#I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t gonna extend with these bastards after my contract finishes at the end of august

[getting-messi]

My manager is upping her level of tormenting me

[kestalsblog]

Crenny Angst Drabble

A while ago, I was working on a Crenny fic that I decided was too dark, but I decided to share a piece of what it was going to be here. TW for mature themes (bit of language, addiction, death ideation). They're both in their twenties here.

I love both of these characters 🫶 but headcanon both of them as very emotional and troubled.

______________________________________________________________

What did any of it matter? The sky that unraveled like a spool of black thread for as far as any human could see, the mountain peaks and the dangerous birds that lived on them, the people who woke up in their beds and would one day sleep forever in their graves.

Kenny wondered what it would feel like to sleep forever.

What did any of it matter? The sentiment had become like a mantra to him the older he grew. Not the words themselves, but the feelings attached to them­—even words lost their meanings after a while. Nothing mattered if it lasted forever, so maybe death wouldn't be so great, anyway.

Still. At some point, he’d grown envious of the roadkill his headlights caught when he traveled down dark roads in his truck. Sometimes he even stopped to look at their ugly bodies fixed stiff with rigor mortis, and he felt like crying. “You don’t know how good you’ve got it, buddy,” he’d whispered to more than one corpse.

He liked the worst deaths the best, the deer whose entire necks were snapped backward, their heads impaled on their own antlers. He liked when it looked like something no one could back from, something permanent.

Wish it didn't have to hurt though.

But tonight it wasn’t a deer or a squirrel or a raccoon, and Kenny wasn’t in his car. He was drifting aimlessly down the sidewalks of South Park like he spent most nights doing, when he spotted a stooped-over figure in an alleyway to his left. The person was crumpled with his head against a metal trashcan, his long, thin legs extended forward with such limp posture that Kenny knew he had to be either dead or unconscious.

He wished his first thought wasn’t lucky bastard, and he almost let his own hurt thoughts drive him forward before he paused. Nobody else was on the streets, and the air was heavy with impending snow.

Mysterion wouldn’t have walked away.

With a heavy breath, Kenny turned for the alley and stooped to the person’s eye level. He was not dead, but close. Kenny could tell that much from the desperate, flittering pulsations against the pallid skin of his neck. It was too bad, really. He looked like he might have been a handsome man under different circumstances.

His hoodie sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing red and bruising track marks across his otherwise pale, skinny forearms. His eyes were closed, the purple lids of them like two swollen pickled eggs. A stray cat that had been sniffing out the abandoned syringes by the man’s opened palms skittered off further down the alley when Kenny leaned closer.

“Hey,” he said. He watched the shape of his breath land white, curling fingerprints on the man’s cheek. They were probably around the same age, though it was difficult to judge by the other’s thinning hair and concave cheeks. “Hey,” Kenny said again, this time reaching out to pat at his shoulder.

Maybe he really was dying. Other people made it look so easy.

Ah, no. One puffy eye slowly puffed open, revealing the thinnest trace of grayish blue. The eyeball turned slowly to the left and then to the right before settling on Kenny with filmed confusion. “What . . ?” he started in a low, scratchy voice. His cracked lips didn’t move with the word.

“You’re gonna die out here, dude,” said Kenny, maybe a little miffed now. It wasn’t fair that other people could die against trashcans and not have to wake up on their same damn mattress the next morning. It wasn’t fair to know there was a light he could never see, a warmth he’d never touch. He swallowed the thought, made himself smile.

“Don’t care,” the black-haired man feebly uttered. The one opened eye roamed purposelessly from side to side again.

“I care,” said Kenny for reasons unknown even to him. “You’re not dying here.”

To this, the faded man had no protest. He was probably too drugged on who-knows-what to put up much of an argument anyway. He barely made a sound when Kenny snaked an arm around his upper torso to get him to his feet. Underneath the hoodie, he felt worryingly slim—Kenny could have used his ribcage as a handle to hoist him up if he’d wanted.

He couldn’t stand on his own, either. His knees wobbled too fiercely, and he looked ill from very passing breeze. The wind gusts were carrying snow flurries now, and Kenny noticed how the poor guy shuddered violently when the small flakes drilled against his face and neck.

Without further thought, Kenny used the arm that wasn’t holding the stranger up to shake off his own thick orange coat. The man blinked wearily at him with confusion when he began to worm it around his shoulders. “W . . . Why?” The word fell from his mouth like a stone.

“Cuz you don’t deserve to die out here in the cold all alone like an animal, that’s why. C’mon. You’re coming to my place.”

The only people Kenny had over anymore were his old friends, of course, when they were available. At first, inviting in random women had been fun, but like everything else, the appeal had worn off at some point. It was hard to explain to someone else that your life was going to go on and on, with or without her.

Somehow, Kenny guided the weak, shaking man to the curb where he’d left his truck at the end of the block. It was a slow, cumbersome process since they had to stop every few seconds for the man to double over, heave, catch his breath, and then stumble forward again. Helping him into the truck probably would have been difficult if he wasn’t so hopelessly malnourished.

In the heat of the car, the man started to wheeze, and the wheezing dissolved into something that was like crying, but wasn’t. “Why?” he kept asking, and though his eyes were now wide and dry and focused, there was a hitch in his throat after each repeated syllable. “I just want to die,” he moaned fervently as if this one conviction was all that kept him going. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” “Don’t say that,” Kenny said, holding the wheel as if his own life depended on it, even though they weren’t moving yet, and his life was never at risk anyway. He wondered how this person would react if he said, I want to die too. I want to die so badly, but if we jumped off the bridge together right now, only one of us is going to die. Is that fair? Is that fucking fair? You don't get what I can't have.

It wouldn't matter what he said because no one ever remembered the truth anyway, so instead he said, “One day you’re going to die, and when you do, you can be thankful for it, but not now. Not today. Not like this."

He even smiled when he said it. He even sounded like Kenny McCormick, the person he'd trained himself to be, though he felt like a new person with each rebirth. In a way, he really was more dead than anyone else.

He didn’t wait for another word as he hit the gas and went for his place while the stranger beside him dropped his head and maybe wept and maybe didn't. Either way, he was silent.

[talatomaz]

chased away by shadows | hailey upton x fem!reader

a/n: i didn’t include a love confession but i did reference it. after 8x11, we saw how hailey reacts to those words and honestly, i get it bc i’m kinda the same so i just changed it up a bit.

not a huge fan of this and there’s not as much hailey x r as i initially wanted but oh well, hope you still like it anon

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

requested by anon: “hi! can i please request a hailey upton x intelligence love interest reader please? it’s been a really rough case and reader is quite depressed and hailey comes over and reader ends up falling asleep safe and warm in hailey’s arms and in the morning there is a love confession maybe? hope that makes sense, thank you x ”

warnings: mentions of assault, death, murder. usual canon violence

word count: 1.6k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Upton and I will take the front. Burgess, Atwater, secure the back.”

You ordered, whispering into your comms.

It had been a rough couple of days.

The Intelligence Unit had caught a rape and murder case with seemingly no witnesses or leads to the sick bastard who’d done this.

Like the rest of your team, you were damn near losing the end of your rag at the lack of leads and it didn’t help that this brought up some unwanted memories from your past.

You shrugged them off, not wanting to get emotional at work but it was difficult. Especially when you had no idea who you were looking for.

But you’d managed to catch a break as one of your CIs had contacted you, telling you that they had heard about some gang member who’d been boasting about “having fun with a chick before popping her off”.

After some further investigation, you’d managed to identify the man. He had a rap sheet about as long as your arm, including prior battery and assault charges.

It was only when Halstead had found out that he was holed up in a supposedly vacant property that you’d all geared up, armed to the nines because you knew the kind of heat this gang carried.

“On my mark.” Halstead said into your comms.

He waited a few moments for you all to get into position. You were standing behind Hailey, your hand on her arm, alert and ready to conduct your search.

“Be careful.”

“You too.” You replied softy to your girlfriend.

You’d been dating for the past 6 months, having fallen into bed one night after a evening out at Molly’s. You’d both agreed to keep it a secret as it was a one-time thing but what you both didn’t realise at the time was just how much you liked one another.

It had soon become a habit. The two of you sleeping together after everyone gathered for a social call at Molly’s until one evening, Hailey told you that she liked you and wanted the two of you to be more than just sex.

You were surprised to say the least because there was never any indication that she liked you. In fact, you thought she was out of your league considering how beautiful and smart she was. But you decided to take the leap and you were so glad you did because you loved being with her.

Not that you’d told her those words yet, mind you.

It was a tough thing to say, for you anyway, especially after your past alongside the lack of any emotional attachments with your parents. And you knew Hailey had her fair share of trauma too, the majority of which you learned after you and Ruzek overheard her telling a suspect they had in interrogation.

And although your relationship wasn’t without its flaws, it had pretty much been smooth sailing since the moment you’d got together. No unnecessary drama or bullshit.

That was the last thing the both of you needed in this type of job.

“Now.” Halstead ordered so you gave a quick nod to the blonde before yelling “Chicago PD!” as Hailey kicked the door down.

There were a few offenders in the house who tried to run when you’d entered and as Hailey and the rest of the team went to secure them, you made your way up the stairs to see if there was anyone else hiding out.

Your arm was extended, gun clutched carefully in your hand, finger just next to the trigger, ready for any indication of movement. Reaching the landing at the top of the stairs, you entered one of the bedrooms. As you stepped through the door, someone jumped out and hit you in the head with a bottle. It shattered upon contact with your skull and the force threw you as you groaned in pain.

You began fighting the male, who weighed at least 100 pounds more than you, so it was no small feat. You wrestled with the gun he’d aimed at you before kicking him in between his legs and throat punching him.

As he coughed to catch his breath, you grabbed your gun that had fallen out of your hands and aimed it at the man crumbled on the floor. Ignoring the way blood seeped from your wound and down your face, you yelled, “Chicago PD. Stay down or I will drop you.”

Staring down at him, you realised that it was the man you’d been looking for and when he looked up at you with a sinister smirk on his face, you wanted nothing more than to shoot him where he lay.

But you had more self control than that so, instead, you kept your gun trained on him and called downstairs for back-up.

In less than a minute, Hailey and Jay were right beside you. Jay handcuffed the suspect and you re holstered your gun.

“Baby, are you okay?” Hailey asked frantically, her hand gently cupping your face as she examined the cut on your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You said, releasing the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“Are you sure? You’re bleeding pretty badly.”

You winced when Hailey touched the wound.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Come on, let’s go.”

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

After apprehending the suspect, Hailey had forced you to be checked out by one of the paramedics who’d arrived to take care of one of the offenders that Kevin had shot. They’d cleaned and stitched the wound and told you to take some paracetamol for the pain.

Now you were currently watching Voight and Halstead take lead on interrogating the man who’d attacked you at the house.

The man was so vile that you had to force yourself to not jump through the two-way glass and smack him silly. He’d copped to the murder but wouldn’t admit to the rape, sitting there with a smirk on his face.

“She wanted it rough. She was a slut. I just gave her what she wanted.”

The words continued to ring in your ear as they were words that you, yourself, had once been told. Forcing the bile back down your throat, you watched as Voight moved to stand behind the man, his hands on his shoulders.

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you.” Voight said, the threat lingering behind his words.

Your hands clenched into fists as he continued to speak.

“I ain’t gonna apologise for banging that whore. She got what she wanted.”

You could feel your anger boiling until it threatened to consume you so you left the viewing room and briskly walked to your desk.

You grabbed your coat that was hung on the back of your chair and ran out of the precinct; ignoring how your girlfriend’s eyes bore in your body as you hurried out of the building.

She decided to let you go, knowing that you needed space for a few hours.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

When you got back to your apartment, you fell down onto your couch, picked up one of the throw pillows and screamed into it, your frustrations coming to a blow.

You went from screaming to crying out of anger and old pain until you felt a hand on your shoulder that startled you. You hadn’t even realised Hailey had used her key to enter your apartment.

“Oh, baby.” Hailey murmured when she saw how red your eyes were.

She placed a soft kiss on your cheek and went to your freezer to grab an ice pack. She wrapped it in a table cloth and gently rested it over your eyes, the coolness soothing your swollen eyes immediately.

You tried to take the ice pack away from her but she simply tsked at you; too tired to fight, you instead relished in her taking care of you.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, finally gathering the courage to speak.

“It’s been a rough couple of days, honey. No one blames you for your reaction.”

“That’s not why I’m so...so angry and why I’m like this.” Your voice barely louder than a whisper but Hailey still heard you.

“What do you mean?” The blonde asked, furrowing her brows in concern. But her eyes told you that she already knew what you meant and that made your heart hurt.

“I just-I. It was a long time ago, back in high school. I’m over it but cases like these just bring it all back up, you know?” You sighed, deciding to remain ambiguous whilst knowing full well she knew exactly what you were referring to.

“Oh, baby,” Hailey repeated as she wrapped her free arm around you and pulled you close.

“The guy ended up confessing not long after you left. Voight stuck him in the cage and he ended up having a change of heart.” Hailey told you as she placed soft kisses on your forehead.

Your derived snort was muffled as your head was buried in Hailey’s chest but she heard you and chuckled in response.

“You’re safe now, y/n. You’re safe with me.” Hailey whispered, breaking the peaceful silence that had filled the room.

Her words brought a sense of calm to you as you sighed contently in her arms.

Gently removing the ice pack from your eyes, she put it on the table before lifting your chin up with her finger, bringing you in for a deep, reassuring kiss.

“I-I’m glad you’re in my life, Hailey” You said, catching yourself before you said those three words. You weren’t ready to say them aloud just yet and you had a feeling that your girlfriend felt the same way.

The blonde smiled knowingly, kissing your lips once more before hugging you close to her as you both got comfortable on the large couch you were still on.

“I’m glad to have you in my life too.”

[augiewrites]

“you could have called” - klaus x reader

summary: diego decides to check in on a suspiciously quiet klaus and is (somewhat) pleasantly surprised (takes place pre season one)

pairing: klaus hargreeves x gender neutral reader

word count: 1100+

warnings: mentions of drug use, swearing, klaus being klaus

i’m back from the dead! life sucks! i hope y’all enjoy :)

Diego taught himself how to ignore Klaus a long time ago. It’s not like he didn’t care about his brother, no, quite the opposite, actually. Klaus was a ticking time-bomb, always had been, and it was so much easier to watch his self-destructive tendencies from a safe distance. But now, the distance was too great, and it had been too long since Klaus had poked his head out of whatever hole he had dug himself into this time. Of course, Klaus lacked the decency to pick up the phone when Diego called, forcing him to begrudgingly begin a circuit of all of Klaus’s regular locations.

He went straight to the nearest rehab facility, and then the next, and then the next, hoping that Klaus was just doing an extended stint in rehab before inevitably ending up in an alley somewhere with pills in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. Every facility gave him the same answer:

“No, haven’t seen him in months.” 

Diego was about to give up when a surly looking administrative worker handed him a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it, commenting, “He was released back in January, the paperwork says this time it was court ordered. Of all the times he’s been through here, this is the first he ever gave a home address.”

It was well into the spring now, and if Diego knew his brother at all, there was no way he was still wherever the paper was about to lead him. Nevertheless, he thanked the attendant and set off toward the other end of the city. He wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him; he knew that Klaus was prone to disappearing, but this was the longest Klaus had gone without appearing out of thin air to harass his brother. 

The sun was shining and the air was warm, too warm, making Diego sweat in his all black attire, a reminder that almost two seasons had passed since his brother had forced him into a hug (taking a twenty out of his pocket, too, but Diego didn’t realize until it was too late) and skipped out of his room at the gym, blowing him kisses as he disappeared up the stairs. He only hoped that the twenty bucks didn’t lead to Klaus’s final overdose.

He was so lost in trying to rid the thoughts of his brother laying in the gutter somewhere that he walked straight past the somewhat dingy apartment complex and had to loop back around, cursing his brother under his breath the entire way to the front door. If he’s not already dead when I find this bastard, he thought, I’m gonna kill him myself. 

Of course, his brother did not answer the buzzer and other tenants told him to very kindly fuck off. So, Diego made the decision that any rational person would make. He scaled the building and crawled through the window of what he hoped was apartment 2C. After not-so-daintily crashing to the floor of a surprisingly put together bedroom, Diego collected himself and looked around. 

The bed was smashed into the far right corner of the room and beside it, atop a table that was missing a leg but somehow still standing, Diego found a picture frame that looked like it was made by a preschooler. Inside the frame was a somewhat blurry picture of Klaus and another person he didn’t recognize, underneath the photo was an inscription in Klaus’s shaky handwriting:

Klaus and Y/N: shuffleboard champs of 2018

Diego was so busy looking at the picture that he didn’t notice the bedroom door open, and he didn’t notice the other person in the room until the bat connected with the side of his head.

~~~

Someone was pacing. Diego’s head was pounding and his world was black, but he couldn’t summon the energy to open his eyes just yet. The pacing hesitated slightly and Diego inwardly flinched at the sudden half-exclaimed question.

“Oh my god did I kill him?” Just like the person in the picture, he didn’t recognize the voice.

“I sure hope not,” there was a woosh of lighter and a choked cough, “I don’t want to be stuck with another sibling for eternity.” Klaus.

Hearing his brother’s voice gave him a shock to his system that finally let him open his eyes. The first thing he saw was the shaggy rug that had previously been under his feet. With a groan, he pushed himself up off the floor, almost immediately locking eyes with his brother, who was spread out on the bed in nothing but a thin robe and too-small underwear. 

“You know, Diego,” Klaus paused and took a drag of his cigarette, blowing out smoke as he spoke again, “you could have just called.”

Before he could lunge at his brother, a pair of arms wrapped around him, pinning his own limbs to his side. 

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” the mystery voice exclaimed and Diego realized that the person from the picture was now holding him in a bone-crushing embrace, “I can’t believe the first time I met Klaus’s family I tried to kill them.”

They released Diego and took a step away for good measure. Diego gave his brother a pointed look.

Klaus sighed and propped himself up on his elbow, gesturing between the two, “Y/N, Diego. Diego, Y/N. My partner, ugh, no, lover? No, roommate? Roommate with benefi--” He was cut off when Y/N put their hand over his mouth.

“I’m Y/N,” they said with a sudden shyness, extending their free hand to shake Diego’s, “your brother and I are dati-- ugh, Klaus, don’t lick me.”

Once their hand was quickly drawn away, Klaus sighed and leaned back again, “That’s not what you were saying last night, sweetie.”

Before they could get derailed any more, Diego gave Klaus a pointed look, “You’re sober.” 

“Coming up on five months,” Klaus responded, flashing him his Hello tattoo and wiggling his fingers.

Diego opened his mouth to speak again, but was quickly cut off by his brother.

“Oh my GOD,” Klaus shuffled to his feet and held his hands to his face in a mockery of shock, “you were worried about me.”

With a scoff and a roll of the eyes, Diego headed toward the bedroom door, pausing and turning back to the couple, “Next time, pick up your damn phone.” He made his way into the living room and opened the front door before looking back at Y/N, who now had Klaus wrapped around their frame, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Keep him in line.”

Before Y/N could respond, the front door had closed and the pair could hear Diego’s heavy footsteps heading down the hall. 

“He seems nice,” Y/N said, turning their head to look at Klaus.

“Yeah,” Klaus muttered, burying his face in their neck, “he’s not.”

[unlucky-rubber-ducky]

Found

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

3265 words

Summary/warnings: Not proofread. Sleep deprived writing. Mentions of injury and fighting and sadness and all that jazz. Post-Order 66, baby.

A/n: This one is definitely a ride. If not good, I hope it is at least entertaining. It was entertaining to write. Kinda sad. As always, please let me know if there’s anything I can edit to make the story more inclusive. Thank you for reading!

The annoyance you felt as you trudged out of the marketplace was… unmatched. This was certainly not the deal. You would help Sar’pah clean up the mess he had made, and in return he would get you off of Abafar. Of course, when you had said ‘off of Abafar’, you had meant somewhere with some semblance of civilization; something to blend into. Not another Maker-forsaken desert planet.

You should have known that a ‘pit-stop’ on Tatooine meant kicking the dangerous fugitive offboard, but seeing as how Sar’pah himself was a wanted man, you had hoped he would be a little more forgiving. He had landed in Bestine, asked you to go get a few items from the market, and flew off the moment you stepped off the walkway.

Kriffing fool doesn’t even know what kind of fugitive I am. Your trusting nature may have lost you a ride, but it certainly didn’t extend far enough that you told people why you were on the run. You simply told them that working with you could be dangerous. It was up to them to decide if they wanted to take that risk.

Too many would love the reward a Jedi would bring them. And dammit, if you were going to be brought down by the Empire, it certainly wasn’t going to be for anyone else’s gain. So, here you were, stuck on another desert planet. One ruled by the Hutts, no less. A few too many brushes with them, before and during the Clone Wars, had you very wary to make your presence known to them. So, you figured that at least until you had a ride offplanet, you should try your best to avoid bigger settlements. (Well, as big as settlements on Tatooine could get.)

Which brought you back to the current moment. Republic Credits had never meant much in the Outer Rim, but you had just enough to buy some water and an admittedly sickly looking Eopie. You hadn’t really bothered to check what direction you were setting off on, just picking the horizon that looked the least difficult to navigate with a large animal. It was also in the opposite direction of Mos Eisley, where you were quite sure a few old enemies resided. 

You refused to acknowledge it, but you could feel the Force pulling you west. You were sure many Jedi had taken solace in the Force after all they had lost, but all you felt was… betrayal. You were well aware the Order itself was corrupt, you didn’t deny that- but mass murder? The will of the Force was to kill some of its most loyal followers? You had witnessed its power. You couldn’t deny its existence. But you could deny its benevolence.

So you kept going with the suns in your eyes and told yourself it was logical to go west.

“Hey!” You ignored it. You didn’t know anyone here, surely they were calling for someone else. “Hello? Excuse me?”

You finally turned to see a blue Twi’lek jogging to catch up with your Eopie. Three years of being hunted had your instincts screaming at you to reach for your lightsaber, but the friendly (if panicked) smile on her face put you at ease enough to let her get close enough to explain herself.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh you don’t have to be so formal! I’m Sasrula, just Sas if it’s easier, and if you’re willing, I could really really use some help right now.” You stopped your mount entirely, turning so the suns were at your back and the stranger couldn’t see your face. You examined her more closely, which you could tell was making her more nervous. “I just need to get out of here, somewhere a little more sparsely populated, and quickly, or else I wouldn’t be bothering you, but just since I’m pretty light and your Eopie could probably carry both-”

“You were enslaved?”

She looked down at herself, seemingly only now noticing the small bits of fabric she had been given as clothing. Before she could go on another rant, you gestured to the space behind you. 

“Hop on.” Before she could get any closer you help up your hand, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s a cloak and some water in the bag.”

 The animal beneath you protested, already struggling with your weight, but when you calmed it down enough, it began its slow progress. The first minute or so was silent, but Sasrula’s chatty entrance was an omen of the hours to come.

“Whatcha doin’ on Tatooine?”

“Passing through.”

You could sense the doubt that washed over her, and the suspicion that your lie brought onto you.

“Most people ‘passing through’ Tatooine don’t ride off into the desert.”

“I have never killed anyone that wasn’t about to kill me.” It didn’t… soothe her, but the blunt statement seemed to ease her enough into another topic of conversation. 

“...did you have a job before Tatooine?”

“Few years ago.”

“Spouse?”

“No.” It was too late, though. You had stiffened, and due to her close proximity, Sasrula easily picked up that there was more to that story than you were letting on. “He and I were never married.”

“Already have a wife then, did he?” You let out a puff through your nose.

“Something like that.”

There was a time you had resented Obi-Wan for inevitably choosing the Order over you. For leaving your quarters early in the morning, whispering empty promises of love and a happy future. Nowadays you would go to the ends of a universe just for one more moment with him. But you would never get that. Because even if Cody hadn’t been the one to kill him, and he had survived the initial execution, Obi-Wan was too courageous and too selfless and too reckless to have made it three years on the run. 

And if maybe you didn’t want to consider the idea that he hadn’t come looking for you like you had spent the first two years looking for him, you would never admit it to yourself. You weren’t sure you could survive that notion.

“Was he handsome?”

This was the most Sas had seen you emote in the little while you had now been together- she wasn’t letting your mystery man get away that easily.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Rich?” You laughed, and Sas felt just a bit of pride that she had eased you up.

“Hardly! The man never remembered to bring whatever money he did have, and I would constantly have to apologize to Dex-” You stopped yourself. No names. Don’t get familiar. “Dex was the owner of a greasy little diner.”

There was something… pleasant, about pretending that your relationship with Obi-Wan had been a normal one. There was no Jedi Council to answer to, no status to keep safe, nothing. Just you, a few memories, and an escaped Twi’lek full of questions and eager to fill the silence.

“...then, the kriffing bastard, he pushed me into his closet! Like whoever was coming in wasn’t gonna figure out something was amiss!” The giggle coming from behind you was loud, and you were glad to finally be sharing these stories with someone. 

“Oh no I entirely relate, there was a guy who- why’d you stop?”

You all but fell off of the Eopie, stumbling when you landed but quickly steady on your feet. Something felt very wrong, and you were quite sure that something was moving towards you very fast. While your hand first landed on your lightsaber, you made the decision to grab the blaster you had stolen from Sar’pah instead.

A distant cloud of dust, coming from the direction of Bestine, was moving… fast.

“How fast do sandstorms usually move?”

“Well, it depends on the pre-existing weather and geographical conditions, but they can go hundreds of miles an hour, it’s not pleasant-“ she finally turned to look at what was causing you to panic “dank farrik! That is not a dust storm!”

“Well what is it then?!”

“A lot of trouble!”

As you tried to pick out details of the approaching figures, a reflection of light let you know they were on speeders. A brief glance at the struggling eoipe let you know you wouldn’t be riding away from this, and the miles of flat desert around you hardly made for any good hiding spots.

“Are we sure it’s trouble?” You knew it was- another whisper from the Force that you were trying to keep unacknowledged. 

“Yeah. I had hoped he wouldn't notice I was missing till tomorrow.”

Now that’s just… great.

“Who is ‘he’?!”

“My previous captor. He’s, uh, not very forgiving.” Sas moved to get off of the animal, but you stopped her. “Listen, I appreciate your entrepreneurial spirit, but you’re not gonna get any money from him for my return, he’s just gonna kill you.”

“I’m not trying to get any money, you’re not going back.” The Twi’lek’s surprise was almost palpable. “At least, not while I’m standing.”

The cause of the dust cloud had gotten close enough that you could see four speeders drawing near. Three had large, intimidating riders, and the front one, the fanciest one, had a severe looking older man.

They slowed when they drew close enough, and the cold look in the man’s eyes told you everything you needed to know about him.

“I believe you’ve made off with something of mine.”

“You’ll have to enlighten me, sir.”

He paused for a moment, taking your protective stance and hood-covered face in.

“I’m not so sure I do, partner.”

“I haven’t stolen anything since I landed on your dustball of a planet.”

He snorted, still looking down on you from his position on his speeder.

“That,” he pointed at Sasrula, “is mine.”

“She is traveling with me. Has been for a while.”

“You can’t fool me, traveler. I know my own property. Don’t try to lie.”

You held your hands up in mock defeat.

“Hey, I never said exactly how long she had been with me. No lies have been told.”

“How long is this gonna go?”

“Till you either let us go, or are crushed under my boot.”

“Now, we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

In an instant you dropped to the ground, dodging blaster fire from four different directions. Even in the heat of the moment you were wary to reveal your past, so you pulled out your own blaster, desperately trying to get back on your feet whilst dodging dozens of blasts every moment. Once you finally had the chance to stand, you were able to get two of the larger men down.

It was a stressful situation, and once again you hated to admit it, but fighting felt… good. Not the chaos or death or injury of it, but the feeling of letting the Force guide your movements, feeling it flow around you and tell your limbs where to go.

Unfortunately, the method didn’t work when you were surprised out of your focus. And a cloaked figure coming out of seemingly nowhere and kicking the leader off of his speeder was enough to startle you.

You cursed as pain shot from your right shoulder, and it took everything in you not to drop to the ground. You shot the last of the body guards, and aimed at Sas’s captor, who laid in the cloaked man’s shadow. You paused when you felt a hand on your arm. You looked up to see Sasrula, who was looking at you with an unspoken request in her eyes.

You handed her the blaster and let her take the shot. You understood the desire.

Once he was dead on the ground, you turned towards the other presence, who had taken to watching your interaction with Sas. You couldn’t see his face under the hood of his cloak, and some part of you felt better knowing your face was likely just as concealed as his. 

“Thank you for the help!” Sasrula’s bright voice poked through the suspicious silence.

“It was no trouble at all.”

Your blood froze. You were almost certain you knew that voice.

“Take down your hood.”

“Excuse me? I-“

“Please just do it.”

You could see his shoulders stiffen, and you knew he recognized your voice. He lowered his hood. 

His eyes were the first thing you noticed. They were sad. The saddest they had ever been. And so tired. But there was a burning hope, a burning question, that you knew you needed to answer for him.

So you copied him, and dropped your hood.

“Hey, Obi.”

That was all it took for you both to take off in a sprint, clearing the few meters between you in less than seconds. You jumped and landed in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You buried your face in his neck, sobbing as you tried to get as close to him as you possibly could. He let out a disbelieving laugh, and you pulled back to get another look at his face. You placed your hands on his cheeks, brushing the stray tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“I thought you were dead, Obi.”

“I thought you were dead, little one.”

There was a part of you that expected him to push you away when you leaned in to kiss him. A part of you that still felt it needed to hide your relationship. 

Instead, you kissed him and all of your grief and anger and sadness and deep adoration and love were on display for him, and his for you.

You finally pulled back and stepped back down on the ground when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“I’m assuming this is the handsome man from before?”

You blushed and looked at Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, it is.” You reluctantly pulled out of Obi-Wan’s arms, taking a step back to look him over for injuries. “How long have you been here? How did you survive all of the slaughter? I heard you had killed Grievous but then there was so much chaos, and I made my way to Utapau just to be sure you weren’t there and-”

“You went to Utapau?! Darling, that was foolhardy and-” 

You took another step back.

“And?”

“And dangerous! I can only imagine that place is crawling with Imperials!”

“What was I supposed to do, Obi? Yours was the only face I cared to see, so I figured I’d start from the beginning.” Conflicting and powerful emotions caused more tears to fall from your eyes despite your best efforts. “What was I supposed to do?” It came out as a whisper, and you hated how broken you sounded. Suddenly you felt very tired, and the previously forgotten blaster wound on your shoulder was beginning to burn with pain.

“I had hoped that you would let me go.”

“Could you have?”

“What?”

“Could you have let me go?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately, and you had your answer. Suddenly all of the heartbreak and quiet crying in your quarters at the temple were worth it. The three years of not knowing if you were searching for a ghost, the sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t done the same for you.

Worth it.

“Can I stay with you?” You sounded like a child and you hated it, but now that you had him you weren’t sure you could let him go.

His continued silence turned your heart to ice. Perhaps he hadn’t looked for you because he was tired of you. Perhaps you misread the situation. Perhaps he could have let you go. 

“Have you had any run-ins with the Empire?”

“Nothing beyond what any other Jedi has encountered.” You heard Sasrula gasp, and you felt just a little bad that you had entirely forgotten she was there. “I’m sneaky, Kenobi. Surely you remember that.” The curious turn of conversation had you feeling just a little more stable. He did not, however, smile.

“I’m staying here. On Tatooine. For a long time.”

“You’re saying I can stay?”

“It’s not like I can kick you off the planet.”

The rush of relief was sudden, and altogether too much for you. That, combined with the rather serious wound you had yet to take care of; the exhaustion of the past few hours; and the hot sun, it’s really no surprise that you passed out.

“Oh dear.”

--------------------------------------------

When you woke, you felt blessedly cooler. The bandage around your shoulder was soft, and the blankets you were wrapped in smelled like the desert and Obi-Wan, which calmed your initial alarm at waking in a foreign place. There were no windows in whatever room you were in, but the general darkness around you suggested it was nighttime. There was a doorway with just a curtain across it, from which you could hear quiet murmurs. Your sleep muddled brain told you to lay back down and close your eyes for just a little longer, but you were too curious to sleep any longer.

When you stood you realized you weren’t in your own shirt. It was much larger than your own, and a slightly different color. You were, however, still in your own pants. Which was very appreciated. You took a few steps before stumbling, still rather weak from the past few hours.

You weren’t noticed when you first stepped into (what you could only assume to be) the main room of Obi-wan’s home. Said man was currently bickering with Sasrula over how to prepare dinner, and if they should wake you up to eat. You were glad to see that the Twi’lek hadn’t run off, and you were even gladder to see Obi-Wan in a lighter mood.

You finally caught his eye when you moved further into the room, and he quickly moved to your side in order to help you to a make-shift dining room chair, kneeling in front of you. You sheepishly smiled at your two companions, who both returned your look with concern.

“I see you two have become pals.”

“I see why you spent three years without him. Your man is insufferable.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and you both tried to pretend like Sasrula calling him ‘your man’ didn’t affect you.

“You gave us a bit of a fright, my darling. I hadn’t even realized you had been hit.” He kissed you on the forehead. “I do hope you don’t mind that I took your shirt off in order to treat your wound.”

You shrugged.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

If he wasn’t red from Sasrula’s earlier comment, he certainly was now.

The Twi’lek snorted and made her way to the kitchenette on the other side of the small space, taking her chance to prepare dinner her way.

“How long did I sleep for?”

“About two days. You left me alone with a stranger for two days.”

“That explains why you’re so chummy with Sas.”

He grimaced.

“Yes. I… don’t know that I’ve ever met such a talkative woman.”

“Giving Ahsoka a run for her money, hm?”

“Don’t remind me.”

You chuckled, and felt a warmth in your heart that you hadn’t felt since you and Obi-Wan were both Padawan’s and had the galaxy ahead of you. Except… this was different. You weren’t sure you could call it better. There was too much bloodshed and trauma for it to be better. But it was undoubtedly freer. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable to say that I love you?”

Obi-Wan smiled softly.

“Never.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you deeply, little one.”

[smcc212]

Normal- part 2

Pairing- Arthur Shelby x male reader(platonic), a little Isiah Jesus x male reader

Word count- 1,198

Warnings- Homophobia, assault, fluff, supportive Arthur, not proofread. Please let me now if I missed anything and/or got anything wrong!

A/N- I wrote a fic called “Normal” a while ago, and, for some reason, I decided to write a second part. It’s important to let you all know that I’m a little drunk right now, so if there’s some problems let me know and I’ll fix them when I’m sober. Anyway, ENJOY!!!! Xoxoxoxox

A week I’d been living with Arthur, working along side the other peaky boys more. Today had been slow, and, as such, Tommy had sent me and another blinder, Owen, to collect protection payments.

After Owen pocket the last payment, we started to head back to the beating shop, but I froze when I walked into the street. My father and mother were there. He and I locked eyes. My mother looked away from me, but my father walked up to me. I flinched as he stood before me.

“This your boyfriend, eh? Three months it took you, yeah?” He spat, tears burned my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I saw my mother rush over before I realised my father was about to punch me.

“Darling, don’t. Let it go. C’mon, lets just go home,” She soothed into my father’s ear, dragon him away, and still never looking at me. I was paralysed. Thoughts of my life before they knew flooding back. Owen’s hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present.

“Why did he think I was your boyfriend? Do you like men?” The disgust in his voice was thick; he took a step back from me. Before I had the chance to respond, Owen spoke again, “let’s just go back to the shop.” He walked off quickly; I followed behind him, fear coursing through my body.

Owen gave me the money when I caught up to him and left, so I went and gave the money to Polly. Part of me wanted to tell her what happened; I wanted to tell her I scared that Owen was going to do... something to me... but I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to. Instead, I headed to the Garrison to sit with Arthur, Tommy and John. ‘Maybe I’ll tell them’ I thought.

When I was about thirty seconds away from the Garrison, I saw Owen with a few other guys. I was just about to turn around when he spotted me and they began to walk towards me.

“There he is; there’s the faggot I was telling you about.” An indescribable fear took over my body. I tried to run, but they grabbed me, pushing me into an empty alleyway. I was running of Gods to pray to at this point. I tried to think of happy times as they beat me. If I was going to die like this, I didn’t want to think about it.

As I felt my consciousness slipping away, I heard a booming “Oi!l that caused all of the boys to stop. In my beaten and bloody state, I couldn’t tell who had stopped it until a few minutes had passed and that voice spoke again.

“Tom, make sure they’re all cut.” Arthur. That was Arthur’s voice. Suddenly, he was in front of me, his hands cradling either side of my face. “(Y/N)? C’mon, lad, look at me.” I had to sleep, despite all three Shelby’s telling me not to.

I black out.

My eyes fluttered open, looking around, after my eyes adjusted to the light, I realised I was in my bedroom. Arthur was sat at the end of my bed, worrying his, blood-covered, hands as he stared down at the dull, wooden floor. I coughed as I tried to sit up. Arthur’s head turned towards me freakishly quick.

“(Y/N), are you okay? Do you need anything?” He rushed out as quickly made his towards my side.

“I’m okay, just a little sore is all,” I mumbled back, my voice hoarse. “Can you get me some water, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, course.” He left, but wasn’t gone for long, coming back with a glass of water in his hands. “Here,” he said, helping me sit up so I could drink it.

“Thank you... What happened to Owen and that?” I asked shyly, I could see pain over come Arthur’s face the second I mentioned Owen.

“We cut them all, and the ones that worked for us; Tommy fired them.” Pain and anger, that’s all that could be heard in his voice.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve told you to stop thanking me, I shouldn’t have let that happen to you. I’m sorry,” He spoke. He thought it was fault. How the fuck could he be at fault for me being attacked.

“It wasn’t your fault Arthur. It was their fault; it was my father’s fault for outing me.” A cloud descended upon me as I thought of how disgusted my looked in me, my mother wouldn’t even look at me. Tears burned my eyes before slowly trickling down my checks.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. He’s a bastard; people shouldn’t have kids if they’re not going to accept them.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug while being careful of my injuries. I hugged him back, glad I had someone so understanding and accepting in my life.

Over the next few days, Arthur hardly left my side. There was one instance that Arthur was gone for an extended period of time; there was a family meeting. Not even five minutes after Arthur left, Isiah came up to me. We hadn’t talked since we were in that alleyway, so I was a little nervous but excited to see him.

“Hey, pretty boy,” he drawled, his eyes raking over me. I felt my ears heat up under his lustful gaze.

“Hey, Isiah,” I mumbled back, my eyes flickered from him to my work.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing after what those pricks did.”

“I’m alright, still hurts, but I’m just trying to forget about it, you know?” I said back. I wasn’t going to forget, but I wanted to nonetheless.

“Well, once you’re all healed-“ he walked behind me placing his hands on my shoulders, slowly he moved them down, over my chest, as he continued speaking, “-I’d love to help you... forget, if you pick up what I’m putting down.” God, he was gonna be the death me.

“Yeah, I think I’m picking it up,” I murmured, a giggle escaped me. Mentally, I kicked myself for sounding like an idiot.

“Good.” Just as his hands reached my lower abdomen, the door open and Arthur walked in. Isiah pulled his hands away.

“What’re you doing, Isiah?” Arthur asked, accusingly.

“Nothin’... just checking on (Y/N). I’ll, erm, I’ll go now.” Quickly he made his way out of the room, but not before sending a wink my way.

“So... how was the meeting?” I asked awkwardly.

“Great, it was great,” he replied, just as awkwardly: after a beat of silence, Arthur spoke again, “(Y/N), how would you feel about me... adopting you?” Nerves were thick in Arthur’s voice. I stunned. Arthur wanted me to be apart of his family; he wanted me to be his son. “It’s fine if you don’t want me to, it’s just-“

“I’d love it.” I cut him off, a huge smile spread over my face.

“Okay. Well then... let’s go it.” He had an equally as large smile. I was going to be a Shelby, but more importantly, I was going to have a father who loves and accepts me for who I am.

Tags:

@the-makingsofgreatness

[belphegor1982]

not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

[superwho-am-i-kidding]

Raise the Stakes (PART 1)

Illogical husbands! There's never enough content for this ship, I swear. This is going to be a 3 part story, so keep an eye out in the coming days for the next parts! When they're posted, they will be linked here: (PART 2) (PART 3)

This part has minimal trigger warnings, though the next one will have more. This part only mentions "off-screen" death and anxiety.

Remember, my ask box is always open!!! Send in your own prompts and requests!

Read below the cut. I don't want to take up too much of your lovely dash space!

Bill wearily dragged his luggage behind him as he heavily got into a taxi. The rain outside was near deafening, and he had to shout for the driver to hear where he was going. “Broadchurch!”

“Aye,” the man replied, starting out on the journey that was sure to take far longer than he would have liked. Bill sat back in the seat and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. He was finally on his way home. He opened his eyes a while later and pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. He had already been asleep for over an hour. Alec had to be on his way to work by now. Bill shook his head, knowing the detective; he was probably already there. His thumb automatically selected the speed dial, and the phone sprang to life.

“Angel,” a fond voice came through the speaker after two rings, the Scottish accent pouring thickly through the line. Bill didn’t realize how much he had missed it. “How was your flight?”

“Long,” Bill complained. “I don’t understand why I have to keep going back to Saint Louis. You know I’d rather just stay home with you.”

“You have to present your findings,” Alec said. “Get your name in all the American papers and magazines.”

Bill sighed, a small smile on his lips as he leaned his head back. “I only need my name on one thing.”

“Mm, and what is that?” Bill could hear the mischievous tone in Alec’s voice.

“Our wedding license.”

Alec chuckled warmly. “Still can’t convince you to take my name, can I?”

“I’ve got the doctorate. The name stays,” Bill said firmly.

“So I’ve heard. Stubborn bastard.”

Bill snorted, “Would you like to be the pot or the kettle?”

“Kettle,” Alec decided. Bill let out a bark of laughter. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, dear. Just the way you say ‘kettle’ is funny.”

“I’m glad I could amuse you,” Alec grumbled.

Bill sighed into the comfortable silence that fell between them. “I miss you,” he said quietly.

“You’ll be home soon, angel,” Alec comforted him. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“Don’t you need to be at work?”

Alec sighed. “I am. I’m working on a case from home. I’ll explain it when you get here.” He sighed again, quieter this time. “I love you, angel. Even when I’m gone, I’ll always love you.”

Bill snorted tiredly. “Don’t even think about it, mister. You’re not tapping out until I say you can. And that won’t be for a while. I don’t care what cases your boss puts you on.”

“Right,” Alec took a breath. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

Bill smiled. “I know. I’ll be at the house in less than twenty minutes, and I expect a grand welcome.”

“Anything,” Alec replied. “Anything for you. I love you,” he insisted.

Bill smiled once more. “I love you, too, my dearest. I’ll be home in a jiffy.” He closed his eyes once more, only to open them again when the driver spoke.

“How long have you been gone?”

“Three terrible weeks,” Bill replied. “I had meetings every day. I can’t wait to be back in my own bed.”

“I’d keep my guard up in bed,” the driver scoffed. “D’you know what’s been going on in Broadchurch lately?”

A pit settled into Bill’s stomach. “I haven’t heard of anything since that killer a few years back. What happened?”

The driver shrugged. “The killer you mentioned, the Butcher. He escaped from prison a week ago. So far, I’ve heard five people turned up dead, and they’re not any closer to finding him.”

“What?” Bill shook his head. “That’s impossible! The Butcher was put in the most secure prison in the area.”

“Not secure enough, I guess,” he said. “I heard he’s gonna disappear soon. Get rid of the pigs on his trail and vanish. I’d wait until he does.”

“How far away are we?”

The driver glanced at the map on his phone. “Got another five minutes, I think.”

Bill’s knee began bouncing restlessly as he stared at the gray scenery outside of his window. The taxi finally stopped outside of Bill’s home and he stumbled to get out as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” he handed the driver a handful of crumpled dollars. “Keep the change.” He bustled up the driveway and pounded on the door. “Alec? I’m home.” His heart sped up when there was no answer. “Alec! Alec!” His fist kept beating the wood of the door.

The door swung open and Bill caught sight of Alec pulling up the zipper to his pants. “Angel! I was in the bathroom. Are you alright?” His brown eyes were wide with worry.

Bill flung himself into Alec’s arms and whimpered. “I missed you.”

Alec let out his breath. “I missed you, too.”

Bill pulled back after a moment. “Did you wash your hands?”

“You were screaming your bloody lungs out at the front door! Wasn’t exactly my first priority.”

“That’s how germs are spread. Go wash,” Bill pushed lightly on Alec’s chest.

“You go put on something dry. You’re dripping water all over the floor.”

“I think I need a hot shower.”

“What about a bath, hm? I’ll join you,” he winked.

Bill laughed. “That sounds lovely, my dear. Thank you.”

Alec made his way to the bathroom and began running the tap. It warmed quickly, though the filling process was slow. Bill came into the room a moment later and dropped his heavy clothes into a soggy puddle on the floor. He stepped into the tub and sighed, leaning back onto the lean chest behind him. Alec wrapped his arms around the doctor, planting a kiss on the back of his head. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

Bill hummed an affirmation, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know,” Alec craned forward and kissed the extended neck of the man in front of him. “My shampoo or yours?”

“Yours, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Alec parroted fondly. He took some shampoo in his hand and began massaging it into Bill’s scalp. The doctor practically purred beneath his strong fingers. “That good, huh?”

“I’ve had to do it myself for a month,” Bill whined. “It’s impossible to massage your own head.”

“You poor thing.”

“I know,” Bill sank down a bit more into the water. “Maybe I will take your name…” he mumbled.

Alec sputtered in surprise, his hands freezing. “What?”

Bill shrugged, fidgeting for Alec to continue massaging his head. “I’ve been married twice before. Neither marriage lasted. But, I’ve been told that the third time’s the charm. And maybe the charm is you,” Bill felt his cheeks warm slightly.

“Bill…” Alec brushed his fingers across the doctor’s head, washing away some of the shampoo. “My name isn’t going to make the marriage last. We are.” He rinsed the rest of the doctor’s hair, kissing the clean strands. “But William Hardy does have a nice ring to it.”

Bill let out a small laugh. “It also has a piece of you.”

“Angel,” Alec lifted Bill’s chin, “you have all of me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bill stood and helped Alec out of the bath, both of them wrapping themselves in their bathrobes. They kissed once more before shuffling into the bedroom to change into some comfortable day clothes. “Alec?”

“Yeah?”

Bill sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled up his socks. “The case you’re working on… it doesn’t have anything to do with the Butcher escaping, does it?”

The detective stopped buttoning his shirt, “How do you know about that?”

“Cabbie told me,” Bill muttered. “Said he’s planning to go after all the cops that put him away two years ago. And after the ones trying to put him back,” he lifted his head and met the weary gaze.

“Bill…”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me you were working a case like this? I would have come home sooner!”

“Exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Alec moved to stand in front of the doctor. “I didn’t want you being put in unnecessary danger. I hoped we would get him back before you came home.”

“What about you? Don’t you think I want you to avoid unnecessary danger, too?”

“I’m careful,” Alec said. “We’re closing in. He should be back in custody within a couple of days, just you watch. In the meantime, I want you to be careful. I can’t lose you, angel.”

“You won’t,” Bill promised. He yawned and turned onto the bed. “Smells like you,” he commented, eyes closed as he lay on his pillow.

“It smelled like you. I missed you,” Alec sighed, perching on the edge of the bed to pull the blankets over Bill. “Holding your pillow helped me sleep.”

Bill opened one eye and smiled. “You like how I smell?”

“Of course I do,” Alec shook his head. “You’d know if I didn’t.” Bill hummed, closing his eyes again. “Didn’t realize you were so tired. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Jetlag,” Bill mumbled. “Just need a couple hours to shake it off.” He whined when Alec’s phone rang.

“It’s Miller,” Alec said. “I have to take this. Get some rest, okay?”

Bill nodded, slipping into sleep almost immediately. When he woke up, the sun was low in the sky. He sat up and stretched, letting out a groan. “Alec?” He shambled downstairs, not finding the detective in the living room. Bill entered the kitchen, a worried frown on his face. “Alec?”

The detective spun around, his face pale and eyes bright with anxiety. “Bill!”

Bill frowned deeper when he took in the alcohol in Alec’s hand. “What’s the matter?” He gasped in surprise when Alec pulled him into a vicelike embrace. “You’re scaring me,” his voice trembled.

“M’ sorry…” Alec sniffed. “Went to the station after Miller called. The Butcher is still killing. We’re at six victims now. I have to stop him, but I don’t know if I have the strength.”

“Alec,” Bill sighed. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. If anyone is going to catch this guy, it’s going to be you.”

“You think?”

Bill smiled, cradling the detective’s face with one hand. “I know it.” He leaned forward and kissed the man’s nose. “You’re smart, too. You’ll figure this out soon.”

“I love you,” Alec whimpered quietly.

Bill shushed him with a gentle kiss. “Let’s sit down, hm?” He led them to the living room and sat down on the couch. Bill sat back on the couch and pulled Alec to his chest. “Do you want to talk about who it was?”

Alec shook his head. “M’ not supposed to tell you…”

“That’s alright, dear, I understand.”

“But I have to tell you,” Alec looked up, his eyes bearing windows to the torment within. “It was Thomas Brooks.”

“The doctor?” Bill gasped. “But who will take care of his patients?”

“That’s why I had to tell you,” Alec sighed. “I know they’ll ask you to take over.”

Bill softened his expression. “And you knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.” He looked over towards his phone as it began to ring. “I have to say yes,” he picked up the device and met Alec’s eyes.

“I know,” he sighed.

“This is Dr. Masters,” Bill answered the call. “I heard he had gotten free, yes… Dear lord, that’s dreadful. I couldn’t imagine… It would be my pleasure to help you during this hour of need… Yes, I will see you soon. Goodbye.”

Alec clung tighter to Bill’s chest. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t ever be alone in a room with a patient, even if they seem harmless. Please, just promise me that.”

Bill rested his cheek on top of Alec’s head. “I promise you, dear, that I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe until that madman is caught.”

“Thank you,” Alec whispered. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, as well. Do you trust me?” He looked up, locking gazes with the stormy eyes in front of him.

“With my life.” They sat together on the sofa for a while before Bill glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should get to the hospital. They need me.”

“I need you,” Alec muttered.

“You have me, dearest,” Bill sighed softly. “You always will.” He gently pulled Alec from him. “It’s just overnight,” he assured. “I’ll be home tomorrow morning before you even get the chance to miss me.”

“I already do.”

Bill forced himself to stand and open the suitcase that sat at the foot of the stairs. He pulled out a button down shirt and a bowtie, quickly putting them on. “Get some sleep, love. And please remember to eat something for dinner.”

Alec nodded, following Bill to the front door. He kissed the doctor slowly. “I love you so much, Bill.”

“I love you more,” he replied. Bill closed the door behind him and unlocked his car. He quickly got in and locked the doors behind him. He took a deep breath and started the car, making short time of the distance to the hospital. He parked and entered the building hastily, looking over his shoulder. The receptionist at the front greeted him warmly and directed him to the floors he would be attending. He grabbed a black coffee from the lounge and downed it, gathering his first clipboard of the evening.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVIII

January 14, 2278.

I woke up feeling confused.

Percy?

My wife?

Impossible. A ghoul marrying a smoothskin? Fucking insane.

I don’t think I’m even made for something as… normal as marriage. All my skills are geared towards killing and destroying. How can I even build a life with her?

Some people marry out of love, don’t they? My parents did, and they were happy together. When I was little, during their wedding anniversary, they’d leave me with someone else to look after me. Before she went away to study, Aunt Katya would do that for them. After she’s gone, it was whoever babysitter they can find.

They would always come home the next day with smiles on their faces.

When we started to become poorer, they’d spend the evening in the house, a lone candle illuminating the kitchen, and they’d dance to the radio in silence. My mother would look at my father with uncertain eyes, and he'd kiss the worries away.

“Annika, moya solnyshko, we’re going to be fine.”

Solnyshko. If I recall correctly, it’s a term of endearment in my parents’ language. I think it meant ‘little sun’.

I sighed and turned to Percy, still asleep, resting peacefully as the sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated her face.

Is that something I want to do with Percy?

Hold her in my arms through thick and thin? Call her silly little things out of affection?

Is it love that drives me to dream of being her husband? Or is she just too involved in my life now for me to think of someone else?

Some people married out of convenience, after all. Like Aunt Katya.

I remember bringing the rings on her wedding day. She was already heavy with child, dressed in white. I couldn’t remember if it was in the year 2069 or 2070, but obviously, it was before I was taken away for indoctrination.

“Tetushka,” I remember addressing her during the reception. “Who is he?”

“Artyom, this is Nathaniel. He’s the man I married, and he’s going to be your uncle. Don’t be shy, say hi.”

The man steps closer, and kneels. He had some stubble on his jaw, square and shapely, and his hair is cut neatly, like the soldiers I see on posters.

“So this is the nephew you were talking about, Kitty. Hey there sport,” he greets extending his hand. I remember reluctantly giving him a handshake.

“I know this is all so sudden, but he’s part of the family now,” Aunt Katya explains, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think it’s time for the toast, dear. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” Nathan interrupts, whisking my aunt away and giving me a nod and a wink.

That night, as my father drove us home, he spoke to me.

“Artyom, could you make me a promise?”

“What kind of promise papa?”

“Promise me, when you grow up and if you decide to marry someone, make sure that you marry out of love, like I did with your mother. Don’t be like your aunt Katya.”

“I promise,” I tell him. “But what’s wrong with aunt Katya?”

“Ilya, I think we should save this conversation for another day. Our Artyom might be too young,” my mother tells father.

“Nonsense. It’s never too early to let him know. Artyom, your tetushka married that man because she thought she couldn’t take care of a baby on her own. I’m not sure if she loves Nathan, and that’s what scares me. Your auntie is strong. But I’m not sure how she will handle a marriage with uncertain feelings. It could destroy her.”

I blinked a few times. It was too heavy for me to understand back then.

“I think what your father is trying to say, Artyom,” my mother adds, “Is when people marry and start a family, they usually live together under one roof, like your papa and I. When you marry someone and live under one roof with someone you do not love, life can become difficult.”

“I think I understand, mama.”

I do understand now.

My reminiscing got interrupted when Percy cracked one eye open, and reached for me.

“Hey. Good morning, big guy. You slept well?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

After waking Butch up, the three of us packed our sleeping bags and went outside to start a fire. The dawn is just breaking, the horizon hazy. I can’t remember being this up early. Our sleep schedule was borderline nocturnal.

As the Cram sizzled on the clean sheet of metal we used to cook on while travelling, Percy was heating some clean water over the fire as well. She used it to rehydrate the Instamash, and the rest went into a cup. My partner then takes out a small sachet, the label washed out, but I can still see what it was.

“Found this in a coat pocket from Moira’s gifts the other day,” she giggles. “Hot chocolate!”

My eyes widened. Damn, I haven’t seen one of those after the war. Is it even safe to consume?

“Man, I miss the food in the vault. Lemme have some,” DeLoria exclaims, excited.

Percy pours it in the cup and stirs it with a spoon. She takes a sip, passes it to Butch, who wrinkles his nose, then to me. Well, if we can still eat Cram after 200 years of it sitting on some shelf, I think I’ll be fine with this ancient hot chocolate.

It’s hot. Comforting. The flavor is a little rancid, but what else is new with these preserved Pre-War foods? It’s still somewhat sweet. The nostalgia I felt for the life I left behind grew. I look into the cup, the dark liquid swirling, reminding me of Percy’s eyes. Then, I pass it back to her.

“You were smiling in your sleep,” Percy quips, looking at me with eyes still heavy with sleep. “Dreamed of something nice?”

Despite the cold, I feel the warmth spreading through me. Of fucking course I just can’t tell her that I dreamed that I wasn’t a monster, and she is my wife, and we had a son who looked like her while we’re frolicking at a beach in California. I have to think of something else.

“I dreamed DeLoria fell down the stairs.”

Percy almost spat out her drink laughing. Butch gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, real funny, you bastard,” he groans.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own lie, too.

Butch put the fire out with snow, and we’re off again, heading west. The sun’s rising in the east, warming our backs as we pressed on. By the time we got to Lamplight, the sun’s risen, but was blocked out by clouds.

We approached the cavern entrance, and followed the trail inside. There, MacCready is still keeping watch.

“Hey, we got your friends back. Can we come in now?” Percy shouts, keeping a safe distance.

“I guess you’re okay after all, for a mungo. But you better not piss me off!”

As the three of us approached the gate, the kid pointed his rifle at DeLoria.

“Hey wait a second, you weren’t with them when they first came here,” he barks, suspicious.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. He’s gonna watch out stuff for us while we go in Vault 87,” Percy explains, pulling Butch’s arm hurriedly.

“Who the fuck are you?” the mayor asks Butch, and of course the moron puffed his chest out.

“I’m Butch! I lead a gang called the Tunnel Snakes and I helped them get your friends outta Paradise Falls too!”

“What kind of dumbshit name is Tunnel Snakes?”

Okay, I can’t fucking help it. I am laughing. This kid is just fine.

As DeLoria squabbles with MacCready, Percy sits down in a corner to catch her breath and rest, and I join her. Soon, some of the kids started gathering around us, and among them were the children we rescued from Paradise.

“It’s the ghost and the zombie that saved us!” one of them exclaimed, running towards us.

“Zombie isn’t a nice word to call him, kid. He’s called a ghoul,” Percy tells her, voice a little softer than her usual speaking tone.

“A pretty ghost and a scary ghoul saved you? Wow!”

Soon, the voices of the children grew louder as they chattered about us, the odd group of mungos allowed in the cave.

I felt uncomfortable as the children poked around and asked us so many questions. Some of them are too afraid to come closer to me, while some openly try to climb on my back and gingerly touch some of my scars. I guess the dream I had about having one will remain a dream. These children are exhausting to be around.

Yet Percy takes it all in stride, answering every question they ask her, showing off her stuff, and regaling them with tales from our travels. She’d gently pet the hair of one of the little girls who huddled next to her, and her patience didn’t waver as one of the boys accidentally spilled their Nuka Cola on her jacket.

She reminds me of my own mother. I’m sure she’d be a great mother if she ever decides to be one.

And when that happens, I’m not going to be the one by her side.

“Percy! Tell us another story,” one of the children, who was called Knock Knock, asks my partner, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I think I’ve already told you all of my stories.”

“Well, you can always make one up,” another little girl, the one called Bumble, suggests.

“Hmm…”

Eyes flicking towards me, Percy offers the children a soft smile.

“Long ago, there was a young maiden, living in a fortress with steel walls. The most important rule was one was allowed to go in and out of the fortress.” Percy starts, leaning her head towards me.

“A maiden? Why not a princess? Princesses lived in fortresses, right? Or was it a castle?”

“Shut up, Zip! Don’t interrupt her.”

Chuckling, Percy clears her throat and continues. “She kept to herself, and kept herself busy with plants and books. The maiden was content with living in the fortress, but she always wondered what the world beyond them looked like. One night, while the maiden was exploring the lower levels of the fortress, a horrible beast took her away, and captured her. He put her in an invisible cage, which keeps her under his control.”

I think I know who this maiden is.

“Oh no, is she okay? Who saved her?”

“We’ll get to that soon. The maiden was kept in a cage for so long, that she thought that she'd never get out. Then, one night, word got around that someone left the fortress. In her desire to see the world, she grips the bars of the invisible cage, and bends it, finally escaping.”

The children were listening in awe. “What happens to the girl? Does she escape the fortress?”

“Yes, and she had to face the monster that captured her in doing so. In a show of courage, she wields a sword, and takes his head off in one slice.”

“Coooool,” one of the kids exclaimed.

“Then, she starts looking for her father. But she couldn’t do it alone. There were many dangers in the world outside the fortress. So, she looks for someone who can watch her back.”

“Is it a knight? Or a prince?”

“Hmm. No, her companion is neither of those. He’s something else.”

“What is he?”

“A ferryman.”

“What’s a ferryman, Percy?”

“Have you kids ever heard of a boat? A ferryman is in charge of running that boat.”

“Oh, so they rode through a boat?”

“Yeah. They did. This ferryman, all he knew before he met the maiden was to take the souls of people and deliver them to Death. Kind of like the Grim Reaper. Everyone’s gotta die some time, and it was his job to ensure that they make it to the other side.”

“Yikes! Why would she ask someone like that to watch her back?”

Percy pauses, unsure what to answer. Her eyes flick to her lap, then, she smiles at one of the kids.

“Because, the maiden knows better than to judge a book by its cover. Turns out, the ferryman was one of the most reliable, bravest, and kindest people outside the fortress, but he’s stuck to his job. So, they burn the boat, and the maiden, instead of facing Death, runs away with the ferryman. The end.”

“Wow, that was boring,” one of the boys quipped, which earned him an elbow from one of the girls.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

“Aw, that can’t be the end! What happens to them after?”

“Do they fall in love?”

A short chortle escaped Percy. “That’s a story for another day. My friend and I need to get going.”

Bumble looks up to Percy with big, begging eyes. “Promise us you’ll tell the rest when you come back, please?”

A chorus of “Please, Percy” fills the cave. I couldn’t help but snort at the overwhelmed look on Percy’s face. Then, she gave them a quick nod, to which they responded with cheers.

“Alright big guy, time for us to go into the Vault. Wait, where’s Butch?”

On the opposite side of the cave, surrounded by mostly boys, including MacCready himself, Butch was shouting and cheering.

“Tunnel Snakes rule!”

“Tunnel Snakes rule!” the boys echoed.

We laughed at the scene. “Hey, looks like Butch have new gang members in no time.”

Striding towards DeLoria, Percy dumps the gear we didn’t need to bring near his feet. She takes off her leather jacket and scarf, and her sneaking suit’s helmet protracted over her face. It was a curious sight for the children, looking at her with bewildered eyes.

“Look after the stuff, Butch. If we don’t come back in eight hours, get help from the Brotherhood.”

“Got it. What but what if something else comes through the door?”

“If it’s not with us, shoot it. Help the kids defend this place.”

Butch gulps. “I… uh…”

“There are spare guns and grenades in one of the packs. You helped us with Paradise, Butch. You can handle this,” Percy encourages him, rubbing the back of his palm gently.

I look away.

“You’re right. See you in a few hours.”

Following a teenage boy who introduced himself as Joseph, who turned out to be the brother of one of the children we got out of the slave pen, we were led to a terminal which accesses a door to the vault. No one bothered to write down the password, so Percy cracked her knuckles and started typing away eagerly.

Eyes still fixated on the glowing green monitor, she had that determined look on her face again.

The door hisses open, and we step in. It was unnaturally cold and silent.

“This is it, Charon. We’re so close.”

[sadistgalore]

Killian and Luther: Careful Who You Trust

CW: verbal child abuse, mugging, close murder, starvation, referenced death, drug abuse, manipulation, implied dehumanization

“I’m going out, mom.”

Killian paused before heading out the door, turning his head to yell slightly louder.

“Mom!”

“I heard you the first time, you brat!”

“Right, forgot you don’t care whether I leave or not,” the teenager mumbled.

Killian stepped out of the trailer and grabbed his skateboard leaning against it, making his way into DC.

It took about half an hour to get there until he got to his spot, a small alcove at the top of a convenience store. No one could see him from up there, and the rich fucks always cut their way through the alley. With his knife in hand, he waited for his first victim.

Killian never killed anyone, or even harmed them. He would just jump from behind them and put his knife against their throat, telling them to drop their cash and then run. It was a miracle he never got caught, either. His friends always told him he would make an excellent track star.

Too bad he didn’t go to a school that provided it.

Killian grimaced at the thought, shaking his head and focusing on the task. Then, he saw him.

A tall, blonde haired man began his walk down the alleyway, dressed in a very nice attire. Definitely looked like a wealthy bastard, with his leather loafers and long, woven coat.

Perfect victim.

Killian quietly dropped from his perch, and slowly walked up behind him with his mother’s kitchen knife in hand. One, two steps, and he was right behind him, he just needed to-

“Oof!” Killian fell hard to the floor, the man surprisingly managing to sense him and quickly turn around and punch him in the gut. The rich man saw his attacker on the ground and pulled out a gun; Killian panicked.

“Shit! Shit, fuck, calm down man!” He yelled hysterically, hands in the air.

The man didn’t listen, and cocked the gun back.

Oh god, he’s gonna kill me.

“I’m hungry!” Killian suddenly cried, tears starting to fall down his face. “Please don’t kill me, I’m hungry! I only rob people to get money for food and clothes, my mom doesn’t take care of me please please please don’t kill me please I don’t wanna die please!”

The man stared at him for a moment, then put the safety back on.

“How old are you?”

Killian swallowed, slowly started to calm down as he saw the danger was gone. “Seventeen.”

“Name?”

“Killian. Killian Hound.”

The boy saw the older gentleman smile, looking at him up and down.

“Interesting name.”

“Thank you.”

The man extended his hand towards Killian. “Come with me, let's get you some food so you can stop robbing people.”

Killian scrunched his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

The man laughed, slightly scaring the boy. “Yes, seriously. Come on, I have nothing better to do.”

The boy stared for a moment, then shrugged as he followed the blonde man down the alleyway. They stopped before a black limousine, and the man motioned for Killian to step inside.

Once they were seated, the man spoke up again. “Where to?”

Killian looked up, confusion and excitement a mixture on his face. “I get to pick?”

“Yep.”

Killian contemplated for a moment, thinking about all of the restaurants and fast food joints he wasn’t able to afford. He had an unlimited arsenal; pasta, seafood, burgers-

Burgers.

“Benny’s Burger Town.”

The man opened his mouth to say something, then decided to close it. “You heard him, driver, Benny’s Burger Town.”

The limousine drove off, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence.

“What’s yours?”

The man hummed in question.

“What’s your name?” Killian asked again.

The man smiled. “Just call me Luther, kid.”

“Okay, Luther.”

They drove for about 10 minutes until they stopped in front of the kid’s restaurant. Killian and Luther stepped out, and the former was practically bouncing where he was standing.

They found their way to a table, covered in a brown tarp for kids to color on. Killian ignored the strange look from other patrons in the restaurant, and grabbed the brightly colored menu as soon as he sat down. Luther smiled at the boy, and grabbed his own menu. The waiter came to the table after a few minutes.

“Welcome to Benny’s Burger Town! Are you guys thirsty for Benny’s drinks?”

Luther rolled his eyes, but Killian excitedly shook his head.

“Perfect! What can I get for you?”

“Benny’s Banana Bacon Burger Shake!”

Luther laughed at Killian. “Seriously? That sounds disgusting.”

The man soon regretted that, as he saw the boy’s good mood sour.

“Nevermind,” mumbled Killian. “I’ll just take a Coke.”

Luther raised his hand. “He’ll take the shake, I’ll take a water.”

The waiter nodded and left, leaving the two alone again.

“Didn’t know how strongly you felt about milkshakes.”

Killian stayed quiet.

“Kid.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It has to be something. No offense, no seventeen year old would pick a child’s restaurant to eat at.”

“Well I did, okay!?” Killian suddenly yelled, glaring daggers at Luther.

Luther didn’t falter, and instead leaned in closer. “Listen closely, kid. Don’t forget that not even 20 minutes ago I was fully prepared to kill you, then I graciously offered to pay for a meal. You seriously think I won’t go back on that offer? Tell me why you chose here, now.”

Killian’s hard glare turned into a scared one, remembering the events that happened recently in the alleyway.

He nodded, and quietly spoke his story.

“Me and my dad used to come here all the time. We never had much, but he always made sure he saved enough to come here at least once a year on my birthday.”

Killian formed tears in his eyes once again.

“He died when I was eight. Car crash. My mom took it hard and started doing drugs, and that’s when things fell apart. We lost our house, I had to switch schools, I even had to get rid of my dog.”

The boy hitched on a sob. “I think my mom died, too. She’s not the same kind, beautiful woman that loved and raised me. Now she’s a washed-up druggie, making her son fend for his own and living in a shitty trailer park.”

He looked back up at Luther. “That’s why I like coming here. It makes me feel like a kid again, not having to worry about if I will eat today. Or if my mom won’t wake up after she sticks a needle in her arm. I just want to be happy again.”

At that, Killian finally sobbed, tucking his face in his arms resting on the table.

Luther pouted, and made his way over to the other booth, wrapping an arm around him.

“It’s okay.”

No response.

“You’re going to live with me.”

Killian looked up at Luther, eyes red and puffy from crying. “What?”

“You can live with me. We can put your mother in a rehab center, and you can be safe in my home, for free. You’ll never worry about going hungry ever again.”

“Seriously?” Killian was getting excited now, wiping his tears off of his face.

“Of course, it’s the least I can do. Let’s discuss it some more over our dinner, shall we?”

Killian nodded as Luther made his way back to his booth, the waiter coming back soon after to take their food orders.

The pair had a great time, Luther listened to Killian’s stories about his dad, and Luther told Killian all about his house.

Once they got back in the limousine, Killian sighed in contempt as he stared at Luther.

He kind of looked like his old man.

I have a good feeling about this guy, Killian thought before falling asleep.

Luther watched as the boy closed his eyes, bearing a dark grin once he fell asleep.

Time for a new dog.

[daintykeith]

RUN KID RUN

Title: Run Kid Run

Summary: Dutch and Hosea are trying to teach John how to read but he runs off after they got frustrated and Arthur goes deep into the woods looking for John.

Word count: 2298

Notes: mild cursing | brief scene despicting an almost hanging | feedback is appreciated!!!

Tags: @onlytherocksliveforever

Happy late Christmas and Happy new year! I’m sorry I’m so late, this took me forever; I’ve been giving it a long thought and decided to comply to your second item in your wish list!

2) i love DUMB ASS John Marston and his better looking brother Arthur; give me a slice of life with the two of them pre-canon, or a story about them helping the other thru a tough time.

I’ve decided to combine both ideas and so this story came to be.

When Arthur was twenty-three, he saw a boy—dirty, savage and with a look in his eyes that had given up on living. This boy was with a rope in his neck, ready to be hanged. Dark gray with no reflection but death itself; no tears, no regret. Dead Eyes that held onto dear life with a fierceness reflected in his fists.

Next to the boy, an unnamed man spoke words of dead wisdom and nonsense which to the eyes of Arthur was meaningless.

“We have come to see the of law enacted. We will not sit idly by as people take the law into their own hands!”

Heavy kind of bullshit that Arthur didn’t enjoy a bit.

The crowd of the town roared loudly in excitement and agreement. For them, it was only entertainment, a show that made Arthur’s gut churn with anger. He tilted his hat lower and turned around, ready to move on. However, Dutch’s hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him.

“He looks like you did, a while ago,” Dutch said with a smirk before the gun in his hip shot the rope on the boy’s neck.

“He doesn’t.”

The boy’s shine returned in a glimpse that Arthur caught with both his eyes and heart. A will to fight and survive, to get the hell out of the mess that was about to start.

“What the hell Dutch?!”

“He was not meant to. Not yet.”

A sense of relief in his chest appeared with a long deep breath. He was glad for the boy that had gotten a chance to live, what was Dutch and Hosea thinking when they brought him into camp?

Arthur got wounded in the dirty fight they had in town for freeing the boy and he was resting in his tent, with Susan on his side cleaning his injuries. When Dutch and Hosea walked in, he asked: “What took ya’ so long?” with a warm grin that quickly faded into disbelief.

The boy stood between the two men, pouting his lips, frowning and crossing his arms as means to make himself more intimidating. The way Dutch smiled, looked and treated him with his gentle gestures and Hosea had given his jacket to protect him from the chilling breeze of that night was so familiar to Arthur; he had been in that place after all. What was that boy doing in camp? Similar to himself in the past, why did they needed to bring someone as intense and dumb as him? Wasn’t one dumb enough? He wondered.

“What’s your name, kid?” Arthur asked after he noticed Dutch’s gaze on him.

The boy stood silent.

“Come on boy, tell him.” Dutch crouched to his side and whispered words to him that Arthur wasn’t able to hear.

He remained silent.

When Arthur was twenty-four, he met the boy. A month had passed from his rescue and Arthur’s birthday quickly arrived with the cold and mean air of winter. There was no snow landscape yet, the skies had become dark and gray like the boy’s eyes and the fallen leaves

“John Marston,” the boy said with a mean streak that left Arthur with a bad taste in his tongue.

“Arthur Morgan.” He extended his hand to greet but John had already abandoned and left him with the words unsaid in his lips.

Arthur sighed and placed his hands on his gun belt; he could see John’s silhouette far away, hiding somewhere where he thought no one could see him, and grinned. A part of him still refused to acknowledge John, prouder than a bull and wilder than a cougar in a midnight sky, and another part of him found itself in that boy who slept with a knife under his pillow.

“John, come here!” Dutch called the next morning.

Arthur was laying in comfortably in his bed, with his worn-out leather hat covering his eyes, thinking about what to draw in his journal. A bird? A flower? An herb? His imagination was as dull as dishwater and his brain couldn’t tell skunks from house cats. Boredom was partly guilty of the dullness, too.

“John, come on.” From his closed tent, Arthur saw how Hosea’s figure grabbed John’s arm and took him somewhere beyond the reach of their shadow. A loud growl, from the boy, echoed through the whole camp that Arthur scoff. The boy was that stubborn?

The blue-eyed man closed his journal, stood up from his bed and walked out of his tent to do the chores of the day. As he chopped wood, he could see Dutch and Hosea, with John between them, sitting together in one of the round tables near the food station with a book in hand. This was going to be fun to see, Arthur thought.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Dutch said firmly. “Read this part here.”

“No,” John scowled.

“Why not? It’s not that hard if you try. Here. The king in his…” Hosea slowly talked

John went silent.

“Boy,” Dutch lowly growled.

Arthur swung his axe over the log and splat it in half. When he was putting the wood aside, he peeked at John. The boy had his arms crossed, frowning and giving the book in the table a deadly gaze. Did he hate reading that much? Arthur laughed to himself and got caught by Hosea who looked at him with disapproval. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He tried to slowly walk away, feigning ignorance, but the older man approached quicker than he predicted and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Arthur.” Hosea squeezed hard the shoulder blade and grinned in a way that created grimace in Arthur’s expression, “wanna’ join us? I thought I could show you the new book I got!”

Arthur grunted.

Just great. He knew Hosea’s way of scolding Arthur and thinking about it annoyed him, however, he didn’t expect to see Dutch vexed, red-faced and squeezing the book with both his hands, yelling to John.

On the other hand, Hosea was perplexed. He dragged his hands over his now tired face and sighed.

“He wasn’t this troublesome!” Dutch said to Hosea, referring obviously to Arthur.

Something in that statement made Arthur chest puff in pride. Oh boy, he really liked that. Even if he refused to acknowledge this feeling to everyone else, he liked it when Dutch or Hosea praised him.

Arthur remembered the days when Dutch and Hosea were teaching him to read. Hot summer days, mosquitoes everywhere and that smell he couldn’t forget, berries and lemon, which brought his mind ten years back, when he was a thin, small and young boy. He grinned to the loveable thought and looked at Dutch fighting with John.

“Dutch, what’re ya doin’!? Don’t ya’ grab him like that and rub his head!”

“I know he can do it, but he’s not even trying!”

Something Arthur knew is that Dutch would take as “true” whatever he assumed; and hardly took back his words—standing for what he believed, a true blessing for the wise and a curse for the ignorant. Later on, Arthur didn’t know which of those Dutch was. A true mystery until the very end.

“Dutch, calm down, you’re gonna scare ‘im…”

“But I know he can—"

“Shut up, you pair of dimwits!” Susan yelled from afar as she sewed one of Arthur’s shirt.

And before any of them could say any further word, John slammed his hands against the table and ran away into the woods that surrounded the camp.

“Get back here, boy!”

What a mess. When Arthur saw no signs of Dutch calming down or Hosea backing down, he decided to look out for the now goner.

“John! Where are ya’!?” Arthur yelled as he stomped over some broken sticks. Definitively John.

“Ya’ damn bastard, dontchu’ ever get tired?” he whispered to himself, wondering as he furrowed his brows and rushed his pace.

As he walked deeper into the woods, the stars that normally would be faded under sunlight, had come out without any shame, telling Arthur to hurry. The breeze got colder and the sky darker and even if he found clues of where he could have gone to, the boy sure knew how to keep out of sight. He was going nuts; what the hell was the kid running from?! He had nothing to run from and nowhere to go, what was he thinking?

“John!” He called once more before he heard a gasp to his side.

The moment he turned his head, he saw a terrified boy who had fallen into the ground. Unlike the first time he saw him, fierceness shone in his eyes despite of the fear that his thin body could not hide—however, that didn’t mean it wasn’t agile. He quickly got up into his feet and started running towards the glowing moon.

“Oh no, you ain’t!”

He could hear John’s broken breathing and how he gasped for the air he didn’t have; it broke Arthur’s heart.

“Watchu’ running from, kid?!”

Arthur got closer with every step he took and grabbed without any restrains John’s wrist to stop him, quite brusque for his liking but there was nothing he could do. Those iron eyes gazed at him with the loathe and anger he deserved which left a sour flavor in his mouth. John struggled to free himself from Arthur’s grip but it only got stronger.

“Lemme ask you again, kid. Watchu’ running from?”

John struggled again and Arthur grabbed his other wrist. He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes for a moment. Was it this hard for everyone else to deal with him? Being a kid in the streets wasn’t easy, it roughens you up in a way that shatters what you truly are, breaking and eventually rotting every corner in your mind. But he was no kid in the streets no more, he could finally begin living and not just survive.

“He wanted to kill me,” John replied in a quick low whisper.

Arthur raised a brow. “Dutch was shootin’ his mouth off and by now Hosea and Susan must have given ‘im a black eye for that.” He tried to sound reassuring.

“Let go!” John fought with all his strengths to free himself; Arthur tightened his grip.

“Listen to me, kid. You got nothing to run from; here you got a bed, food and people who want ya’—”

“Dead…” John interrupted.

“Let me finish! Goddamit—as I was saying. None of ‘em want ya’ to be a goner.”

“How can I trust you? They all said I was an idiot, useless. They all hate me and they’ll kill me. It’s better if I’m gone.”

“We’re family.” Arthur meant it. He had found a part of himself in the little black-haired boy that wanted to keep running; running to never look back, from all the things he didn’t deserve.

“We ain’t.”

“Listen to me you little piece of…! You became part of us the very moment Dutch cut that rope on your neck and brought you into the camp.”

“Still; that doesn’t mean I can trust you guys. You’re outlaws.”

John wasn’t buying a single bit of what Arthur was saying. Shit. At this rate he was gonna run off by himself and God knows what would happen to him.

“They took me in when I was your age.” John’s eyes widened in curiosity; “I… well, my momma died when I was real young and my daddy… let’s say I wish he did too. They taught me how to read and Hosea taught me how to draw.”

Despite of the nervousness inside him, Arthur took the journal out of his satchel and gave it to John without letting go of one of his wrists. He eagerly flipped through the pages and stopped to look at some of the drawings it contained; some of the graphite stuck into his fingers, but it didn’t stop him from eyeing with detail each illustration.

“Why didn’t ya’ read? Back then, when Dutch and Hosea asked you to.”

There was a long pregnant pause. “I did—read it, I mean. I, uh, wasn’t sure to er, say it out loud.”

“Really?” Arthur smiled from ear to ear. “See? You’re smart, John! Ya’ ain’t that bad, there’s potential.”

John blushed at Arthur’s praise and kept looking at the drawings until he reached the last one, that page that had remained blank for the whole day.

“They are family to me. Family is everything; I’d die for it.” His voice didn’t shake even once.

John closed the journal and gave Arthur a gaze full of admiration that Arthur wasn’t worthy of. He could be one nasty son-of-a-bitch, rash to anger and emotions; unfamiliar to giving inspirational speeches like Dutch would do or smooth-talking like Hosea the Conman.

“And I will…” he stuttered, “I, uh…”

“You what.”

“I won’t let them kill ya’; just in case.”

A mischievous grin appeared in John’s face. “That won’t stop me tho.”

Arthur had let his guard down. John escaped from his grip and started to run the fastest he could. Where the hell was he going to and, most importantly, where the heck had he gotten all that damn energy from?

“Cuz’ I’ll kill ya’ myself, you little piece of shit!”

“Thank you, brother” John screamed in the distance.

“You ain’t got the right to be my brother!” Yet, he wanted to say but kept it to himself.

That day, when Arthur was twenty-four, his family grew by one member. Even if mocked him every now and then and behaved like assholes, it was the most important thing to Arthur. It was everything he had—not like money or gold; those two could go straight to hell unless Dutch and Hosea gave the word.

[andieperrie18]

BLACK SEA (p. lahote)

SO THIS IS MY ATTEMPT ON WRITING THE PROMPT I POSTED A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO. THIS IS JUST AN ATTEMPT.

Freya had been with the Cullens for quite and they were the only who ones who know of her real nature. After escaping the terror of Ragnarok by some miracle, she is sent to Midgard or also known as Earth in human tongue.

inspired by Natasha Blume's Black Sea

Paul Lahote x Oc

Malina Weissman as Freya Cullen

She is taken under by Carlisle and Esme as their first child. The couple had nothing but kind parental figures that Freya’s real parents can’t be and not wanting to destroy the bond between these two immortal beings, she revealed herself as the Nordic Hound, Fenris. She Who Dwells in the Marshes.

Freya told them how she only wanted to be accepted and love. She told them that she had thought the gods loved her for they took care of her for all her childhood but because of their fear of her overpowering them, they bounded her down and stuck a sword to her mouth, forever leaving her grieving and hurting as the days of Ragnarok came. The day she vowed to swallow the bastard god Odin. But upon the arrival of the said day, she wasn’t prepared for the consequences of her world’s end. She was left alone. With no one else to care for her.

The Cullens, whom were thoroughly captured by her melancholic life decided to take her in as their own and will forever call her as their own no matter what kind of being she was. They vowed that they will take her secret to the grave. And in them she found what her heart desired for eons.

Their family grew bigger and bigger as witnesses of her primordial existence grew but only within her family. Unlike the shape shifter, she didn’t reek any kind of dog mutt smell that any vampire’s strong sense of smell can breathe. Her scent is composed of fresh bloomed roses and pine. She lived among the most dangerous predator as another monster.

For thousands of years she and Cullens roamed, living country after country, life after life. They didn’t need to worry of feeling of belongingness as Freya gave her whole heart to them and loved them enough to allow themselves to never linger in the darkness of their damnation by feeding on blood. Her appearance may trick any person that she is the youngest of the Cullens but she is actually the eldest of all the foster siblings. She adapts to each of them in their first years of vampirism. Making sure to keep them bay and providing them the emotional help that they need. She had adapted her human form to almost match their skin tone that she would almost look like a vampire herself but when their eyes glowed in crimson, hers glowed in green as it mirrored her abilities in her other form.

In human, they are dull green but sparked the light in the family but when in tap with her lycanthrope, they are a yellow green that always glared at murderous intent. No one but her family can tame her monstrosity.

Her life with them is simple and quiet but that was until they transferred to small town called Forks. Where they encounter a Quileute tribe forming a treaty with them and showing them Freya’s true nature to show that they can live in piece with them. For years, from that they on she never showed her true form as she believes that this wolf nature of hers can only be called upon to only serious occasion like the Volturi, just in case as Freya didn’t like them at all. But she did manage to cloak her true self from their judging and immoral eyes. She knew that if they found out about her origin, it could mean danger for both humans and creatures.

And then came Bella Swan. Which brings us to this day.

- Midgard, Forks -

Newborns were threatening the lives in Forks and Bella’s that caused two mystical creatures to be gathered in the middle of a clearing. Freya had hung herself dangling from a thick branch with her legs out of boredom. Today was the day where she and family would meet the wolf pack to train under Jasper.

This would probably her first time encountering a pack as she had been a lone wolf all her life well before she met Cullens. They were her pack. Her home. And she will not stop at nothing to keep the safe. Bella included.

“Hey sweetie, can you come down for a bit?” Esme called to her. Freya looked down to meet her mother’s face before catapulting off the branch and landing smoothly in a crouch position.

Esme smiled a bit, ‘old habits die hard I guess’ she thought as her daughter stood straight. The girl may have been raised by them for a long while and tried to teach her human etiquettes as much as possible but they cannot change the fact that Freya is still a wolf and her k9 idiosyncrasies will always been intact as habit. But they all still love her anyway.

“What is it mom?” Esme caressed her head, “This is your first time meeting wolf pack. Any last minute comments?” her daughter retorted as they walked side by side towards where her other siblings were.

“Well I am curious since I’ve been a lone wolf for quite a while. Besides, I know I can handle them. I’m the Alpha of Alphas.” Freya grinned, “Yep, and I know big sis can show those whose the real boss.”

The green-eyed girl phased her head to meet her buff younger brothers and blonde sister. Smiling at them, she transferred herself from her mother’s embrace to the buff male. “Please don’t get to rowdy Em. You’re ass might end up on the floor of you keep being sassy.” With an eye-roll he replied with his wife sighing-ly smiled at her husband, “Yes sister, you know still don’t get why we let you be our elder sister when you are distinctively in a body of a sixteen year old. If you ever had a boyfriend, people might sue him for pedophilia.” Freya’s mouth shot open as her face contorted into disbelief as she was clearly offended. Rosalie and Esme stared at each other, eyes wide and awkward echoing the same thought in their minds.

‘Oohh he’s gonna get it.’

Carlisle and Edward stood in good approximate from where Sam Uley’s pack gathered. He was just in the middle of explaining about the difference of the New Borns when…

“*BLAGHH*”

Emmette’s figure flew above them and hitting a tree before falling to the ground. Everyone’s attention turned to his groaning figure trying to stand and then came a, “YOU LITTLE SHIT! I’LL PUT GARLIC OIL IN YOUR CESAR SALAD FOR A WEEK!!” from the clearing came an angry Freya, stomping her way to where Emmette stood.

Esme and Rosalie had arrived, the former being the making way beside her husband to report the sudden commotion while the latter stood from a few steps, trying to keep herself from bursting out laughing and feeling a tinge of guilt for laughing at her soulmate.

“Emmette called her little indirectly.” As much as Carlisle wanted to laugh, he held himself as he was in the middle of a serious meeting.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Come on Freya! I was just kidding! I’m sorry!” Not yet noticing her crowd, Freya grabbed his neck and had him on his feet. Her seemingly fragile and petite figure dragged him away from where landed.

Jacob had never seen this girl around the Cullens. Sam and his packed eyed in disbelief with this scene. But one thing came to their attention. Her scent, it didn’t match the Cullens not one bit.

“That’s the three hundred and twelveth time you called me out! I am older than you Emmette now you better respect me or I’ll ground you from watching any baseball game and dad won’t be able to—” “Um, Freya sweetheart.”

Her father’s smooth voice called her, breaking her plundering anger. She turned to meet his face to see him and her mother giving her an awkward smile, ‘you can kill him later sweetie.’ Their face said.

Like Rosalie. Alice, Jasper and Edward tried to hold themselves back from laughing as they were in really serious meeting. Bella was confused but had a ridiculous smile secretly etched on her lips with the way the eldest held the muscled man by the neck.

Freya turned to a swift to the pack of wolves across her. Staring at her.

“Oh..uh.. s-sorry. I’ll-I I’ll just go back here. Please continue.” Clearly embarassed she continued to scolded Emmette this time about confounding in the middle of a war meeting.

“Alright, returning back to topic. Our kind is never more physically powerful than in our first several months in this life.” Carlisle continued before turning to Jasper to continue.

The blonde male proceed his lecture about the Newborns. This time noticing Freya clearly attentive at this time of need. Not that he hadn’t told about her about the natures of Newborns before but because she knew when to take tings seriously. That’s was why she can substitute herself as head in their family, similar to an Alpha as Carlisle had entrusted her with keeping all of them safe since she is a force a lot stronger to be reckon with. The sparring began. All came in pairs showing their four-legged temporary allies how Newborns. Then came her turn.

Turning to Emmette, to Jasper and Edward. Indicating a quick nod.

“One more note, I believe this would be rather useful to all of you since you are a pack and share a connection with each other.” She trailed as they eyed her yet her eyes remained to the black wolf as if trying to emphasize something.

“Never.” Emmette appeared behind him and locked her in a headlock with no sense of holding back, “Ever. Try.” Edward and Jasper neared her immobilized figure, “To Be Alone. In a Swarm.”

Her eyes flashed the poison green glow. Making every fur in their bodies stand as if they were slashed by a blade like a samurai right before their eyes.

Her feet lifted from the ground as her momentum in a cartwheel bringing Emmette on her life causing him break his choke hold and for her hook her own arm around his neck to a choke hold and slamming him down to the dirt ground.

“Not unless your like me.” She smirked before turning with both her arms extended as she ran towards Jasper and Edward and grabbing their necks and swiftly slamming them down to the ground as well before they could even fight back.

“Remember this little Alpha.”

Recomposing herself, she turned back to Sam and began to eye all of the wolves. Making sure to meet her glowing green eyes. Staring up at her. Even the Alpha himself gazed upon her as if she was the highest being that ever existed. It was as if she was his leader, his sovereign and ruler.

“A lone wolf may die but a pack always survives.”

To the Cullens, it may sound like a reminder but to the wolves, it was more of warning especially to Sam.

It was almost like an instinct as after her warning, all of their heads lowered and whimpers dripped from their snouts. In their minds, it was if they were beneath the gaze of the beast with the fear that if they meet her glowing poisonous green orbs, it could be interpret as disrespect and cause them their damnation.

Peering to each tamed heads one by one, Freya stared down at them as she didn’t speak of the warning as a type of threat but as an advice if they want to last a night. She could sense their hatred and egotism towards their mortal enemies.

But a sound of growling caught her attention. Sam took notice of this as well and it take long before found out that its source is the grey wolf beside him.

‘Paul stop!!’

‘Paul Calm down!!!’

But the male didn’t budge. This bloodsucker had no right to order. She wasn’t his alpha and he doesn’t take orders from a girl.

Her feet crunch the forest floor with every step until it reached Paul’s lowered vision. It was moments like this that Freya liked her primordial hierarchy among the children of the moon. Her love on putting people to place gives her sense of satisfaction.

“Gaze upon me mortal creature.” Her hand hovered under his snout and my a unknown force, his head was lifted to meet her piercing eyes. But what came next was the last thing Paul Lahote would ever expect with a goddess.

[tibbinswrites]

Suptober Day 23 - No Exit

Warning for Major Character Death in this one.

Dean pulled out his phone, grimacing as the movement sent a fresh wave of warm blood gushing from the wound in his stomach. He had to use both hands to hold it, which meant no one was keeping pressure on the wound, which sucked. He had to try several times to unlock the thing, his fingers were sticky and the touch wasn’t really registering. What the hell had been so wrong with buttons that phone companies decided to do away with them altogether? Maybe Bobby had had a point in his aversion to computers, or maybe Dean he had just gotten old enough to be falling behind. At least he had signal in here. He tapped on the name and it began to ring. Dean winced as he reapplied pressure to his stomach with one hand, not that it would do much,

“Hello Dean,” The voice was as warm and gritty as wet sand and Dean instantly relaxed, slumping back against the wall, though that wasn’t the voice he’d been expecting to hear.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He’s meeting with that paranoid office worker, he said he had some information on the thing’s location but made Sam promise to leave his phone behind.”

“Oh yeah, ’cause that’s not concerning.” He tried to push back the crushing disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to hear his baby brother’s voice one more time. He still had Cas.

“Sam said you’d say that,” Cas said, the hint of a smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, we checked him out beforehand, went through his whole life story in paperwork, he is who he says and ‘he’s not the droid we’re looking for’.”

Dean laughed, okay, it was half a laugh, half an extended, pained cough. It was a horrible, hacking sound, not one that could be passed off as anything other than concerning. “Man, I’m so glad I made you watch Star Wars.”

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, voice instantly hardened, serious, “are you alright?”

“Uhh...” He considered lying, he did. He already missed the warmth of happy, calm Cas. Then he shifted and coughed again and knew that Cas would never forgive him if he lied now. “No, buddy.”

“Where are you?” Cas was all business now, and he could hear the light static of air passing through the speaker as the phone moved, keys jingled in the background, the sound of a door.

“Cas-” it was too late, he wanted to say, Cas wouldn’t get here in time. Dean was lying in a pool of what he judged to be about five pints of his own blood. He was woozy and feverish, steadily dripping out more, and to top it all off, he was in a solid stone room so even if Cas made it before Dean croaked, getting in would take more time than he had.

“Where!” Cas shouted.

“The… the theme park outside of town. The maze room. Thing was a freaking minotaur, you believe that? Not heard of them outside of Greece before.”

“Was,” Cas repeated the sound of a car engine rumbling through the phone, “You killed it?”

“I think you could say we killed each other at the same time,” Dean said, glancing over to where the misshapen lump of the minotaur lay. “I just… haven’t gotten around to dying yet.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’m on my way, you’re gonna be fine.”

“I’m bleeding out, Cas. If I go quiet don’t think I’m ignorin’ ya, alright?”

He could feel it, the sleepiness that came with blood loss, the way his head kept dipping. It wasn’t too bad yet, he’d had practise at this after all, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. The minotaur had gored him, and then it had thrown him backwards just as Dean had managed to get the wire around the thing’s neck, unknowingly killing itself when it threw Dean away, the wire slicing through spine and muscle and tendons half a second before Dean hit the wall.

“Hold on,” Cas ordered, voice desperate. Dean would bet Baby that the gas pedal was on the floor. Even so, the theme park was a quarter of an hour away. “Hold on just a little longer. Please, Dean.”

“I’m glad you picked up,” Dean confessed. “I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone.”

“I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly. “You’re always here when it counts.”

There was a small sniff from the other end of the line, or at least that’s what Dean thought, but blood loss and pain could do all sorts of funky things. He pressed a little harder to the wound and hissed as it shot lightning through all his pain receptors.

“What the hell made you go after this thing alone?” Cas demanded, “You couldn’t have called me?”

“Save the lecture till after I’m dead, Cas.” He said, trying to sound jokey, but it rang hollow.

“Don’t-”

“Thing jumped me anyway. Knocked me out. I woke up in the middle of the maze. Only know that’s where it is ’cause we were in here, what, two days ago?”

When the three of them had first rolled into town the first thing Dean had seen was the theme park, and seeing as they would’ve had to wait until the next day to get started on the case anyway they decided to go. It had been a great day. Dean dragged Cas to the bumper cars and laughed his ass off as the guy drove around the track like a jittery grandmother.

But as it turned out, Cas loved roller-coasters.

In the maze they’d split up. Sam had followed a thread of interesting murals while Dean and Cas went searching for the centre; Sam text them while they were getting lost to let them know he’d already found the middle and the exit and that he was going to go get them candy apples while he waited. They found it eventually, a cool and dimly lit stone room with a bell suspended on wire in the middle to ring to prove you’d made it. Apparently there was also a huge stone slab that could be (and was currently being) used as a door, rolled into position and fixed in place by some mechanism that he couldn’t see and didn’t care to investigate. In fact, it was that very door that he was now bleeding out on. He had to hand it to the minotaur, this was the ideal spot for squirrelling away victims after hours, as long as those victims weren’t viciously well-trained and resourceful, of course, but that was no fault of the location.

“Dean?”

Dean shook himself, he’d been dangerously close to drifting off into his own head for a second there, “Yeah, sorry.”

“Keep talking to me,” Cas instructed, “I’m almost there.”

“Cas, you’re not gonna-” Dean began.

“Shut up!”

“Keep talking, shut up, I’m getting mixed signals here, buddy.” Dean said, his words ending in a wheeze, apparently he needed to stick to shorter sentences if he still wanted to breathe.

“Oh please, you invented mixed signals.” Cas retorted, clearly just grasping on to the thread of conversation to keep Dean talking, he couldn’t blame him, were the situations reversed he knew he’d do the same. He heard the crunch of gravel and figured that Cas had hit the theme park parking lot.

“And what’s that s’pposed to mean?” He heard his voice beginning to slur and he fought it as best he could. He was shocky, had been since about the third pint of blood ventured out into the wide world, shock he was an old hand at but now he was approaching pint six and his vision was dipping.

“We are not having this conversation now.” Cas said fiercely, and he was running, Dean wasn’t sure he’d even switched off the car engine but he could hear the rhythmic pound of footsteps, the slight hitch in Cas’ breathing, more at the force of his feet hitting ground rather than any bodily strain, damn angels. “You said the middle of the maze?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, feeling himself start to slip, the darkness was so inviting, it hurt where he was, sat on the cold stone, his own blood soaking into his socks. “S’okay, Cas.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, you hear me?!” Cas yelled into the phone, panicked now, his voice remarkably stable for someone sprinting full speed, Dean loved his voice, he loved how it could be soft and badass at the same time, he loved the way it formed itself around words and made them become emotion by association. “I’m almost there.”

“Mmm.”

“Dean!”

“You say my name weird.” Dean said, mostly to stop Cas from yelling at him.

“I do?”

“Yeah, like it means somethin’, not just a name, you know? But me.”

“You do mean something,” Cas insisted. “You mean a lot, you mean everything.”

“Dramatic bastard.”

Cas let out a sound then, half a sob, half relief, and then there was a bang on the solid block of stone behind him, vibrating it, making his skull ring like that damned bell.

“Ow,” he complained.

“Dean!” Cas called, his voice tinny through the phone and muffled through the door. “Can you hear me?”

Dean allowed the phone to slip from his fingers and into the pool of blood with a sick plop.

“Yeah, Cas. I hear ya.”

“How do I open the door?”

“Dunno, buddy. The thing had keys, maybe that.”

“Can you slide them under the door?”

“Can’t reach ’em.”

“Try!”

So Dean half-heartedly lifted a heavy arm before letting it drop, “Ain’t happening.”

“Not even to save yourself?” He sounded angry, good, angry was better than upset, he deserved angry.

“Cas, I don’t think I could move to save Sam right now,” he confessed.

There was a pause then, a brief one, and if he wasn’t mistaken a sob burbled up from the blood-soaked phone that didn’t make it through the door.

“Okay,” Cas said, that glorious voice remarkably gentle now, “Okay, then I’ll find another way in.”

Another pause, and then the whole room trembled, dust floated down from the ceiling and Dean grimaced at the pain even that slight movement caused. That tremble came again, and again, and a fourth time.

“Are you trying to punch your way through?” Dean asked, half-incredulous, half-impressed. He’d also probably be a little turned on if he had any blood to spare.

“Yes.”

“Well stop it, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Dean-”

“Dammit, Cas! Just talk to me.”

If Cas heard the note of fear in his voice, he was kind enough not to mention it, though it wasn’t the dying that frightened Dean, he’d been down that road more times than he could count, no, he just… he didn’t want to spend his last minutes in a stone box listening to Cas lose his freaking mind.

“I can save you.”

“No, you can’t.” Dean said quietly.

It was definitely a sob this time, one last, tiny thump, and the sound of Cas falling to the ground, either on his knees or on his ass Dean couldn’t be sure.

“It’s okay, Cas. You’ll be okay.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Cas said. “I’ve lost you before, I know that I won’t.”

“Yeah, well… You’ve still got Sam, and he’s gonna need you too.”

“Sam… what… what am I gonna tell him?”

“You’ll tell him that you stayed with me. You’ll tell him I told him to cut his damn hair.”

Cas laughed wetly. “He won’t.”

Dean smiled, despite himself, “Yeah, I know.”

There was a brief silence while Dean struggled to stay conscious just a little longer. He wished he could see Cas, touch him, watch his eyes turn soft and focused, looking at him like he was something beautiful and brilliant and loved.

“Never thought it would be like this,” he said after a minute, because he knew Cas was about to call his name again, shaky, and not expecting a reply.

“You never factored in ‘minotaur’?”

“Funny, right? I’ve got a long list of ways I thought I’d get taken out, but never once thought of a minotaur.”

“Sounds like bad planning on your part.” Cas replied, with forced calm.

“Right?”

Another few seconds passed, then, because Dean just couldn’t stand it anymore, “I love you.”

He heard the gasp, heard the gulp and the choke, hated himself for it, because Cas would have to live with this moment forever. Dean would be dead with the words no longer stoppering his lungs but Cas would have to carry them around with him for the rest of his life, or at least until he learned how to set them down and leave them behind. Dean didn’t like to think about either option.

“Sorry,” he continued, “I know, Winchesters don’t do deathbed confessions.”

“So, why-?”

“Because you deserve to hear it. Because I fuckin’ love you and I can be such an asshole sometimes and I’m not sure you know.”

“I know,” Cas said thickly. “I was waiting for you to say it, to be ready.”

“I’ve got the worst timing.”

“Yes, you do.”

Dean practically heard the teary smile, even as the room faded to blackness, he was still conscious, just, could still hear, but keeping his eyes open was just… too much.

“I love you too.” Cas said, “bad timing and all.”

“Good, or that would’ve been awkward.”

“Any other deathbed confessions while we’re here?”

��Just one, but if you tell Sam, I’m gonna haunt your ass.”

“What?” Cas’ voice was like a breath of clean air after a storm, air that he could barely get into his lungs now.

“I’m scared.” The words came out in a puff of air, barely audible now, “How dumb is that? I don’t want Heaven, Cas, I just wanna go home.”

“I know.” Cas said quietly. “You’re the one person who won’t be content with paradise.”

“Mem’ries ’rn’t the same.” He mumbled, his tongue thick and unwieldy in his mouth.

“But we had some good ones, didn’t we?” Cas murmured through the door. “Like the time I first made you laugh in that brothel? And when we...”

Cas’ voice faded out, a soothing rhythm of pleasant memories and feelings.

Maybe he hadn’t had minotaur on his list, but this wasn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.

@winchester-reload

If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee.

[nazariolahela]

Best Beloved: Chapter 5

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a PM AU I’ve been working on. It’s a bit different than my previous fic series and I’m really excited to try something new. I hope y’all enjoy it. This story is told in dual first-person narrative, from Kaia (F!MC) and Damien’s POV. The first half of this story takes place during Kaia’s freshman year and Damien’s senior year of college. The second half is two years after Kaia graduates. There will be sprinklings of canon in this fic, but we’ll try to step out of the box for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @lady-calypso @irishwhiskys-blog @loveellamae​

Synopsis: What happens when you find yourself crushing on your best friend? For years, Damien and Kaia have been friends, while secretly harboring feelings for one another. Everything changes one night after a little too much alcohol and years of pent up feelings. Can they control their emotions and salvage their friendship, or will the feelings they hold for one another destroy everything they have?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Damien and Kaia meet for a study group, but the assignment isn’t the only thing they’re struggling with.

Kaia

“You’re late,” I said, my feet propped up on the table, as Damien shuffled across the library to where I was sitting. It was our weekly study session and we were supposed to start 20 minutes ago, but I was the only one in our group who had grasped the concept of time management.

“Yeah, sorry. This internship is kicking my ass. I had to stay late because we were setting up some new security clearance protocols. Don’t tell anyone though. That information is classified,” he replied as he slid the backpack off his shoulder. He took a seat at the table and shot me a panty-dropping grin. My body instantly reacted. Bastard. How did he keep doing that?

“Yeah, well Brad and Allison aren’t here yet either, so I guess I can’t be too mad at you.”

“You couldn’t be mad at me if you wanted to. You love me.”

I paused. Did he really just say that?  He always knew how to push my buttons. Even when we were kids. It’s like he lived to get a reaction out of me. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Anyway. We need to get the rest of this project done. It’s due on Monday. Did you finish your part?” 

“Of course I did. What do you take me for?” he grinned, pulling his laptop from his backpack. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he set it on the table and opened it up, powering up the device. “I’m emailing it to you right now so you can add it to the final document.”

I had the unfortunate task of presenting the project to the class, so everyone sent their parts to me. It was my job to outline the project, then organize each part into our PowerPoint.  

“Not gonna lie, this is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon. I have a very pissed off girlfriend right now,” he said.

I hid my smirk behind my laptop. I know, I know. It wasn’t very nice of me, but I got a little thrill hearing that Damien and Alana were having problems. It wasn’t that I wanted my friend to be miserable, but if he suddenly became single, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I had nothing against Alana personally, but the few times we interacted, she was very cold towards me.

“Hmm...that sucks. So, I have Allison’s part. She emailed it to me last night, but I’m still waiting on Brad’s part. I put your part on slides 5 and 6 to transition from Allison’s slide, then we’ll put Brad’s part on slides 9 and 10 after my part. Then, we should be good to go.” I checked the time on my phone. Brad and Allison were over half an hour late. I sent both of them a text asking when they planned on showing up, then went back to laying out the presentation.

Damien and I worked in silence for several minutes. Occasionally, I would look up from my computer and sneak peeks of him. I couldn’t help but stare at his features. Even after all these years, my attraction for him never waned. He looked up and caught me staring; his lips turned up in a wide grin.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Um...uh...nope. Y-you’re all good!” I replied a little too enthusiastically.

“Then why are you staring at me like that?” he smirked.

I felt my cheeks turn beet red. I quickly looked away and tried to focus on what I was working on, but I could still feel his eyes on me. My phone pinged, breaking the silence — and thank the gods — the tension. I grabbed it and saw a message from Allison. She mentioned that she wasn’t feeling well and would not be able to make our study group tonight, but that she would see us next week. There was still no word from Brad, which I was not surprised by.

I rolled my eyes and placed my phone on the table. “Well, Allison’s not coming. I don’t know about Brad, but I’m guessing if he was going to show up, he’d be here by now.”

Damien shrugged. “No biggie. That kid is a major tool anyway. Not having him here is a blessing.”

I giggled. “True, but we can’t finish without his contribution, so we’re stuck with him until we turn this stupid ass project in.”

“Yippie,” he said in a monotone voice. I rolled my eyes and went back to finishing up our presentation.

We worked for about ten more minutes until my eyes started to blur from staring at the screen. “Well, I guess this is a good stopping point for now. Until we get Brad’s part, this is as far as we can work,”

I stuffed my things in my backpack and slung it over my shoulder when Damien stopped me.

“Hey, you busy right now? Wanna go get a bite to eat?”

I cocked my head in confusion. Was he really asking me to hang out? I had offered to meet him for lunch or coffee outside of our study group several times, but he always had plans with Alana. “Uh…I guess. If that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously it is because I just asked you,” he smirked.

“Yeah, sure. You wanna go now?”

“Nah, I was thinking sometime next month. Of course, I want to go now. When else would we go?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I looked down at the yoga pants and hoodie I was wearing. “Well, I was hoping to shower and change before I go out in public.”

“You look fine. No one’s going to give a shit what you’re wearing. Besides, you’re technically already out in public, so it’s a little late for that,” he laughed.

I huffed. “Fine. Where are we going?” 

“There’s a little bistro off-campus that has really good burgers.” He slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his body. The feeling of him pressed up against me sent chills down my spine. I shuddered as he grabbed my backpack and handed it to me, then led me out of the library.  

When we reached his car in the campus parking lot, he unlocked the doors and tossed his backpack in the back seat. I stopped in my tracks. He still had the same car from high school. All the memories of us riding around in this thing on Friday nights came flooding back. He moved to the driver’s side door, stopping to wait for me. “Are you going to get in the car, or are you just going to stand there all day staring into space?” He extended his arm and tapped his index finger to his wrist. “Time’s a-wastin', Park.”

Snap out of it, Kaia. It’s just Damien. But it wasn’t ‘just Damien.’ It was the boy I had been in love with for as long as I could remember. I moved slowly to the car and opened the passenger’s side door, sliding in. He smirked and started the ignition. We drove in silence, the only sounds coming from the radio. A song from our childhood started playing and we looked at each other with goofy grins on our faces.

“Remember the first time we heard this song? You wouldn’t stop singing it for weeks,” he said with a laugh.

“What? It’s a good song,” I replied, singing along and dancing in my seat.

I smiled at the memory that song brought back. It was the summer of 2009. Damien and I were in his backyard, hanging out in the treehouse he and his dad built a few summers before. Two of his younger sisters, Isabela and Carina, were having a sleepover, so he was hiding out. His sister Carina was my age and we were in a couple of classes together, so I was friendly with her, but I spent more time with Damien. The sun had finally set over the horizon so we decided to start up a fire in the fire pit and make S’mores. We climbed down the ladder and he pulled a lighter from his pocket.

“Why do you have that?” I gasped.

His eyes met mine and a smirk spread across his face. “I was smoking a J behind the school gym this morning, so I needed it.” He stared at me for a few seconds, watching my reaction, then burst out laughing. “I found it in the junk drawer in the kitchen, you dork. You know I don’t smoke.”

I leaned over and smacked his arm. “Not funny, Dames.”

“I disagree. I thought it was hilarious.”

“Whatever. Just light the stupid fire. I’ll run inside and grab the stuff to make S’mores.”

“Watch out for the slumber party,” he called back as I walked into the house. I made it to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets, looking for the ingredients we needed. I found the graham crackers and chocolate bars but had no luck locating the marshmallows. I was about to go back outside and asked Damien when I turned and bumped into Isabela.

“Hey, Kaia. Whatcha doing?” she asked, holding several bags of chips in her arms.

“Dames and I are making S’mores. Where are your marshmallows?”

She set the bags of chips down and rummaged around the pantry before locating and tossing me the bag. “So, what’s going on with you and my brother?”

My cheeks instantly flushed. “Wh-what do you mean?”

She smirked. “You know what I mean. You two spend an awful lot of time together. Are you two a thing?”

“No. It’s not like that. We’re just friends,” I lied. Her cocked eyebrow said she didn’t buy my bullshit, but she nodded her head. I grabbed the bag of marshmallows from her hand and hightailed it back outside. "I Gotta Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas blasted through the portable speakers in the yard. I approached Damien sitting in front of the firepit, poking one of the logs with a stick. He was shirtless and the moonlight bounced off the muscles of his toned back. The sight made my mouth water. That was the first time I realized I was in love with him.

I was thrust back into the present by the sound of Damien killing the engine. I looked up and noticed we had arrived at the bistro. We exited the car and made our way inside, snagging a table toward the back of the restaurant. The waitress dropped off the menus and took our drink orders, before leaving us to decide what to eat. I pretended to peruse the menu, but my mind was on the guy sitting in the booth across from me.

“Order whatever you want. My treat,” he said.

“Huh?”

I looked up and he was watching me. He nodded toward the menu in my hand. “Don’t worry about paying. I’ve got it this time.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know,” he said softly, riling up the butterflies in my stomach. Our waitress returned a few minutes later and took our orders. Damien ordered the Maple Bacon Burger while I ordered the Mac ‘N Cheese Burger. The waitress left to put our orders in, leaving us alone again.

“So, now that we’re a month into the school year, how are your classes going?” he asked.

I shrugged, swirling my straw in my glass. “Classes are going well. I’m not ready to drop any of them, so that’s a plus. Dorm life is pretty fun, too. I got really lucky with my roomie. Her schedule is different from mine, so we don’t see much of each other, but one night a week, we hang out.” I tapped my finger against my chin. “It’s crazy to think that we’re already a quarter of the way through the semester, so that means I’m 1/32nd of the way through my college career.”

He laughed. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. What else is going on? Any interesting guys catch your attention lately?”

My eyes shot up to meet his. Why was he asking me that? I went back to staring at my drink. “Uh...not really. There is this guy in my algebra class who asked me out, but I turned him down.” I peeked at him from under my lashes, unable to make out his expression.

***

Damien

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, I wanted her to find someone who would make her happy if I couldn’t. On the other hand, knowing that she wasn’t involved with anyone gave me a tiny sliver of hope. I know she wouldn’t wait for me forever, but I still liked that there wasn’t another guy capturing her attention. Jesus, I was such an asshole.

“So, what happened?” the words left my mouth before I could stop them.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s super nice and really cute, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say yes. Which is weird, because there’s definitely an attraction between us. My whole goal for this semester was to step out of my comfort zone.”

She looked up at me, those big, beautiful brown eyes staring into my soul. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, everything about this girl did things to me. Her laugh was like the most beautiful music to my ears. Her sense of humor was aligned with mine. Even her looks were enough to make other girls jealous. When she complained earlier about how she was dressed, I internally rolled my eyes. Even when she didn’t try, she still looked mouth-watering. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a light pink hooded sweatshirt with the words “Rosé and Shine” written in gold cursive letters across the chest. Yes, I looked at her chest. If she busted me, I would’ve just said I was trying to read her shirt.

I awkwardly cleared my throat. “You should give him a chance. Who knows? He might turn out to be a great guy. We all know those are in short supply lately.” Gods, what was I doing? I knew it was the right thing to do, but saying those words hurt.

She nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe he is great and we’ll be really happy together. I just don’t know if I’m ready to start dating yet. I think… I just...I’m not over...” she trailed off.

“You’re not over what?”

“Nevermind,” she shook her head and took a long sip of her drink.

The wheels started turning. Was she talking about me? I know she dated in high school, but Nadia told me those relationships never lasted longer than a few months. She suspected I was the reason for that. Yeah, I know it sounded a tad creepy, but I was able to keep tabs on her, thanks to her cousin’s need to gossip.

One particular moment was that first Christmas after I left for college. I received a text from Nadia asking if I was coming home. She then asked that I keep my distance from Kaia. When I asked her “why,” she told me that she was still upset about what happened after graduation. 

But I didn’t care. I wanted to see my best friend. I dropped by her house to say hi to her parents. They always treated me like the son they never had. Her dad asked how college was going. I told them about my classes and the friends I had made so far. Her mom was filling me in about the neighborhood gossip when I caught a glimpse of Kaia hovering in the hallway. She looked like she wanted to talk to me, but I could tell she was embarrassed to see me.

We locked eyes briefly before she turned around and retreated to her bedroom. I waited a few moments then excused myself to use the bathroom. I stood outside her door, listening for any signs of movement, before lightly tapping on the door. I heard the springs of her mattress squeak under her weight, then the door swung open. She looked adorable in her red and white Reindeer pajama pants and white thermal top. My eyes briefly traveled down and I noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“So, you weren’t even going to come to say hi to me?” I asked.

She shifted on her feet. “I don’t know. I figured you didn’t want to talk to me after what happened last time.” I watched as her eyes traveled up and down my body. It took everything in me to keep from pushing her into her room and kissing her. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t. Not only were her parents in the other room, I knew the whole age difference was frowned upon. And what if we did get together and it didn’t work out? I’d lose my best friend forever.

“You’re my best friend, Kaia. No matter what happened in the past, that will never change,” I replied.

“Even when I get drunk and act like a lovesick idiot?” She played with the drawstring of her pants, avoiding my eyes.

I gripped her chin with my thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up towards mine. “There’s nothing you could do that would ever make me want to stop being your best friend. And hey, I don’t hold what happened back then against you. Sometimes we do dumb things when we’re drunk.”

Her face dropped and it told me I had said the wrong thing. I brought my hand up and cupped her cheek and she leaned into my touch. The moment was interrupted when her mom called from the kitchen to ask me if I wanted some hot cocoa. I dropped my hand and gave her a weak smile, then backed away slowly as I made my way down the hall back to the living room. I looked over at my shoulder to see her still standing in her bedroom doorway, watching me go.

I was pulled back into the present when the waitress arrived at our table and delivered our food. The two of us ate in awkward silence, occasionally looking up at each other. After our plates were cleared, the waitress reappeared and I ordered a slice of cherry pie for us to share. When the pie arrived, we each took a fork and dug in.

“So, tell me more about this mystery guy?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

She chewed for a few moments, hesitant to talk about it, then finally spoke. “Well, his name is Hayden. He’s a freshman and a photography major. He’s from Upstate New York and has a Border Collie named Dipper. He also has a twin brother named Harley, but I guess they don’t get along. Nadia loves him and she’s been bugging me to go out with him for the last few days.”

I didn’t know this kid from Adam, but I instantly didn’t like him. Was it jealousy? Probably. Was I going to do anything about it? Nope. “It’s obvious that you like him, so why not go out with him. You’re overthinking this, Kaia.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she sighed and took another bite of pie. At that moment, Alana’s friends Rowan and Cecile walked by. They waved, then stopped short when they noticed it wasn’t my girlfriend sitting in the booth across from me. Cecile gave me a skeptical glance while Rowan looked on in shock. 

“Hey, Damien. What are you up to?” He asked, looking between Kaia and me. 

“Hey, guys! Just capping off a little study session. This is Kaia. She’s an old friend.”

He nodded. “Cool, cool. You guys going to Homecoming next week? Cecile is a candidate for court, so we were going to have a little get-together after the crowning ceremony. You and Alana should come. It’s gonna be fun.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, man. I’ll talk to her about it this weekend.”

Cecile cocked an eyebrow as if to call me out on my bullshit, but didn’t say anything. She narrowed her eyes at Kaia, then turned back to me. “Well, we gotta go. Tell your girlfriend, Alana, hi for us.” She grabbed Rowan’s hand and they walked out. I sighed. I was sure I was going to get a phone call about that by the end of the night.

“Well, that was weird,” she said. “Speaking of, what’s going on with you and Alana?”

Shit, where do I start? “It’s complicated right now. We’re taking a break.”

Her eyes widened. “You guys broke up?”

“Eh...Not exactly. We’ve been fighting a lot, so we’re taking a few days to calm down and re-evaluate the relationship. It’s not how I would have handled things, but she thinks it will give us time to,” I held up my index and middle fingers, making air quotes, “figure things out. She thinks I’ve been neglecting her, which I kind of have been. But she also thinks I’m cheating on her.”

“Wow...I genuinely don’t know how to respond to that,” she replied.

“Yeah, me neither.”

Kaia nodded silently, setting her fork down on the plate. She rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands in front of her face. “Can I be honest with you? This whole relationship seems really unhealthy. There’s a huge lack of trust on both sides. That’s something a break isn’t going to fix. If she doesn’t trust you to be faithful, your relationship is doomed to fail. So, it’s up to you to figure out how you want to proceed. If you think the relationship is worth saving, you need to prove that you’re a reliable partner, and she needs to work through her insecurities. If not, you’re better off ending it now. Especially before you two decide to get engaged or something.”

“I kind of already proposed to her though,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Oh,” she replied. “Well, you should think about doing some sort of premarital counseling before you get married.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because she said no,” I deadpanned.

Kaia went quiet. I waited for her to say something else, but before she could speak, the waitress reappeared to drop our check off and ask if we needed anything else. Neither of us spoke as I paid the bill and we made our way out to the car. I debated asking her what she was thinking but decided against it. We rode in silence back to the dorms. When I pulled up in the parking lot, she grabbed the handle to exit the car, then stopped.

“For what it’s worth, Dames, I am sorry about you and Alana. I might not like her, but you’re my best friend. And if she makes you happy, then I’m happy for you. If you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate that. And hey, let me know how things go with Hayden.”

She frowned slightly, then quickly covered it up with a smile. “Will do. I’ll see you in class on Monday. Have a good weekend.” She got out of the car and took off running towards her dorm.

I dragged my hand down my face. Get it together, Dames. She was my best friend. And I had a girlfriend. I got out of the car and headed toward my dorm. When I reached my floor, I swung open the door to my room and was met by the cold stare of my girlfriend, sitting on my bed, her hands folded in her lap.

“Alana? What are you doing here?” I asked as I moved into the room. She rose from the bed and made her way towards me.

“Cecile texted me.”

Shit. I knew this was coming. “Babe, it’s not what you think.”

Her eyes gave away nothing as she took a deep breath. “It’s not important. What matters is you and me.”

Confused, I grabbed her hand and sat down on the bed. “You know I love you, babe. And I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend these last few weeks, but I want to make this work and I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

She nodded, but her face told me she didn’t believe me. I sighed and pressed a kiss to her temple. It was going to be a long night.

[deaky-disco-queen]

Joger Week - Day 3: Enemies to Lovers

A/N: I know Nothing About car racing except what’s left of waatching F1 with my dad About ten years ago so this is probably not accurate at all but I wanted to write it anyway. 

+++

Roger snarled in frustration, pulling off his helmet and threw it to the ground angrily, Crystal would yell at him for it later but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now as he stomped past his boxing crew, ripping off his gloves. 

He could see him. Just the next box over there was John Deacon, celebrating his win with his crew, all of them yelling and shouting and hugging him and Roger grinded his teeth hard enough he could already feel a headache coming. 

He hated John Deacon. He hated him so much. 

John had beaten him by the fraction of a second and Roger had never been so angry. He had won the past four races and a win today would have meant not only staying on top of the ranking but also extend his lead by a good amount. But John Deacon had ruined it and while he was still on top, John was right behind him and they only had a handful of more races this season. 

With his luck, it would probably end up like last season and it would be a really close call. Last year, Roger had come out on top but Deacon had updated his crew and something had changed as his team worked much more smoothly. It could get really tough this year and Roger was angry about it. 

    “Hey, you spoiled brat! Do you think we have enough back up helmets for your hissy fits? Take better care of your equipment!”

Crystal threw a water bottle at him but Roger managed to catch it and flipped him off before drinking half of the bottle in big gulps. His eyes were drawn back to John and their eyes met. 

He grinned- all smug and proud, that bastard- and Roger growled, turning away and chugging the rest of his water. The bottle was thrown into the trash with much more force than necessary. 

Crystal showed up again with Roger’s helmet under his arm and a towel in one hand. He pushed it into his face and ignored the blond’s yelp as he rubbed his face down. Roger kicked at him and Crystal backed off, laughing and Roger swatted at him half-heartedly. 

    “Clean up! The trophy ceremony starts in five minutes!” 

He scoffed but washed his face before making his way towards the podium. He was stopped several times by people who wanted to congratulate him and he put on his best fake smile because he was still so angry but he didn’t want to let out his bad mood at them. Especially the fans didn’t deserve that when they just asked for autographs or pictures.

Eventually, he made it to the podium where John and the third place, Tim Staffel, were waiting, talking animatedly with some other people Roger didn’t recognize. 

They were ushered up their respective places and got their trophies under loud cheers and Roger was almost blinded by the camera flashes. And then it was time for Roger’s favorite part: spraying champagne everywhere. 

It lifted his spirits momentarily as he was too busy getting getting the viewers and especially the big officials drenched. It was fun until he made his way back to the podium, thoroughly wet himself- thanks, Tim- where he was confronted by John. He was grinning, tooth gap visible and eyes crinkling and Roger’s smile froze. 

He didn’t look smug now. That was the worst part. He was all proud and smug around Roger but at the ceremonies and the interviews he was always so genuinely happy and it made it hard being mad at him. Because Roger knew how it felt like.

Something crossed over John’s face and Roger was about to make a comment about it but then he grabbed his face and brought his champagne bottle to Roger’s mouth. 

He had no idea what was happening but he could hear the people cheer and he just swallowed what John poured into his mouth, their eye contact never breaking.The whole thing lasted only a couple of seconds but it dumbfounded him enough that he stumbled backwards when John let go of him, his mouth full of champagne. 

After the podium ceremony, Roger was ushered away by Crystal to a more secluded area for a round of interviews. 

He managed to pull through them despite the fact that his head was still reeling and when Crystal showed up again to pull him aways, he was relieved. All he wanted was a shower and a nap. 

After leading him towards the changing room, Crystal said his goodbyes and left him alone. For a moment, Roger played with the thought of taking a shower here but he knew once he got under the warm water he wouldn’t want fall asleep pretty soon.

With a sigh, he finally got out of his racing suit, dropping it to the floor and reached for his dark jeans. He slipped into a soft green sweatshirt and attempted to tame his hair but it was pretty useless. 

He was just slipping into his boots when the door opened. He thought maybe it was someone from the crew who needed something or maybe an over enthusiastic reporter- it had happened before- but when he looked up, John Deacon was standing there. 

He had changed, too, and was wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a loose, white button-down instead of his yellow racing suit. Roger blinked. 

    “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Roger didn’t had the energy to have a fight with John right now but he could feel the irritation and anger underneath his exhaustion. 

    “You were good today.” 

John leaned against the wall, arms crossed with a small smile on his face. Roger scoffed and stuffed his jacket that was still in his locker in his bag and zipped it up a little bit harsher than he probably should have. 

“Thanks.” he sneered. “I try to be good at my job. It kind of got me here.” 

He couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy! What was wrong with him that he just showed up in Roger’s changing room to make even more fun of him? He threw his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his racing suit to place it where the crew could pick it up for cleaning. 

A warm hand on his arm stopped him and he yanked it free with a growl, swirling around angrily. 

    “What? Anything else? Want to make fun of me? I’m fucking tired, leave me alone, Deacon!” 

John looked taken aback at that and Roger waited for a second just to see if he would say anything else but he didn’t and he stormed off then, rushing to the cab that has been called for him. 

+++

Roger won the next two races. John won the race after that. Prenter won the fourth one and that was probably worse than losing against John. 

He slammed the the door of his locker shut, flinching at the loud crash. It didn’t even stayed shut, just bounced right back open and Roger pushed it close again. 

    “Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself otherwise.” 

Roger turned around and there was John again. He had left him alone after the little incident and Roger had been thankful for that even if it had weirded him out that John was doing nothing. Not even giving him one of his smirks when he caught Roger staring at him. He just did nothing. He acknowledged Roger but there was nothing of their usual rivalry. It had Roger on edge. 

    “What do you care?” he snapped. 

John frowned and shook his head. He looked sweaty, his hair clinging to his temples. Roger grabbed his water bottle and pushed past him, back into the garage just to stop dead a couple of steps into it. 

His crew wasn’t here. Usually, no matter how long Roger took to get changed, somebody was there for him to bid his farewell to, sometimes somebody still needed something from him but there was never nobody. He frowned as he had planned to use that to get rid of John. 

    “I don’t actually want to see you hurt, you know?” 

John appeared at his side again and Roger rolled his eyes at him. 

He felt himself getting irritated again. For weeks, he had left him alone. No jabs, no sneers, no smirks, no off-hand comments and now of all days, John decided to annoy him again. Roger didn’t understand him! He couldn’t wrap his head around anything John does! It wasn’t just his behaviour in the past weeks but the past years. 

Both of them had started their career early and Roger faintly remember watching John’s first race at a go-kart track when he was about sixteen. Roger himself wanted to participate but couldn’t due to a broken arm. After that, they kept running into each other at races but never really talked until both of them got into professional racing and then- somehow- it had spiraled into their rivalry. 

Roger wasn’t even sure who started it but the media ate it up and so nobody really discouraged it. 

    “Did you want anything?” Roger asked. “Because if not, I want to go back to my hotel room and take a nap.” 

    “You’re not even going to the party?” 

Roger barked out a laugh and carded a hand through his hair. He heard John chuckle. 

    “And listen to Prenter bragging and being a general dick to anyone?”

    “Isn’t he like that every day?” 

He snorted, then sighed. John was staring at him and Roger frowned, not knowing what he was supposed to do. This wasn’t what they normally did. John licked his lips, his head angled slightly to the side and it felt like he was sizing him up. Roger straightened up, squaring his shoulders which only served to make him chuckle. 

    “Do you want to work out some anger?” 

Roger blinked. John was still smiling. 

+++

John pushed him up against the wall and Roger groaned, the sound muffled by John’s mouth. He whined and pulled him closer, slipping a leg in between his and grinned when he moaned and rocked up against him. 

They grabbed, pushed and pulled at each other, stumbling through Roger’s hotel room towards the bed and losing their clothes in the progress. 

This really wasn’t how Roger had thought his day would be going like this, especially not with John Deacon of all people but when John nipped his way down his neck, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He moaned and tangled his hand in his hair. 

Their mouths found each other again, teeth clacking together and Roger swapped them around, effectively straddling John who let it happen with a grin and settled his hands on his hips. 

    “You’re gonna fuck me?” he panted and Roger nodded. 

It surprised him, if he was honest, because he had thought there would be a bit of fighting over who gets to top but John seemed more than happy to bottom, asking him where he had lube and condoms and getting them. 

Roger fingered him open thoroughly, fascinated by the way his face scrunched up in pleasure and the sounds he made. John was quiet in comparison to most of the people he had slept with but he realized he wasn’t bothered by it. 

    “Come on, Roger, get to it.” 

    “Getting impatient?” 

John wrapped his legs around his waist and pulled him close, causing him to almost lose his balance. Roger rolled his eyes at him but ripped open the condom and pulled it on. John sighed happily when he sank into him and pulled him into another kiss.

He was a great kisser, Roger had to admit. 

Once John gave him the okay to move, he set a hard and fast pace and John’s finger digged into the flesh of his shoulders in the best way. He leaned down again, muffling his moans against his lips. 

+++

John left after they were done and they didn’t talk about it. Roger didn’t get upset anymore when John appeared in his changing room. He started showing up in John’s changing room, too. 

[tournesolia]

Chaos Lineage Yuma Chapter 11 Translation

Place : Scarlet mansion – Garden

Yuma : Just as I thought, tilling the soil feels refreshing

Yui : Yes, it feels pleasant. You look lively as well, Yuma-kun

(There's a strained atmosphere in the mansion as usual, though. For how long will it be stormy...?)

(No, I shouldn't be down in the dumps. I have to clear my head as well)

(I'm thankful there's a vegetable garden. It's good to refresh your mind)

… Huh ? What's the matter ? You stopped moving ?

Yuma : Aah... nothing. I just think it's incredible

Yui : Eh ? What are you talking about ?

Yuma : Well, I worked in the vegetable garden even when my memories got all over the place. You saw it too, right ?

Yui : I-Indeed...

(He cultivated the soil besides preparing to fight everyone else)

(… This was so incredible when I imagine it)

Yuma : Did I tell you before that I lived without food a long time ago ? Not just me, Kou and Azusa as well

After master Karl Heinz saved our lives, Kou and Azusa said this

“What should we do if we get hungry again ?”. They were on the verge of tears

Yui : That sort of thing happened ?

Yuma : We don't need food 'cause we're vampires, but we got hungry for some reason

We may just feel like that 'cause part of us is still human

But at that time... I thought I couldn't do anything to keep my brothers from starving

Then I was taught by master Karl Heinz how to make something to eat

Yui : So that's how you started to build a vegetable garden ?

Yuma : Well, it was a like a hobby of mine until now but I began to build one to raise vegetables for my brothers

I didn't know if I was suited for it but I got used to my new body, as you see now

Yui : I see, that's amazing

Yuma : … It would be nice if Ruki eats vegetables coming from here as well

Yui : Yes... It would be nice. Even if it will take time

Yuma : Yeah, right... That's right

*footsteps approaching

Shu : Yuma

Yuma : Ah ? What do you want ?

Shu : … We have to talk. Come to the storage

Yui : Talk... ?

Shu : I'm going ahead. Make sure to come

*Shu leaves

Yui : (Shu-san asked Yuma-kun to come ? Why...?)

Yuma : That bastard... He decided it on his own

Yui : You will go ?

Yuma : He called me so can't be helped. If I do something bad, things will get complicated again

You're coming with me. You won't leave my side anymore

Yui : Yes, of course

(But... I wonder what on earth Shu-san wants to talk about)

Scene change : Storage

Shu : So you came. Eve as well

Yuma : Sorry. If I leave her alone, I dunno what that Reiji guy will do to her

Shu : I see

Yuma : So, what's the thing you wanna talk about ?

Shu : That Ruki from the Oranges... Kill him

Yui : … Eh... ?

Yuma : Ha... !? Why's that... ?

Shu : Don't have me explain it every times. It's because of you, Yuma

Yuma : Me... ? What the hell did I do !?

Shu : You're planning to win the Oranges over

Yui : That's wrong ! Neither I nor Yuma-kun would do such a thing !

Why are you saying this !?

Shu : Don't scream. Looks like those guys from the dungeon spilled the beans. That's what Kino told me

Yui : (Kino-san...!?)

Shu : You're planning to win over the Violets as well, right ? Like using Kou and Azusa to make advances to Carla

Yuma : I said I wouldn't do that !

Shu : No matter how much you deny it, you've only been doing suspicious things one after another

That's why I'm giving you some advice. Reiji completely doubts you now

Yuma : Guh...

Yui : Reiji-san is...

(Shu-san didn't summon Yuma-kun to blame him but to give him some advice)

(Once there's a misunderstanding, we can't dispell Reiji-san's doubts. And then Yuma-kun will be in danger...!)

Shu : Now that things have come to this, a half-baked method won't work to prove your innocence

It's necessary for you to kill one of those guys. Yuma... can you do it ?

Yuma : …

Yui : Yuma-kun...

Yuma : … I can't do that

Shu : … So what about this ?

*Shu pulls out his sword

Yui : A sword... !? Shu-san, stop ! Why are you doing such a thing... !?

Shu : If things remain like this, Reiji will definitely eliminate Yuma. It can be today or tomorrow right in this mansion

Once that guy suspects something, everything else will look suspicious to him and he will turn his suspicions towards me. That would be bothersome

If you say that you don't feel like killing Ruki, I will eliminate you right this instant

Yuma : Shu... You... !

Shu : Now is not too late. Yuma, kill Ruki

Yuma : Tch... ! There's no way I can hurt Ruki or anyone else !!

Shu : … What a shame

Yui : (… ! Is he going to kill Yuma-kun !?)

No, stop !!

*Shu steps closer to Yuma

Yuma : Tcheh ! You're seriously gonna attack me !?

Shu : You changed. It seems you no longer are the one you were before

Yuma : … I don't wanna hear that from you right now... !

That's the real me ! Have you forgotten that as well !?

To what extend did you forget !!?

Shu : I don't understand what you mean. It's futile talking anymore

Yuma : If you don't get it... Eat that !

*Yuma has some things fall on Shu

Shu : Guh !?

Yui : Yuma-kun !?

Yuma : Now ! Let's run !! Hold on to me !

*Yuma carries her

Yui : Kyaa... !

*Yuma runs away with Yui

Shu : … He ran away, huh

He usually never felt sympathy towards the enemy in that situation

Did you really betray us... Yuma ?

Scene change : Scarlet mansion – Corridor

Yuma : That Shu guy didn't chase after us...

Yui : Yuma-kun, I'm fine now ! I can run

Yuma : 'Kay

*Yuma puts Yui down

Yui : What do we do now ?

Yuma : Let's leave that place. We'll think about what to do next later

Yui : O-Okay... !

Kino : Heeeh, is this an elopement ?

Yui : … !

Yuma : Kino ! You bastard... !

Kino : What are you doing in such a place, Yuma-kun the traitor ?

Yuma : I don't wanna hear that from you... ! You're the one who said all that garbage to Shu, huh !?

Yui : Kino-san... Why did you make Yuma-kun pass off as a traitor ?

What on earth are you thinking... ?

Kino : I thought it would be fun. It has always been like that since I came here, you know ?

Yui : (Eh... ? Since he came here ?)

Kino : Reiji ! Shu ! That traitor and Eve are here !

Yui : Kino-san... !?

Yuma : Tch... Let's run !

Scene change : Forest

Yuma : Haa... Haa... Shu and the others didn't show up yet...

Yui : We got away from the mansion... I feel relieved now, but how did it come to this... ?

Yuma : If what Shu said is true, Reiji must be planning to erase me

We can't rely on Shu and Kino either. Especially that Kino bastard

Yui : Why did Kino-san do this to you... ?

Yuma : Beats me. I dunno that guy's true colors and there’s no point thinking about that

Anyway, let's cut our way throught that place. We still have to run

Choice 1 : Let's hide somewhere (white roses)

Yui : Let's hide somewhere for the time being. If we stay in this forest, they will find us

Let's find a place to settle down, then we should think about what to do next

Yuma : … Yeah, you're right. Let's go quick before those guys come

Yui : Yes !

Choice 2 : Let's cooperate with Ruki-kun and the others (black roses)

Yui : Hey, can't we cooperate with Ruki-kun and the others ?

If they know about our circumstances, they might help us...

Yuma : That won't work no matter what we say to those guys. Can we even return to the mansion now ?

Yui : … You have a point

Yuma : Let's run deeper in the forest and search for a place to rest

Yui : O-Okay... !

– End of choices

Scene change : Cave

Yui : So there's a cave in the forest depths

Yuma : Yeah, I'm surprised. And I thought I got a grip of the topography of that area

Well, that's 'cause I always went scouting only around the mansion. That makes sense

Yui : Does this mean they won't find this place for a while ?

Yuma : I hope so but I wonder. Reiji's a persistent one

Yui : Yes, I know...

Why Kino-san did such a thing ?

If at least Shu-san gets the misunderstanding...

Yuma : You think he will get it ? Just look at him earlier

Yui : Well...

Yuma : We can't trust Shu, we can't trust Kino... We can't trust anyone. That's a fact

Shu believes that dumb bastard's story more than mine... !

He wasn't that guy before !! Shit... !

Yui : Yuma-kun, calm down... !

Yuma : Don't talk to me now !

*Yuma pushes her away

Yui : … !!

Yuma : Ah... Sorry... I'm irritated right now. Don't get too close to me

Yui : Yuma-kun...

(That's right... None of his brothers and friends believe him, so it's very difficult for Yuma-kun...)

(In that case...)

… You shouldn't hold down your feelings. Because you're going to be overwhelmed by them

Yuma : Then I should distract myself or something ? In that empty cave ?

Yui : Of course... When you suck my blood, you're diverted from your feelings, right ?

Yuma : Aah ? Are you an idiot or what ? You want me to suck all your blood ?

If I bit you in those circumstances, I will obviously be awful to you

Yui : It's fine if you do something horrible, if it will calm down your feelings

Yuma : Wha.. !?

… You idiot...

*Yuma grabs Yui

Yuma : Even if you regret it... I don't care... *sucks blood violently

Yui : Ah... !

Yuma : Haa... I won't stop... *sucks blood violently

Yui : (His arms holding me hurt... ! His fangs that digged in my flesh to explore as well...!)

(But I want to properly accept all of Yuma-kun's suffering...)

Yuma : Haa... Haa... You... Why don't you raise your voice... ?

You must be really suffering... That's... Why aren't you fighting back... ?

Yui : … I'm fine... This much is nothing compared to your pain

Yuma : You...

*Yuma hugs her

Yuma : … Sorry. I wanted to take good care of you, and yet...

Yui : I'm okay, Yuma-kun...

Yuma : Hey, turn this way... *kisses her

Yui : *kisses back

… Have you calmed down a little ?

Yuma : Yeah... Thanks... Yui

Yui : No problem...

Yuma : … What should I do, now ? What... should I do... ?

Yui : … Hmm...

Yuma : I didn't want to see you in that state, and yet... You look miserable

Yui : Don't say that, I'm okay...

(His body is always huge enough to wrap me up, and yet...)

(This time... Yuma-kun feels small)

(We're really alone.... What should we do... from now on ?)

Chapter 11 : End