#I kept getting burst of adrenaline at work tonight

[advluv4life]

I just want to say, that in the process of making a list of ideas for a third bingo card I have compiled a list long enough to begin a fourth bingo card... I wholly believe that I'm about to come out here and make like five cards probably lol. We have one more promotional video to come out and I'm sure I'll get more ideas from that 🤭

But in the meantime, I'm going to go look at the season 2 stills and fill some more squares 😉

[frutigerfischl]

Heyyyyy

Saw your post about wanting some requesting some arcane stuff and I’m so down bad for some jinx stuff 😫😫

Could you pretty pls do a one shot for a jinx and a fem reader where theyre enemies and they have a steamy makeout sesh I am so in love with enemies to lovers😍😍

YOUR KISS AND I WILL SURRENDER

⌗ SONG┆the sharpest lives ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ TAGS┆wlw, fem reader, enemies to lovers, making out, tension, gayness to the max, dominant reader, bratty jinx, violence (nothing too graphic) ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ NOTE┆jinx is my favorite character THEM FOR REQUESTING HER OMFG 💙💙 I loved writing this it was so fun!! (Song doesn't have much to do w the fic, I always link the songs my fics are named after), I AM NOT GREAT AT WRITING MAKE OUT SESSIONS SO BARE W ME ★ ₊ ˚⟡

The mission was already a disaster.

Jinx, of course, had made sure of that.

You crouched behind a stack of rusted shipping crates, fingers tight around the grip of your pistol, ears ringing from the explosion she’d set off not ten minutes ago. Smoke curled through the air, cutting visibility to hell, while muffled shouts and the clang of boots echoed from the far side of the docks. Whoever ran this operation wasn’t going to let you or Jinx leave without a fight.

If only you were working together instead of at each other’s throats.

“Nice job, powder-keg,” you muttered under your breath, shifting your weight as you scanned for movement.

“Wasn’t my fault you tripped the silent alarm!” came her sing-song reply, disembodied and maddening.

She wasn’t far, judging by the faint static of her comm. You swore you’d smash it the second you caught her. “You blew the damn shipment before I got to the vault, you twitchy lunatic!”

A laugh, high and sharp, cut through the haze. “You’re welcome. What can I say? Big booms make big fun.”

Your jaw tightened. Typical Jinx. You weren’t sure why you’d ever thought stealing from Silco’s warehouses would go unnoticed. The moment she showed up, the job became less about money and more about survival—keeping up with her shit and staying one step ahead.

Somehow, she always made it personal.

Another explosion rattled the air, closer this time, and you ducked as the force slammed against the crates. Sparks danced in your vision as a blur of color—blue hair, shredded bomber jacket—darted into view.

You lunged.

Jinx barely had time to react before your shoulder slammed into her, throwing her back against a support beam. She yelped, twisting in your grip, but you pinned her wrists in place, inches from her flare gun. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, chest heaving, adrenaline pumping through your veins. “Are you trying to get us both killed?”

Her lips curled into a grin, wide and unhinged. “Only one of us, really. You’re just collateral.”

“Funny.” You leaned in closer, ignoring the way her pupils flicked down, just for a second, to your mouth. “Here’s the thing, sweetheart: I’m not dying tonight. And if you ruin another job for me, I’ll make sure you don’t, either.”

Jinx giggled, head tilting, her breath warm against your cheek. “Ooh, scary. Got a thing for threats, do ya? Maybe that’s why you like chasing me around.”

“Like hell I—”

She interrupted you with a headbutt. Pain burst across your skull, but you didn’t let go—couldn’t. Instead, you shoved her harder against the beam, forcing a startled gasp from her lips.

“Watch it, brat,” you hissed, voice dropping low. “You’re playing with fire.”

Her laugh faltered, blue eyes widening just slightly before narrowing again. “And you’re no fun. Bet you don’t even know how to lighten up.”

Something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the headache she’d just given you, maybe it was her smug grin, or maybe it was the way she kept testing you, daring you to cross the line.

You kissed her.

Hard.

Jinx froze for all of a heartbeat, her sharp edges softening under the sudden force of your mouth against hers. Then, just as quickly, she surged into it—biting, demanding, her teeth scraping against your bottom lip as if she wanted to take something from you.

Her hands twisted in your grip, but you didn’t let go, keeping her pinned as you deepened the kiss, rough and unforgiving. Your teeth clashed, lips bruising against hers as she arched into you, a frustrated sound escaping her throat.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she mumbled against your mouth, taunting even now, her breath hot and heavy.

“Shut up.” You bit her bottom lip in retaliation, drawing a startled, delighted moan. Your free hand tangled in the tattered fabric of her bomber jacket, yanking her closer until there was nothing but heat and chaos between you.

Jinx kissed like she fought—with reckless abandon, no plan, no care for the consequences. Her tongue slid against yours, teasing and fierce, and you hated how good it felt, how her chaos pulled you under like quicksand.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against hers. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and her grin was wider than ever.

“Aw, leaving already?” she teased, her voice breathless, taunting.

You smirked, brushing your thumb against her cheek in mock tenderness. “Don’t flatter yourself, powder-keg. You’re not worth the cleanup.”

Before she could respond, you pushed her back and stepped away, letting the shadows swallow you whole.

“Catch you next time, sweetheart,” you called over your shoulder, your voice dripping with mockery.

Jinx’s laughter echoed behind you, sharp and wild, but your pulse was louder, your lips still burning from hers.

[lewmagoo]

I saw you were writing blurbs! I was wondering if you can write one for Bob Floyd from the smut list? Number 4, maybe Bob is injured but desperately needs his partner?

slow sex while one or both are injured (bonus points if it’s after a battle or after they’ve patched up each other’s wounds)

he was fine. really, he was. just a little bruised, and very sore. he and phoenix had a close call during training that day, and it had forced them to eject from a jet that was hurdling at breakneck speed toward the earth. bob felt as if he’d been thrown down multiple flights of stairs. he ached in places he didn’t even know he could ache. but that wasn’t even the worst of it. no, the worst part was the look on your face when you’d come rushing into his room. you looked so frightened, and he hated that he was the cause of that fear and worry.

when you got the call that he’d been injured, your world tilted on its axis. thankfully your boss had allowed you to leave work early so you could be with your husband. you weren’t even aware of his condition. all you knew was that there’d been an accident, and that he was in the med bay, and no other details were able to be provided at that time. you were going in blind, unsure of what you were about to walk in on. would he be unresponsive? barely hanging on to life? these thoughts spiraled in your mind as you rushed down the hall toward the room they’d put him in. the only thing that gave you some sense of ease was the fact that he was in a recovery room, and not a care unit.

when you burst into the room, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed. he was obviously shaken, and there were some visible cuts and bruises, but he was in one piece, and he was alive. your knees almost buckled, but you pushed yourself forward until you reached him. “oh, bobby,” you whimpered. his eyes filled with tears, and you were quick to sit beside him and carefully wrap your arms around him, wary of doing anything that might cause him pain. “i was so scared. i didn’t know if you were okay or not.”

“i’m fine, sweetheart. just a little banged up.” he leaned over to kiss your head, despite the pain that flashed through his ribs. “one of the engines malfunctioned. we had to eject,” he explained.

“how’s nat?” you inquired, hoping she was fine.

“she’s okay. kind of beating herself up over it, even though it wasn’t her fault. she got us both safely out of the jet, that’s what matters.”

relief settled in your chest at the confirmation that your husband’s pilot was safe. you made a mental note to thank her for keeping your bobby out of harm’s way. “what are they saying as far as when you can be released?”

“it’s up to me. either i can stay for observation or i can sign some papers and get released tonight. i think i’m gonna do that. i’d rather spend the night in our bed than in this stuffy old hospital,” came his response.

that was how you found yourselves heading home a few hours later, bobby in the passenger seat as you drove. you held his hand the entire ride home, unwilling to let go. no words were spoken into the silence of the car. nothing could come close to expressing the way you felt. how terrified you’d been that you had lost him. thank god you hadn’t, but what if still lingered in your mind.

it lingered in his, too. long after you pulled into the driveway and guided him into the house. long after you helped him get ready for bed. long after you got him settled beneath the covers. he kept replaying the incident in his mind. the terror, the adrenaline, the realization that this moment could be his last.

“i was thinking of you,” he whispered. so quiet you couldn’t hear him.

“what was that?” you softly asked as you slid into bed beside him.

his mouth quivered. “i was thinking of you, when i was hurdling toward the ground. i thought…i thought for sure i was going to die. that i was never going to see your face again. hear your voice.” he squeezed his eyes shut, although his tears began to slide down his cheeks. “i-i’m glad it didn’t end that way. i’m glad i get another chance to tell you how much i love you.”

your own tears had begun to fall, and a soft sob escaped your throat. gingerly, you kissed him. tears mixing. mouths absorbing the sounds of each other’s weeping. although you were both reeling from this experience, there was an underlying tone of desperation. it manifested in you carefully climbing into his lap, straddling his hips. in your hands resting upon the sides of his neck, and his upon your hips. and when you parted, you could see it in his eyes. an unspoken need. something so strong and impassioned he could not voice it with mere words.

“please, honey, i…” he couldn’t speak. could barely breathe. suddenly it felt as if his skin was on fire.

“i know,” you breathed against his mouth. “are…are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you.”

“i’m sure.” trembling voice. barely able to breathe.

once again, you kissed him. you were frantic, yet gentle, as you rid yourself of your pajamas, and guided his soft sweatpants down his legs. lips finding his again, you reached down to wrap your hand around his soft cock, stroking him to full hardness as your other hand came down to prepare yourself to take him. it wasn’t long before you were aligning him with you, and he looked down to watch you sink down onto him. a guttural whimper escaped his throat, and his chest heaved as he let out a sob.

“oh! oh, sweetheart,” he sighed as you sank down fully, body flush with his. he wrapped his arms around your body, and you wrapped yours around his shoulders, holding him close, his head against your chest.

“i’ve got you,” came your whisper of reassurance. you held each other, bodies joined as one. tears streaming down your cheeks. mouths open and hot against each other’s. crying and moaning, breathing words of love and adoration. words of devotion.

“never let me go,” he pleaded. he wished you could hold him forever. that he could stay here in your arms, protected from the rest of the world, basking in the warmth of your love.

“never,” you sighed, hips rolling against his, trying your best not to hurt him. but you weren’t hurting him. far from it. you made him feel more alive than he’d felt all day.

“i love you,” he confessed into the air. “i need you. i never want to live without you.”

fingers laced through his hair, you let your forehead rest against his. “i love you too. never wanna live without you, either.”

the gravity of the situation weighed heavy on you both, but you took solace in this intimate connection. and if only for a little while, right here, connected to each other, you found peace. your bobby was safe in your arms. and you were thanking the stars that they’d seen fit to let him come back home to you.

[thefireintheshadow]

GeminiTay whispers to you: How’s it going over there?

Etho snorted - he couldn’t help himself. The sweet little elf had murdered him twenty-eight times that day. And despite all the ribbing from all of their friends, she’d been really nice about it.

And was still being nice, considering she was checking in on him after the flood of said ribbing in the chat.

It was all in good fun…but he deserved a bit of his own fun, too. So he sent a private message back: Oh, you know, wallowing in depressed drunkenness because I’m so washed up.

He chuckled under his breath and went back to organizing the TCG deck he’d been working on, but the reply came quickly and he paused again.

GeminiTay whispers to you: Aw, poor guy. Why don’t you come over to the castle tonight for dinner so I can make it up to you? Soak up all that alcohol lol

His eyebrow raised at that. This couldn’t be how she’d made it sound. She was a lot younger than him, and though while they were having their little PVP practice today it had felt like chemistry…well, they were just sparring. Adrenaline and all that…

GeminiTay whispers to you: if you’re not busy and you actually want to hang out, no pressure

GeminiTay whispers to you: i get it if you’ve had enough of me today haha

Her sudden rambling and lack of punctuation and capitals warmed something in Etho’s chest. He could almost hear her voice, babbling away, see the way her nose wrinkled a little when she was nervous…

He shook his head. He’d fallen into fantasy land so quickly it terrified him a little bit.

And as much as he’d originally set out to make her squirm, he felt bad that he was leaving her hanging. He typed back: As long as you put your swords away lol

GeminiTay: No weapons of any kind I promise :)

He chuckled again, and his cheeks flushed a little beneath his mask when he realized he’d been goofily grinning at the screen.

She’s too young for you, idiot, he thought. She literally kicked your ass today, that has got to be the least attractive thing ever.

Still. She was a beautiful woman. And somehow, her kicking his ass that day was…kinda hot.

It’s just dinner. She’s just a nice friend being nice. That’s all.

---

Somehow it hadn’t felt real until Etho actually accepted her dinner offer, and Gem’s nervous butterflies in her stomach tripled when she realized that he was actually coming over.

She’d always looked up to Etho, he was a veteran expert in so many ways, and every time they interacted always left her feeling flustered and warm.

But that day…they’d sparred for so long, and he’d actually wanted to learn from her, and it was such a heady experience. And she kept beating him, killing him over and over, and still he stayed, with that good-natured laugh of his, having fun.

They’d fallen into some kind of chemistry, Gem knew - she just knew - she couldn’t have been imagining it, the whole exchange had had her feeling some kinda way. By the time she’d made it home she was flushed and warm and fluttery and feeling like she needed to…burst into flames, or something.

Every time his eyes had shifted into mischief, every time he’d thought he had her and then no, she was striking him down again, and he was laughing, healing up, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet to get ready to take her again…

She sighed, the motion not cleansing any of her heat at all, running over and over the vision of his lithe frame moving around the battlefield like a ninja, the two of them locked in a deadly dance…

God, I need to focus. She shook out her hands, giving her whole body a shake as if she could break loose of the tension curling her nerves into knots. She walked into the kitchen, but even the scent of the hearty stew she was nurturing wasn’t enough to calm her buzz.

Etho had taken such a ribbing in the chat all day, and she knew it was all in good fun, that he would take it all in stride, but it still made her feel a little bad that she’d roasted him so publically. At least, that’s what she was telling herself. She totally hadn’t used checking in on him as an excuse to invite him over.

Totally, surely not.

But now he was actually coming, he was coming over and they were going to be alone, together, eating at a table, swords away. Chatting. He would have to take his mask down to eat, and she’d get distracted by his lips wrapping around his spoon…

Focus!

But Gem couldn’t focus. It was worse now, knowing he had accepted her invitation. Part of her had thought he would say no, that he’d have other plans, that he wouldn’t want to spend the evening with her because they’d already spent all day together, you know, her murdering him over and over.

But he’d said yes, and now she was doing this, and how was she supposed to survive? Because there would be no release or break in the knot forming in her belly. He was older than her, he had so many older relationships with the other hermits, surely he couldn’t be romantically interested in the young punk desperate to prove herself after only being around for like two years, right?

Deep in her heart, she knew she was being too hard on herself. But it was easier and safer than hoping.

Because hoping led to darker, dirtier fantasies, and that would just make this dinner so, so much harder.

Gem groaned as she gently stirred the stew, sprinkling in a little more salt. This was going to be absolute torture. But she probably deserved it.

And…she couldn’t wait.

---

Etho arrived right on time, landing at the front of Gem’s - absolutely impressive - castle. The amount of time and care put into such a massive build was staggering, and though he’d flown past it many a time, he’d never actually been inside.

The details along the ceiling of the first tunnel had his jaw dropping. He stared up dumbly, appreciating the architecture, his walk slowing to a stop.

“You coming inside, or you just going to gawk all day?” Gem’s teasing tone startled him, and he flicked his gaze down as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He almost wished he’d kept staring at the ceiling.

Gem had been gorgeous earlier that day even with a messy braid, sweaty and darting around with a sword in her hand. He often interacted with her while she was busy, working or doing any kind of exertion, ruffled by the energy of the day.

He’d never seen her like this, in the comfort of her own home, softer . Her strawberry curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, cute elfin tips of her ears poking out the sides. Her dress was more casual than the intricately embroidered elf garb, but somehow more elegant because of the way she carried herself. The fabric was light and silvery, layered and ruched so it bunched in little ruffles around her chest and shoulders, a cute bow securing the billowy skirts around her waist.

He tore his gaze back up to her eyes, fighting hard not to notice how low cut the ruffles were, the little swell of cleavage there, demanding his attention. He wanted to say hello, say fucking anything , but his tongue seemed permanently glued to the roof of his mouth.

“I will take your dumbstruck silence as a compliment,” Gem said, and his heart near stopped in his chest. He’d been caught. “Lower your expectations, though, this hallway was the first thing I decorated and I am so not even close to done with the interior of this thing.”

Etho let out a chuckle of relief - she’d been talking about him being dumbstruck by her building, not her . Though, he didn’t miss the little quiver beneath the surface of her light and sweet tone.

She was nervous.

Why was she nervous?

The thought sent a little thrill up his spine. If he made her nervous…no, he had to be sure.

He might have been out of the physical sparring game for a while, but if there was one thing he was always good at, it was mental sparring.

He could think of a thousand and one ways to try to fluster her…and this evening just got a whole lot more exciting.

---

Gem resisted the urge to wring her hands as she led Etho through the castle. He liked the dress. She’d originally been wearing a casual overalls and t-shirt, and had changed into the babydoll dress at the last second before she could talk herself out of it.

She’d felt a swell of pride in her chest when she’d caught him gawking at her intricate build work, but the widening of his pupils when he raked his gaze over her…she’d nearly melted to the floor.

He’d tried so hard to hide it, but it seemed he hadn’t even been able to speak. She’d broken the tension, she thought, but she’d barely been able to contain her nerves.

And now, she could almost feel the heat of him as they walked, as she chattered away about this block and that, and he kept pace with her, not quite beside her but just a half-step behind.

She kept glancing back at him, craning her neck, mostly finding him appreciating the decor but occasionally he’d be looking right back at her, a little twinkle in his eyes over the mask. Similar to the twinkle right before they ran at each other, swords raised.

She had to concentrate hard to keep her knees from buckling. God, he was hot. It should be illegal to be that hot.

They entered the dining room, where she had meticulously decorated not too long before. The table was huge, made for a feast, but she’d set two places on the end, on the corner, Etho’s spot right at the head.

“So intricate,” Etho said as he looked around, slowly turning to take it all in as he followed her. “You could give Bdubs a run for his money.”

“Oh my gosh, no,” Gem replied with a laugh. “You’re just trying to flatter me now. I told you no weapons, you don’t have to butter me up so I won’t kill you.”

He chuckled and took a seat, the one on the side.

“No, this one is yours, “Gem insisted, patting the high-backed chair at the head of the table. “Better view.”

He laughed as he changed seats. “The King’s spot huh? You really do feel guilty.”

She wrinkled her nose at his teasing tone, loving the way ‘King’ came out of his mouth. God, how she wanted to worship at his feet. Focus, Gem!“Just wait ‘til you try the soup,” she quipped, hoping she sounded casual. Playful. Anything but desperately staring at his hands as he toyed with the corner of the embroidered napkin in front of him.

She tore herself away and returned with two steaming bowls, setting them both down. She relished the way Etho’s eyes widened at the sight, as he took a deep breath, taking in the aroma.

“This looks amazing, Gem,” he praised, and she couldn’t help but preen a little. She liked impressing him. She liked the sound of her name on his lips even more.

They paused in silence for a moment, then Gem had a horrific thought she hadn’t anticipated. “Oh, jeez,” she gasped. “I… do you want me to like, turn around or something?” She’d been so excited to see his face that she hadn’t thought of whether he would even be okay with it. Her stomach plummeted to the floor. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Oh, no,” Etho said, a blush creeping up over the top of his mask. “Sorry, I spaced out. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal like this.” 

Gem opened her mouth to say something, but her breath hitched when he pulled the mask down. In reality, it was only a few seconds, a casual gesture, but for Gem it was like time slowed down. Etho revealed his face with agonizing slowness, and god he was beautiful, high cheekbones and smooth, flawless skin, lips so plush and soft looking that it took everything in her power not to reach out and run her fingers over them.

He took a spoon with his deft fingers and brought some soup to his mouth, and she was staring but she couldn’t stop. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, a small moan escaping him as he savored the taste, and that noise did things to her, things she didn’t want to experience in polite company, and she pressed her thighs together under the table and how was she going to survive this?

“So good, Gem,” he said, and then he was looking at her, and shit he’d caught her. He smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes, and to see that smile, actually see it, she thought she might melt into the floor. “You doing alright over there?”

It was her turn to blush, and she stared down into her soup, wishing she could hide in it. He knew. He knew... but he wasn’t running away. He was still here and teasing her about it, that was a good sign, right?

The sun was setting, and the rays fell through the window, a waterfall of fire over the dining room.

“You’re right, the view is better from here,” he said, and she beamed a little, looking up, but he was looking at her.

Oh.

“You should try the soup,” Etho said with a wink that turned her legs to jelly. “It’s delicious.”

“Well I know that,” she said, laughing, and the tension broke a little. “I made it.”

He pointed to the window with his spoon. “The curve up there is really cool, how did you do it?”

Gem took the opening to chatter about building, finding it easier to talk and eat and distract herself from drooling all over him. By the time they were scraping the bottom of their bowls, the moon was just beginning to bathe the world in its ethereal glow. 

“Want to see the balcony?” Gem asked. “It’s got a great view of Pearl’s which looks so cool at night.”

Etho grinned and shoved back his chair. “Yeah.”

He didn’t pull his mask back up.

---

Etho was in trouble. He wasn’t blind. He’d gone beyond flustering her, and he’d barely done anything. She’d been squirming in her seat and it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to bend her over the damn table.

He’d managed to distract and relax her with building chatter, but he hadn’t been distracted enough to keep from noticing how goddamn gorgeous she was. And now, following her outside, the moonlight sparkling in her long shiny curls, thin fabric of that innocent-but-sinful dress swishing back and forth against the back of her perfect legs.

She leaned on the railing of the balcony, and even in the moonlight he could see the light pink of her cheeks as he joined her. There was music in the distance, probably floating up from Impulse’s base, considering it was a classic rock power ballad.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Gem breathed, staring across the water.

But Etho couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Sorry, Pearl, he thought. “Yeah.”

She seemed to sense his gaze on her, because she looked at him. “You’re not even...” she trailed off, as if her breath left her, cheeks flushing deeper.

Etho took a chance, taking one of her hands in his and pulling her away from the railing. She made a small noise of surprise and he caught her against his body, one arm around her waist and the other still clasping her hand. She seemed to catch on as he began to sway, bringing her free hand up to rest on his shoulder. 

“You know what I was most sad about missing on the Empires server?” he asked.

Her eyes glittered with amusement. “Joel?”

He snorted, shaking his head then bent, lowering his mouth to her ear. “Seeing you in your princess dress.”

She quivered in his arms, as if a thrill ran up her spine. “Princess Gem could have still kicked your ass,” she said, voice breathy.

He chuckled. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but I’m sad I didn’t get to see GeminiSlay all fancy in pink.”

She tilted her chin, and the air charged between them. “All you have to do is ask.”

His heart pounded so hard he was sure she could hear it. “Is that so?”

She swallowed hard and drew her bottom lip between her teeth before letting it go. “Yeah.” 

He stopped swaying, staring down into her big beautiful eyes. “Can I kiss you, Gem?”

Her lips parted on a gasp. “Uh huh,” she whispered, and they crashed together like a storm.

[finish on ao3]

and a huge huge thank you to @blacktofade for beta-reading this beast, ilysm <3

[citruslullabies]

Might as well also be the first to request this one! But a Freddy Fazbear x Security guard!Reader? It's after hours and freddy noitces the reader is looking stress so they offer them some comfort :3

The way I had to fight with this

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: I'm gonna assume platonic

Requested by: BEO (bestest ever ong)

Category: comfort fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Freddy Fazbear x security guard!reader

Word count: 912

Bear Hugs… or pats?

You worked as a security guard for the overpriced pizza place called Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, and to be quite honest it was really tiring.

Children always assumed you wanted to play while you'd stay on duty, patrolling the area - you worked in broad daylight so you didn't get the same luxury as a night guard to just sit down and watch cameras. Since apparently it was safer to walk around in daylight, despite the sun never stopping any crimes.

The place had always irked you. Something felt off about your boss, and your coworkers and the animatronics. The children in blissful unawareness and yet the parents always had a glint of suspicion in their eyes, but brushed it off as being too paranoid over their children. Maybe it was the old news and reporting of missing children, all with a little money from the big man to persuade the news articles to stop, the awareness suddenly vanished.

You always hated that. How your boss without a single worry, instead of finding out who did it, had brushed it under the rug. Business was business and money was money, you supposed. You eyed the clock longingly, excitement bubbling in your chest as the time for your day of work was at its end. You walked happily to the employee area, ready to get changed before your boss stopped you. William Afton. “(Your name), would you mind coming in later tonight? Scott called in sick.” he said, great. You wanted to say no since the overtime pay wasn't gonna be THAT great. But you groaned and reluctantly spit out the words he was wanting to hear.

“Of course, Mr. Afton.” You said with venom and hesitance in your voice but hey, what could ya do? Maybe with a little extra cash you can finally start saving up to get a new car if it wasn't all spent on other finances. Yours kept making odd ragged sounds of exhaustion. He gave you a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes and he walked off.

You went home before Scott's shift that you were taking over, getting something to eat before heading in. At least tomorrow was your day off so you could sleep all day. You walked inside the building and grimaced… it just seemed so much more horrifying when it was empty and dark. You shifted your bag up onto your shoulder, taking a deep breath in and a deep breath out. You had to find a new job, you were barely making ends meet with this one. With bills and groceries and repairs needed on your car that let's be honest, at this point was almost too far gone, you needed a new better paying job. You were walking to the back office, where the cameras were and a beaten down chair, before your gaze turned over to the animatronics… where was Freddy?

You stopped and stared before a few minutes, before hearing robotic footsteps behind you. You blinked and slowly turned around, eyes widening at the sight of the massive teddy bear holding a pizza box in one hand and his microphone in the other. You were frozen still before adrenaline kicked in, causing you to run for the office. There was a phone in there, right? You could call 911 and be saved. You nearly tripped but caught yourself and your breath, hearing the footsteps behind you get closer. “HOLY SHIT-!”

You yelped when all the sudden a large paw grabbed your wrist, not tightly but firmly. You tried to wriggle and get away from this thing, hyperventilating as you tried to kick and pry and cry. You sniffled and burst out into tears, shaking your head as you slowly fell to your knees In front of the unmoving beast.

“Please.. please I don't, I don't wanna die…” You mumbled weakly, shaking your head as you felt your right arm still being held up above your head. You were prepared for anything, shaking aggressively and feeling terrified of what was to come. Your heart thumping out of your chest when you heard a squeaky robotic arm coming down, before you flinched when feeling it awkwardly pat you on the head. You slowly looked up at the Freddy Fazbear animatronic, face ugly with tears and snot from feeling like you were about to die.

He just stood there, the hand that was holding his microphone now resting on your head and the other hand holding pizza. His ears twitched a bit and he stared down at you, before slowly and mechanically kneeling down and offering you the box with silence. You sniffled and seemed confused but horrified, slowly and hesitantly taking the box. You looked back up at him with horrified eyes and gulped, anxiety pulsing through your body. He just gave you a nod before slowly bringing his body back up, watching your every move intently.

You opened the box and inside was… a pizza. A cheese pizza, with pepperoni’s decorating it making out a small sentence, one that left you puzzled as your eyes moved around every detail from the crust to the words 'you're doing great’ that were thrown on, looking sloppy but obviously with an attempt at making it neat. You slowly looked back up at the bear, cocking your head to the side and feeling him give your head a pat again before heading back to the stage.

Well, that was one hell of a weird experience.

Thanks for requesting!

[kokinu09]

skz + collapse :)

Word count : 928

Doing your best isn’t good enough. You have to fight to be better. To constantly improve or you’ll be left behind. Outshone by whoever’s trying to take your spot as the next big thing. So Minho works hard. Really hard.

Today was no different.

He stays late to rehearse the choreography again and again until it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. By the time he was calling it quits, the others had already gone to bed.

The dorm is completely dark when he walks through the door, save for the faint glow of a little nightlight Felix had insisted on having in the bathroom illuminating the hall. His limbs feel like lead as he toes out of his sneakers, making the task seem ten times harder than it needed to be. The promise of his soft bed the only thing keeping him from just plopping down on the couch and continue trudging along down the hall to his room.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he flops on the bed face down. It’s easy to sink into the plush blankets as his sore muscles relax for the first time all day. He ignores the grumble of his belly, exhaustion taking precedence over anything else with sleep quickly drawing him into a warm embrace.

There’s plenty of time for the mundane aspects of life once the comeback is over.

~*~

He gets a look of disgust from Hyunjin as soon as he walks into the practice room with the other three from his dorm. Minho fixes him with a glare in return, too tired to deal with his attitude this early in the morning.

“What,” he snaps.

“You look gross,” Hyunjin retorts with his nose scrunched. He couldn’t say he disagrees. He feels gross. But he didn’t have time to shower before they had to leave.

“Hyung overslept,” Felix chimes unhelpfully, skiddering away before Minho could get a hand on him.

“Traitor,” Minho mumbles as Chan comes up to slap a hand on his shoulder.

“You good?” He asks, honest concern written on his features.

Minho returns the gesture with a forced smirk and a pat on the older’s back. “Yeah, all good,” though he kept their eyes from holding contact for too long. He’d see past the lie otherwise.

If Chan saw through his words, he didn’t let it on since he offers a softer smile. “Glad to hear it. Make sure you get plenty of rest tonight. We need you in tip top shape for the performance this weekend.”

Minho nods in agreement, sighing to himself immediately when Chan walks away. He knows he doesn’t mean it but all Minho could hear was the pressure, pressure, pressure. There is no way he’ll let them down. Not again.

Not ever again.

~*~

Into the final verse, he’s exhausted. They all are. He can see it every time his eyes catch one of the others. They’re giving it their all. All the practice, all the blood, sweat, and tears, has led to this performance.

The entire group is prepared to leave everything on this stage for their fans.

They’re so close to the end of the song. He can feel it in the burn of his muscles, the ache in his feet. Each beat hitting harder than the last as they push towards the finish line.

“~bich-i beonjyeo deoug bichnaneun star~” Felix closes, as practiced and poised as they planned.

Minho stood in position, desperately sucking air into his lungs. All of them shift in their places, bodies exhausted but jittering with adrenaline. He peels his eyes away from the dozen cameras as the crowd burst into a fit of cheers. He sees the smiles brightening the other’s faces, a contagious feeling that lifts his own cheeks.

His gaze catches when he looks to Han.

He was looking back at him…but wasn’t at the same time. His face pale through the sheen of sweat covering his skin. Minho’s smile drops. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Hannie?” He calls.

But he noticed too late.

It happened so fast. One second Han is standing upright (albeit stiffly, but upright nonetheless), the next he’s flat on the floor. Minho was the first at his side, eyes wide with panic as he carefully checks if he’s breathing. The rapid rise and fall of his chest gives the older very little relief, but at least he’s alive.

There’s a flurry of movement across the stage as people surround him, the members acting as a human shield to protect their brother from the view of the crowd and cameras. Minho stays crouched beside his head, Chan over his shoulder with eyes like a hawk. He doesn’t have to turn around to know the worry that’s wrinkles his brow.

Han is awake, which is good Minho thinks. His round doe eyes are full of fear when he looks up at him. “Hyung?” A confused, unfinished question that Minho already knows how to answer.

“You’re ok, Hannie. Just breathe,” he offers calmly. A false calm that he knows Han needs to avoid panicking. If only he knew the worry swirling in his chest. But instead he cards his fingers gently through the younger’s hair, a familiar soothing motion.

He’d sit there with Han as long as they’d let him. As long as Han wanted him to. All the members would. It’s the only thing they know to do. Stay together and hold each other up. If they didn’t, everything they worked so hard to build would come crashing down.

Stick together and avoid the collapse.

[masamihanazawa]

Problem Patient

Timing: Later tonight Location: Paws & Claws clinic Parties: @mortemoppetere & @masamihanazawa Trigger Warnings: Head Trauma

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. “Fuck.” Masami sat in his chair staring at the stranger in the bed, listening to the infernal clock thinking he really should have upgraded to a digital one at this rate. It always managed to get on his nerves when he was forced to watch over a patient at night. Especially when this one was a complete stranger having been dumped on him by one of his regulars. Normally the vanilla scented cigarettes would have chilled him out some, but the man in front of him had come in a rather beat up state. Masami had forced Alexus to clean up the blood in the exam room before sending the tired woman home, but the memory of having to stitch up the idiot in front of him was still fresh and the only thing to distract him was the infernal clicking of the clock. 

Masami smushed another cigarette into the tray and pulled a fresh one from his pack before putting his eyes back on the stranger, “You can stop acting like you’re sleeping, I can hear the shift in your breathing.” He muttered out as he placed the cigarette between his lips, using an old beat up lighter to get it going and taking a long drag. “Tell me how you feel. If it isn’t like shit then leave.” He wasn’t sure how the other could feel alright, Masami had only given him a small dose of pain meds enough to get him to relax through the stitching and cleaning just in case he ended up having a bad reaction. It was always a gamble using meds when you didn’t know the patient's allergies, humans always were trickier to fix up than the average shapeshifter. 

—

Things went to shit in detective work about as often as they went to shit in slayer work. Emilio wasn’t sure if other P.I.s had this many problems or if he was a special brand of unlucky, but it was never really a surprise when he found himself all beat to shit. In this case, however, he could at least confidently say that it hadn’t been his fault. 

It was one of those cases where the client insisted on tagging along and Emilio was too tired to argue, which should have been his first clue that things were going to go bad. Clients joining him on just about any variation of work always ended poorly, no matter who the client was. In this particular case, he’d put his ass in the line of fire to keep his client from taking the beating in his place and been surprised when she didn’t leave him to bleed out. It had been a pleasant surprise at first, the kind of thing that meant he was probably getting paid a bit extra to help her alleviate her guilt. But then she’d started yammering about doctors and clinics, and Emilio passed out before he could convince her to just dump him back at Axis. 

Goddamn bleeding heart Americans. 

So, here he was, laying with his eyes closed on a stranger’s table. He could feel someone beside him, knew enough to know it definitely wasn’t the same person who’d brought him here. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the lack of tacky blood sticking to his skin told him he’d been cleaned up and his wounds stitched. The problem, of course, was that he had no idea where he was or what would be expected of him in return. If he could just lay here a few minutes and formulate a plan, he could probably get out of this mess without…

A voice piped up from beside him, startling Emilio into action. His eyes shot open and he sat up, practically diving off the table and across the room, putting distance between himself and the stranger. The sudden movement definitely popped a stitch or three, but the burst of adrenaline kept him from feeling any of the injuries. Wild eyes scanned the room, making note of it. He was definitely in some kind of a clinic, but not a hospital. That was good. Hospitals tended to ask more questions than he wanted to answer, and the last thing he needed was for his name to go into any kind of a system. Too many people could track him down through that sort of thing, and Emilio liked to be the one doing the tracking. He looked at the man who’d spoken, expression dubious. The cigarette hanging from his lips had Emilio’s chest aching for a damn smoke, but he pushed the feeling down in favor of assessing the situation. Tired eyes, steady hands, unamused expression. He’d bet money that this was the guy who’d stitched him up.

After a moment, Emilio nodded. “I’ll leave, then,” he said slowly, making an effort to enunciate each word as carefully as he could. The fact that he had to focus so hard on speaking clearly combined with the fact that the ache of his wounds was dulled probably meant there had been some painkillers involved. Not enough to fully numb him, though; already, his legs were trembling from the effort of holding him upright. If he was more than a block from Axis, he knew he’d collapse in a damn alley before he made it home. He shifted towards the only door in the room, anyway. “What neighborhood is this?”

—

Masami watched as the man he spent a good hour on just jumped out of bed, likely ruining some of his work under the borrowed scrubs he slapped on him. His frown deepened as he stood from his chair approaching the other. HIs left leg didn’t move as smoothly as the other, earning the doctor a bit of a limp as he moved closer to his anxious patient. At this point he figured the other wasn’t much a threat if his wobbly legs were anything to go by, one good kick and he’d be back on the floor, he even doubted the guy could reach the door. “Asking what neighborhood this is when you can’t even stand properly. Sit your ass down so I can see what you’ve messed up.” 

The vet pulled back the blanket on the bed, opting to sling it over his chair instead to save it from getting any blood on it. He was beginning to regret being so soft towards people, then again he never really stopped. For as much as he grumbled and complained he never had been able to turn away someone in need, a byproduct of his past he wished he could let go of. How many times had it come to bite him in the ass? Yet here he was fussing at a stranger once again. “Making me waste Cigarettes.” He mumbled, shoving the unfinished smoke in the tray with the others before opening a cabinet by his chair and pulling out fresh gauze. 

He didn’t make any move to make the other stay still giving the stranger a way out if he wanted it though Masami had no doubt he'd find him in an alleyway on his way home and they’d be right back where they started. He should have charged Alexus more than just making her clean a room. Janice wouldn’t be impressed with him when she heard about this in the morning. 

—

The man — the doctor? — walked with a limp, and Emilio’s fingers tapped nervously against his own thigh as he moved closer. It should have set his mind at ease a little, being able to spot an easy weakness to exploit if he needed a quick getaway here, but he knew he was fading fast. The second the adrenaline left his system, he’d be on his ass again. Unless he actually killed this guy, there’d be nothing stopping him from just scooping Emilio up when he inevitably passed out in the street between here and Axis, and then he’d be right back where he started. The killing thing seemed like a bad option, too, considering an unconscious murderer couldn’t exactly outrun the cops. And, besides, it did seem a little rude to kill a guy who’d presumably stitched him up.

Warily, Emilio watched the man pull back the blanket, eyes carefully narrowed. “I can stand just fine,” he replied stubbornly, even as his bad knee protested in the kind of way that meant it was likely to give out at any moment. One of the bastards who’d gotten the drop on him had delivered a pretty solid kick to it during the fight. It’d probably be giving him more trouble than usual for at least the next few days, if not permanently. With Emilio’s luck, he’d bet on the latter. 

Still eyeing the doctor, the hunter slowly moved back towards the exam table. He lowered himself onto it in a sitting position rather than lying down, tense enough to betray the fact that he was ready to leap into action if he needed to. He made no attempt to hide his suspicion; it was better if the guy knew Emilio would fight if he had to. It might mean the difference between making that fight happen and avoiding it altogether. And, with the state he was in now, Emilio would certainly be better off avoiding it. “Don’t have to put it out on my account,” he replied, eyeing the tray. “Might just have to light me one up, too.” He glanced back towards the door, half tempted to make a break for it while the doctor’s back was turned, but there was no way in hell he’d make it back to Axis if he did. Besides that, he was… missing something, wasn’t he? “Where the hell are my clothes? You undress me while I was out?” His left ring finger felt bare where his wedding ring had been removed to presumably see to the bruising on his knuckles, and the unfamiliar lightness of his hand was bizarre enough to have him glancing around the room nervously. “And you’re the one who told me to leave. By the way.” The statement was belated in a way that made Emilio suspect he might have a concussion. Everything seemed slow in that kind of way, like he was swimming through molasses just to settle on a thought. 

—

Masami looked back at him, giving the taller man a deadpan face, “I wasn’t going to leave you in your dirty clothes when you had an open wound that’s asking for infection, even you should realize that. Besides, I had to cut your shirt off to access the area.” It was common practice and would have done the same to his coat had Alexus not pulled it off the guy first, much to the vet’s disapproval even if Alexus assured him nothing was probably broken. “I told you to leave if you didn’t feel like shit, you obviously feel like shit so you’re stuck here.” He pulled an IV bag down from the cabinet as well, a little fluids wouldn’t hurt the guy now that he was awake enough not to jump. 

“Patients don’t get cigarettes.” Not that he would share with some random ass guy anyway, those cigarettes were hard enough to find as is, he was pretty sure the store selling them was being kept in business by the sheer power of his addiction. Once he had all the basics he set them on a tray and wheeled it over to the bed. He used his left leg to drag over a chair, the sound made a distinct noise of wood hitting metal. “You need to tell me where it hurts and be honest no ‘I’m a tough guy’ bullshit.” Masami grabbed the stranger’s jaw and tilted his head, checking for any missed knicks or bruises before moving his pen in front of his eyes, “Tell me your name and the date.” 

It was hard to tell if a patient had a concussion while asleep, and his current patient looked like hell even with the cleaning, he should be glad Masami gave him scrubs at all to cover up. He could have left him shirtless, bandaged and out back but here he was doing a thorough check up on someone who looked like they were ready to punch him at a moment's notice. 

— 

“You cut my shirt off?” Emilio sounded offended at the revelation, though he really shouldn’t have been. There was nothing special about the shirt. In fact, he was pretty sure it was one of the ones the former occupant of his apartment hadn’t taken with them when they’d moved out (or… otherwise vacated the apartment). Still, he found himself somewhat irritated at its loss, if only because it meant he’d likely need to hunt down a replacement. His wardrobe wasn’t exactly vast, after all. “I feel fine. Feel a lot better without you yammering at me.” He eyed the stranger warily as he moved to the cabinet, tensing as the IV bag was pulled down. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of this guy sticking any more needles into him.

The denial of a cigarette wasn’t exactly unexpected, but Emilio rolled his eyes all the same. “Where’s my jacket, then? I’ve got my own.” He glanced around the room again, hoping to find his things sitting out where he could grab them. His eyes were drawn back to the stranger as he pulled a chair over, and Emilio made note of the sound his leg had made against the wood. Probably a prosthetic, then. Easy enough to exploit if he needed to, though the guy was seeming less and less like a threat as the conversation went on. Annoying, maybe, but not a threat. 

Distracted by his silent assessment of the stranger, Emilio missed the man’s hand coming towards him until he was gripping his jaw. The concussion, he suspected, was at least marginally to blame for that. He probably did himself no favors by yanking his head back, but the move was more instinctual than anything. “I don’t want you to know my name,” he replied, “and the date’s not the kind of thing I tend to keep up with. Don’t know who the president is, either. Soy mexicano, so I don’t care about that shit.” His eyes darted around the room again, jumping from one spot to another quickly. “Where’s my shit, man?”

—

Masami gave a hard stare to the man, “So we’re doing the tough guy shit. Fine hike your shirt up and let me fix your sutures. I won’t use pain meds since you keep insisting you’re great.” He mumbled to himself about idiots as he got up and hobbled back over to the sink to properly wash his hands. “Anyone who saw you would have cut your shirt off, it’s common practice. Your coat’s fine, Alexus saved it, it's in a bag in the hallway with your weapons. For obvious reasons I’m not letting you have them back yet. Then again you seem a little slow so I might as well spell it out for you, I’m here to patch you up and make sure you’re fine to go where you need to; not to get stabbed by your jumpy ass.” 

The kitsune pulled on gloves and sat down in his chair, picking up his tweezers. He waited to see if the man would comply, “Not wanting me to know your name is ridiculous, I’m pretty sure if I texted Alexus she’d tell me anyway so there’s no point in dodging the question. It’s to make sure the piece of meat in your head is working properly. Though I guess if you have a concussion the fact that you seem to use your brain so little might be more of a benefit to you for once.” Masami couldn’t stand people who thought they were hot shit while bleeding out in front of him, really he should have told the other shapeshifter to solve the problem herself. Why bring someone who obviously didn’t want help? 

Then again he was hardly one to talk, he barely let Janice help him while sick. Speaking of, he should have had Janice come over. The woman was more intimidating than him and her magic could have just held this unruly jerk in place while Masami did what he had to. Unfortunately though he was sure the stranger would probably bite his tongue at that point.

—

“Rather have a glass of whiskey than any of that shit, anyway.” Emilio crossed his arms over his chest, the very picture of stubborn petulance. Part of him wanted to argue against taking his shirt off, but… he figured this guy wasn’t going to give him his shit back until after he was stitched up again. Besides, the fabric of the scrubs was starting to make him feel itchy in the way unfamiliar fabric always did. He pulled it over his head, tossing it half-heartedly at the doctor in a show of protest. “If I wanted to stab you, I’d have found something in here to do it with. I’m a resourceful guy.” It was a bold claim to make as someone who had briefly considered killing the man when he’d woken up on the table.

As the doctor sat down, Emilio shifted. His eyes darted nervously to the tweezers, because he wasn’t good at this. His mother had never stitched his wounds, never bandaged him or helped stop the bleeding. In the Cortez household, the general consensus was that if you got yourself hurt, the consequences were yours to deal with. If you couldn’t manage to stitch yourself up, you’d never make it as a hunter, anyway. And making it as a hunter was the only thing that had mattered back then. It was the only thing that mattered now, too, most days. 

“Tell me your name, and maybe I tell you mine,” he replied tightly, if only to keep the doctor from making good on his threat to text Emilio’s client. Texting her could get him far more information than just the hunter’s name. Where he lived, for starters. Emilio wasn’t sure how loyal Alexus would be to him over this man, regardless of the fact that he’d just taken one hell of a beating for her. This way, at least, he could maintain at least the semblance of control here.

—

“No whiskey, no cigarettes, you'll agitate your concussion.” Masami ignored the shirt tossed in his direction and leaned in to look at the wound. “Luckily you only popped two and they’re not next to each other.” He mumbled and carefully grabbed the knot of one of the busted sutures, tugging it out gently and making sure it looked to be whole. A missing piece would be a hassle he didn’t want to deal with. Once he was sure it was all there he tossed it in a bowl and did the same to the other, being careful not to accidentally tug the wound back open and sanitizing the area before grabbing his needle.

He could relent some control if it meant getting this guy on board with treatment. “My name is Dr. Hanazawa. I’m a vet, not a regular doctor, your friend Alexus is one of my more frequent patients, this is going to sting but it won’t last long the holes are already there.” Masami quickly replaced the two lost sutures, checking the wound once more to make sure it was holding closed despite the sudden movement from earlier. He set his needle down and grabbed a swab with antiseptic on it carefully running it around the wound again. 

“Also I doubt you could stab me with how wobbly you are, it’d be like a baby deer freshly born trying to wield a knife.” Or a pair of scissors. Either way Masami was pretty sure this guy wasn’t a threat anymore, and if push did come to shove and the stranger somehow miraculously managed to show some prowess with one of his scalpels, he could always just turn into a fox and deal with him that way. Was a little easy when your tails acted like a taser, not that he really wanted to reveal his fox form to the stranger but life and death was life and death.  

—

“Gotta be honest with you, doc, my concussion’s getting agitated either way.” Even if he were capable of holding off on drinking or smoking until the concussion passed, which was highly unlikely, Emilio wasn’t the sort of man who knew how to sit still. And for him, not sitting still tended to involve getting punched in the head. One of those risks that came with both his jobs, he figured. He bit his tongue as the doctor began tugging on the stitches, but didn’t make a sound. Truth be told, the pain was nothing compared to some of the shit Emilio was used to. The doctor was just lucky he hadn’t shown up with his damn guts hanging out. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

He glanced up to the doctor’s face as he spoke, eyes searching him for any hint that he might be lying. He found none. It’d be a dangerous lie to tell, anyway. Admitting that you were a doctor for shapeshifters was a sure-fire way to make enemies in a town full of people who might want shapeshifters dead. Hell, Emilio himself was a hunter; not one that killed indiscriminately the way some did (the way his family had, the way he used to), but still. It was safe to assume the doctor wasn’t stupid enough to go with that as a lie. “Emilio,” he replied, making no move to offer his last name along with the first. Cortez was common enough, and not as utterly associated with the slayer family in the States as it had been in Mexico, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Emilio was still as Dr. Hanazawa replaced the lost sutures, jaw tight even if his expression betrayed nothing. “Wouldn’t be so sure. I’m good with a knife.” The threat was an empty one, and not just because of his current state. Despite his better judgment, Emilio kind of liked the surly veterinarian. “Can I at least get my wedding ring back? Don’t think any of my fingers are broken.”

—

“Just don’t come back to me if it gets worse.” Not that Masami would turn him away, he just didn’t want a human being comfortable returning to his clinic. Shapeshifters and humans normally got along but not all of them. He heard stories often enough about how humans had mistreated his kin and his clinic was meant to be a safe area for shapeshifters, usually no human would be back in his recovery room. Then again Alexus had vouched for this one and as long as Masami showed he approved, Emilio would be fine… probably. Not many people wanted to get on Masami’s bad side, it never did good to anger the person patching you up. 

“At least you can remember your name.” That meant the concussion probably wasn’t severe at least. Masami stared up at Emilio, sliding his gloves off and standing again. “Good enough with a knife to end up in my clinic.” He mumbled before gently grabbing hold of Emilio’s hand to make sure the ring wouldn’t irritate anything, once he was satisfied it’d be fine he shuffled over to the door. He didn’t really see a reason to deny a man his wedding ring if his fingers weren’t broken. Masami opened the door, hardly going out of it before bending over, hands rustling around a plastic bag as the door rested against the back of his legs. “Should have put it in a tray.” He remarked taking a little longer than he would have liked to find the small item. Eventually his head popped back into frame, shimming inside as he headed for the sink giving the ring a good rinse before returning it to Emilio. “Does your partner need to be called to let them know where you are right now?” 

—

“I didn’t come to you in the first place,” Emilio shot back. Had it been up to him, he wouldn’t be here at all. His injuries hadn’t been great, but he was pretty sure he could have patched himself up if Alexus had just dragged him back to Axis. Slower than the vet had, maybe, and the stitches certainly wouldn’t have been as clean, but he would have lived. He’d dealt with a lot worse than this without any help and come out the other side still breathing. For better or worse. 

Snorting, the hunter only rolled his eyes at the statement. He was pretty sure he’d never taken a hit so hard he forgot his name but, then again, he might not remember it if he had. The quirks of head trauma, he figured. “Hey, I was outnumbered and trying to keep them off Alexus’s back,” he snapped defensively. “I think I did all right.” Considering Alexus had been unharmed, he categorized the altercation as a win in spite of his injuries. Of course, the assailants hadn’t all gotten off worse than Emilio had, which could spell trouble for them both down the line… but that was a problem for another day. 

Right now, his problems were confined to this clinic and to the location the doctor moved to to retrieve his ring. Emilio made note of it, assuming the rest of his things were there as well, but he was content to simply be reunited with the ring for now. He slipped it back onto his finger, finding some relief in the familiar weight of it. It was a silly thing, he knew. He and Juliana hadn’t even been solid in the end, had been fighting more often than they weren’t, but the ring had been a part of him for years now and it felt strange to be without it. The doctor’s question drew his attention back to the man, his chest aching at the admittedly fair assumption that there must be someone waiting for him at home. “Uh… No. That’s okay.” He twisted the ring around on his finger absently. 

—

“Then don’t let Alexus drag you here if it gets worse. That kid is too nice for her own good. It's going to come back to bite her some day.” Not that he was one to talk given the current situation, but Masami could always explain it away as doing a favor for one of his regulars that just so happened to know he was a big softy despite the attitude he displayed. “If she even starts to mention me, shut her down.” He took his seat back by the window, ignoring the blanket under him as he popped the window open again and pulled the unfinished cig out of the tray, bringing the dead back to life as he managed to light the crumpled up end. 

“Surprised you let her come along in the first place, she’s a shit fighter.” He held back adding on ‘just like you’ figuring he’d pushed the other man’s buttons enough for right now. “Still I thought the goal of fighting was to do damage without taking it, really starting to seem like most of you fail that bit.” Masami wasn’t a big fighter, he could hold his own and had in the past but he’d much rather just look for an escape route. He felt too old for the constant fights that took place around him. He was past 500 now half way through ascending and really it was a wonder he even got this far. He wasn’t sure if it was worth bothering trying to go for another 500 but he guessed as long as his patients needed him he'd be here. 

Masami took in how Emilio reacted to the ring and took the hint, whatever was going on with the taller man’s partner was complicated it seemed. Well that was none of his business, he fixed bleeding hearts not broken ones. “Lay back down for a bit then. Let the wound settle and your legs rest before you try to leave.”

—

“I didn’t let her drag me here this time. I told her to drop me at my apartment. She made an executive decision while I was passed out.” He grumbled, stumbling a little on some of the larger words in the sentence. Emilio wasn’t entirely comfortable in English when he didn’t have a concussion. With his head pounding the way it was now, the guy was lucky he was managing to keep up at all. “Yeah, well, I want to be here a lot less than you want me around.” He eyed the doctor as he picked up the cigarette, an expression almost bordering on hurt crossing his face. “Come on, man. That’s just mean.” 

Sighing, he rolled his eyes and kicked a foot against the table. “She told me she could fight.” And normally, Emilio wouldn’t have believed her. But there wasn’t supposed to be a fight at all. It was just supposed to be surveillance. Funny how his luck played out. He should have figured he was kidding himself in assuming this time would be anything different. “Only goal of fighting is to make it out alive. I did that.” Although some might argue that that was never really Emilio’s goal. If it were, he’d pick less fights with impossible odds. Or take better care of himself, at the very least.

The doctor didn’t pry about the ring, and Emilio felt some sense of gratitude for that. It wasn’t something he would have really opened up about if prompted — more likely, he would have gotten up and marched out the door, injuries be damned — but it was nice not to have to put in the effort of shutting the subject down. He’d always preferred people who knew when to shut up. The doctor seemed to be one of them. Maybe that was why he complied with the order as much as he ever complied with any order, leaning back on his palms rather than laying down but making no move to actually leave. “Still gonna want a cigarette.”

— 

“Alexus likes to think she can fight but I’ve seen her face come in swollen enough to know she can’t. One time her opponent dragged her in, barely had a scratch on him while her nose was crooked so much it whistled everytime she breathed.” Masami took a long drag on his cigarette while talking, “If you wanted one then you should have protected your head better.” The smoke moved with his jaw as the words squeezed out of his lips. The doctor was not one to backpedal on his decisions, even if his patient didn’t exactly seem like he wanted to get better, or at least didn’t seem to care about it. 

“I’m going to order food. I have a feeling it’ll take awhile before your legs feel like supporting you and no you don’t get to choose what you want. We’re getting Chinese, it's the only place open this late.” Masami understood more than most people about wanting to avoid tough subjects, he never did talk about his family, not even to Janice. Even after all these years it still hurt to think about the night he got back to the shrine to see everyone turned to ash, the mask he picked up was wrapped in cloth and shoved deep into his closet where it couldn’t bring up unwanted memories. His mother’s name was purposefully placed on a part of him that would be hard to read without a mirror.Grief was a monster Masami didn’t know how to beat. 

—

“Yeah, well, I learned my damn lesson.” He probably wouldn’t take a case from Alexus again, even if she did decide to make some attempt at becoming a repeat customer. Getting his ass kicked was one thing, but Emilio didn’t want clients who’d drag him into clinics every time something was bleeding. He got enough of that shit through Javi. “I was a little busy trying not to get gutted,” he grumbled, shooting the doctor a glare that was mostly half-hearted. The cigarettes the other man was smoking didn’t smell like the kind Emilio preferred, anyway. He’d probably finish up the pack in his jacket pocket the second said jacket was given back to him.

Emilio bit back the urge to insist that he was fine to go now, knowing enough to know that the doctor would see through his bullshit pretty easily. He’d probably be all right to leave sooner than the vet expected him to be — slayer healing and all that — but it was still going to take some time. Longer, he suspected, because of the blow he’d taken to his bad leg. Now that both the adrenaline and the initial dose of painkillers he’d been given were wearing off, the injury was the loudest one in the collection. Fortunately, Emilio had grown good at ignoring pain. “What if I’m allergic to Chinese food?” He wasn’t, as far as he knew, but he felt like making things more difficult for the doctor as a show of petty protest.

—

“Then starve.” Masami mumbled out as he put in what he wanted before throwing the phone in Emilio’s lap. The casing on it was scratched and dented from years of being dropped or casually tossed aside, its screen wasn’t fairing much better but the doctor wasn’t going to replace it as long as it bothered to turn on. He had a habit of holding onto broken things that refused to give out. Speaking of, his gaze went to the man’s face looking for any sign that he was getting worse rather than better; he looked tired, beaten and quite frankly like an ornery little shit. Emilio’s actions definitely proved the last part with how resistant he seemed to help or even order free food. The cigarette wiggled in Masami’s mouth as he spoke, “Order what you want or hand the phone back.” 

The doctor leaned in his chair making sure to blow the smoke out of the window, the crumpled cigarette now nestled between his fingers rather than hanging dangerously from his mouth. The window seemed to lack a screen letting in any cold breeze that came with it, but it was like that for a practical reason. It was easier to make an escape if a hunter ever ended up in his exam room if the screen to his window wasn’t an obstacle. The other windows in the room, however, did retain their bug shields in place and Masami had put himself next to this one in particular for obvious reasons with an unknown human in his proximity. “What was Alexus trying to get you to do?” He wasn’t sure Emilio would answer that given his attitude but it was worth a shot, better to know what Alexus was up to rather than be in the dark should she bring any trouble his way. 

—

“Your bedside manner is shit, doc,” Emilio quipped, catching the phone as it was tossed his way with a little less grace than he might have had he not been beaten to shit. You could tell a lot about a person by the state of their things; more if you were a half-decent detective, which Emilio liked to think he was. The doctor’s phone was old enough that even someone with as little knowledge of technology as Emilio could tell, with enough damage and cracks to signify that it had been through a lot. The man it belonged to seemed to have fared more or less the same. Both were world-torn. Both were still operating, somehow. Emilio found he could relate. He squinted at the phone screen, trying not to let it show just how new things like this still were for him. His mother had had no use for technology and, in his desperate bids to win her approval, neither had Emilio. He tapped at the screen absently until he thought he must have ordered something, then tossed the phone back to the doctor without comment.

Watching the doctor warily and tensing with each movement the man made, Emilio shifted on the table. He was still wound tight, like a spring ready to fly at the slightest provocation. Body pointed towards the exit in a way that was subtle, but would allow him a quick escape if he needed one. Absently, he twisted the wedding band around his finger and shrugged at the question. “Client-detective confidentiality,” he replied, the last word carefully enunciated in its unfamiliarity. It was a phrase he’d read during his very limited ‘research’ on how to operate as a detective, and while he wasn’t sure what exactly it entailed, it seemed like something that would get him out of answering the doctor’s questions. “Why did you patch me up? Why not tell Alexus to dump me in an alley?”

—

“Most of my patients don’t understand what I’m saying.” While he was a back alley doctor, he still did his job as a vet. Masami never really did hold things back though, he didn’t see a need to when being up front was often most effective. His patients’ owners seemed to appreciate the frankness or they wouldn’t keep bringing their pets back in, then again he was the only vet for exotics in town. He even helped the local zoo which was a great excuse for when some of his shapeshifting clients couldn’t maintain a human form. 

Masami let the phone flop into his lap, not bothering to try and catch it almost as if he was daring Emilio to miss, finally putting the ancient piece of plastic out of its misery. Unfortunately for the phone though it seemed to land mostly safe on top of his legs letting the older man finalize the order before tucking it back in his pocket. When Emilio dodged his question he could feel his snark building prompting his answer to come out rather quickly, “Figure it out for yourself.” In all truth, Masmai didn’t know why he bothered patching up Emilio. He just knew if he left him out there bleeding he’d feel like shit. It was rare among his kind to have any sort of care for the humans. Bad blood between the two often kept it that way, but here he was everytime unable to say no. He’d get in trouble for it later on, always did. Seemed even more certain given the state Emilio came in, and given the fact Alexus put him in that situation. He was also certain the fact that Alexus came here was basic knowledge to most who knew her. 

This whole situation was annoying, he’d have to have Janice strengthen any protections the spellcaster had placed on the clinic and hope for once this actually didn’t come to bite him in the ass. His fingers came to pinch the bridge of his nose, as the other hand put out the now spent up cigarette.Masami would suggest the other man take responsibility if something happened but he was sure Emilio would just find a way to weasel out of it or pin it on Alexus who was rightfully to blame in this case but Masami only had Emilio stuck before him having sent the girl home hours ago. He lowered his fingers and was going to try and ask another question but thought better of it, “You should lay down before the food gets here, your head might thank you.” he grumbled as he tugged the cigarette packet off the windowsill to light another, by now the soft scent of Vanilla was making its way around the room.  

—

“My English is a little better than a dog’s.” Though perhaps not by much. Sometimes, Emilio got the sense that Perro understood his clients better than he did. If the dog could talk to them in his stead, Axis would probably have far better reviews. He wondered, absently, what the reviews for this place were like. Maybe he ought to leave one of his own. Guy sewed my guts back into my stomach at two in the morning and ordered Chinese food for me, but wouldn’t give me a cigarette. Three stars. Something told him it wouldn’t be properly appreciated.

The phone sailed through the air and though the doctor made no move to catch it, it landed with relative safety. Emilio had always had pretty good aim. He watched the other man finalize the order, scowling a little when his question, like the one that had been posed to him, went unanswered. “Well,” he said, moving to cross his arms over his chest and gritting his teeth to keep himself from wincing as the motion pulled at the fresh stitches, “you give me that kind of power, I’m going to abuse it. Assume you fixed me because you figured I’m too damn pretty to die. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong, but only if you’re going to give me a different answer to replace that one.” It wasn’t the most mature tactic, but Emilio figured the probable concussion ought to give him a pass there. It didn’t actually matter much, after all, why the doctor chose not to let him bleed out in the streets. Even Emilio’s paranoia had trouble assigning a malicious motivation to the actions. If he were trying to butter the hunter up, he’d be nicer. If he were preparing to sell him to the highest bidder, he’d have drugged him stupid by now. If he were going to kill him, he’d have done it while Emilio was unconscious on his table. All he could figure was that the guy was an idiot who cared about strangers more than he should. Or he owed Alexus one hell of a favor and she’d chosen to cash it in on this, but that seemed a little less likely. Alexus didn’t like him that much.

Of course, that didn’t mean Emilio felt secure enough to follow instructions and lay down. Even in a situation where he was pretty sure he was in no immediate danger, his training wouldn’t allow him to relax in the presence of a stranger. Eyes glued to the doctor, and in a way that could be accused of being petty, the hunter swung his legs over the table and pushed himself to his feet. His legs would barely hold him, and the pain was enough to draw a quiet grunt from him, but that didn’t stop him from making a slow trek across the room to the door he’d watched the doctor open before to retrieve his wedding ring. Leaning heavily against the wall, he opened the door and rummaged around in his jacket pocket for a moment before drawing his hand back… with a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack and held it between his teeth, still staring at the vet. “You gonna give me a light, or do I need to fish around in my pocket for it?”

—

“So I noticed.” Masami replied dryly as he turned to blow smoke out the window. He wasn’t really sure what Emilio expected from him. He thought he’d been nice enough given Emilio’s attitude towards him. Then again even if Emilio had been kinder, Masami doubted his attitude would have changed in fact it might have gotten worse. He always seemed to come off angry the more concerned he was. Alexus  didn’t seem to mind, most of the time she laughed as the doctor cussed at her while checking her over. He wasn’t sure why he was like this, he wasn’t even sure how long he had been like this. When you hit 500 a lot of the past just blurred together no matter how well you remembered it you could never really pinpoint the time of the memory anymore. He felt old, he was only halfway through his life and white was already starting to show in patches on his fur. Would he even remember this encounter when it came time to die?

The vet was pulled from his thoughts by Emilio talking again. Pretty? Was Emilio pretty? Sure the other man wasn’t bad looking if they had met in a bar the fox might have even let him take him home that is if they didn’t immediately start bickering with one another. His eyes went to the stitches the minute Emilio moved, he tensed when the other stood and made for the door. Masami stayed that way till the man poked his head back with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Fucking idiot.” he breathed out a sigh and stood crossing the room. He was shorter than Emilio, he knew that since the man was dragged hunched over Alexus, but he was really noticing it now that Emilio was standing and he was having to look up to take in his face. “I prefer men who don’t end up on my table.” His gaze dropped to Emilio’s side to check his work hadn’t been messed up again. 

His fingertips gently ghosted over the skin just under the cut, maybe it was because Emilio hadn’t jumped up this time, but they seemed to be doing just fine. Once he was sure everything was good Masami offered a flat stare to the cigarette just laying there limp. He was tempted to reach over and tug it out, but then Emilio would just get another one out and really Masami wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get all of them from the human without the moron hurting himself again. “If you want a light you’ll have to bend down. My lighter is on the window.” he reached up to hold his own cigarette in place to take a drag from it. 

—

In all honesty, Emilio found that he liked the doctor. He probably wouldn’t say as much aloud, and certainly not during this kind of back and forth, but he’d always had a soft spot for people who refused to take his shit. It was what had drawn him to Juliana so intensely when they met, what allowed him to grow so close with Rhett as quickly as he had, what made him so fond of Javi. Emilio liked people who didn’t get their feelings hurt when he was an ass, because he was an ass often. It’d get old if he had to apologize for it every goddamn time. 

Though… he might owe the vet a beer after all this. He knew he wasn’t the best patient but, in his defense, he’d never really had to be a patient before. In the Cortez household, you were expected to patch your own wounds or bleed out, and Emilio certainly hadn’t had anyone piecing him back together after he left Mexico. It was almost quaint, being around someone who gave a shit if his guts were hanging out in the open. “You’d be lucky to land me,” he said with a scoff. “I’m a catch.” 

He leaned back against the wall as the doctor prodded at his stitches, the trek across the room enough to leave him more lightheaded than he’d care to admit. Christ, he hoped this shit healed quickly. His heritage as a slayer offered him some reprieve with the speed of his healing, but head wounds were a bitch. They were unpredictable at best, especially to a man who didn’t bother trying to understand them. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, leaning down to light his cigarette off the doctor’s. The hunched position was uncomfortable with his injuries, but he let none of the discomfort show on his face as he pulled back with the now-lit cigarette, taking a long draw and releasing the smoke with a sigh. “If I grab my flask out of my jacket, are you gonna bitch about it?”

—

“Somehow I doubt you are.” If anything Masami was sure he’d throw this catch back into the water. Then again he was a little frustrated given how Emilio seemed hell bent to open his wound again. Still there wasn’t even a guarantee these two would meet up again after all this. Emilio could always go to someone else to get his stitches removed. He wouldn’t blame him with how their night has gone. He was rude and Masami was rude. It seemed to work for them so far, though Masami would have preferred if the man would sit still at least till the food arrived. 

Masami held still, eyes watching Emilio lean in and light his cigarette. He really was a pretty man, fuck. “You can’t drink. I’ll let you have your cigarette but if you bend over to get your flask out I’m going to push you over so you can’t get back up.” He wouldn’t. The doctor was all bark with hardly any bite and even now he was beginning to relax completely around Emilio given that the man seemed to be proving he was no longer going to grab something to stab him with which was great given that he knew how many weapons were in the bag. “If you need something for pain you can have tylenol. Most of you humans are fine with that one.” He didn’t move to fetch it though. He was sure that if he turned his back the taller man would definitely start rummaging for his flask. 

Unfortunately for Masami, a ping came from his phone and a knocking could be heard on the clinic’s front doors. “Go sit before you fall over.” Masami moved past Emilio, pausing and deciding to just try to take the bag with him to prevent any more mischief on his patient’s part. 

—

“Well, you’re not exactly seeing me at my best here, doc. I’m a lot better looking when I’m not bleeding.” The back and forth with the doctor was a lot easier than it was with most people. Emilio didn’t have to worry about saying something too rude to a man who was just as rude as he was. Though the conversation might have been easier if he weren’t struggling to keep his feet underneath him. He was beginning to understand why Alexus brought him here instead of taking him home as he’d requested, even if he’d never admit to as much. His usual method of administering first aid to himself with a bottle of whiskey and whatever towel on the bathroom floor seemed the least filthy might not have served him very well tonight. 

But… he would still prefer the whiskey. He scowled when the doctor insisted that he couldn’t drink, looking petulant at the rule. “If you push me over, I’ll just drink it in the floor. I’ve had worse drinks in dirtier places, you know.” But he made no move back towards the bag just yet. Embarrassingly, his energy was pretty goddamn spent from his trek across the space to retrieve the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and if the vet made good on his threat to push the hunter over, Emilio was certain he wouldn’t be able to get up again. And the asshole would probably just snatch the flask from him, anyway, at that point. “I don’t need tylenol. I need whiskey. Maybe tequila. Not much of a vodka man, but if you’ve got some on you, I won’t say no.” It was only half a joke. Emilio wasn’t exactly sober — he hadn’t been entirely sober in around two years now — but he wasn’t drunk enough to be comfortable, either. 

Which was probably why the knock on the door had him tensing, paranoia kicking into overdrive momentarily until logic caught up with him and reminded him that they’d ordered Chinese. He raised a brow at the vet, fully planning on retrieving the flask from the bag the moment the man left the room… only to have the plan thwarted by the other man grabbing the bag to carry with him. Emilio let out a frustrated huff of air, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Aguafiestas,” he muttered, taking a long drag of his cigarette and limping back across the room. Rather than sit on the exam table, he settled himself into the chair the doctor had vacated, just to be contrary. It was where the ashtray was.

—

Masami made his way through his clinic with ease, even with the majority of lights off. He tucked the bag behind the counter and retrieved their meal, making sure to give the driver a rather large tip to make up for having to work so late. The driver did look a little off but Masami chucked it up to it being 2 am, though it got a little stranger when Masami went to lock the door and the driver had barely moved before turning to look at him again, the kid looked hesitant like he wanted to ask something but Masami wasn’t going to risk taking on another patient with a human in his back, so he just made sure to turn the lights off in the front to send the message that he was closed even if he was still working. 

The vet stopped when he pushed the door to the recovery room open and saw Emilio in his chair. He rolled his eyes and brought the food over to the counter spreading it out. “If you’re going to sit there then pull the blanket over you. It’s still winter out even if it’s starting to get warmer. “ Masami opened the doors and pulled out two mugs, deciding to let Emilio use Janice’s. She’d kill him if she knew he let some stranger put his lips on her mug but he didn’t feel like giving Emilio his. “As to your earlier comment, you wouldn’t need to see me if you weren’t bleeding and if I’m denying you your own alcohol why would I give you mine?” 

He filled both cups with water, opting to get the coffee pot filled and going as well, slapping in some hazelnut coffee that was sure to keep him going till Emilio was able to go home. Masami took the time to unwrap the plastic forks and spoons sticking one into what he guessed was Emilio’s order before putting it in the man’s lap and placing the mug on the windowsill. “Don’t drop the mug, it’s not mine.” He mumbled before fetching his own food and scooting the chair that was next to the bed over to the window so he could sit by the ash tray as well. It was a little awkward to balance on his fake leg so he could use his good one to get the damn thing over. 

—

With the vet off to retrieve their takeout, Emilio weighed the option of slipping out the door once again. It would have been a more viable option had his childish protest march for a cigarette not wiped his energy, though the fact that such a short trek had left him this tired let him know that, even without it, he wouldn’t have made it very far if he’d left. More likely than not, any attempt to leave would find him passed out in an alley in a far worse position than stuck in a vet’s office with free takeout and surly company. Besides, he really didn’t want to go without his jacket. Rosa’s old knife was tucked into one of the pockets, and the thought of leaving it behind ached more than he’d care to admit.

So, he settled back into the chair and puffed away at his cigarette, awaiting the doctor’s return. The smug expression on his face as the other man rolled his eyes in response to the chair’s theft was perhaps a little childish, but Emilio felt he’d earned it. He’d put up with the doctor’s prickly demeanor with what, in his opinion, qualified as great patience. “Or you could give me back my coat,” he replied, though he didn’t expect the attempt to be successful. Roles reversed, he wouldn’t return a coat full of weapons to a stranger sitting in his space, either. “I didn’t need to see you to begin with, you know. Alexus overreacted. I would have been fine patching myself up at home.” He knew it was a lie, but he’d never admit it. 

Water certainly wasn’t what Emilio wanted, but he accepted the mug with the knowledge that it was likely all he’d get. He poked absently at the food in his lap, twisting noodles around the plastic silverware without much thought. It was probably the best meal that had been offered to him in months, which was a little sad. He tended to survive on whatever cheap microwavable meals he could pick up at the 24 hour grocery store at two in the morning and whatever Javi ‘accidentally’ left in his fridge. Of course, that was only when he remembered to eat. “I’m not gonna drop the mug,” he mumbled, finger tapping the side of the ceramic absently. “Whose is it?”

—

“Not giving your coat back, you can deal without alcohol till you go home.” From the look of it though, Emilio wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. Masami shuffled into the now positioned chair and set his own mug down to place the cigarette in the ashtray’s holder. “You could have kept the shirt I gave you on.” Emilio seemed to like to make a show of being difficult though so he suspected the shirt would have come off eventually even if Masami hadn’t needed to fix his stitches. Masami was used to difficult patients though. A lot of people who came through liked to act tough, he supposed it made them feel safer in an unknown situation or they were just idiots. He was leaning more towards the idiot part. He really had to stop helping people who didn’t really want it but he doubted he would. 

“You needed me, so thank Alexus when you next see her.” Masami didn’t like the idea of this man patching himself  up at home, just based off his earlier demeanor, Masami felt Emilio would have just doused the wound in alcohol and haphazardly slapped some bandages over it. He was getting a headache just imagining it. Thankfully Emilio piped up again to get the vet out of his mental spiral of all the horrible ways Emilio could have handled the cut on his side. “Hm? It’s my employees. She’s another vet… ikind of.” He could barely remember when he had first met Janice, she felt as old as he did but she was definitely a human. 

Masami frowned at the thought, realizing how easy he was to get help form. Janice had been beaten half to death and Masmai just couldn’t leave her alone now she worked the front desk and luckily for Masami she was an amazing spellcaster especially when it came to dispelling curses. He shoved some of his fried rice into his mouth as he eyed Emilio. Another stranger he helped with no incentive. He really should be harsher, more closed off. He knew it’d get him into trouble, it had happened before. Picking up the wrong stray left to die, eventually it always came back to bite him. He wasn’t a selfless person, he knew he did it to avoid the guilt of letting someone die that he could have helped. He hated that feeling more than the trouble that came with helping someone who was obviously hurt for shady reasons. 

—

“Guess I’ll be going home soon, then,” Emilio grumbled, moving the food on his plate around with his fork without much interest. The doctor had a real ‘mother hen’ kind of thing about him; Emilio doubted he’d be allowed to leave without fuss until he could prove he could walk without trouble, or until someone came round to pick him up. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He’d never be able to go home if he wasn’t allowed to go home alone. Looking absently to where the discarded shirt had fallen, he shrugged. “Didn’t fit my style. Got to keep up my look.” The joke, like his general demeanor in the strange clinic, was little more than an absentminded defense mechanism, a way of putting some form of distance between himself and the situation. Emilio disliked passing out in one location and waking up in one he didn’t recognize because of the control such an event forced him to sacrifice. He’d take it back in any form he could, even if all he could really do was kick up dirt. 

It was especially irritating that the vet was right. Emilio had needed help, and even a near-stranger like Alexus had been able to recognize that. But he’d never admit to such a thing, never let himself accept the help he required without complaining about it. “Thank her? She practically kidnapped me. I’m a captive right now. This is unlawful… encarcelamiento.” Unable to find the English word, he settled for the Spanish one with a dramatic wave of his hand. If this was imprisonment, it was certainly a best case scenario. Decent food, water, and medical care. A conversation partner that didn’t make him want to stab himself with his plastic fork. “You live nearby?” It would explain why he was here so late.

Of course, given his reaction to Alexus dragging a bleeding man into his clinic in the wee hours of the morning, Emilio doubted that the doctor was here just catching up on paperwork. He was probably here most nights, waiting for someone who needed help. It was similar, in a way, to what Emilio did. But this was more like playing defense, fixing problems in the aftermath. Emilio’s game was the offense, squashing issues before they arose. And, sometimes, getting his ass kicked in the process, evidently. He sighed, pushing the food around a little more before leaning forward to set the plate aside in favor of leaning back in his stolen chair. The fork remained in his hand, twirling between his fingers absently. “Not good at sitting still,” he admitted, leaning forward again. “How long before I can leave without you taking offense to it?”

—

Masami noticed the apparent lack of appetite in his patient but decided not to bring it up. He figured he had fussed enough at Emilio for today. “Based on the shirt I cut off you, you're right. It wasn’t dirty enough.” He was getting used to teasing Emilio, their conversation seemed to flow easily even if most of it was just being rude to one another. It was kind of enjoyable. Would be more enjoyable if the man would get out of his own ass. He really should have made Alexus stay to take Emilio home after Masami patched him up, but she looked equally tired and Masami figured she’d be passed out and useless by the time Emilio came around anyway. So he sent her away. He wasn’t about to offer to drive Emilio home either, he didn’t think Emilio would agree even if he did. 

“You’re not a captive.” Masami was starting to realize that Emilio liked to be dramatic. The man seemed to drive everything to its highest point and exaggerate even the littlest of inconveniences. He was also an alcoholic apparently. A note Masami was deciding whether or not to store away, if he did keep note of it then that meant he expected Emilio to come back. He frowned at himself a little, Emilio wasn’t meant to be coming back. He should have been taken to a human hospital in the first place, then again Masami wasn’t going to get the police involved in suspicious cases which was probably why Alexus had come here instead. “I don’t live close by,” He did but he wasn’t going to tell Emilio that, he was easing up around the other man but if Emilio got caught up in something and somehow ended up involving Massami it was better that he didn’t know,”I was here with a sick rabbit… You’re getting curious again.” 

He had thought they were agreeing not to ask questions of each other, even if it hadn’t been spoken out loud. Masami set his own food again and leaned back, eyes roaming Emilio’s form. “You can leave when you feel you can walk home.No lying to seem tough, if you pass out in an alleyway I won’t hear the end of it from Alexus.” He would also have to drag the man back to the clinic himself which wasn’t something Masami thought he would enjoy. 

— 

“Oh, you got jokes?” Emilio took a sip from the mug to hide his grin, amused in spite of himself. The doctor was as quick with his quips as he had been with that needle earlier, which was certainly saying something. There were worse places to wake up, Emilio decided. This was a hell of a lot better than some vampire’s den, even if the ‘torture’ was a little less entertaining. That didn’t mean he was looking to stay, though. 

He narrowed his eyes at the vet’s insistence that he wasn’t a captive, putting on a show as if he didn’t believe it. His paranoia may have had him on high alert at first, but he’d long since accepted that the vet didn’t actually mean him hard. The guy actually seemed like he wanted to help. Somehow, that was more confusing than the alternative. “If I weren’t a captive, you’d let me have my flask.” A last-ditch effort. Never let it be said that Emilio was anything less than persistent. He quirked a brow at the sick rabbit excuse, which he was pretty sure was bullshit. 

“I’m a detective, doc. Curiosity’s kind of part of the job.” But he didn’t poke further, for the moment. The doctor had given him a fair amount of discretion here. The least he could do was return the favor. It was just… a little harder than it might have been for most people. His statement wasn’t entirely false — curiosity was something that ate away at him, and the desire for answers tended to be a hard one for Emilio to ignore. The longer he stayed, the more likely he was to ask questions. He had a hard time stopping himself. Sighing, he continued spinning the fork absently in his fingers and stared at a blank spot on the wall, free hand twitching. “I’ve got a dog,” he said suddenly, glancing to the vet. “He gets antsy. If I’m gonna be here all night, somebody’s gotta check on him.” 

—

“I was a comedian in my past life.” Masami muttered and closed his container of rice, moving to get up and put it in the small fridge that sat on the floor next to the counter. He downed the water in his mug as he closed the fridge door with his foot, filling the now empty mug with half coffee and half creamer. He knew it was a good idea to just make the recovery room and the break room the same area, saved him from having to leave unruly patients like Emilio by themselves just so he could get coffee. 

Speaking of, the dramatics from Emilio earned another eye roll from the vet as he sipped on his drink and leaned against the counter. “Have you never been to a hospital? You’re a patient not a captive. So no flask.” Emilio should have been in a regular hospital, then again he wasn’t sure a normal hospital could handle this guy, Emilio probably would have escaped by now or he would have annoyed the doctors into letting him go. Masami was a little impressed the man kept trying to weasel some alcohol out of him but he wasn’t one to back down as long as Emilio wasn’t hurting himself or someone else. 

He moved to go rejoin the man in the seats, wanting the cigarette he left behind when he paused at the mention of an anxious dog. Masami frowned, at first he wasn’t sure if Emilio was being honest or not and was about to say so until the man fixed his gaze on him. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ll call a taxi. Hopefully your legs are good to go by the time it arrives.” Masami would be stuck worrying if Emilio wasn’t able to walk properly to the front but at least he wouldn’t walk home. Masami tugged his phone out of his pocket and was quick to place the request. Now it would just be a case of waiting. “Take your food with you, you can eat it later and don’t do anything stupid to re-open your wound. I won’t fix you up again. Humans shouldn’t be back here.” 

He started fussing around in the cupboards with the hand that wasn’t holding the mug, He pulled out some bandages and slapped them into the plastic bag their food had been delivered in before coming over and dropping the bag in Emilio’s lap. This was the last favor he’d do for this man if he could help it. Despite them getting along, Masami had decided it was probably better Emilio stayed on his side of the town far from his clinic. He still didn’t know who had beaten him and Alexus, and he didn’t want any of that trouble coming his way. On the other hand he knew if Emilio showed up here again he wouldn’t say no to treating him. He was weak that way. Always had been. Probably always would be if 500 years of life hadn’t beaten it out of him yet..

[tteokdoroki]

awake with you | s.todoroki

♡ pairing: shoto todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 1.7K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: ua student!au, angst, comfort, fluff.

♡ summary: during the night, bad things happen but your boyfriend is always there to keep them away. by your side always, shoto todorki makes it his mission to fight your demons and make sure you know that you’re loved.

♡ warning(s): please read ! character death, mentions of car accidents, nightmares, guilt, lack of sleep, but a lot of fluff and the best boyfriend in the whole world :(

♡ author’s note(s): guys! it’s shoto’s birthday, so here i am postiing this shoto request from anon a while back, i hope you all enoy and have celebrating the beautiful boy’s bday <3

♡ masterlist | requests

it was hard for you to sleep.

harder, when shoto wasn’t around.

sometimes it was your thoughts that kept you up; late at night— dark thoughts that swirled around in your head and slowly poisoned your brain with heavy black venom. it was hard to sleep when your mind was heavy with fear, but ever since dating shoto todoroki; those nights became easier and sleep wasn’t so hard to come by.

you weren’t so sure what it was about your boyfriend that made it easier for you to get some shut eye; it’s not like he really knew either. todoroki just didn’t like seeing you in pain, the way your face twisted with discomfort or the way sleepy tears would wet your cheeks under the moonlight— but you had somewhat of an idea, that his fresh peppermint smell and warm arms are what often helped you.

shoto would so lovingly sneak into your room, no matter the time, dusk or dawn— he would hold you tight under the sheets until you drifted off to dream land. even if it meant being teased by the others for stumbling out of your room in the morning, his pretty hair a wild mess creating the image that’d you’d both been up to no good, he’d face it all for you, over and over again.

but tonight, your loving, caring and doting boyfriend was nowhere to be seen— everyone’s second internships had begun and todoroki had chosen to work with his father along with izuku and katsuki, so it was no doubt that they wouldn’t be home until late. what with endeavour being the number one and all.

your friends knew about your struggles to sleep, of course, todoroki bluntly mentioning how you ‘like to sleep together’ to soothe your nightmares ( iida had lectured you about it after, saying it was inappropriate while deku and ochako turned as red as your boyfriend’s hair ) so offered to stay up with you— but you needed rest, today’s training sessions  having taken a toll on your body, and wave them off with a smile laced with tiredness.

you could call him, he wouldn’t mind and you know it— but he’s with his father and that takes enough out of him as it is.

you decide, instead, to trudge to the dual quirked boy’s bedroom, instantly calmed by his sweet peppermint scent embedded into every inch of his dorm. you swipe one of his clean sweaters straight from the closet before hitting the lights and snuggling into his bed.

tonight would be fine, todoroki would come home, wrap you in his arms and with the aid of his scent surrounding you— you would sleep safe and soundly.

is what you hoped as you drifted off to the land of dreams.

when you were younger, you watched your older brother, haru, get hit by a car.

the scene haunts you to this very day, crawling up on you while you rest at night— choking you out in your dreams. you see it now, feet glued to the ground as you’re forced to watch the younger version of you, mess with your older brother using your new found quirk. your parents had called it scenery, back then your powerful quirk had been their pride and joy, giving you the ability to create a mirage in a certain targets mind— make them see things that weren’t really there.

back then it was fun to play tricks on your sibling— you made haru see all of his worst nightmares, everything but the road.

everything but the oncoming car.

everything but his untimely death.

you want to scream at little you— tell her to stop and that it’s not funny anymore as she forces your brother back into the road— he’s giggling, he doesn’t know it yet and neither do you. but the words you want to say die down deep in your throat, suffocating you from the inside although they burn at your lungs to burst through.

why cant you speak? why cant you stop her?

adrenaline trickles into your blood stream as you will yourself to run out into the street and protect haru from the oncoming traffic just as he slips off of the sidewalk. your senses are blown out of the water, static noise filling your ears and intertwining with childish screams and the sound of a not so distant honking horn.

you claw harshly at your throat. speak. save him. for god’s sake; do something.

“you’ll kill him! stop! you’re going to kill him!”

the flickering of artificial, yellow light behind your closed eyes has you jolting awake, sweat forming at your brow and hands clenched tightly around your boyfriend’s plain bedsheets. your gaze darts across the room while your heart thumps loudly in your ribcage from the fear that struck you in your dream and finally, your stare settles on a shirtless, bewildered shoto todoroki. his face is a little scratched up no doubt from being on his father’s patrol and he looks exhausted but that doesn’t stop the concern he has for you taking over his expression. “yn—?”

“s-sho,” you hate how your voice caves so easily, the single syllable of your nickname for him falling wetly from chapped lips. todoroki is by your side in an instant, not caring that he’s only half dressed and half awake. he’ll deal with that later.

with tender hands shoto cups the back of your head, letting you sink into the warmth of his flesh. you reach out for your boyfriend and he’s there, taking your free hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze to help ground you. “love, what happened? why didn’t you call? you know i don’t mind—” his timbre voice fills your ears like warm honey, calming your rapid breathing but all you can do is shake your head.

“nightmare ‘n you were working,” you pant, cutting him off while the death grip on your lover’s hand begins increasing. you feel so far from the ground, the scene of haru’s death dancing across your mind. “i killed him, again—“

shoto watches your body twitch with fear and your usually glimmering eyes gloss over in away that makes him feel sick. you’re not here with him yet, still tangled up in the black string of your bad dreams. the world around the dual eyed boy begins to change and it seems you’ve activated your quirk by accident— showing him scenes of the day your brother died.

you screw your eyes shut as flashes of his body tangle with reality to the point where you don’t know what’s real and what’s not. you’re losing control of yourself so easily, fresh sets of tears stinging their way down your streaked cheeks. trapped. you feel trapped like a bird in a cage even while you’re awake and the sounds of cars and screaming burn at your ears once more.

make it stop, please.

“yn... come back to me love, i’m right here,” todoroki’s calm voice cuts through the suffocating song of death, dragging you back to reality while the effects of your quirk drift away. his fingers, although contrasting temperatures, now cup your cheeks to tilt your face towards him so that your eyes lock with his under the crescent moon. “you didn’t kill him. that wasn’t you. it wasn’t your fault.”

you blink away more tears like a helpless child, chest heaving but todoroki doesn’t give up. “but—“

“no.” your boyfriend says softly, yet sternly, leaning down to place an eskimo kiss to your nose. your eyes flutter shut at his simple gesture, although it raises saftey and warmth across your body— black radiates behind your closed eyelids, no longer plagued broken bones and blood. it’s easy to keep breathing from there, focusing on that as todoroki pulls you into his lap and the sheets fall away from your body.

“no,” you repeat back to him while shoto’s arms settle on your waist and his familiar scent of fresh peppermint fills your senses. “not my fault.”

it wasn’t your fault, that day the car had come speeding down a usually safe road in a residential area. the accident was a hit and run, but being a child made you feel every ounce of the blame. shaking the thought away you curl into your lover’s chest, listening for sounds of his heartbeat while he toys with a lose string on his sweater— the one you wear.

“that’s right, good girl...not your fault, here with me yet, love?”

when you glance up, todoroki is looking right back down at you— brows creased with worry but there’s love in his stare, overwhelming amounts that make you hum into his bare chest, grounded by the feeling of his skin against yours. “present and accounted for,” his chest rumbles with relieved laughter, soothing you even more. “thank you, sho. i’m sorry for making you do this so late at night.”

this time, shoto shakes his head— sending locks of red and white flying. “don’t thank me and don’t apologise,” his words are feather light in the dark while he manoeuvres you both onto his back to settle into bed. you’re about to mention that he’s still half in his suit, but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, already closing his eyes. “i’m yours, your boyfriend and i’m going to support you no matter what. i’ve got you, okay? you’re always here for me so i’ll do my best to do the same for you. what kind of man would i be if i wasn’t?”

“a very unmanly man,” you tease with a kitten like yawn, already feeling the confines of a more comfortable sleep, taking over.

todoroki rolls his eyes but pulls you closer to him anyways. “you’ve been spending too much time with kirishima.”

“at least i don’t spend everyday working with bakugou, now that’s true nightmare.” you counter, narrowly missing a pinch to the side from your boyfriend.

the pair of you sleep soundly that night, wrapped in each other’s arms. you feel safe, knowing that nothing could ever harm you, as long as you were with him. shoto todoroki would give anything for to you to have a goodnight’s rest. no matter what. even if it meant staying awake with you and being late to patrol with endeavour the next day.

not like he cared, he hated his dad anyway.

[kyberheart]

A Deceitful Creation Part #1 -  Wolffe x F!Reader

Part #2

Summary: You’ve been trying for a while now to get pregnant with your lover. Knowing that may never happen, you ask for some outside help from Wolffe on the down-low...

Word Count: 1483

Warnings: 18+, piv sex, infidelity, pregnancy/trying for a baby, cursing, angst

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy.... I’m still here! I had some stuff going on this past week so I missed my Friday fic upload, but hey! It’s Sunday, only missed it by a few days so whatever. I’m still working on part #3 of my little Techy-boy story. Hopefully will be finished by Friday the 3rd! Heh... part #3 on the 3rd... perfect. ANYWAY I hope you like this little blurb I wrote. I wanted maximum sad with lots of OOF. I kept the summary and header as vague as possible to not spoil the end. Good luck in there!

(Ao3 Link if ya want it)

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

Wolffe was different with you. All teeth and tongue and nails dug into the plump flesh of your thighs. The look adorning his eyes in this moment is akin to a knife’s edge; he was holding back as not to tear you to shreds.

Your lover on the other hand, well… he was the whisper of a cool breeze in the night. A cascading avalanche of stolen breaths and languid strokes. Completely and utterly tender with you.

“C-close Wolffe, almost…I’m—!”

He nods, stooping to kiss you, but swiftly retracts his head with a tiny scowl. He knew the rules. No marks that can’t be covered up, no pet names, and under no circumstances can he kiss you. This was just a mutually beneficial transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I got you… I got you…”

He’s reaching down, down, down to make contact with your clit. You keen, dropping your head back into the mattress. He fucks you through your orgasm, spilling inside of you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist. You tremble under him as you come down from your high. In a blur of muscle-memory Wolffe is reaching behind you for a pillow. He props your hips upward with it, grinding into you a few more times to make sure his seed is in there nice and deep.

“If this isn’t the one, I’m not sure if I can help. Maybe what they say is true, maybe we’re all infertile. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of defectors running off and getting people knocked up, but…” He shrugs, pulling out of you to head into the ‘fresher. You sigh, staring at the grey ceiling above you. That really wasn’t the case. Some were infertile, yes. You knew that all too well…

“I’m headed out. I have a supply run to facilitate. You alright?”

Wolffe grunts as he snaps his scratched armor around himself. He wasn’t much for conversations after the act. Rather, he preferred to be on his merry way as fast as possible. It wasn’t so much to avoid catching feelings as it was to steer clear of talking. He was undoubtedly the most stand-offish of the clones you knew. You were often surprised at how easy it was to lure him into the bedroom with how hostile his demeanor could be. Though on second thought he was just a normal guy. Sex is just as fun for him as it is for others.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks Wolffe. If this one doesn’t stick I’ll leave you alone.”

He pauses to search your face. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around your chest with a sleepy yawn. A garbled message blips from his forearm, which he answers with a quick acknowledgement before seating his helmet onto his head.

“Understood. I’ll see you around. Say hi to my vod for me when he gets back.”

And with that, he’s silently leaving your apartment into the void beyond. In the silence of the room your mind wanders once more. You think of your lover. Where was he right now? Somewhere far, far away? Somewhere he was safe? Was he warm, fed, and happy?

The cool dribble of Wolffe’s cum down your thigh snaps you from your rumination. You glance at the clock, finding it’s already been twenty minutes since he’d left. More than enough time, you think. With a quick curl of your spine you’re up on your feet and heading to the ‘fresher for a nice long shower. Hopefully when you were out you’d have a comm or a message from your lover.

----------------- He hunches low, lips hovering so close to your ear his hot breaths could have burned a hole through your head.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Just a—oh, squeezing me so tight tonight, huh? This’ll be the one, the kriffing ONE. Gonna fuck you full, fill you up to bursting. Make you s-swell with my baby. Can’t wait to see you like that… all mine…”

You cum so hard the world around you dissipates into nothing but him. He growls, pitching you forward with his angled thrusts. His hips crush you into the bed as he cums right along with you. His amber eyes sizzle with freshly tapped desire. Whispered adorations mingle between the two of you, lost to the spinning darkness of the night. When you’ve calmed your heaving breaths, you reach up to grab one of the pillows above you. He helps you position it under your hips before kissing you roughly. Between pecks, he speaks with a heart full of gentle sweetness.

“I’ll keep doing this—you’ll see. We’ll have a little one running around before you know it. Our little adi’ka… yeah…”

His eyes grow distant, lips stilling at the nape of your neck. You huff, smacking his shoulder with your hand.

“I know babe, don’t worry. With how much you’ve been between my legs I think we’ll be having LOTS of them running around.”

You wink at him, leaning up to kiss him again. He chuckles, reciprocating your heavy prodding tongue with his own within your mouth.

“I just… I know we’ve been trying for over a year… what if I...”

You shoot him a frown, tilting your head up to look him straight in the eyes. The fact of the matter was daunting and sat like tepid acid on your tongue. If he knew he wasn’t able to sire children, it would truly break him.

“NO! You are perfectly fine the way you are. I’d know, remember? I’m chief medical officer here dummy. You—WE have nothing to worry about. It’ll happen when the time is right. Trust me.”

He smiles at you, the sight of which could warm even the frostiest planet of Hoth into the dunes of Tatooine. All your love, all your patience and turmoil and sympathy and curiosity and… kriff, you’re everything was him. All him, always was and always will be. Him.

-------------------- The vividness of your dream wakes you with a start. It seemed to be recurring the last few days, a memory of the last time you and your lover were together. You shake your head of the images that haunted you. If only he was home, you wouldn’t worry so much about him.

It had already been a few weeks since Wolffe had occupied your bed. A queasy feeling was beginning to settle low in your stomach. Your lover hadn’t been back in a long while, and you were starting to think something wasn’t right.

You rise to pee, realizing in the dimly lit hush of dawn that this was becoming a frequent occurrence for you. When your shirt brushes a bit too roughly against one of your nipples you yelp. Were they always so sore in the morning? Wait…

Could this be it? A surge of adrenaline hits you like a Hammerhead Corvette as you rush into the ‘fresher. Not long after, you have a small white strip laying on your counter. Your knee bobs with anticipation, head in your hands as you sit on the hard tiled floor. This might just be it!

As the lines swell in the tiny viewport, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as possible. The memory pushes it’s way to the front of your mind once more to taunt you, to make you feel a twinge of guilt at what you’ve done. With a groan you run your fingers soothingly through your hair. You knew you could do this. Joy, passion, and relief would pave over the deceit from which this baby would be born. Your lover would never know the truth, but it was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Forging a life, a family for the two of you was all that mattered right now.

The time is up. The minutes counted down with bated breaths. A scream tears its way from your throat as you see the result:

Pregnant

Before you can have a full-blown excitement meltdown, a beeping from the other room draws your attention. Your comm sits on your nightstand, signaling you of an incoming message. The words flash on the screen as you wipe tears from your eyes:

Dropping in to save a Jedi Master on Lola Sayu. Don’t worry, should be home before your pretty little head hits the pillow. See you soon my love. My heart is yours, forever.

Oh, you were squealing with delight now. It was finally happening! For REAL! This was a dream come true. A baby… you were going to have a baby! And your lover was going to be home by the end of the day. You wanted to comm him, send him a picture of the test, yell it to the kriffing UNIVERSE that you were fulfilling a long-awaited dream. Both of you were. You calmed yourself, resolving to tell him in person when he got home.

You couldn’t wait until Echo was back!

[wizkiddx]

Please I request you and Tom Holland being the sort of ‘it/star couple’ and being really popular in the media and fans

Req if you want?🤪 + I’d love any feedback/tips <3

Sorry I changed this a bit just cos tom rn seems the opposite of being that public and I have 0 imagination, hope this is still okay!

Summary: Tomhollandxactress!reader - as the two of you go on your first public and official event, Tom cant help but show everyone how enamoured he is by you

The fallout of from yesterdays ceremony was definitely not what either of you had expected. Having stirred from sleep before your boyfriend, naturally you’d killed the morning flicking through your phone. As much as you normally tried to avoid the tabloids and twitter, especially after you released your relationship to the world, having had a bunch of your friends actually sent you links to them - it would be rude not to have a quick scan. Especially because, for once, they seemed to be positive.

You see, it had always been the little things with Tom. Even when you had just been getting to know him, it was the small and unconscious actions that even he didn’t know he did. You always said Toms love language was physical - as much as he wanted to say that it was ‘words if affirmation’ or something else corny he’d read on buzzfeed (you’d got him addicted and now lived to regret it). That didn’t mean that he had to be clinging on to you, or excessive PDA or anything of the sort. It was more subtle which somehow made them more special to you. Now though, the whole world seemed to have picked up on it too.

This was the first event the two of you had actually attended together. As in together together. As in not hiding. You had been nominated for best actress; whilst Tom’s newest movie was up for a few accolades too - so fair to say it was a big night for Hollywoods newest couple. Naturally since your instagram post 3 weeks ago, the world was obsessed with you both. All the way in the car, you leg had actually been trembling with nerves - bouncing up and down in your silhettohe heels. In attempt to calm you, Tom bumped his knee against yours before reaching over to actually squeeze your thigh. 

“It’ll be fine you know?” You sighed shakily, turning your head to face Tom’s soft features. Both of you were dressed to the nines, you were in a glittery red chain-look scrappy dress; Tom in an all black suit, except the little pocket square of satin deep red - embellished with a single chain that came from your dress. Hopefully not too cliche but now the both of you were done with hiding - Tom seemed to want to just a little something. You hummed in response, searching the flicks of warm brown in his eyes with yours. 

“It’s just new and we haven’t encountered all the questions yet so I don’t know how to answer them and -”

“We’ll do them together and-and you can say no Y/n/n… you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.” Taking a long exhale, you hesitantly nodded, allowing a small smile to grow on your face. It was terrifying but you had this doting and angelic boy by your side. You’d get through any tough questions.

However it wasn’t actually the answers you spoke that evening that stuck in the public mind. 

When you’d first pulled up to the carpet, Tom instantly hopped out and rounded the car door to get to your side just as you swung your legs out toe doorway. After waving quickly at the screaming crowd, he looked down and offered up his hand to you - which you gladly accepted. The LA weather was beautiful, and the evening was just rolling into golden hour- the suns brilliant yellow-orange light bathing your body as you climbed out the car. 

The screaming used to be terrifying and although today was a little more nerve wracking than normal, you still could be nothing but appreciative for all these people showing up. In your head it was so bizarre that anyone would spend so much time and effort to meet you - really you were just normal person, and pretty boring one at that. Yet here you were in the most bizarre situation, there was nothing else to do but smile and wave. 

Just like that you went into the ‘celebrity mode’. The pair of you worked your way down the sides, smiling warmly for selfies and signing various posters and memorabilia. Really there was nothing to worry about, everyone there was nothing but lovely -  many fan girls squealing about how amazing you looked. Tom kept himself close by, occasionally hovering his hand against the small of your back just to reassure you he was there. 

Eventually you worked up to the press line, all of them calling your names with mics outstretched. The two of you approached the first in a long line, Tom taking the moment to just hook his pinky with yours (thinking no one else would notice) because this was clearly the more threatening part of the evening and he just knew you were feeling the anxieties all over again. 

“Tom and Y/n!!! Wow how are you guys doing?” Hence began the start of overenthusiastic small talk from the blonde interviewer. 

“I mean first I gotta ask you Tom…” She drew out the words, increasing the suspense somewhat, making Tom wiggle his brows “How insane does your girl look tonight?” 

“Oh well” Tom chuckled whilst you tried to shake off the embarrassment. He looked you up and down with the biggest smirk on his face. “It’s fair to say my woman looks absolutely breathtaking. She came out the room and I did a little excited dance before we left.” The interviewer laughed and you bumped into his side, rolling your eyes in a joking fashion- though to be fair it was completely true. The interviewer then asked you a couple questions that were a bit more serious, relating to the darker material of work you were nominated for. During it a random gust of wind flew down the carpet, shocking everyone a little - none more so that the minimal pins in the top of your hair, which did little to restrict its movement and instead was flying allover the place. Squealing a little, your trial of though momentarily broken, both yours and Tom’s hands went to pull the long locks back down into place. You thought nothing of it, Tom had developed this weird thing about wanting to do you hair weeks ago - but you weren’t to complain. Constantly during movie nights, he’s be running his fingers through your strands of hair; or even after a shower he’d learn to plait it whilst you did your skincare routine. Whispering a little thanks to him, Tom then reached down to squeeze your hand as the attention was turned back to yet another interview. 

The first article you clicked on was one that your best mate had texted you the link of. On opening it up, the title already made you scoff a little ‘Tom Holland single handedly restoring all hopes that men aren’t always trash’. What followed was 4 points. 

You ever struggled to get out a car in heels? Get yourself a Spiderman to help you up

Hand holding too much PDA? How about a pinky grip?

Oh and he’s trained himself to become a hairdresser when the wind picks up….

Accompanying each subheading was photos of each moment that as it had happened yesterday evening. Unable to help yourself, you kept looking between your phone screen and Tom - who was still fast asleep, his arm wrapped protectively round your middle.  The hair that had been so securely gelled back yesterday evening, now was falling over the front of his forehead and the sight was enough to give you that feeling in the centre of your chest. The dropping feeling as if you were jumping off the edge of a cliff - the adrenalin rush and heart in mouth moment. It had been 18 months you and Tom had been like this and he still gave you the most intense flutters - even if he was snoring. 

Managing to tear your eyes away from him, you scrolled to the last point of the article.

      4.  And yes we know this is cliche… but we swear we have never seen ‘heart eyes’ in reality more that this.

And there was a photo of you, probably chatting pure shit to the interviewer, paying absolutely no attention to a particular pair of brown eyes on you. It was the way the outer corner of his eyes dropped a little to normal position; the way the corner of his lips were turned up just enough to show the slight dimples on his cheeks. Tom’s face had literally been the definition of uwu and you could not suppress the teenage girl like giggle that burst out your chest. That was enough to rouse Tom with a heavy groan, as he pulled himself flush against your side releasing a deep breath.

“Mhmmm… you laughin at me?” He slurred, eyes still shut against your stomach as you stared to card your fingers through his curls. 

“Actually… I might just be” Smirking down at him, Tom yanked his his neck up, squinting at you with a scowl and barely open eyes. “You look so soft” laughing at his expression, you brought your hand out of his curls to smooth over his frown lines.

“ Don’t try and distract me… what you laughing at?” Still pouting, of course, the boy had never been a morning person

“Just… I think you’ve accidentally made us the new Hollywood ‘it’ couple.”

[contorted-curruptions]

*-Mug Shot-*-Poly KiriBaku X reader-*-part one-*

Note: Surprise Saturday, I got carried away with the story and thought it might be best to section it off in two parts so you’ll be getting this one and another post tomorrow peeps, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a story like this one. Smut is not in this one so if you are looking for that you’ll find it tomorrow, until then please feel free to enjoy this. Also all characters are aged up and the time the story takes place is when they are already pro heroes, so keep that in mind.

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Running, running, the sound of bare feet harshly pounding across the hard surface of the ground below. The pavement cold and merciless on your bare feet, you feel the damage from all the running with no shoes.  As you run the sound of your terror echoes out across the soundless night, the streets so empty, not like how they usually are in the daytime. Not a soul will hear you and if they do it’ll be a little too late. It’s dark and only the street lights give you any semblance of where you are going. You hear and feel your heartbeat pounding away in your chest, that feeling becoming more painful with each pound. You feel yourself falter a bit more but you can’t afford to stop, can’t afford to stop running even for a minute. You know they have to be hot on your tail, know they won’t waste time in giving chase once they know you have fled the scene, that most horrifying scene that you left behind. The images flash through your mind as you ran churning your stomach and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. You stifle a sob but that makes your chest clench most painfully but worst of all in this panic while you turn into an alleyway you haven’t noticed the glass scattering across the entrance of the alley. Though you become sorely aware of it once your feet make contact with the shards causing you to let out a scream at the pain shooting through the fresh wounds the glass makes. You wind up tumbling to the ground, you scuff up your hands and knees as you make contact earning more painful noises from you. You fell unceremoniously on the ground in a small heap. Those sobs you kept in achingly inside your chest burst out and you howl out, hot tears now streaming down your face.

For a moment you lose your resolve while you lay there in that heap on the pavement. The pain from all the running through the city catching up with you. Your breathing erratic and you are finding it hard to catch the breath that you lost during this chase. You feel dizzy, your entire body aching in agony, and for this time all you can focus on is the sheer panic coursing through your entire form. You need to get up, need to, have to, you can’t just keep lying like this out in the open, they’ll find you. Another surge of adrenaline gives you the energy you need, you rise to your feet and start running again. You are ignoring the pain in your feet and in other areas of your body which is over-exhausting. You’re Focusing on what is dead ahead of you, a building that looks abandoned. You can focus on much of anything else except the idea of escaping, the idea you can hide and rest a moment. Though, you have to wonder what you are going to do. You can’t run forever and you doubt hiding will do you much good either. No, not when facing off with two pro heroes who are much more experienced than you. Two pro heroes and friends you never had thought until now would have done something like this in the first place and no one else will believe such a claim either. No one will convict two heroes that have done nothing but good. 

These thoughts alone left you feeling alone, so very alone. Who do you turn to in a time like this one? Who will even believe you? You, a simple book store clerk and hobbyist selling random things for fun? You are what most would call a nobody, just another face in the crowd, which is why you have to wonder what wound you up getting mixed up with these two in the first place. However, this is no time to think about that. There is no time to be drudging back into the past when what you need to focus on is finding a solution to your problem. A solution that doesn’t come easy or seemingly at all. The alarm of this chase slowly starts to dull into confusion as to why you haven’t been hearing anything from the two who should be hunting you down right now. You haven’t even seen a glimpse of either of the two males you figure are after you currently. Everything quiet and dark, not a sound, not a peep, nothing. You pause your running once reaching the abandoned building and making your way inside. You pant and groan, your lungs and everything else feeling like they are on fire. You place your hands on your knees and take in a deep gasp of breath before coughing loudly. You are choking and gasping after all that running, that dizzy feeling coming back to you. You stumble to the wall and lean against it, you in this tiring state slide down not caring about the filth on it or the ground under you, and there is trash along with other more grimy looking things all around, nonetheless at the moment, you choose to ignore it. Your body too worn and your mind still scattering about too much to really mind it all. All you need is to breathe, that is all you can think, you need a moment. Maybe if lucky, they aren’t chasing you after all. You can only hope that is the case yet you can’t be too certain so you know you can’t linger for too long.

“Fuck...fuck...it stings damn it…why…?!”

You curse under your breath finally starting to feel the glass in your feet you didn’t bother to remove before. You are fearful to even look at the bottoms of your feet right now, you can only imagine how torn up they must look currently, The blood. Looking off you can see the small trail leading to you.  You let out a small whimper as you raise your hands to look at them. They too sting badly from falling a few times before. Looking them over it seems they have been torn up pretty badly. A few rocks rest under the skin now, you poke at the bloody and bruising flesh trying to scoot a rock from under the flesh to get it out only to hiss from how it feels to do so and once more curse.

“Damn it…stings...”

You say in a whimper as you move to curl up into yourself, more tears start to cascade down your cheeks, that tight feeling in your chest returning.

“(BF/n), oh god...what am I...?!”

You curl up and start sobbing the images of your beloved’s corpse chard and beaten to a pulp on the floor creeping into your brain, it once more causes you to feel sick. It makes you want to vomit. The smell, the sight, the screaming before all that, those are things you know you’ll never forget. All of them tear you up inside, this is all your fault after all if it weren’t for taking on that project for the two pro heroes you wouldn’t have been winding up here, would you?

It had been a simple day, one like any other, the sky was bright and sunny dotted with a few clouds which you had remembered you stared up at that day. It was very nice unlike tonight, cold and unbearable regardless you remember you woke up beside your lover then. Your boyfriend had given you a good morning kiss like always ever since you had moved in together. Honestly, you hadn’t been in that house together all that long, only a couple of months but those moments spent together had been a dream. A dream you hadn’t wanted to wake up from. You would both get up and get ready to go to work. That morning you showered together, you both got a bit frisky that morning. You and your boyfriend would make out tongues danced together while your arms would be wrapped around each other. You could feel how well your bodies fit together. 

Hard to believe that is all over now, that lovely little dream with your boyfriend dead, as dead as he is now. You will never feel that perfect fit with him again. Knowing that sends another wave of pain through you and causes another sob to echo out from your chest as you shiver and wish for the warmth of your lover. Right now you feel more cold and alone than ever before.

Continuing that trip down memory lane, you could recall you left the house alone that day. Your boyfriend would take his car to work and you would walk, being that you didn’t live that far away from the book store which you work at. You can’t help but think that years ago you wouldn’t have seen yourself working in such a place and it’s not because you don’t like books more so you have problems dealing with people. It fills you with a lot of anxiety to deal with things most days. Honestly, you feel you might have just wasted away if it wasn’t for your boyfriend who always seemed to have your back when you needed it. What are you going to do now that he is gone? Are you going to spiral out of control? No, somehow you will stay strong for his sake. 

Regardless, continuing on. The day moved forward normally nothing seemed out of place, not even the random email you had gotten when you came home. The email was another commission for a project by another faceless person. You didn’t know that this request would wind you up in deep trouble later, in that deep trouble now. The commission seemed all too normal. The client wanted something special done for an anniversary gift for their boyfriend which seemed very cute to you. Really you sort of like hearing from the clients more than most do. The theme was simple it was to be a Red Riot and Ground Zero themed item or rather mugs. They wanted it to be a bit flashy or at least the art on them to be, it was something you could do, Honestly. Despite not being that into heroes, you were happy to do this for the client. You love making things and even more so making those who enjoy your work happy. So like with any other client you got to work after you sorted through the details, and actually, you were very excited. This was something you could do with your boyfriend, he was much more into the whole hero thing than you were and still are. Funny enough your boyfriend did like those two in particular. They were heroes that he very much enjoyed so that day you learned quite a lot about the pair of heroes in question.

The project went on as normal and with your newfound information, you made the gift extra special. You wanted to be very specific to the client’s taste so you tried to ask questions however they seemed very lax about everything they had said that they trusted your judgment. You didn’t mind this one bit. You had given the client updates and he seemed to like them. Eventually, the day came for the project to be done and you shipped them out. You had been very proud of your work and even your boyfriend was. Actually, Your boyfriend had got all pouty, he wished he could keep them which you had found funny then...what you would give to be able to hear him laugh again, to see that smile, and now that was stolen from you.

For a long while, things seemed alright, there had been no word from the client. However, you had been paid so you assumed they were happy with what they had gotten. It wasn’t until a full two months later that things started to kick off again. The day had started normal enough, you made it to the bookstore on time, and would work as you normally would. That day was quiet, not many customers, and most of the day spent slacked off with your coworker while doing what needed to be done around the store. Though at some point the bell on the door would sound it would call you back to the front of the store. A young man with crimson red spikey hair and eyes was the one who sounded the bell when he walked in. Upon further inspection your eyes would widen you would form a recognition with the redhead in the store, it was the hero Red Riot. You couldn’t help but stand there dumbfounded.

“H-Hello and welcome to Nook Books, how can I help you?”

That had been what you said when you finally had found your words, your voice had come out in a bit of a stutter and you had given him a small nervous laugh. He responded to your more shy behavior with merely a smile and offered up an adorable laugh of his own, which actually eased your own anxiety towards the situation at the time.

“Hey there, yeah I could actually use a bit of help finding a book.”

You would smile at the young hero and gave a small nod, you of course were always happy to help the customer, and there was no exception then either. Not to mention you were face to face with the hero Red Riot and at that time you had been oh too excited to be in his presence for the fact you could tell your boyfriend about the encounter. Maybe if you were lucky you could get an autograph, or maybe at least a picture, though to be honest you also hadn’t wanted to bother him so you so it was just a debate in your mind. you at the time though knew it would make your boyfriend happy if you would get it.

“Ah yes, well I’m happy to help, what book are you looking for?”

You would offer up one of your best smiles and try not to fidget too much however you had already shifted to and fro a bit out of nervousness already.

“Ah well, haha, I kinda don’t know…”

You would blink a moment in confusion but nod a moment before you responded.

“You don’t know? Are you buying for someone else?”

You would question a moment, you thought maybe his mind had been on someone else when he thought of the book he wanted, it might have been a gift if he wasn’t sure what kind of book he was on the look for however just as well he might just not had been sure what type of book he needed for himself, but something told you it wasn’t for him, you had a felt that way anyway.

“Haha, yeah, it isn’t for me, though he’s very special to me, he’s a bit difficult to buy for sometimes. Do you have any books that would be more action-packed and manly?”

You had smiled when you listened to his explanation for who it was for and even giggled when you heard what exactly he was had been in search for. There were many, many books on hand that could cover what he wanted but with so little given and that he said the other was difficult to buy for well it seemed like a slightly daunting task. Even so at that time you were determined to find the perfect book for this special someone that he had talked about. You smiled and worked very hard, you asked specific questions to try and get a better gauge on what type of book to get. If only you had known what you had been dealing with back then you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did to make him happy. You wouldn’t have been as pleasant to him, but sadly you hadn’t known and you had been as positive and polite as possible. You even asked more than you would have given your normal comfort zone. You had tired yourself out on one customer something you wouldn’t usually do, but you wanted to impress the male. You wanted to make sure someone like him left very happy. You did manage that, you got him the perfect book, after you found that book for him you brought him over to the register to check him out.

“I think that book will make him smile, and if it doesn’t feel free to hold me accountable.”

You would chirp out as you rang up the book, you had a good conversation with the young hero. He’d even told you his name which was interesting to know. Kirishima seemed to talk about Ground Zero. Of course, it was said they were good friends so you supposed that was only natural, and he’d mentioned a few other interesting aspects about himself which had tickled you to learn about. It wasn’t every day you could have said you got to talk to a pro hero.

“Don’t worry, I trust your judgment, I don’t think you’d steer me wrong haha.”

You would nod and laugh as you placed the book in a bag and told him how much the book would be, Kirishima would pay you and you would hand him the bag, of course surprisingly he didn’t rush off after that, he would stick by the counter a moment.

“Before I go, would you like an autograph or something?”

He had given you a big grin and you would blink, you had held back and tried not to ask because you hadn’t wanted to bother him and there he asked you about what you had wanted from him, almost too eager you lept at the opportunity.

“Y-Yes actually I’d love that, my boyfriend is a big fan.”

At the first part of your statement it would seem that Kirishima was very happy to hear what you had to say but as you look back on it now you realize that he had twitched lightly, he had made a small change in his facial expression that said something else when you mentioned your boyfriend, you thought nothing of it back then but now it was very apparent that he was upset to hear you were with someone and that the reason you wanted a picture and autograph was because of him and not because you were a fan.

“Yeah? Alright then, glad I could help you make his day like you made mine.”

After that, you would get to pose with him for a picture and he would sign a piece of notebook paper for you, it was the only thing you had on hand at the moment, but he happily signed it for you. You also hadn’t noticed that he looked for more reasons to make conversation with you but your coworker interrupted and him unlike your boyfriend wasn’t very fond of heroes so he could care less that one was in the store other than the fact it meant that the store might get a good review from someone who mattered.

“(Y/n), I need you to do something for me in the back.”

Your coworker would speak up, you could tell from the tone of his voice he just wanted to hurry things along.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you. It was nice to meet you, (Y/n). Hopefully, I’ll see you again.”

With that Kirishima had given you a small smile and wave before he made his way to the door.

“Yeah, you too, have a lovely day, I hope the person you were buying for enjoys your gift!!”

You would call back to him before he fully left, you hadn’t thought about how he used your first name, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t then, which would come to be a mistake later, many things would lead to being mistakes you couldn’t have fathomed being so problematic. After that meet with him, you had continued work only to be nagged by your coworker about doing your job in a timely fashion which irked you quite a lot but you hadn’t let it ruin your day. Like you assumed your boyfriend would be over the moon to see the autograph and to see the picture you had been so pleased to see his smile, that night was one to remember, Your boyfriend had been so excited he made love to you. Part of you doesn’t want to remember that part, only because it’s yet another thing that you will never have from him again, and giving the current situation, you find it inappropriate.

Suddenly you hear a loud bang echo out, a growl and cussing from not too far away from where you are in the building. Your heart begins pounding in your chest, it looks like those who were chasing you after you had fled are finally here to collect you. Your breathing picks up and you move scrabbling to your feet. If you stay here they’ll find you for sure, that is all that you are thinking about, you need to escape and now.

“Where the fuck are you (Y/n)!! I know you’re fucking here, can’t hide forever idiot!!”

[capricorn-stark]

Protégé

pairing: red hood!jason todd x robin!reader, slow burn 

warning: swearing

a/n: for context, this is somewhat loosely based off of Battle for the Cowl (2009) which I definitely recommend as a read! 

There was something about falling that you would never, ever get tired of. 

Ever. 

Probably.

With the wind whistling in your ears, your hair floating up in a million directions, and your limbs seemingly weightless as the buildings and lights blurred into one endless streak of color, the rush of adrenaline that ran through your body right before your grappling hook shot out and you landed quietly on the concrete was about a million times better than any sparring session back at the cave. 

You grinned as you straightened, rather proud of the fact that you had actually managed to land so smoothly without nearly paralyzing yourself. Again.The landing was something you had been working on for a while now.

You could practically hear Bruce’s voice ringing through your head after your little stunt, lamenting on and on about how you had more important things to focus on during patrols, and you let out a sigh as you ran down the backway of the nearly empty streets. 

The heavy man who had been bound up with a decently made gag and one of Bruce’s fancy tech pieces (Batcuffs, maybe? Something else with Bat smacked in front of it?) grunted beside you. 

“What? Not like you had someplace to be.” You grabbed the back of his rather tacky-looking spandex suit to drag him along back to where your mentor was supposed to be.

Despite your (many) disagreements and his (many) criticisms of your hand-to-hand combat skills, attitude issues, and pretty much everything else relating to you, Bruce had actually still allowed you to go off on your own tonight. It might’ve been because he wanted a few hours of nothing but beating up petty criminals by himself for stress-relief, it might’ve been because he had started trying out that whole independence thing with you a little more (even though you were still only permitted to be about five blocks or so away), it might’ve been plot-convenience - but either way, you appreciated the gesture.

It didn’t take long for you to pull your new friend over to what should’ve been your rendezvous point with Batman, letting the man drop with a dull thud and a grunt of protest against the concrete as you glanced around for the other man. You weren’t particularly concerned by the fact that the Bat himself wasn’t there yet - after all, he was the goddamn Batman. He’d show up eventually. In the meanwhile, you decided to go over the information you had gotten on the criminal with you. 

Just for the sake of it. Bruce would make you go over it anyways.

“Drury Walker, thirty-two years old, found him trying to mug someone in a back alley and make an escape. Called himself…” you paused, looking down at his sorry-looking outfit for a few moments while he looked up at you with murder and vengence in his eyes. “...Killer Moth.”  

“Killer Moth?” A completely new voice repeated in disbelief, causing you to immediately whirl around to face them in a fight stance, heart racing at a million miles per hour. The guy in front of you had his hands up in the air, his face concealed with some sort of red knock-off Iron Man helmet. He was gonna get copyrighted by Marvel Studios. “Shit, sorry,” he started at the sight of you, still leaning up against one of the walls. “I was supposed to make a wholeass dramatic entrance, but you said his name was Killer Moth and that-” The man made a noise that was either a sharp cough or a laugh of some kind. “-sounded so fucking lame I couldn’t help myself.” 

Despite the fact that you were definitely in some sort of major trouble with this new guy, he really did have a point. Even Killer Moth himself would’ve been embarrassed by how trash his name was, if not for the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm - understandably so, since the new guy had produced not one, but two guns out of apparently nowhere. 

“And let me guess,” he continued, pointing one of them at your head, his tone still all-too light and easy. “You must be the Bat’s brand-new Robin.” 

Now this is where most people would've shut up and proceeded to be complicit with the dude holding two guns. But Batman hadn’t seen reason and made you his (sort of) partner because you were like other people. Hell no.

“Do I look like a traffic signal to you?” It had been the very first of your amendments with Bruce. You would not be fighting crime looking like a literal traffic signal or, at best, a clown from Haly’s Circus. And the tiny green shorts had to go. “Or Robin Hood?” The guy had a rather awkward pause where his gun sort of dipped. Killer Moth was looking between you with wide eyes. “Do I?” 

“I guess you kinda got a point.” You huffed and he raised his gun again, getting more in-your-face as his already angry-looking helmet somehow managed to look angrier. You weren’t exactly sure how a helmet could convey so much emotion. “But you work with Batman. And I heard you went by Robin.” 

Okay, so you couldn’t make him change the name, but you had agreed it would be more of an honorary thing.

“It’s complicated.” 

Using such a phrase as an excuse to escape from situations you didn’t want to go into was one of the many things you had learned from Bruce in your five months of training. Somehow, that seemed to trigger the guy further.

“So you do work with Batman.” 

Before he could do something actually insane, you had managed to push the gun pointed at your head away from you, using his brief second of surprise to take it out of his hands, kick him in the chest, and round back on him with it in hand. 

“And what about it?” 

As cool as you thought you might’ve sounded didn’t cover for the fact that you were still nerve-wracked about what was happening right then. Especially after the guy started to dramatically slow-clap like some sort of evil thespian in a high school drama. 

“Not bad, Robin. Not bad.” He looked at the gun in your hands and grinned. “If you weren’t Batman’s new replacement sidekick, I might’ve believed you had the balls to use that thing.” 

Now, you were an excellent fighter. You had to be, after your excessive training with the guy who had literally mastered about every martial art in existence during his (give or take) five year-long mission to find himself. Plus, some personal experience. But fighting someone like this guy? Built like a tank and padded up in a whole lot of armor and packing an assortment of knives, guns, and even a damn taser you got a first-hand taste of?

You fought hard, but about five minutes and another round of the taser later, you saw the knock-off Iron Man helmet staring down at you before the world went black.

~*~

You woke up in what you assumed was the self-dubbed Red Hood’s safehouse of sorts. 

“How the hell did he rope you into this shit?” he demanded with what you could only assume was him glaring at you through the helmet. Probably some expression that made someone look all angsty and annoyed - which was fair, since he had been trying to drill you for information you straight up refused to give while bound (way too tightly) to a chair for quite some time now. Rather rude. “Let me guess. You watched your parents die.” You stared at him before shrugging.

“Nope.”

“Oh, so they just went ahead and died somehow. Untimely accident caused by some psycho bitch in a Spirit Halloween costume.”

“…nope.” 

“They abandoned you as a child.”

“No, they didn’t - does divorce count?” 

Red Hoodlum’s hands kept clenching and unclenching while he stood there, staring at the wall behind you in silence. From the way his chest kept rising and falling, you were tempted to believe he was practicing breathing exercises amidst his rather violent twitching. 

“Divorce - what the hell is your trauma supposed to be? Why did he pick you?!”

“Hey, just because my trauma doesn’t include people dying doesn’t make it any less traumatic,” you scoffed in response, knowing you were absolutely right about that. Your middle school guidance counselor had said so (and it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, trauma comes in many forms!). “Kinda rude to assume it didn’t affect me somehow.”

He seemed rather abashed at that and you heard him clear his throat a little. 

“...right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted - can you loosen these ropes a little? It’s starting to kinda hurt.” 

“Do I look ten? That’s the oldest trick in the book, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not going to run, just loosen the ropes a little.” He still looked like he didn’t believe you. “Come on, I don’t think I can outrun your guns.” As in his literal array of guns tacked up to the wall behind him, not his gigantic biceps. 

And you weren’t too worried about being held hostage by him, either. You figured you had ten minutes tops before Batman burst in through the doorway, ready to give you a lecture on why straying from the specifically designated parts of Gotham he had let you traipse around was a terribly stupid idea. 

“No.” He was already walking towards the door, because apparently, he had enough of trying to interrogate you. 

“Hold on, I feel like my wrists are actually about to start bleeding or something - where are you going?”

“Keep talking and I’m gonna get the duct tape.” 

“Is that a threat?” Sounding more confident than you actually felt should eventually make you more confident. Eventually. 

The Red Hood sucked in a breath, stopping by the doorway and turning to face you, reaching into his pockets to get what you assumed was either a gun or duct tape when you both startled from a sudden crash. The man in front of you was already whirling around with two guns positioned to shoot when you heard the familiar voice of someone else.

“Hold your fire, soldier. I’m not here for you.” A pause. “Or I wasn’t, but now I kind of am.”

Apparently, Batman was too busy to save you. Now, you got Nightwing. 

And as much as you liked Nightwing, that still kinda stung. 

[blacktassel]

drunken feelings.

summary: sometimes you need your completely drunk brother to confess your feelings for you

prompt: “is somebody jealous?” (req)

pairing: diluc x gn!reader (feat. kaeya and venti)

word count: ~1.4k

genre/warnings: fluff, humour, sfw, diluc sucks at confessing

It was common knowledge that sometimes Kaeya got a little too drunk.

And when he got a little too drunk, he seemed to bring out an alternate side - or rather, sides - of himself; hidden personas only a bucket of magical alcohol (and the influence an equally drunk bard) could bring out.

You and your fellow barmaid kept a record of every type of drunk Kaeya you’d witnessed; and in the span of your few months working at the Angel’s Share, you’d encountered multiple already. 

So far, there was the moody-drunk Kaeya (who’d sulked in a corner for half the night, only to be dragged out by Diluc himself), flirty-drunk Kaeya (who would’ve been more suave if he hadn’t been tripping over his own feet every minute), tearful-drunk Kaeya (who would not stop crying at the bard’s songs) and poet-drunk Kaeya (...never again).

Tonight, it seemed like the Cavalry Captain had had too much to drink again.

“Behold…” Your co-worker says beside you, looking over the wine glasses she was wiping, “the wildcard Kaeya,” 

You nod, approving of the label. “His mood’s changed three times tonight. From his usual self to poet to moody to…” You glance at Kaeya in the corner, who now seemed to be dabbing at his eyes. “Teary?” 

What sort of new alcoholic drink did Diluc put on the menu?

“You don’t think that bard has got something to do with it? Venti, they called him?” Your co-worker glances at the green figure who was now singing his heart out to a sad ballad - he had half the tavern of drunken citizens and Cavalry Captains swaying and tearing up along with him. You suspect he’s had one too many drinks himself.

“Is it already this rowdy?” You hear Diluc sigh as he comes in through the back door, already shrugging off his coat and holding a hair tie between his teeth. There’s a freshly bandaged cut on his cheek, you notice. You wonder what he gets up to outside of working at the bar; delivering wine and doing business definitely didn’t result in fresh bandages every week. I’ll ask about it later, you decide, pushing the worries to the back, First we’ve got to make sure nobody ends up blacking out.

“Master Diluc, you’re here!” you greet, relieved to see another person who wasn’t drunk beyond his wits. “It’s.. going to be a night, alright. Your brother he’s already...”

Diluc sighed again, tightening his ponytail, which was tied up high tonight. He seems to have grasped the situation already. “I’m going to have a word with the new importers,” He slides you a box of tissues. “Give these to Kaeya… we don't want to have to wipe the tables of tears,”

You nod, carrying over the tissues through a crowd of now quietly weeping drunks and past Venti (who was currently taking a drink break, and looked a little too proud of his influence over the crowd) to the cavalry captain’s table in the corner.

Just as you set the box down on the table, Kaeya flashes you his signature smile. “Ah it’s you! thank you-” He sniffs. “-kind one!” He pulls out a handful of tissues, and blows his nose dramatically; drawing the stares of a now-quiet tavern. 

Kaeya is blissfully unaware of the stares and awkward silence, and to make things worse, he lets his head fall face flat onto the table in front of him. Venti chuckles and awkwardly strums his lyre, before starting up his next song.

“Uh.. are you alright, sir Kaeya?” You shake his shoulder gently. He doesn’t stir. 

What was in those drinks? 

You stand next to him, attempting to wake Kaeya up again as Venti’s next song progresses. 

Without warning, Kaeya whips his head up, slightly dazed. “A lo - hic! - love song!” Kaeya babbles out, tears pricking in his eyes again. “Hm. How fitting…” His eyes go to Diluc, who was glancing over, and then to you, before he smirks. “A fool who’s too shy to confess his feelings… and the one he’s in love with,”

You open your mouth to rebut - before you freeze. What was he rambling on about this time? ‘How fitting?’ What was that supposed to mean? 

Before you could ask him about the number of drinks he had that evening, he burst out again “Hm. If only you’d notice the way he looks at you… You see, Diluc talks in the looks he gives. Glowers. Hard stares. Rolling his eyes. I’ve been his brother for years and have managed to see a whole range of looks come out of him…” he chuckles to himself as he looks over at Diluc, “...and I’ve never seen that look he gives you, before… It's shy. And hesitant.” He finishes, before hiccuping loudly.

“Uh...” Heat rushes up to your cheeks. Diluc? Harbouring feelings... for you?

Kaeya gestures at you, signalling you to come closer. You make eye-contact with Diluc, who was coming over in your direction with a glass of wine, before awkwardly ducking down next to Kaeya. “And what’s more, did you know that Diluc-”

“Ahem,”

“Oh? We were just talking about you, Diluc,” Kaeya smiles slyly up at his brother, who was clearly sick of Kaeya’s antics. “You see, I’ve noticed your little crush on [name] here-”

“Kaeya. How many drinks have you had?” Diluc interrupted, unfazed.

Kaeya guffaws. “Oh? Trying to change the topic? How classic of you, Diluc,” he places his chin on his palm. “Or.. is somebody jealous? That I was able to confess your own feelings before you?” He sends you a wink. “Trust me, he would have been a saggy old man before he’d ever work up the courage to-”

Diluc swishes the wine glass in his hand, and suddenly that’s all Kaeya cares about. He reaches out, plucking it out of Diluc’s hands. “For me? You shouldn’t have,”

You look at Diluc in shock. What was he thinking? Kaeya was in no position to drink another glass. But before you can stop him, he downs the glass completely.

He spits it out instantly.

“My, you’re cruel.” Kaeya says, “Grape… Juice…”

Oh.

Diluc stands, arms crossed and looking down at Kaeya. You get the feeling that this definitely wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

While Kaeya sits stunned, and deeply offended, you hear someone making their way through the crowd, “Sir? Sir!” a young man bursts through the crowd. He must be a knight. He hauls Kaeya up by slinging an arm around him, who was now descending into wallowing in self-pity.

The knight sighs, looking at his own Cavalry Captain. “Master Diluc was right.. You’ve had too much to drink.” Kaeya scoffs, but now that he was on his feet, he was too disorientated to make a comeback. 

It didn’t stop him from trying to get back at his brother, though. As the Captain stumbled past the two of you, he pats your head, and completely dishevels Diluc’s hair, a stupid grin on his face. Diluc doesn’t blink.

After he’s left, Diluc pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Archons…” He turns towards you. “He didn’t… make you uncomfortable at all, did he?” he asks, worried.

“Oh, no! He didn’t. He just… changed his mood pretty quickly,” You let out a laugh. “He really must’ve have had too much to drink, I’ve never seen him like this before,”

He nods in agreement. The two of you stand there, awkward. You shift on your feet, heat pricking at your cheeks, remembering what Kaeya told you.

Diluc coughs, ears now bright red. “About what Kaeya said-” 

“Don’t worry about it, it was probably the alcohol speaking-” You rush out, trying to push down any hope you had inside of you. You can’t fathom the idea of Diluc having feelings for you - he’s never had feelings for anyone, as far as you knew.

“It’s true.” Diluc glances at you, before looking down at the floor. “I… have feelings for you,”

Oh. Nevermind.

“You don’t have to accept them; don’t feel obligated to say anything-”

“No, Diluc, it’s okay,” You look up at him, a small smile on your face. “I like you too,”

Tonight’s events must have given you a decent burst of adrenaline, because before you realise it, you go on your tiptoes, and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “We can talk later; we’re on the job still, remember?” And with that, you spin on your heels, and walk back to the bar, heart beating out of your chest.

Diluc’s left standing, stunned, and now bright red.

Behind him, Venti laughs and plucks at a few of his chords playfully. “Is Diluc... speechless?”

Venti was almost never allowed to play at the Angel’s Share after that.

end.

[angelmavmurdock]

Home

summary: you and tom haven't seen each other in months and he surprises you.

SUPER fluffy !requested one shot!

you can either listen to the song while reading or start listening to it when it tells you to! Home by Caite Turner - the song in which this is based off of :).

***********

5 months.

5 months since I've seen Tom.

He's been in Atlanta for filming Spider-Man No Way Home and at Christmas he spent time with his family before going back.

I hadn't seen him in so long. Facetiming and phone calls could never come close to the feeling of being with him. It feels like such an alien thing now, even thinking about us spending time together. Like it's something of the past...

We tried to call every day but that became difficult as Toms only day off is Monday and I'm working and the time difference. Everything just seems so difficult and forced. But we still do it. Because we want to see and talk to each other but it's just so exhausting with the time difference.

I'd wake up earlier to call and say good morning and I'd end up staying up late on Facetime with him. So my sleep schedule was completely messed up, along with all the emotions that come with a long distance relationship. Then it's heightened even more because Tom is famous and tabloids follow him everywhere. The recent buzz for Cherry has had people asking about his love life - or rather our love life but they don't know we're together. No one apart from our friends and family do.

I missed him. I really missed him. It hurts my heart every time he posts to Instagram or I see interviews from him.

We had scheduled a Facetime for tonight. It was 10pm for me and 6pm for him. Not too bad.

I was absolutely knackered so I was just getting ready for bed when my phone started ringing.

I grinned, picking the phone up and answering the call.

"Hey, handsome." I giggled at the phone screen, sitting it up on my dresser as I got changed.

"Hey, darling. How are you?" He asked, placing a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

He was in his signature pink hoodie with a baseball cap on backwards. His phone was rested against something on his dinner table and I watched as he ate his tea.

"I'm good. Tired but good. How about you? How was work?" I asked, taking some makeup wipes out.

"Oh, sorry baby." He pouted.

"No, no, it's okay. M'used to it." I laughed lightly.

He furrowed his brows slightly as I wiped my makeup off.

"y/n."

I looked at him. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry-

"I love you." He said with a slight smile.

Don't cry, don't cry-

"I love you too, babe. I miss you." I swallowed, trying to keep the lump of sobs from bursting out.

"I miss you, too. It's been 5 months since we've seen each other. I left for Atlanta 5 months ago today." He sighed, taking another forkful of food.

I took a deep breath, throwing the makeup wipes into the bin, "It's been so long."

"I know, darling, I know. But..."

He reached over the table. I heard papers shuffle and I quirked a brow as I got into bed, only my bedside lamp giving me a warm light. I snuggled into my blankets, propping my phone against a pillow.

"I just happened to be coming to London next Friday." He said nonchalantly, fiddling with a plane ticket.

My eyes widened and I stared at my phone screen.

"Y-you're kidding." I felt my heart rate rise.

He grinned, "Nope. Filming finishes next week. I'm coming to you next Friday, love."

I gasped, sitting up and squealing into the phone.

"Oh my god! I can't believe it! We're going to see each other! For real!" I exclaimed.

"For real." He laughed.

"Oh my fucking god...well, I don't know how you expect me to sleep or work until then." I smiled widely, settling back into bed.

"I can't wait. Can't wait to see you again." He bit his lip.

I raised a brow, "Can't wait to see what part of me?"

He laughed, "Hmm, I'll leave that to your imagination. But I'd definitely call your work and tell them you won't be able to come in the whole week because your legs will be too sore."

I spluttered a laugh and got myself flustered.

God, it had been so long since we touched...

"I can't wait to fuck you again." He said lowly.

I widened my eyes, "Are Racheal and Harry not there?" I hissed.

He shook his head, "Racheal's not here and Harry's working in his room."

I shifted onto my side to face him completely.

"Okay then...if you want to fuck me so bad...tell me what you'll do to me when you get here."

***

It was the next night. Friday. Finally. Tom had said he wouldn't be able to call tonight because he was on set all day. I was fine with that, though. Last night was an extremely heated Facetime call.

I went into work and sat at my desk, staring at a blank word document just wishing words would start typing themselves onto the page. My mind was somewhere else. It was with Tom. I didn't sleep much last night as it was an eventful night so I was absolutely knackered by the time I got home from work.

I managed to stay awake long enough to make myself some mac and cheese. I managed one episode of friends, I ate my dinner and I snuggled on my couch, stripping my jeans and top off to leave me comfortably in my underwear with blankets draped over me. I didn't particularly mean to fall asleep at 7pm on a Friday night. It just happened.

-

Toms POV

"Good luck, mate. Have fun." Harrison laughed cheekily on the phone as I entered y/n's flat building.

"Div. Bye." I chuckled, ending the call.

I hyped myself all the way up to y/n's flat. I looked at myself in my phone camera to check how I looked. I couldn't hear anything from inside but I knew she was in. The bouquet of flowers in my hand kept crinkling loudly and I tried to shut them up seeing as it was midnight.

I could feel some jet lag already hitting me but the nerves and excitement completely cancelled it out.

I was surprising her. Filming finished a few days ago, not next week. I had everything planned out. And she had no idea.

I took a few deep breaths and sat my suitcase and bag down. I lifted a hand to her door and hesitantly knocked. Adrenaline rushed through me.

She was going to open the door and we'd have the best moment, then we'd kiss and then...

She wasn't answering the door. Her car was outside and it was midnight so she should be in.

I gritted my teeth anxiously and knocked again.

Still nothing.

I looked around in slight panic, not knowing what to do. But then I tried her door handle. It opened.

I'll have to tell her to lock it next time, I reminded myself before opening the door slowly. The flat was quiet, only the sound of traffic coming in from the open windows filled the room. I wheeled my suitcase and bag in quietly then shut the door behind me equally so.

I walked further into the flat and that's when I finally saw her. And why I finally saw why she wasn't answering the door.

y/n was curled up on the couch, blankets sprawled across her basically naked body and the couch. Her hair lay messy on top of her head and her mouth hung open slightly as she slept.

My heart filled with love and joy as I watched her. 5 months since I had seen her and she was like this. In her most perfect form. Natural and messy and cute but also hot because the underwear she was wearing and the fact I hadn't seen her body in nearly half a year made me nearly get a full hard on.

I walked closer to her, placing the bouquet of flowers next to her abandoned bowl of mac and cheese. I caught a glimpse of the TV.

Are you still watching?

I smiled and turned back to her, kneeling to come face to face with her. I could smell her signature perfume and it made my heart swoon so massively.

I smiled uncontrollably as I reached my hand to her cheek, brushing my fingers over her skin. I missed her skin on mine. I brushed some of her hair behind her ear and then cupped her cheek softly, rubbing my thumb back and forth to gently awaken her.

y/n POV

I felt a hand on my face, a thumb delicately brushing my cheek. It felt familiar and suddenly I could smell something that made my heart ache. Whatever it was smelled like Tom. Like his natural scent mixed with his usual aftershave.

"y/n..."

I heard my name being whispered. I hummed and nuzzled into the pillow more, enjoying whatever dream about Tom I was having. His hand was warm on my face and it was like it was really there.

"y/n, darling..."

Mmm, the nickname. I missed his voice.

"Love...you awake?"

I furrowed my brows. What? Tom didn't say that in my dream. I felt myself being brought back into consciousness gradually and the heat and weight of a hand on my face was very much there, along with the prominent smell and the literal presence of someone.

I slowly opened my eyes, blurry at first but then everything came into view.

Tom.

He was kneeling in front of the couch, his hand still stroking my cheeks, his face in a soft but wide smile, his skin tanned and glowing but the bags under his eyes were visible.

"T-Tom?" I stuttered in a whisper.

Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? I mean, I had been thinking about him a lot and I was exhausted so it made sense.

"Hey, darling," He chuckled softly.

"I- what the- are you- what?"

My eyes were heavy, my voice was quiet, in fear of it breaking and I was so incredibly confused.

"Surprise." He chuckled, tucking a hair behind my ear.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision and I saw a tear run down his cheek.

He was here.

"Tom," I whispered, grabbing him and pulling him into me, my arms wrapping around his neck.

He held me just as tightly around my waist. His skin was on mine. He was here. He was actually here. We were actually touching.

He slowly pulled me off the couch and onto the floor with him, welcoming me onto his lap. I wrapped my legs around him and nuzzled my face into his neck. I fisted his light jacket, trying to get a hold of every part of him.

Suddenly it was as if every emotion I felt in the past five months came flooding to the surface. Sadness, hopelessness, excitement, happiness, love. His hands wrapped completely around my waist, holding me flush to his chest. I felt tears tickle down my face but I didn't care.

His face was nuzzled into my neck, too. He moved a hand up to cradle the back of my head when he realised I was crying. I was actually sobbing. Audibly. But so was he now.

We both pulled away at the same time then immediately crashed our lips together. A new wave of tears pooled into my eyes. He tasted good. He tasted like him. Minty and perfect. I ran my fingers up and into his hair. God I missed his hair.

Our tongues pushed into each others and we both moaned slightly, revelling in the feeling of one another again.

He was here.

We pulled away breathlessly and stared into each other's eyes. I cupped his face and he did mine. I wiped the tears from his face, he wiped the tears from mine.

"I missed you so much." I croaked.

"I missed you too, darling."

"Please just promise me you'll never do that again. I can't live without you for that long again. I can't." I half-joked.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here with you." He rested his forehead against mine.

"I'm home." He whispered.

I sobbed happy cries at his words. He suddenly pulled away and brought his phone out, shakily going onto Spotify and playing 'Home' by Caite Turner, turning it all the way up.

"Dance with me." He whispered.

I stood off of him and he joined me. He held my hand and twirled me around, inspecting my body.

"I feel so naked," I laughed.

He shed his jacket off and then he pulled his t-shirt over his head. I widened my eyes at him. He had gotten fitter over filming, along with a new tan.

"That's better." I sniffled with a smile.

He brought me into him and held me by my waist with one hand then my hand in his other. I had my free hand on his cheek. I traced up and onto his sun freckles, down his crooked nose and then back to his left eyebrow and down to his jaw then back into his hair.

He leaned his head down and encased my lips in his. It was soft and breathless. One of those kisses you wish you had a picture of to capture the moment. I missed kissing him. Our lips slotted together perfectly like they were made for each other.

He slowly pulled away and we rested our heads against each other's, still swaying in time to the music.

"You're my home, y/n." He whispered.

I closed my eyes, feeling a few tears escape my eyes.

"Wherever you are is home to me. I can't be without you again." He spoke quietly and shakily, on the verge of another sob.

"I feel the same. I'm going everywhere with you now."

He chuckled lightly and we pulled back. He brushed my hair behind my ear and looked into my eyes with his gorgeous brown ones. I cupped his face and me sighed into my touch.

"I love you." He stated quietly.

"I love you." I replied.

"You're the one, y/n. No questions. I can't fucking live without you."

I felt my chin quiver at his words. I didn't know how to even respond verbally.

I pulled him down to my lips, my tongue slipping into his mouth almost immediately. He hummed and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"You're it, Tom," I whispered between kisses.

He pulled away slightly, our lips just ghosting over one another's.

"You're my home."

[soyforramen]

If I'm not too late, for the writing prompts: 9 and/or 47, dealer's choice

·  “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

·  You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

Angst below, in an AU timeline...ish

 --

             It felt like a fire had lit up her lungs, the smoke crawling up her throat and choking her until her breath rasped out into the cold night air.  Behind her, Jughead stumbled, his breathing coming like tidal waves.  Betty spared a quick glance at him as she yanked at his arm and pointed to the ridge beyond.  

             “Just over there,” she lied.  

             It was becoming easier and easier to lie to him.

             On their way up the ridge her feet slipped in the muddy wet leaves.  Her knees hit the ground and her teeth rattled hard enough to see stars.  Jughead slipped an arm around her waist and dragged her up the rest of the hill, his breath erratic.

             It was another ten minutes until they finally reached Archie’s car, the only one in the Sweetwater parking lot.  Not many people went hiking at 4 a.m., let alone to go chase down a kidnapped ex.

             Thunder rolled above them, the vibrations lingering deep in her bones, and they leaned around the car.  Jughead’s hand were on his knees, his breath gasping and desperate. His wiped at the water trickling down his face and coughed hard.  Betty kneeled on the ground, hands grasping at the loose asphalt as she forced herself to focus on counting rather than what she’d encountered tonight.

             “What the hell was that for?” Jughead wheezed.

             Betty shook her head, still unable to talk through her sore throat.  She let out a slow breath – 1, 2, 3, 4 – and breathed in again.

             “Why’d you try and save me?” he yelled over the thunder.  A crack of lightening illuminated them and she was startled by the intensity in his eyes.

             “Did you want me to leave you back in there?” she shot back.  Stars colored her eyes as she tried to stand, and she listed to one side, grasping for the car to keep her balance.

             Jughead snarled and paced towards the far end of the parking lot, ignoring the pouring rain around them.  From his limp, Betty assumed he had a Charlie Horse.  Betty wanted to chide him about not taking care of his body, about his inability to treat it as something better than a dumpster for all his repressed feelings.  It wasn’t her place, though.  Not anymore.

             Besides, it seemed cruel to point out, especially after he’d been on the verge of being tortured –

             “I don’t need your help,” he said when he returned, his words still punctured by small gasps.  “I had everything covered.”

             She snorted and stood up to face him.  A chill ran through her as the wind picked up, but she diverted the movement into massaging at her damaged wrist.  Jughead, still as perceptive as ever, didn’t miss her wince. He reached towards her, his eyes fixed on her wrist.  Realizing what he was about to do, he stopped short and bent over to retie his shoe.  

             Even from this angle Betty could see how thin he was.

             “I’m sure you did,” she said.  Even as the adrenaline seeped out of her body she still couldn’t keep the acid from her voice.  “That great, big escape plan of yours was going swell, though I’m curious as to what you were planning after you got chained up in the basement and held to the wall with duct tape.  Or did I miss something when I broke in?”

             Half her words were covered up by an angry burst of thunder.  Perhaps it was for the best; they’d both been through a lot.  Or, perhaps it would have been better to put it all out there, fight out their anger until there was nothing left remaining.

             Jughead’s lip curled, and Betty knew he’d caught enough.

             Betty narrowed her eyes.  Despite everything, she still didn’t know whether to trust him. There had been too much time between them, too much space and anger and -  Not to mention his aliens and her serial killer.

             “You can’t drive stick with a broken wrist.”

             “It’s not broken,” she said petulantly, her lip pursed like Juniper’s when she didn’t get the last cookie.

             Knowing that he was right, she dug into her coat pocket, angry with Jughead and herself.  Another gust of wind blew through their wet cloths, and they huddled into the cab of the truck.  As the engine turned over, Jughead scrubbed at the window with his damp shirtsleeves, trying to break through the fog that had followed them.  The water streaked across, unable to change, and he gave up on the idea.  With a grunt, he shifted into drive and turned towards town.

             “Stupid,” he muttered, and Betty side-eyed him.  

             Her first instinct was that he was talking about her, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping.  After everything she’d done tonight, and he still couldn’t think anyone could care for him.  Betty stared out of the window, her fingers pushing and prodding against the delicate skin on her wrist, revealing in the sharp jolts of pain and irritation. Eventually the pain cleared through her fog of anger and she realized he was likely talking to himself.

             “Just –“

             Jughead stopped, cursing under his breath.  They came to a blind curve, halfway under water, and he shifted to first gear.  As they crept along Betty’s eyes began to shut.  She could feel her muscles relaxing as the adrenaline wore off, and the only thing that kept her awake was the potholes in the road.  In the flashes of lightening above them, she could see Jughead’s jaw clenching as he worked to keep something in check.

             Fine, she thought idly as darkness consumed her. Let him be mad.  It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t want to be near her.

             She was startled awake when the engine stopped. In front of them was the Andrews’ home, normally bright and cheery, but in this light it was eerily still in the pouring rain.

             “He’s not home tonight,” Jughead said flatly.  “You can stay in his room.  Unless you want to go home.”

             Betty shook her head, trying not to let her fear overtake her.  The house was empty and would be for the next week.  They still hadn’t heard anything about Polly, and Alice had taken the twins upstate to try and get their mind off of it.  After tonight (any night, every night, ever since – she cut off that particular voice, struggling to keep that terrible week out of her head), the last thing she wanted to do was to be alone.  

             The thought sent a shudder through her and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep the chill from sprinting down her back.

             Jughead nodded, still staring straight ahead.  He’d pulled the keys from the ignition and was now jangling them in his hand.  He opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, not seeming to care whether Betty followed him or not.  She scrambled out of the car, towards the front door and slipped in after him.

             She held her breath, waiting in the long stretch of dark, for the lights to turn on.   When they did, it was nothing more than Archie’s living room, still messy and smelling slightly of old clothing and pizza.  

             Jughead stalked towards the kitchen, his face set in an emotion she couldn’t discern anymore.  A gut feeling told her it was because she was a stranger here, one who was encroaching not only on his ‘investigation’ but also on his personal space.  

             “I’ll make coffee,” Jughead said gruffly.  “Take a shower or you’ll catch a cold.”

             The way he’d said it, matter-of-factly and without any emotion behind it, contrasted so sharply with the fact that he’d remembered. He remembered, and wanted to let her know he’d remembered that she was prone to get colds when it rained. These little things twisted the knife deeper into her back and she tried not to think about her last foray into this home.

             “Thanks,” Betty said softly.

             She barely glanced at the mirror when she stepped into the bathroom.  A thick cover of mud coated her lower half, while leaves had taken up residence in her hair.  Her wrist, still throbbing and sore, was a swollen bright red.  As bad as she might have looked, Betty revealed in the metaphorical duality of it all.  Long ago, she might have said she was a good person, untouched by the corruption of life. Now, though, she felt as dirty and broken as she  looked.

             Pity about the boots though.  Real suede apparently didn’t mix well with the more wild side of life.  Betty didn’t dare think about what it would cost to buy Veronica a new pair.

             The pipes groaned as the water warmed up.  Peeling off her clothes was a chore, the damp, clinging clothes didn’t want to cooperate.  The wet slap of them on the floor was a loud echo as she stepped into the shower.  

             The warm water was practically sinful after tonight. She let it cascade down her skin and shut her eyes to the world around her.  Every inch of her body felt sore and bruised.  She dreaded even thinking about how she’d feel tomorrow.

             A draft of cold air sent goosebumps along her skin and Betty stilled.  She trusted Jughead, of course, and yet…

             The door shut again, and she peered around the curtain to find a set of clothing on the counter.  Her heart stopped when she recognized a grey S from so long ago.  Reluctant to let it out of her sight, Betty pulled the shower curtain to.   He’d always had a bad habit of forming sentimental attachments to things, to items that had no right to such kindness.

             But to have kept that shirt all these years?  To have kept her shirt?  Surely not.  Surely her eyes, tired and sore from lack of sleep, had deceived her.

             The ghost of her guilt churned again, deeper this time. A sharp pain went through her stomach – of guilt?  regret? hope?

             Betty picked up the bar of soap in her uninjured hand and scrubbed at her skin, hot tears running cold against her cheeks.  Careless.  She was always so careless with everything worth while.  Archie’s hands ghosted across her skin, his lips, his whispers they both knew were lies.  She was only looking for an escape, not another well to get trapped in.  This time, though, she couldn’t think of a single way to escape.

             A sob broke from her lips, and then another, and another.  She shoved her fist against her mouth and curled up at the bottom of the tub.   It was all she could do to keep from breaking up.  A part of her, the one that saw reason, was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier tonight when she’d seen Jughead half-conscious with a red welt on his forehead.  His head lolled absently against a support beam.  His hands tightly bound with duct tape.  Tight enough they were turning purple.  Those stupid glasses lay at his feet only to reflect the beam of her flashlight onto the chains that bound him.

             Images, real and imagined, flashed before her eyes. The well.  TBK laughing above her.  Polly, bound and gagged in the back of a cab.  The twins, facedown in Sweetwater. Squeeky Fromme’s dead eyes staring up at the night sky, milky and flat.  Jughead’s hands –

             Betty shook her head, trying to shake the images away. No, that hadn’t happened, she chanted internally.  It’s not real.  

             Not this time.  

             Long after the water had run cold, Betty finally came back to herself.  Her movements were slow and forced; her head felt uselessly full of cotton.  With a groan, she stood up and gasped as pins and needles threw her back to the ground.  Unable to do anything, Betty turned off the water, gritting her teeth as she waited for the feeling to come back into her legs.  

             Into her life, even.

             Now, with only the steady drip of a leaky faucet to keep her company, Betty heard just how quiet it was in the house.  The wind blew outside, stronger than ever, but it seemed as if the house itself had gone into hibernation.  Jughead had likely gone to bed, she realized.  Or maybe he’d been smart enough to know he should see a doctor after all.

             Perhaps that would be best.  Then they could both pretend tonight had never happened and go back to the chilly detente they’d found themselves living in.  

             With an anticipatory wince, Betty hauled herself up and out of the tub.  As she reached for the towel, she realized that the shirt loudly proclaimed ‘El Royale Gym’ in bright red letters.  She scowled at the dancing rooster, ordering it to be something other than it was. Clearly, though, she’d been wrong.

             Roughly, she pulled the shirt over her head, her damp hair catching at the collar, and stepped into the gym shorts.  Why she put herself through this, why she tortured herself with something so impossible –

             “Coffee’s on the counter,” Jughead said when she stepped out.  His fingers flew over the keyboard, his eyes never leaving the screen.

             At least some things never changed, she supposed. Even that, though, rang hollow after what they’d been through tonight.  

             Betty wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for something to occupy herself with.  She sipped at it a moment, giving him the chance to say something.  Do something.  When he didn’t, she didn’t know whether she felt relief, or disappointment.

             It wasn’t until she reached the stairs that he finally spoke.

             “Just tell me why you did it,” he said.  

She hesitated, knowing that this was her own personal Maginot line. Crossing this would mean the end of one life, and the beginning of another strange reality, one where she would have no control.

“Why did you come after me?  Why didn’t you call Sheriff Keller, or Archie, or –“

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Betty said.  Her voice was no more than a soft sigh, but it was enough to bring about a sudden calmness.

The calm before the storm, she thought morbidly.  Whatever would happen now, whatever was said…

She waited, counting to a hundred.  When he didn’t say anything, she set the coffee down on a side table and went to Archie’s room, shutting the door softly behind her.

(Part 2 here)

[carewyncromwell]

[As the school year wore on, the cursed ice began to creep into more darkened corners of the school. By March it had started encroaching out of the farthest fifth-floor corridor -- by April, it had started appearing on the downstairs levels too. It was so bad that at the beginning of May, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had to be abandoned after the ice had completely blocked off its entrance and the students’ most recent professor (admittedly a rather incompetent, weedy old man) had been so badly frozen trying to counteract it that he was sent to St. Mungo’s and presumably wouldn’t return for the rest of the term. 

All the while, Carewyn and Bill kept meeting up to practice ways to counteract the cursed ice. They knew if there was going to be any way they were going to get into the Vault, they’d have to be able to withstand the ice’s effects if one or both of them got frozen, so they worked together with Ben, Rowan, and Penny to brainstorm ideas. 

One useful breakthrough was Penny finding a recipe for Invigoration Draughts in the copy of Moste Potent Potions she’d borrowed from her Prefect Jane Court -- the potion, although on the fifth-year level, was very useful in imbuing the drinker with additional adrenaline and stamina, so Bill and Carewyn, in two separate covert trips, helped Penny with acquiring the right ingredients from Snape’s storeroom. (Ben and Rowan would’ve helped if they hadn’t been too terrified at the prospect of stealing from the likes of Professor Severus Snape.) Another tactic was adapting the Coldfire Spell that Carewyn had found while doing research earlier that year. On Ben’s suggestion, Carewyn tried creating multiple clusters of the waterproof and harmless fire and tucking them in her pockets and the inside of her shirt, to serve like tiny hot water bottles to keep them warm. Although yes, they couldn’t counteract the ice, it at least helped keep her and Bill from getting too cold and numb, when they got close to it. Even just learning how to brew Burn-Heal Paste -- an idea of Rowan’s, after her time in the Hospital Wing -- made it easier to deal with any damage Incendio accidentally inflicted, when used to thaw the cursed ice. 

The challenge remained, however, how to get past the snowflake guarding the Vault’s door. Both Bill and Carewyn had gotten frozen multiple times trying to fight it, only for the other to have to quickly unthaw themselves and the other person and leave before the ice overtook them completely. 

The stakes were raised further still, however, at the end of May. Just as a heat wave was starting to roll in and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team prepared to face off against Gryffindor in the Quidditch Final (Slytherin had been narrowly bumped out of the running by Gryffindor after they’d recruited Bill’s younger brother Charlie to play as Seeker), the heat was matched by an equally dangerous wave of cursed ice. First it burst up through the Astronomy Tower, trapping Sinistra and her class inside. Then it ripped through the corridor outside the Great Hall toward the double doors. Finally it managed to burst out from the castle itself and surrounded the Quidditch pitch, trapping the Ravenclaw Quidditch team inside the changing rooms. 

The teachers were all forced to split into teams rush and try to thaw the ice and free those trapped. Complicating matters was the fact that Dumbledore himself was nowhere to be found -- from what Hagrid had accidentally let slip to Carewyn, it seemed he’d left the school seeking out a certain cursebreaker for help.

That night Carewyn ran out to the courtyard to meet Bill.

“The ice is getting out of control. The teachers can’t handle it all on their own. We have to break the curse on the Vault now -- tonight.”

Bill was in complete agreement. 

“If we’re going to do that, though,” he’d replied, “I think we’re going to need a third person. If one person gets frozen, then one person can help them unthaw, while the other one keeps attacking. Then after drinking some Invigoration Potion, that first person will be able to help again.”

As much as Carewyn was reticent to ask her friends to help any more with this, considering how much trouble they’d all gotten into because of her and the cursed ice, she knew Bill was right. The snowflake had been able to work around the two of them -- the vast majority of their failures ended up being because once one of them was frozen, the other had had to work quickly to get them out before they were too badly hurt, which divided their attention enough that they were less able to defend themselves. A third person truly seemed like the only option, if they had any hope of breaking into the Vault.

And so, after giving it some deep consideration, Carewyn went to go find Ben at dinner. 

She spotted him at the far end of the Gryffindor table, finishing up his steak-and-kidney pie. With a deep breath, she strode quickly over, trying to obscure the anxiety she felt.]

Carewyn: “...Hi, Ben...may I sit with you?”

[Carewyn sat down a little too quickly. She took a couple of breaths, her eyes drawn down to the table as she tried to organize her thoughts.]

I don’t want to panic Ben -- he’s so scared of everything, the last thing I want to do is make it worse. But...

[Her eyes narrowed slightly.]

It’s getting bad out there. We can’t afford to wait around. How can I convince Ben to help without wasting time?

Ben: “Carewyn?”

[Carewyn looked up. Ben had tilted his head, looking at her with concern.]

Carewyn: “I’m okay.”

[Her first instinct was to try to smile reassuringly, but try as she might, she couldn’t manage it. Her eyes once again fell down to the table between them. Then, taking another deep breath, she said slowly,]

Carewyn: “...Ben...Bill and I are going back to the Ice Vault. Tonight. I talked to Penny and Rowan, and they’re going to try to help the teachers unthaw the Astronomy Tower, but...I’d like you with me and Bill. In the Vault.”

[Ben gave a double blink of surprise.]

Ben: “Huh? Wh...”

Ben: “I’ve never been as brave as you or Bill Weasley...”

Carewyn: “No, but you’re just as capable. Even more so, when it comes to Charms.”

Penny’s best at Potions -- that’s helpful, but when it comes to offensive magic, it’s not as practical. And Rowan already had trouble dodging the ice before...Ben might be quick to run away, but at least he’s quick. 

[Ben still looked uncertain. Carewyn tried to speak more encouragingly, even though she could only look at Ben’s plate instead of his face.]

Carewyn: “Bill and I need someone who can help break us out or hold their own, if one of us get trapped in the ice again. You’re the most powerful wizard I know...if anyone can handle what’s in that Vault, you can.”

[With difficulty, Carewyn forced herself to try to look Ben in the eye.]

Carewyn: “And I promise, I’ll -- ”

[Carewyn broke off abruptly, startled.]

Carewyn: “Huh?”

Ben: “(shakily) I’ll go.”

[Carewyn had not expected Ben to agree so readily. She hadn’t even been able to promise she and Bill would protect him, or reassure him that he could stay behind them the whole time, or even run and save himself, if it got too dangerous. It completely took her aback -- so much so that she had trouble digesting what she was hearing.]

Ben: “(a bit more firmly) Yeah. I’ll go with you.”

[Carewyn blinked slowly. Her surprise made Ben smile sheepishly despite himself.]

Ben: “...Did you think I’d say no?”

Carewyn: “(quickly) No! Or...at least, I hoped you wouldn’t...”

[She averted her eyes uncomfortably.]

Carewyn: “...I just thought...I’d have to work harder to convince you. It is going to be really dangerous, in there. Even if we do manage to open the Vault and break the curse, we have no idea what might be inside...”

Ben: “(lowly) ...I know.”

[He swallowed.]

Ben: “But...well, you and Bill need help. And I don’t want the cursed ice to hurt anyone else, the way it did me and Rowan. I don’t know how useful I’ll be, but...well, if you and Bill want me there, I’ll do my best!”

[Carewyn felt like her heart had grown several sizes. Her mouth spread into a fuller, touched smile.]

Carewyn: “Thank you, Ben...I really owe you one.”

[But Ben shook his head, smiling more brightly than ever.]

((OOC: D’awwww, wittle!Ben and Carewyn friendship!! Damn it, do I love these two so much!! 🥰

Out of all of Carewyn’s friendships, her friendship with Ben evolves the most over the years. At the start, Carewyn was always the brave one out of her and Ben, so he was the first person she ever felt a strong protectiveness toward, even when she herself was less confident and composed than she eventually became. In Carewyn’s fourth year, she made the most strides toward the “Mama Bear” persona everyone knows her for, which made it so that she started taking care of her friends more like a parent or guardian rather than a true equal. Although most of Carewyn’s friends saw the change positively as evidence of Carewyn becoming more confident and assured of herself, Ben actually secretly lamented it, as it made Carewyn treat friends like him (and Barnaby, as well) more like children than friends. And yet even with this, Ben still loved Carewyn dearly as the first true friend he’d ever made in his life and the first person at Hogwarts who truly had faith in him and his abilities, and he knew that Carewyn was only trying to care for her friends as best she could, so he kept those conflicted feelings that he had so much trouble articulating to himself. Then Ben went through his own abrupt change in time for year 6, which Carewyn did not take to well at all. For the first time in their school careers, Ben and Carewyn were frequently butting heads and not seeing eye to eye, with Carewyn trying and failing to tamp the more intense, risk-taking Ben before he hurt himself and Ben trying and failing to coax Carewyn to let her rely on him for a change and stop taking the whole world squarely onto her shoulders. Eventually, though, after some flare-ups and even more so after Rowan’s death, Ben and Carewyn really talked out their feelings together and reforged their friendship on more equal terms again. As adults, both Ben and Carewyn feel a strong protectiveness toward the other, even with how different the people they’ve grown into are, personality-wise. 

Next up -- Bill, Ben, and Carewyn break through the door of the Ice Vault! ⚔️))