinner with his mother and she left for work and Mrs. Potts was already sleeping soundly on her room. He didn't take the car because he knew the sound of it being turned on would wake the housekeeper and he would be grounded, so Gideon took the quite long walk from his house to the only grocery store in town that stayed open all night long.

Storybrooke was quiet by now, only a few people - who were interested in drinking at The Rabbit Hole - walking around there. Gideon entered the store and moved to the section he wanted, opening the freezer where the ice-cream was kept to pick some, when he heard somebody cleaning its throat behind him and turned around.

"Trying to escape bedtime, Gideon?" Ruby asked, arching an eyebrow. "Mrs. Potts is going to kill you."

The boy chuckled.

"Hey, aunt Ruby, I just needed some ice-cream."

"Right me too," she said trying to look over his shoulder and failing, because Gideon was really taller than her. "Do we have strawberry?"

They bought the ice-cream and went out of the grocery store without another word, both too occupied with their spoons to say anything. But Gideon, however, wasn't just distracted eating, he also couldn't help himself thinking about the power he felt in himself earlier. It was like he could feel each one of the leaves he lifted in that garden.

"So," Ruby started, "what is bothering you?"

She was reclined against her car's door, just like Gideon, her eyes glued on him, like they could see his very soul. Ruby had always been one of the people he most felt secure around, and he really trusted her with everything he had, but for some reason, Gideon couldn't find the will in himself to tell her the truth.

"Nothing," the boy murmured instead.

"Really?" The librarian rolled her eyes. "Gideon, I know you since you were inside your mother's tummy. Tell me the truth."

Taking a deep breath, he let his plastic spoon fall inside the ice-cream bowl, giving his black boots a frustrated glance.

"It's Alice Jones," Gideon confided to his mother's best friend. "She is making my head blow."

A look of full concern crossed Ruby's face.

"Are you in love with her?"

"With Alice?" Gideon guffawed. "Are you mad? Of course not, she is my friend."

That was one of the most absurd thing he had heard lately, and he did hear a lot of crazy stuff in the last few days. Alice was beautiful and funny but he couldn't see her like anything but a friend. She had become like a sister to him.

"Then what is happening?" Ruby asked, clearly relieved.

"She is quite different, you know," Gideon started, but he wasn't sure what he should say or how, so he made a crazy question: "Do you believe in magic, aunt Ruby?"

Laughing a little, Ruby lifted her eyebrows to him.

"Magic? Like witches and unicorns?"

"Something like that," Gideon murmured, shrinking a little. He was slightly ashamed for asking this kind of crazy stuff to Ruby and hoped that she wouldn't comment anything with his mother, because it made him feel stupid. "Listen, I'm not mad, ok? I just need a good night of sleep."

Taking some steps ahead, the boy made his way across the street, hearing the sounds of Ruby's high heels against the floor as she followed him.

"Gideon, wait," she called, reaching for him and grabbing his arm. Ruby had something in her hands that was probably taken from her half-opened big purse and she took his hand, placing it there. "I stole this from your mother some years ago, but I think you should carry it with yourself."

"A box?" He asked, eyes dropping to the thing he now had in hands.

It had some runes - or at least he thought they were runes - notched in it. Seemed to be some kind of useless relic, but exactly the kind of object his mother would have in her collection of precious unique things. However, he didn't understand which was the function of carrying it around and his confusion must be very showy as Ruby appeared to be compelled to give him a better explanation.

"It's called Pandora's box," she said. "It's for protection."

"You're sounding like Mrs. Potts," Gideon chuckled. "But, well, thank you."

Ruby nodded and watched him go away, wondering if the time came, Gideon would be able to use the box.

The look of surprise in Rumford's face when he opened the door to find Belle waiting there, was priceless. She had left her car parked at Ruby's house and went to the library, where she took the elevator and sneaked around the tunnels, but instead of heading to the Lunae Libri as usual, going through the path that lead to her love's office. It was a hidden place right under his bedroom at Gold Manor and had been at this same door step that she deposited so many books with secret messages along the years.

"You're here," Rumford said in awe.

"You invited me."

"Aye," he agreed with a little laugh, giving her space to step inside and gesticulating with his head to the staircase that lead to an open hole on the ceiling. "Come in, let's get inside the house."

Belle opened her mouth, but for a moment, nothing came. Of course, she wanted to give herself the luxury of not hesitating at the invitation, however she had other things to think about aside from her own will.

"But Alice - "

"Knows best than to dare entering my room," Rum finished. "And I have spells cast around it."

"Are you sure?" She asked, worrying at her lip.

"Yes," he confirmed, "now make yourself at home."

Nodding, still a bit uncertain, Isabelle climbed up the stairs, emerging in Rumford's large bedroom. She had never come to this house before, because when they met, his father still lived there and she could never step a foot inside that place without being killed. Now it was strange to be there, but the room was, at the same time huge and cosy, dark woodened furniture, carmine bedsheets and a golden duvet on the bed.

Belle looked back at Rum and he gave her an encouraging wave of his head, clearly inviting her to take a better look around and so she did, passing her finger through his dresser, eyeing his small bookshelf and then ending up in front of the nightstand where a picture of them was placed. The brunette laid a hand on her heart, sighing deeply before she took a seat on the bed, opening her bag and taking of the large file she had taken from the Lunae Libri.

"I brought the research in case you want to get a better explanation," Belle smiled, pointing at it.

"That would be great," Rumford agreed, sitting in the opposite end of the bed, and taking a look at the page where she opened the file.

It was a map of the state, with red points draw with a pen in it. Belle slid her fingers through the surface, touching the points with a distant look.

"So these are all the places where Ruby and I could track your father for the last few years," she told him. "I've only found out that he was alive some months ago, but there were clues and Ruby and I searched for them all around, until we got our answer."

"I wonder why he pretended to be dead all this time when he always liked to expose his dark plans to everyone."

"For this one here, he needed to be quiet," Belle shrugged as if it explained everything.

And in part it did. It was a plausible reason for Malcolm to be hidden away, so very hidden, that nobody distrusted that. However, it didn't explain his motivations or any bit of the mess he seemed to be creating.

"My father is getting crazy," Rumford murmured.

"It is not just him."

"I know," he nodded. "I brought Alice here hoping that I could keep Eloise away from her, but now... It seems she is a small threat compared to the chaos Malcolm can cause."

Reaching for his hand, Belle gently squeezed it, and his glance, at first fixed on the page and then in their joined hands, came up to her face, and he saw the despair in there.

"I fear for our son's safety," she whispered.

"I won't let anything happen to him, Belle, I promise," Rumford vowed, kissing her knuckles. "I would give my life if that meant the boy can live."

With her free hand, Belle wiped some tears that threatened falling from her eyes; she was feeling more sensible now than never. It was like her heart was about to burst with all the accumulated sadness, concern and heartache. Now she was there with Rum, but it felt like it wasn't going to last and that was terrifying.

"But what if your father wants to drag him to the darkness instead of killing him?" She inquired.

Rumford didn't know which possibility scared him the most, but of one thing he was sure: he hadn't raised Gideon or done one single thing for him during the boy's whole life and now it wasn't only fatherly love he felt for him, but a duty to protected him that was so strong that couldn't even be explained. That boy was the child he always wished to have and he wasn't going to let his father get any near to him.

"We don't know how Gideon's powers will work for now and neither does my father," the Incubus said with hope to bring some peace to his love's heart. "He won't trust something which's fate he can't predict."

"Yeah, I think you're right."

"Talking about fate," he began, rubbing at her fingers with a frown on his face, "did my mother know?"

Eyes closing, Belle nodded.

"Fiona appeared at the Lunae Libri once; I was probably around six months pregnant. She told me to take care good of her grandson, smiled, then left. I never saw her again."

"Damn it," Gold cursed, standing up and starting to walk around the bedroom. "Why would she keep the secret?"

Taking a deeper breath, Belle closed the file, tuck it back into her bag and dropped it on the floor, making a loud bang, which cause Rum to look back at her. He was distressed and she was feeling guilty to see him this way, because he had been fooled by the two people he loved the most: she and his own mother. But Fiona had powers that would have revealed her the truth anyway, she probably only didn't know about Malcolm just yet, because she didn't care about him anymore and her magic only tracked the ones she loved.

"For the same reason I did," Isabelle assured him. "We both knew what could happen to that child if the world knew it was yours."

"I draw danger, I get it."

Rumford collapsed on the bed in front of her, hands covering his own face, but she quickly took them away, pressing a lovely kiss to his forehead.

"And yet, I love you," she whispered. "Do you really still love me, after all this time?"

"I never stopped loving you."

Moving herself up, Belle let her high heels fall beside her bag and straddled herself on each side of his lap, pressing a kiss to his lips. Soon enough it was like Rum had awaken from a long-troubled sleep and he was pushing her up, so they were sat on the bed, lips working against the other's, tongues proving the taste of the other's mouth.

Slowly she started to unbutton his suit jacket and Rumford stilled, gripping at her wrists.

"Belle, no."

"It's alright, Rum," she purred. "We'll be alright."

Sliding his jacket down his shoulders, Belle kissed him again and undid his tie, feeling herself grown anxious as he started to kiss down her throat, which made her feel slightly weak. She knew it would take more time today before she was drained out of energies - as Gold had already fed from her recently and was in his full strength - but Belle didn't want to give herself the bad luck of fainting too soon, so she pulled away from him and took her blouse off.

Rumford's eyes darkened with desire and he hand careful hands through her bare arms with admiration.

"Oh, my perfect little love..."

"I'm not the same," Belle mumbled a little unsure of how the years had passed for herself.

"Neither am I," Gold remembered.

Then he kissed her with all the love he had and they rolled in the bed, more layers coming off until they were joined as one. She clutched herself to him, eyes closed and mouth half-open in delight; it still felt the same and her memory hadn't betrayed her on how good it really was. Feeling him move within her, made Belle want to cry, but not because it was hurting she was hardly a virgin and he was really gentle containing himself to prolong her pleasure, but because it never felt like this any time her horrible husband had touched her.

And being in his arms again, wasn't just about bliss, about reaching any state of ecstasy, it was about loving and feeling loved. So, she told Rum she loved him, more than a few times and he said sweet nothings to her ear until they both exploded into the amazing sensation their bodies created and he filled her with warmth.

Belle didn't stay awake for more than a couple of minutes then, but Rum kept up all night, not actually needing to sleep and not really wanting to when he had the love of his life wrapped in his arms.

"I will fight this Belle, I will fight the darkness for everything we lost and all we can still have," he murmured to her, even though he knew that she couldn't hear. "For our love and for our family."

Gideon had stared at the Pandora's box the whole way home. It was weird, but he seemed to feel the same tickles on his fingertips from when the touched Alice's hands earlier and that intrigued him. But eventually he needed to sleep, so she made his way to the front door when he heard steps behind him.

"Gideon."

"Today is the day," the boy murmured under his breath, turning around to see one of the most despicable woman in town. "Hello, Mrs. Belfrey."

"Shouldn't your mother keep you home this late?"

She had her arms folded and her chin lifted as high as possible. Gideon thought that she couldn't be more irritating.

"My mother is not around and even if she was, she wouldn't mind if I went to the full night open grocery store at 10 P.M."

"Of course not," Victoria said with disdain. "Nobody in this place seems to care for what their children do."

Folding his own arms, Gideon did something his mother always made to intimidate her, he took a dangerous step forward, invading her personal space and making the woman grimace.

"And what are you doing here this late, Mrs. Belfrey?" He inquired. "Your house is at the other end of the town."

"I don't own an explanation about my life to you," she said, turning around on the balls of her feet and walking to her car.

"Crazy," the boy mumbled, getting his keys and entering the house.