#I was going to draw the peeled tag but I drew his pained face first and it just made me really sad

[ntls-24722]

Skinny DJMM has returned

[splendidlyimperfect]

critical hit - chapter 3 [they're taking the hobbits to isengard]

When Sting tells Natsu that one of his friends from school is going to be joining their weekly Dungeons & Dragons game, Natsu isn’t impressed - their table is already full. But while Natsu and Gray’s in-game characters clash completely, Natsu finds that real-life Gray might not be that bad after all.

Chapter Summary: D&D night gets unexpectedly cancelled, but Natsu wants to hang out with Gray anyway.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairings: Natsu/Gray, Sting/Rogue

Tags: Modern AU, Dungeons & Dragons, Role-Playing Games, Awkward Flirting, ADHD Natsu, Geek Gray

*i know i haven’t updated this in two whole years (my bad) but i finally got inspiration so thanks for your patience and enjoy <3*

*link to ao3 in the comments cause tumblr keeps fucking up my posts*

-----

“I’m stoked for this fight tonight!” Natsu grinned at Gray, who was curled up in the passenger seat of Natsu’s car, looking out the window at the slowly setting sun. “We’re gonna kick this thing’s ass.”

“I dunno about that,” Gray replied, fiddling with his necklace. Natsu couldn’t quite make out what the pendant was. “We’re all nearly dead and out of magic. We might be fucked.”

“Pfff,” Natsu scoffed, pulling out of the Starbucks parking lot and heading towards home. “Maybe with that attitude. Don’t worry, we’ll pull a win out of this. We always do! Did I tell you about the time we dropped a house on a dragon?”

Gray shook his head and Natsu launched into the story, complete with wild hand gestures and sound effects. He could feel Gray’s gaze on him as he listened intently, even when the retelling took several unexpected detours. It made something warm grow in Natsu’s chest. Most people in his life were used to his rambling, chalking it up to his ADHD and excitable nature. They usually tuned him out after a while, though, or nodded along while drifting off to something else.

Gray listened, though. He’d shifted in his seat to face Natsu, knee tucked under his leg, coffee held between both hands, and Natsu could feel the deliberate way he followed Natsu’s words. It made Natsu feel important.

He’d just wrapped up another story where they had accidentally created a super-intelligent zombie when both of their phones pinged.

“It’s Sting,” Gray said. “So sorry guys, I can’t make it tonight, work called me in last minute. Can we reschedule for next week?”

Natsu felt a flood of disappointment wash through him as he glanced over at Gray, whose brow was furrowed as he stared at his phone. He was so cute – he had gotten his eyebrow pierced at some point during the week, and it made him even more adorable.

“Well,” Natsu said, chewing on his lip. “That sucks.”

An awkward silence filled the car. Natsu really didn’t want to drive Gray home – he’d been waiting all week to see him, and when Natsu had picked him up, the shy smile Gray had given him had made Natsu feel breathless.

“Well, I don’t—did you wanna, uh…” Gray trailed off, tugging at a loose thread from the hole in his jeans. “I mean I don’t have any, uh, plans? Obviously, since we had—I mean, so maybe we, um, we could…”

“They put all the Lord of the Rings movies on Netflix,” Natsu said quickly, before he could chicken out. For once he was glad for the lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. “Wanna get takeout and watch one of them?”

Before the anxiety could set in, Gray glanced up and gave him a soft smile. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

~

Gray’s favorite food turned out to be sushi.

“You’ve never had sashimi before?” he asked once they’d gotten back to Natsu’s place and unpacked the takeout onto the living room table.

“Is that the rice?” Natsu asked as he settled down cross-legged on the floor. “Or the fish?”

“The fish,” Gray said, pointing at the slices of raw salmon. “It’s good, I promise.”

Natsu gave him a dubious look, then frowned at the chopsticks that Gray handed him. “You’re gonna think I’m totally uncultured,” he said as he peeled off the wrapper, “but I’ve never used chopsticks.”  

“It’s not hard,” Gray reassured him. Natsu fumbled with the wooden sticks, glaring at them as he tried to get them to move. “Here,” Gray said, moving closer to Natsu and reaching out for his hands. “Like this.”

Natsu’s breath caught in his throat when Gray’s fingers touched his, settling the chopsticks between them and showing him where his thumb should go. Gray’s hands were cold, and each small touch made Natsu’s heart jump. His cheeks flushed hot when he dropped the chopsticks again, and this time it had nothing to do with clumsiness.

“I, uh, might have to stick to forks,” Natsu said with a nervous laugh. Gray was close enough to him that he could smell his shampoo – something light and fruity that made Natsu want to lean in and run his fingers through Gray’s hair. It looked so soft.

As if reading Natsu’s thoughts, Gray pushed his hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. Natsu’s eyes followed the movement, and when Gray’s gaze met his, he quickly looked back down at the food, hoping the heat in his cheeks wasn’t visible.

“That’s okay,” Gray said, and it took Natsu a second to realize that he was talking about the chopsticks and not the staring. “You can eat the rolls with your fingers.” He pointed at the second container. “Those ones don’t have fish in them. Just yams.”

“I’ll try the fish,” Natsu said before he could stop himself. He was glad Sting wasn’t here to tell Gray that Natsu had sworn off seafood ten years ago after going fishing with their grandfather and crying when he’d had to gut the salmon they’d caught.

It ended up being better than he’d expected, despite the strange texture.

“I haven’t had sushi in a while,” Gray admitted once they were done the meal. “I ate it every day in Japan.”

“You lived in Japan?” Natsu asked as he stuffed the styrofoam containers back into the plastic bags.

Gray nodded. “Yeah, I was there for an exchange program for a year. I’m from Montréal originally, though.” The soft way he said the word let Natsu finally place the soft accent he’d noticed every once in a while. Of course Gray was bilingual. Was there anything about him that wasn’t perfect?

“That’s awesome,” Natsu said. “When did you move here?”

“Six months ago, for school.” Gray crossed his legs, tucking his feet underneath him as he shifted on the couch cushion. “It’s really different here.”

“I can imagine,” Natsu said. “Have you made it down to Gastown yet? Rogue likes sushi and he says there’s lots of good places down there.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t.” Gray smiled as Natsu’s cat Happy hopped up onto the couch and rubbed himself against Gray’s legs. “I, um… I haven’t really been out too much. By myself.” He ran his finger behind Happy’s ears, who purred happily. “I’m a little—I get kind of anxious. Sometimes. To go alone.”

“I could take you,” Natsu offered before he could stop himself. “There’s so many places here you’d love – Granville Island’s amazing, they’ve got markets and this awesome café, and you’d probably like the art gallery there too. And if you haven’t been to the beach – well, beaches, there’s so many of them, and if you go to Stanley Park you can walk or take a bike, and there’s a…” He trailed off at the overwhelmed expression on Gray’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I’d like that,” Gray said, keeping his eyes fixed on Happy as a small smile crept across his face. “To go, I mean. With you.”

“Oh.” Natsu couldn’t hold in a grin. “Cool. It’s a date, then.”

Gray finally looked up at him and Natsu’s cheeks flushed when he realized what he’d said. Before Gray could reply, Natsu grabbed the remote from the table and thrust it into Gray’s hands.

“You can, uh, pick one. Of the movies,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet. “On Netflix. I’m gonna make popcorn.”

Natsu darted into the kitchen and exhaled, rubbing his face. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket.

holy pain in the ass: you’d better be on a date, loser

Natsu groaned – of course Sting had done this on purpose, the asshole.

pyro-manic: you’re a jackass and a liar

holy pain in the ass: i think you mean ‘you’re welcome’

Natsu glared at the screen for a minute, trying to come up with something witty but eventually just shoving his phone back in his pocket.

When he headed back into the living room with the popcorn, Gray was still petting Happy, who had curled up in his lap and was purring contentedly. He’d taken off his hoodie and had rolled the sleeves of his World of Warcraft shirt up just enough that Natsu could see the never tell me the odds tattoo that wound around his wrist.

Natsu tried not to stare. Everything about Gray made him feel like he was thirteen with his first crush all over again. He’d dated other people before, obviously, but none of them were quite like Gray. There was something about him – a shy but carefree enthusiasm for the things he loved that drew Natsu in. It didn’t matter what kind of pop culture references Natsu made, Gray picked up on all of them. He could finish the movie quotes Natsu had memorized, knew all the best cards in Magic, had seen every anime that Natsu loved, and didn’t even tease him about his taste in music.

Natsu’s phone buzzed in his pocket again, drawing him out of his thoughts, and he ignored what he was sure was another text from Sting.

“I hope you don’t mind the subtitles,” Natsu said to Gray, gesturing at the screen as he sat down next to – but not quite touching – Gray. “I always have them on. It’s like, a thing, with my ADHD – auditory processing something? It just makes it hard to catch everything sometimes, the subtitles help.”

Gray nodded, scratching behind Happy’s ears. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said. “I usually have them on, too. It helped me when I was learning English.”

“Awesome.” Natsu took the remote and hit ‘play,’ then settled back against the couch as ‘Fellowship of the Ring’ started to play.

Natsu was glad he’d seen the movie at least ten times, because the only thing he could focus on was Gray. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sting’s text, about the word date, about the fact that he hadn’t felt like this about anyone in years. Natsu’s life was full of people – he was outgoing by nature – but none of them made him feel like Gray did.

They finished the popcorn quickly and Natsu leaned forward to set the bowl on the coffee table. When he settled back into the couch, he was certain Gray leaned into him a little. He held his breath, shifting as if to get comfortable, and ended up right next to Gray with their shoulders pressed together. It sent a thrill through Natsu and he tried his best to ignore the part of him that insisted he was not a teenager anymore and it was silly to get worked up over this. He tried to focus on the movie instead.

“You have my sword,” Aragon said on screen.

“And you have my bow.”

“And my axe.”

“And my vuvuzela,” Gray murmured absently.  

Natsu burst out laughing, immediately struck by the ridiculous video he hadn’t seen since in years. “Oh my god,” he said, nudging Gray’s shoulder with his as Gray’s cheeks turned pink. “You’re such a dork.” Before Gray could take offense, he added, “In a good way. I know exactly what you’re talking about and now I’m gonna have that song stuck in my head for the rest of the night.”

Gray laughed. “I just can’t take that scene seriously anymore,” he admitted. “My sister and I used to watch all of these movies on Christmas and quote along to it… it got pretty silly. And took forever ‘cause we’d watch all the extended editions in one sitting.” He played with his necklace as he talked, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Natsu was about to ask why they didn’t do it anymore but stopped himself when he remembered what Sting had mentioned when he’d first invited Gray to join D&D. Gray’s sister had died unexpectedly just before he’d moved here, and Gray didn’t like talking about it.

“We can watch them all if you want,” Natsu offered instead. Gray’s expression shifted and Natsu wasn’t quite sure what it meant – he was hard to read even when they weren’t talking about personal things. But then the corner of his lip curled up in a tiny smile and he nodded.

“If you can sit still that long,” he teased.

Natsu laughed. “Yeah, I might end up upside-down or something at some point. But that’s okay.”

Gray’s smile got a little wider. “I’d like that,” he said softly.

“Okay,” Natsu said. He tried his best to keep a huge grin from creeping across his face. “Cool. Yeah. Me too.” 

~

Natsu managed to sit fairly still until about halfway through ‘The Two Towers.’ They’d had plenty of breaks – including one where they’d pulled up ‘They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard’ on Gray’s phone and sang along until they were both laughing hysterically – but it was getting difficult to not fidget. He was about to ask if they could take another quick break when Gray shifted and the back of his hand brushed Natsu’s.

Natsu immediately froze, all restless thoughts banished from his head as he focused on the sensation of Gray’s knuckles against his. They’d been moving closer and further apart all evening, bumping shoulders and knees, but this didn’t feel like an accidental touch. Something about it was deliberate, and this time Gray wasn’t moving away.

Heat sparked in Natsu’s stomach and he stared down at their hands, hoping to hell that he wasn’t misreading Gray’s intentions as he returned the touch. He heard Gray’s soft intake of breath, and several nearly unbearable seconds passed before Gray shifted closer and slid their fingers together. He was warm against Natsu’s side, and when he carefully tipped his head onto Natsu’s shoulder, Natsu was certain that Gray could hear the frantic slamming of his heart.

He exhaled as quietly as he could as he ran his thumb down the side of Gray’s hand, enjoying the soft noise that Gray made in response. His hair tickled Natsu’s cheek, soft and fine, and when Natsu rested his cheek against the top of Gray’s head, Gray hummed happily and cuddled closer.

The uncertainty that had been following Natsu around all night immediately vanished as he let himself relax against Gray, squeezing his hand gently as they pressed against each other. It felt so right. Natsu hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d cuddled anyone until they were both comfortable and breathing in tandem. He felt more relaxed than he had in years.

The movie kept playing but Natsu barely paid attention. His brain, always in overdrive, immediately started to whether or not he should kiss Gray, if that was moving too fast, if he should maybe put his arm around Gray or whether or not that would be a cheesy high school romcom move. Gray solved the issue a few minutes later by stretching and nudging Natsu’s arm up, then curling up against him.

“I can hear you thinking,” Gray said quietly as the battle for Helm’s Deep raged on in the background. “Or panicking. I can’t tell.”

“I’m not panicking.” Natsu wasn’t sure if he was lying or not.

“Okay.” Gray rested his head against Natsu’s collarbone. “Good.”

The movie came to an end not long after that, but Gray didn’t move. He ran his fingers up Natsu’s arm instead, touching the scar that Natsu had gotten after a motorcycle mishap years ago. Gray traced patterns between Natsu’s freckles, then ran his hand back down and touched Natsu’s palm.

“Are we—”

“Is this—”

They both laughed as they talked at the same time, and Gray shifted until he was looking up at Natsu and they were nearly cheek-to-cheek. Warmth sparked in Natsu’s stomach and he leaned in, nudging Gray’s nose with his own. There was a moment of anticipation where neither of them moved, and then Gray closed the distance and pressed their lips together.

The heat in Natsu’s chest spread as Gray kissed him, rushing across his cheeks and down to his fingertips. He made a soft sound, tipping his head and pulling Gray closer until they were facing each other. Slowly, he reached out and brushed Gray’s hair out of his face, running his fingers through the silky strands. It was just as soft as it looked.

When Gray finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed pink and he didn’t quite meet Natsu’s eyes.

“I, um…” He bit his lip uncertainly.

“I really like you,” Natsu said quickly before he could change his mind. “Like. A lot.”

“Oh.” A small smile worked its way across Gray’s face. “Good. I like you too. Also a lot.”

Natsu laughed, leaning back in and kissing Gray’s nose. “Sting did this on purpose,” he said, gesturing to his phone that was sitting on the coffee table. “He’s an idiot, but I’m kinda glad he did.”

“Me too.”

Natsu ran his fingers through Gray’s hair again, then pulled him in for another kiss. It was soft and sweet, but Natsu’s stomach still sparked with excitement at the touch. Gray was warm everywhere they pressed together, and Natsu never wanted to let go.

Gray pressed one more kiss to Natsu’s lips, then his cheek, then pressed their foreheads together. “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time,” he admitted, cheeks flushed pink. “I just… can we take it slow?”

“Of course,” Natsu said quickly. He kissed the tip of Gray’s nose. “I’m just happy to—I like spending time with you. And kissing. That’s good—great—too. Really great.”

Gray laughed, squeezing Natsu’s hand and kissing him again. Then he looked back at the TV screen where Netflix was suggesting ‘Return of the King’ as their next film.

“You wanna keep watching?” Natsu asked. “I promised you a marathon.” He looked at the clock, which already read 2:47 a.m.

“Yes? But I know you have to work tomorrow.”

“It’s okay,” Natsu reassured him, grinning. “I actually took tomorrow off because today was supposed to be our last D&D session and I thought it might take all night. Plus, I’m not tired.” He kissed Gray’s cheek again. “Maybe just a little distracted.”

“Just a little?” Gray ran his fingers through Natsu’s hair and surprised him by tugging on it gently.

“Maybe a lot,” Natsu admitted. He ran his hand down Gray’s side, then pulled him closer until he was almost in Natsu’s lap. “But I’m okay with it.”

~

They both fell asleep on the couch before ‘Return of the King’ was over. When they woke up the next morning in each other’s arms, Gray blushed furiously, but eagerly returned Natsu’s morning kisses.

“I guess I’d better get you home,” Natsu said as he ran his fingers through the tangles in Gray’s hair. “You’ve got class soon, hey?”

Gray nodded. “I’d rather stay here,” he admitted.

“Look, I’m happy to kiss you all day, but I’m also not gonna be the reason you fail your classes.”

Gray raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll have you know that I have a 4.0 GPA.”

“Guess I’m dating a genius then, huh?” Natsu paused. “Are we? Dating? I mean, is that what you wanna—”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Natsu grinned, kissing Gray’s nose, then nudged him off the couch. “C’mon,” he said as he sat up and stretched. “Let’s get you some coffee and get you home.”

Natsu’s pantry was nearly empty, so they stopped for coffee and bagels and ate quietly on the drive back to Gray’s place, holding hands across the console. When they pulled into the dorm parking lot, Natsu let go regretfully and leaned over for a kiss.

“See you on Sunday?” he asked, then shook his head. “No, that’s too long. How about Tuesday? I can take you to Gastown and show you around.”

Gray’s face lit up and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, smiling shyly at Natsu and squeezing his fingers. “I’d like that.”

“Perfect.” Natsu kissed him again, tasting coffee on his lips. “It’s a date.”    

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: No Hard Felines (baon)

Summary:  Sans knew living with Red wasn't going to be all shits and giggles, but he wasn't expecting this flavor of bullshit on the menu.

Tags: Kustard, Fluff (as fluffy as these two get), Some Sexy Teasing

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Despite his bro’s reassurances that Sans was making the right move, (and he still wasn’t convinced, leaving Paps while he was still wobbly on wheels after that attack was sticking in his craw like a fishbone on steroids) Sans still knew there were gonna be, eh, challenges was a good a word as any and sounded better than bitchfest.

What he hadn’t figured on was an ongoing war with a fucking cat over a sofa.

Sans didn’t know a whole lot about cats. His experience was limited to Cat Monsters and Temmies, all of whom could be expected to act reasonably decent and not shred a t-shirt just as it was getting into the comfortably overworn stage where even washing with Tide didn’t get out all the stink.

Damn cat, Sans really liked that shirt and if he wore in now, all he’d need was leather pants and some glitter eyeshadow and he could join a punk band.

Socks vanished wholesale before anyone even had a chance to put down a sticky note. Someday, somewhere, a sock graveyard would be found, and the haunting stench would follow whoeverso discovered it to the end of their days.

Anyway.

Sans didn’t know shit about cats, but what he did know was that he was already sick of living with the cat and hadn’t even properly moved in yet.

Dogs at least could be put on a chain and sent outside to sleep for a while. Red didn’t let Ozzy out, said he was all indoor cat, all the time, which was probably for the best because the little shit would probably decimate the local bird population overnight. Red said he was probably a mixed breed and Sans agreed with that assessment; half cougar, half pain in his tailbone. That little kitten grew to the size of a small Saint Bernard and didn’t even have the grace to wear that little collar with booze barrel on it. Being able to take a slug or two anytime he was around the little shit would be about the only thing to endear Sans to it.

What did not endear him was the fucking brat stalking him every time he walked around the house. It would wait, staring out from the shadows until Sans let his guard down by some minuscule fraction and then it would lunge out and try to take a chunk out of his ankle before scrambling off to the next stalking checkpoint. It was a good thing his HP took an upward hike when they came to the surface because dusting by ankle attack was exactly the kind of humiliating death Sans would expect the universe to have out for him.

If it wasn’t hiding, it was on the sofa, busy taking up as much sitting room as possible and that left them here, the two of them staring at each other like gunslingers in the old west, waiting to see who drew first and all Sans was armed with was a pillow.

Sure, Sans could go sleep upstairs in the bed. Hell, he could sleep on the floor if he wasn’t worried about not being able to peel himself off of the carpet later. But it was the principle of the thing. He was moving in, you gotta start as you intend to go on, and Sans intended to go on sleeping on the sofa whenever it took his fancy. Starting now.

“okay, look, cat,” Sans said. He held up his pillow, his only line of defense. “i’m gonna lay down on this side of the sofa. you stay on that side and things’ll go fine, you get me?”

The cat didn’t say anything, which was fine because if he’d started singing ‘hello my baby’, Sans was moving back in with Paps. Instead, it stared at him with those all-seeing eyes, ugh, no wonder Stretch hated cats. Sans was more used to being on the other side of that look and that’s where he preferred to stay, thanks.

If Ozzy was waiting for him to blink first, he was going to be sitting there until reveille because if there was one thing that skeletons didn’t technically have to do, it was blink. Sans moved slowly, first setting his pillow against the sofa arm and then easing onto the seat cushion. He lay back, still meeting that unblinking stare, waiting to see if his socks were gonna take the punishment for his hubris.

Ozzy yawned, showing a row of teeth that were remarkably similar to their owner. He blinked slowly, once, twice, and didn’t move an inch.

Sans relaxed, leaning back into the pillow and muttered, “just don’t murder me in my sleep.”

He was about halfway down the path into the land of nod when an unexpected weight in his lap jostled him back awake. Sans opened his sockets and looked down in disbelief at the cat loaf settled right on top of his femurs. Loaf, hell, the damn thing was the size of a furry watermelon, eyes closed and rustling up what Sans guessed might qualify as a rusty purr. Or an electronic can opener freshly liberated from the dump, either worked.

“okay, i know it looks like i’m melding into the sofa, but i’m not actually part of it. get off.” Ozzy didn’t move, still purring along. “c’mon, move, you furry brick!”

That purr rose threateningly in volume to something right below a chainsaw and Sans was trying to decide what finger he was willing to lose to push the damn thing off of him when from behind came. “see, you two are getting along just swell.”

He craned his neck enough to see Red leaning against the doorjamb leading to the would-be kitchen, if it ever got anything resembling appliances. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, whatever, Paps and Edge always had plenty of goods in the fridge and it tasted a lot better than whatever concoction either of them tried to rustle up.

“oh, yeah, we’re old pals,” Sans drawled irritably, “don’t worry, pretty sure all the scratches’ll heal over eventually and probably won’t leave too many scars.”

“good, i hate to mess up that pretty face. g’wan, oz, you’re in my seat.” Red wandered over to shove the cat off and instead of taking off a limb, it only let out an offended meow and went to loom like a resentful gargoyle on the recliner. Red took his spot and he was only a little lighter but a helluva lot more welcome to be straddling Sans’s femurs. Red squirmed, grinding their pelvises together until Sans grabbed his hips and stilled him, clenching his teeth together around a groan.

“wellie well well,” Red murmured. His crimson eye lights gleamed mellowly, his grin wide, and the way he ran his thumb lightly along the line of Sans's collar dragged a shiver up from the depths of his soul. Somebody was in a good mood. How kind of him to share it. “feels like you might be a lil’ happy ta see me.”

“it’s a pencil in my pocket.”

“yeah, feels about the right size for it.”

Whatever retort Sans might’ve come up for that was muffled under Red’s mouth against his own and those razor teeth of Red’s never left behind too many scars, either.

Welp, so much for the nap. Sans did crack open one socket to look around even as Red’s hands were starting to test the theory of just what kind of pencil Sans was smuggling. The cat was pointedly not looking at them and Sans smirked against Red’s mouth.

Take that, you furry little interloper, put a point on Sans’s side of the scoreboard.

Then he bit off a yelp as a clawed finger ran deliberately down his femur, hard enough to draw a beaded line of marrow. He shifted his glare to Red, who cooed out, “aw, do i have your attention now?”

“undivided and multiplied, if you wanna do the math.”

“i leave the math to stretch, now are you gonna get in the game?”

“yeah, let me get the ball.” It was Red’s turn to yelp as Sans cupped a hand firmly between his legs. Pretty soon Sans was forgetting all about the cat, because this, yeah, hell yeah, this was why moving in was the right idea.

Besides, the battle for the sofa always worked better when it was two against one, and Sans wanted Red against him for a long damn time.

-finis-

[eirian-houpe]

Just Breathe

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, OC doctors

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hyperion Heights (Once Upon a Time), AU

Series: Part 6 of Lover's Leap

Summary: Belle and Rumplestiltskin find themselves in an interesting and unsettling situation as they jump forward into the future.  Detective Weaver is dying... and the surgeons assigned to him lack the skills to save him.

Read on AO3

Just Breathe

Pain.

It was all he felt. As if someone had burned a hole through his body and soul. He tried to focus, to remember, to understand what was going on, but thought eluded him. He was all sensation now.

Sensation and fear.

This wasn’t right. Rumplestiltskin felt the other consciousness, but it was his own - without knowledge of who he was, even where he was or when.

When.

That was the key.

Tilly held up the cup right in front of his face.

“Look at it,” she said, “Don’t you remember?” She was frowning, her gaze intense as he slowly stepped closer. “You gave it to me. You said it would help you get back to her. Remind you of how to get back to her.”

“This…” he pointed at the blue and white porcelain, his finger barely an inch away. “…is just a cup.”

Tilly backed up, letting her hand fall, her despondent gaze on the cup. “You said it would work.” Then she looked up again as she clearly had a thought. “I… I remember now. We knew each other before.” Her words picked up speed as she spoke, excited, desperate, “Before in that other place. Yes that’s it!”

He made a face, sighing as he reached for his cuffs.

“Only you’d… you had a different name then. What was it? Sheepshanks… spindleshanks…”

With a grimace and a sigh, he came to her, telling her, “You’ve gone mad.”

“We’re all mad here!” she cried throwing up her hands before pushing at him, grabbing at his gun… his gun in her hand, pointing at him.

“Tilly,” he drew out her name. “Put the gun down.” Then he raised his voice, “Now!”

“No. Sorry,” she said. Her mouth in a flat line. “I’ve got no choice.” With wide, staring eyes she looked to the cup and despairing said, “The teacup didn’t work.”

“Why’re you doing this?” he tried to keep his voice reasonable.

Her mouth twisted into a sneer. “Because you told me to… Rumplestiltskin.”

Then the world became nothing but heat and light, and pain…

This was his future, and it terrified him. He was dying, and if he died now, he would never…

**

The feel of the bed beneath her changed from softness and comfort to the hardness of a cot, and she opened her eyes into the dimly lit broom closet of a room. She wondered for a moment what had woken her, followed closely by who she was this time, and yet again by a question that haunted Belle.

Twice now they had jumped, and twice they had not brought a wrong to right. What was going on?

The sound that had woken her came again, an incessant beeping sound from a small device that stood on a nightstand next to the head of the cotlike bed on which she was resting. A moment later, a voice - calm, collected and commanding - came over the public address system.

Paging Doctor Aivi, report to OR-3 Stat. Code Blue.

The announcement repeated, and Belle felt herself responding as if on automatic. Quickly, but not hurried, efficient. She caught the embroidered name in the mirror as she moved toward the door. Aivi. She was the doctor.

She took a breath as she opened the door to the room and made her way through the hospital corridors to the nearest elevator, and up to the floor that housed the operating rooms. As soon as she reached OR-3 she scrubbed in, and turned her back to push open the doors as she moved in toward the patient on the table.

“What have we got?” she asked. Her tone was business like and confident, and the junior doctors began to peel away to make space for her. It was the anesthesiologist that answered.

“Fifty two year old male, police detective. Single gunshot wound to the chest.”

As if his words reminded the other surgeons of their duties, they all began reporting their findings to her. Belle-that-was-the-doctor listened, and nodded, but then said, “Well, what’s the problem?”

“We can’t find enough tissue to patch the guy up,” one of her juniors told her sheepishly.

She shook her head. “There’s always enough tissue if you know where to find it,” she said and stepped forward. “Let’s get as much O neg in here as the bank can let us have… I’ve a feeling he’s going to need it.”

Stepping closer still, her blood froze as she caught sight of the patient’s face.

“Rumble,” she breathed.

“Doctor Aivi?” someone questioned, pulling her back to the moment; making her push away everything she felt, for everything her host knew.

She had to save him.

**

There was a great, gray fog all around him, drifting around his ankles, to his knees. Everything else was dark. Everything else was nothing. He remembered nothing… and then a name… Spinner? No, not spinner, something else… something similar. Another kind of craft… he used to spin… spinning helped.

Helps me to forget/Forget what?/Guess it must have worked

A trill of a laugh.

He heard hushed voices, words he was certain he wasn’t supposed to hear.

“I don’t know how she did it.” “Good surgeon, I guess?” “There’s good surgeon, and fucking miracle worker, and I’m telling you—” “Oh, come on. You know as well as I do, there’s no such thing as a miracle in these kind of places.” “No man, I’m telling you. This one was a gonner. Aiva waltzed in and… poof. Like magic. I’ve never seen anyone so focused. It’s like her hands knew.” “There you are then, she—”

A new voice. Sharper, but familiar.

“If the two of you have nothing better to do, I can find you something, instead of talking trash around my patient.”

“Sorry, Doctor, just…”

“What?”

“How?” There was wonder, admiration in the voice. “How did you do it?”

“Haven’t you heard?” there was a certain unfamiliar tone in the too, too, painfully familiar voice. Sarcasm perhaps, or… “Any curse can—”

…be broken/ Who told you that!? Who knows that!/I-I-I don't know. She, uh... she—she—

“Belle…” he breathed, still confused, still caught in the whirl of time and fate… tattered strands, like frayed yarn whipping like vines in the wind.

“Ha ha, very funny, Doctor Aivi,”

“Well if you spent half as much time studying your craft as you do in gossip and speculation, perhaps surgeries like this wouldn’t be beyond you.” There was the pause of a beat before she added, “Leave. now.”

“Belle,” Rumple breathed again, fighting focus… fighting a bright mist.

**

She glared at her residents until the both of them left. She hadn’t missed the whisper of her name from the still sedated Rumplestiltskin, and this didn’t feel right. She had to find a way to end it. To bring them both back; back to the Dark Castle before they lost themselves entirely.

She crossed the room, drawing the curtain to shield the door and leaned down over the too still, ailing form of the Dark One.

“I know that you can hear me,” she said softly, reaching to brush her fingers through the sides of his hair. “Follow the sound of my voice,” she urged tenderly.

He made and alarming rasping sound in his throat.

“No, no no…” she whispered, softer yet, and leaned down to press the softness of her mouth to his in a tender kiss, pulling away to form words against his mouth. “Just breathe…”

**

Rumplestiltskin was the first to stir, awareness of himself returning slowly, as the memory of what it felt like to suffer pins and needles in a sleeping limb. Her hands were still in his, as he last remembered, but her head rested against his shoulder, as though she had somehow fallen forward onto him.

He moved a foot, and the toe of his boot caught a hard object, sending Belle’s book skittering across the polished marble of the Dark Castle’s floor.

He swallowed hard, straining his neck to look down on the beauty of her face, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed. His belly clenched hard, and he bit down harder yet on the feelings that were beginning to surface. It would never do.

It couldn’t be, and yet… just for a moment he allowed himself to believe and felt the almost painful lurching in his stomach and the suddenly irregular beat of his heart. What the hell had they put to rights with the last three jumps filled with lust and acceptance.

His mind hesitated, afraid to use the word hovering in the shadows.

Love.

“Just breathe,” he told himself, echoing the last words he remembered hearing her utter, trying to let them settle his needful, aching heart.

[stillness-in-green]

The Way You Survive Is... (2/4)

Trauma manifests in all sorts of ways—even trauma that you convince yourself was noble.

All unknowing, Curious plants a seed.

Chapter Warnings: As well as the tagged warnings, be aware of on-the-job injuries, power imbalance, messy break-ups, self-triggering, and discussions of human trafficking.

The advisors try to be helpful, but you know what they say about dismantling the master's house with the master's tools.

———      ———      ———      ———

Chapter Two: Not a Narrative, But a Symptom

Rikiya got the text from Koku towards the end of the evening. ��I’ll have some time after the rally tonight.  Take you to dinner?

They ate at a French restaurant on the lake, chatting about work—Detnerat had hit its first major burst of good publicity, buoyed by some personal recommendations from the governor, and was expanding its production capacities.  Koku, meanwhile, was expecting his first department position following the election next week, assuming the numbers held steady.

Talking about work was, of course, a coded way of talking about The Work.  So much of Rikiya and Koku’s daily lives was groundwork for plans to be effected in a decade, two decades, three decades.  The governor of the prefecture was the highest-ranking official in the Hearts & Minds Party, one of Old Man Hanabata’s protégés, and serving under him got Koku the experience to make him a more viable candidate for when the HMP got serious about the national general election.  Compliments from him to the right ears gave Detnerat a running start for when Rikiya needed to push the company into competition against national-level brands.  In both cases, their startling youth brought them attention from sources outside the Army, and so it went.  All to move the ideals of Liberation—freedom, deregulation, a true recognition of individuality—onto the broader stage.

It could be exhausting to think about, but Koku—Koku always made it seem invigorating instead.  That was only natural—it was his meta-ability at work—but all the same, the degree to which work was keeping them busy made it all the more electric to spend time with him.

From the way Koku’s lips quirked when Rikiya hooked an ankle around his beneath the table, it seemed he agreed, and the two of them returned to Rikiya’s apartment with an eminently respectable distance between them that dissolved as soon as the door fell shut behind them.

“I’ve missed you,” Rikiya said fervently against Koku’s hair, fingertips splaying over the column of his neck.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Koku replied, a warmth in his voice he reserved only for their private moments, which had been far too few since graduation.  He tipped his head to the side as Rikiya continued to press a line of kisses towards the shell of his ear, his hands stealing out to peel Rikiya’s jacket off his shoulders.

Both their jackets went over the back of the chair as they made their way into the living room, fingers fumbling with shoes and abandoning them in an erratic trail leading across the floor towards the couch.  Koku sat down first, hands trailing slowly down Rikiya’s arms, and smiled up at him, that sly, alluring smile of his that turned Rikiya’s stomach into a molten knot of want.  He let his knees take his weight on either side of Koku’s legs, arms catching the back of the couch as he leaned down into a deeper kiss.  Koku hummed husky satisfaction into his mouth as he kissed back, one hand working on his tie, the other cupping Rikiya’s elbow.

The edge of his cologne, peppery cedar with lingering, deep notes of lily and plum, caught Rikiya’s nose and he chased the scent of it down Koku’s neck, arms winding around his chest.  Koku’s breath hitched, a sound that went through Rikiya in a bolt of heat.  With a shuddering sigh, he squeezed the man tighter, tugging him upright—

—and the heat vanished as quickly as it had come when Koku suddenly gasped, high and pained.

Rikiya let go as if scalded and leaned back, getting his weight off Koku’s lap.  “What? What is it?”

“It’s—”  Koku pressed a hand to his side, fluttering to a rest and then away again with a hiss, the motion familiar from everyone Rikiya had ever seen—himself included—nursing a wound.

“You’re hurt,” Rikiya realized, and climbed off the couch entirely, dropping to a crouch on the floor.  “What happened?”

“It’s nothing serious.”  Koku waved his other hand in an attempt at placation.  “I was helping out with that training seminar Luminary runs and we had a bolt go astray.”

“That would have been hours ago.  How bad is it?”  Rikiya rested a hand on Koku’s knee and looked up at him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Koku repeated, but now Rikiya was noticing the faint pallor in his cheeks.  “A hairline crack in one rib, that’s all.”

Rikiya rocked back in dismay.  “A cracked rib.  And you thought we should—why didn’t you say something?”

“First of all, we aren’t so adventurous that I’m worried about straining myself.”  Rikiya felt his cheeks go hot, and he stared up in mute distress.  Koku carded a hand through his hair, a mischievous smile dampened by tension at the corners of his lips.  “And second of all, it’s my job to worry about you, not yours to worry about me.”

“What is that supposed to—”  Consternation closed his throat.  

A shadow crossed over Koku’s face and Rikiya’s heart sank even further.  He recognized the look—it was the expression Koku got when he’d made a verbal misstep, miscalculated the effect of a sentence—and it was always about a miscalculation, not an error of emotion.  He got that look when the elders reacted to his arguments in ways he hadn’t planned for; Rikiya had last seen it when the two of them were pitching Detnerat to the elders and Koku had made an appeal to Sanctum that hadn’t gone over the way he expected it to.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Koku said swiftly, soothingly, but Rikiya was barely listening, all at once trying to remember a time when Koku had ever denied him anything, large or small, had ever given more than a cursory, characterful complaint to any request Rikiya had made of him.

He couldn’t come up with anything.  Koku was his best friend, his lover, but he was a follower of Liberation, exactly like everyone else.  It was obvious what his words had meant.

I let myself forget…  The guilt drove him to his feet.  Koku looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“Rikiya,” he started, going to push himself up.

“Stop,” Rikiya cut him off, staggering backward around the coffee table.  “You—you should have said something.  I could have hurt you.”  Anger sparked in his chest, a wretchedly defensive feeling; he shoved it back down, but the enormity of it all just kept coming.  “Would you ever have told me no? To anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you no,” Koku stressed.  “It’s the first time we’ve had any privacy since—”

“Trumpet,” Rikiya snapped, and watched Koku stiffen, eyes going wide.  The words burned, caustic, on his tongue.  “Tell me the truth.  Would you ever have told me ‘No?’”

“I—”  Koku’s jaw moved for a long moment, but no words escaped as his expression went stricken.

The silence felt like the world collapsing.

“Go home,” Rikiya whispered, shaking his head and moving to keep the coffee table between them when Koku surged to his feet in protest.  “Go home. Just—just rest, please. Trumpet.”  His voice clipped higher, and he tried to swallow through the thundering of his pulse in his ears.  His next words emerged in a stutter that turned into a taut recitation, impersonal and all the uglier for it.  “I’m—I need…  I’m sorry. I need to be alone.  Please excuse me.”

“Rikiya!”

He turned on his heel and strode away towards his bedroom, ignoring the note of pleading in Koku’s voice, and closed the door behind him with a mindfulness dedicated to not slamming it that left his arm trembling with the exaggerated care.

This can’t go on, he thought, pacing around the room, clutching at his arms.  I never should have let it go this far to begin with.  What was I thinking?  Did he ever even want it from the start?  How long has it been since I asked?  Was he just—just supervising me?  I have to—if he can’t—then I can’t—I can’t be with him if—I—

I can’t be with him.

The awful fullness of the realization choked his movement to a halt.  As the refrain resounded in his head, a messy splat sound drew his eyes downward.  At his feet, a scattering of liquid shone with a dusky gleam on the clean wood panels of the floor.  Rikiya stared at it, for a moment struck to numbness as he raised a hand to his face.  His fingers came back smudged with tears and unconsciously corporealized stress.  His breath caught in his throat.  Oh, no…

He could feel his body swelling against the confines of his shirt even as he looked around the room, anguish rolling back in over him, a waterline drawn away from the shore only to return in crashing tumult. Control.  He needed to get this under—

The closet.  He was there in three strides, pulling the door open and pushing aside a row of shirts and jackets with enough force to snap several coat hangers. A small, contained space—he stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind him, swallowing heavily as the walls closed in.

In the dark, he let his weight sag against the wall, sliding down to the floor and curling in on himself.  His breath burned in his throat, growing shallower and more ragged by the second, and nausea twisted his stomach.  The smell of sweat prickled in his nose.  Familiar, the panic was, and so much kinder than shame.  Wracked with chills, he buried his head against his knees and let the conditioned training take over, timing his pulse and pursuing the sense of severed reality that was the only way he knew to draw himself towards calm.

If Koku knocked, he didn’t hear it, and in the morning, when Rikiya ventured back out into the rest of the apartment, he was long gone.  Rikiya found the note on the table just as his phone started to ring.

I’m sorry I didn’t mention it.  I’ll call you in the morning. 

Guilt chewing a fresh hole in his stomach, Rikiya let the call go to voice mail.

———— ———— ———— 

 Kesseru City was not a liberated district, nor would it likely ever be until all of Japan could say the same, but the creed of Liberation still had its warriors there, high-ranked and low.  More low than ever, really—since Rikiya had moved there five years back, the place was becoming something of a hub.  That had all sorts of implications for the great cause, but one of the less immediately obvious benefits was Miwako.

Owned by a loyal Liberation warrior, Miwako was a restaurant, no more or less, an old yakisoba house near one of the train stations. It was, however, a place where Rikiya could count on a private room for dinner and discreet service (and discreet clean-up, if necessary).

The proprietor also made excellent low-sodium substitutions on request.

“So how’s the situation with your stray cat?”  At Rikiya’s forbearing expression, Curious grinned, swirling her drink.  “Has he been back for another visit?”

“I don’t seem to be able to keep him away,” Rikiya admitted with a sigh.  Geten was terribly clever for a child of merely eight years old.  The stubbornness was possibly more age-typical.  “I’m working out visitation arrangements with the family.  Long weekends and holidays, that sort of thing.”

A regular reporter might have asked why Rikiya didn’t just adopt the boy—it certainly would have made things simpler—but Curious had, as they said, “all the facts,” and so could apply her wonderfully insightful mind to considerations like succession and media attention.  Favoritism, too, though probably they were well past that point.

“I can just imagine the two of you on a beach vacation,” she said instead.  “Make sure you send pictures.”

Rikiya chuckled at the unbelievability of it.  “He’d probably prefer skiing, all things considered.”

“We’re still in summer!” she exclaimed.  “It has to be beaches!”

He shook his head fondly, then looked up with a wider smile at the approach of the server.  A young mouse-meta, quite small compared to the large tray she was bracing with her tail, she unloaded their meal with quick professionalism.  He watched her more closely than the food, admiring the steady fluidity with which the extra limb handled small dishes for garnishes and even the bowls of miso soup.

“You’re good with your tail,” he complimented when she stood back, and she beamed at the compliment, russet-furred cheeks flushing with the glow of pride.  “How long have you been with us?”

“Since my parents’ time, sir.”  She straightened at the question, flashing a quick salute.  Her black eyes shone as she regarded him, folding her hands in front of her again, bony fingers knitting together around the rim of the tray. “Beacon helped my parents when their construction business got closed for unlicensed quirk use. Oh—meta-ability use, I mean,” she corrected herself, cheeks coloring harder.

“It’s all right,” he said, waving off the mistake.  “I know it can be tricky to balance the language.  It’s more important to keep our secrets than to use the right word every time you’re among friends of the cause.  Thank you for your efforts—your parents, also.”

Now quite red, she stammered out a thanks and retreated, looking about ready to burst. Curious huffed a laugh, pouring him another cup of sake.

“You’re very good at that,” she observed as he returned the favor, then clinked her cup against his and raised it to her lips.

“I would hope so; I’ve been learning it since I was six years old.”  He sipped at the chilled drink, and, not particularly keen to dwell on the topic, redirected to, “So how are things at your magazine these days? Anything interesting in the works?”

“Is there,” she answered fervently.  “Well, keep this under wraps, it isn’t going to be out for another few issues yet, but me and Tsugata are working on a major exposé.”

“Really? What’s the topic?”  He draped a few shreds of ginger over his ikisoba before setting in.

“Human trafficking—specifically the underground market for certain meta-abilities in the sex trade and for forced labor.”  She gestured with her chopsticks, a dismissive flick.  “Not a very pleasant dinner conversation, I know, but get this: did you know that human trafficking isn’t actually illegal?”

He raised his brows incredulously and she nodded, sharp and emphatic.  “Right?  That’s everyone’s response at first!  But it isn’t—when heroes and the police do raids, they’re based on immigration or labor statutes being violated, not because it’s a crime to engage in the slave trade of sentient human beings.”

“And Hajimete Era is hoping to address that?” he asked, focusing on Chitose’s animated expressions rather than letting his mind dwell on the mental images of locked rooms and the backs of box trucks.

“Better, actually.  We’re giving a platform to a politician who’s going to bring it up at the autumn Diet session.  Kurokou Yui.”

“Kurokou… The New Passage party’s deputy leader, isn’t she?”

Curious scooped noodles heaped with green onions into her mouth, nodding as she chewed before elaborating, “She specialized in trafficking cases back in her lawyer days, and here’s the big bombshell.”  She leaned closer over the table.  “She went into that field because she was in AV videos back when she was just a teenager.  They got her in through an idol scam.”

Rikiya sat back on the tatami.  Politics wasn’t his area of expertise, even for all the time he’d known Trumpet, but even he knew how sex scandals affected the careers of major public figures.  

“That’s…”

“Brave, right?  Taking her own trauma and turning it into a weapon for everyone else like that.  She’s really incredible.”  Approval shaded into Curious’s voice; she shook her head with a pure admiration Rikiya rarely saw on her face.  “Tsugata and I are doing our best to give her an article worthy of her.”

“It’s very noble.”  He paused to chew through another bite of his meal and mull over his thoughts.  “We must have some people who could speak to a cause like that?”

“I’m already looking into it, yes.  I’ll have them get in touch with her if I find some good candidates.”

Rikiya nodded approval at her foresight.  “A shame she’s already politically affiliated.  But having outside allies is helpful too, I suppose.”

“Here’s to that.”  She tilted her cup upward, and he clicked his together with it once more before returning to the meal.  

“Though,” Curious added in an off-handed tone that absolutely never foretold an off-handed remark, “speaking of allies, have you heard from Koku-san lately?”

An intentional bit of word choice in the name there, he didn’t doubt.  Curious was not usually the first-name-with-honorifics type.  It was truly kind of her, but where he and Trumpet were concerned, she had already done more than enough—as, indeed, he’d realized was her aim after the second time she’d manipulated them into being the last two people in a room together.  Patching things up after several years of strain had been a weight lifted that he’d been all too aware of carrying.  That was true, and would remain true, but he was not about to let it get any further than that.

He swallowed down his current bite before answering.

“Not since Obon, no.  Is there some news from Sereno City I haven’t heard about?”

She gave him a Look over the rim of her cup, but, thankfully, let it drop with grace, “Nothing much, unless you count the secretary general resigning.  He says he’s pretty sure the spot’ll be going to him once they can get all the party leaders in a room together.”

Rikiya had not heard that, though he didn’t doubt that he would before too long.  The Hearts & Minds Party was not, strictly speaking, under his supervision, but opinions he registered about its ruling members tended to be adhered to.  Koku’s presence on his council was enough that Rikiya didn’t need to pay much mind to it.

Or possibly Koku—Trumpet, Rikiya reminded himself—kept the more stressful politicking from reaching his ears.  That would certainly be like him.

“Trumpet usually prefers to bring me accomplishments rather than projections,” he said, “but I’m glad he’s able to talk to you about these things.”

Curious hummed, mouth full, and when she spoke next, it was, thankfully, to move the conversation along.

————

The next morning, Rikiya sat eating breakfast and skimming through the newspaper, when, all unsuspecting, he turned to a page two story about a hero hospitalized by malfunctioning support gear.  The man’s size-changing armor had failed to activate when he used his size-changing meta-ability, leading to both of his arms being crushed and several broken ribs.  Sympathetic stress spiked a migraine into Rikiya’s temples with the precision of a professional volleyball player and he folded the paper closed, setting it down on the table with slightly trembling hands.

He rubbed at his forehead, breathing through his nose in modulated intervals and reminding himself that the tingling in his limbs was entirely in his mind.  They’ll want to talk about this at work, he thought.  It has obvious ramifications for support goods in general.  Maybe I can put it off for a day—twenty-four hours of respect for a public servant’s misfortune?

No. That’s silly.  It’s an obvious conversation for the company to have.  A teachable moment, even.

A sense of shame bubbled through him as his mind, groping for solidity, landed on the conversation about Kurokou Yui the night before.  How admirable, to be able to turn one’s own terrors into strength. And yet, he went to such lengths to avoid this particular trigger of his: offices and living spaces with spacious open-floor plans and enormous energy-inefficient windows, leaving doors open behind him, bargaining with himself and trying to buy time instead of facing such upsetting incidents face-on.

You have to do better than this.  Your fear could make you stronger if you embraced it instead of these pitiful avoidance tactics.

He sighed, grateful no one was around to hear the helpless tremolo of his voice in the sound.

Then he picked the paper back up, opened the page back up to the story, and read through it, fingers stiff so as not to crumple the thin newsprint.

A teachable moment indeed.

[marshmallow-phd]

Open Wounds

Genre: Boxing!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: You practically lived at the fighter gym, taking your anger and frustration out on the punching bags as a form of personal torture. Because you also hated that place for taking away the person you loved most. But when a new trainee shows up, showing that he’s different from the boxers you’ve met in the past, your wall begins to crumble. But is history doomed to repeat itself?

Netflix Teaser 

Part One I Part Two

**

The sound of skin hitting worn vinyl and the grunts and groans of grown men trying to beat each other up surrounded you. No matter how high you turned the volume up on your headphones, you couldn’t drown out the distractions. You hated this place. You shouldn’t be here. Over and over again, you told yourself to leave and never come back. When you were covered in sweat and your muscles were sore, crying out for relief, the first part was easy enough to do. It was that damn second step that was impossible.

“Now, what did that poor bag do to you?”

Taking one last swing at the punching bag, hard enough to put some momentum in its swing on the rusty chain, you turned around to face the only person who dared approach you while you were attacking the defenseless bag of sand and pulled out your headphones to hear better.

Han, the old man who owned the gym, smiled at you with wrinkled, sun-weathered eyes. He was still wearing those ugly Hawaiian shirts over baggy khaki shorts after all these years. But despite his appearance, he could still move around and jab like any of the middle-weight boxers around here. You’d known him for years - since you were a teenager – which meant he knew exactly what the punching bag had done to you.

Deciding you’d had enough for today, you started unstrapping the Velcro of your gloves, your hands breathing in relief at the release. “Hey, Han.”

“Tough day?” he guessed.

You sighed. “Tough week.” More like a tough life.

In all honesty, it probably wasn’t that rough. You had a roof over your head, heating in the winter, air conditioning in the summer, food, a bed, a job that you thrived in. Really there was only one dark cloud hovering in your otherwise ordinary sky. A blank spot in your life that could never be filled no matter where you searched for a substitute.

“I’m sure things will get better,” Han said encouragingly. “They always do.”

“No, they don’t.” There were too many examples in the history of the world to list of where things did not eventually get better.

Han huffed at you. “If you keep that up, I’ll ban you from my gym.”

You smirked. “You could never ban me, Han. You love me too much.”

He started to grumble out something along the lines of “watch me” but he couldn’t hold on to the façade and soon he was smiling at you. “Are you going to join us tonight for dinner? There’s a new recruit that joined a while back and you know the boys. They have to initiate. He’s very promising, could be the new lightweight champion. Reminds me of-” Han caught himself before he mentioned one of his old students. The one that brought you pain, the one that brought you here over and over again, never letting you go. Coughing to cover his slipup, he went on, “Well, anyway, I’m sure the boys would love it if you tagged along.”

“No, I think I’ll skip on it,” you said non-too-surprisingly. You never joined in, but that didn’t stop Han form offering, hoping one day you would change your mind, like how you used to. “Thank you, though. I’ll see you around.”

Han nodded, understanding completely. You kissed the old man on the cheek before gathering up your things and heading for the showers.

Once cleaned and refreshed, you weaved through the boxers and MMA fighters training for their next big fight before making it to the front entrance. As you pushed on the door to exit, someone called out for you.

“Hey, wait!”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around to what this person wanted. Most of the boys here knew to leave you alone. Only the ones who’d known you for years would stop and talk to you, but they knew better than to try to chat when you were trying to leave.

The man didn’t seem familiar at all as he jogged up to you, careful to avoid a weight that had rolled into his path.

“What?” you snapped. You’d been here too long and you needed to get out, not be chatted up by some brave newcomer who thought it’d be fun to hit on the only female within this testosterone factory.

The man bowed his head sheepishly, his cheeks taking on the slight hue of pink. In his outstretched hand was a worn red glove that had certainly seen better days. You snatched the glove out of his hand, not out of maliciousness, but out of a rush of relief. If you’d lost that glove….

“Thank you,” you said gratefully as you secured the glove back into its normal pocket. “Sorry about… being rude.”

He smiled at you. “It’s okay. Although, I thought exercising was supposed to make people happier?”

“Depends on the environment,” you countered. That was probably a lie. The chance of your body deciding on how much endorphins to release based on where you were exercising seemed slim. But maybe you would be a bit more cheerful if you worked out at one of the bigger chain gyms than this small training facility.

“Understandable,” he nodded, thinking that you were making a joke, based on the smile he was giving you. He held out his hand, “I’m Yixing, by the way.”

You looked down at his hand for a few seconds, not sure of what to do. Yes, you knew the social norm was to take his hand and introduce yourself as well, but you tried to avoid any interactions with the boxers that you weren’t already friends with before….

Sighing, you stuffed your hand in your pocket. “Nice to meet you, Yixing.”

And that was it. No handshake, no giving of your own name. You simply turned on your heels and left the gym, not looking back as you reached your bike, throwing one leg over the seat and slamming your helmet on before taking off down the road, putting as much distance between you and the gym as possible.

**

Yixing stood there, dumbfounded. Had he done or said something wrong?

“Don’t take that too much to heart,” Han sighed as he came up and clapped Yixing on the shoulder from behind. “Poor thing had it rough a few years back. Put a wall up after that. (y/n) only tolerates a few of the guys here and that’s more out of respect since she’s known them for so long.”

Yixing frowned, watching as you peeled out of the parking lot on an old motorcycle. “Did something bad happen to her?”

The distrust and the avoidance of physical contact coupled with her working out in a gym designed for fight training… the picture made Yixing’s stomach churn.

Han seemed to know where his thoughts were headed. “No, nothing like that. She just lost someone close to her.”

A strange relief washed over Yixing before the guilt set in. You’d still lost someone you cared about. How close the two of you must have been….

“Come on,” Han ordered as he slapped Yixing’s shoulder again. “You’ve got more jabs to throw before you can leave. Also, it’s your turn to clean the mats.”

Yixing cringed, but laughed nonetheless. “It’s always my turn to clean the mats.”

“That’s what you get for being the newbie, kid.”

Yixing shook his head. He knew all this work would pay off in the end. Every fighter had to pay their dues before stepping into the ring. And someday, he’d be the king.

**

You clutched the stencil steady as you carefully drew the brush over the slick surface of the gas tank. No air escaped your lungs while you kept yourself still, afraid that even the slightest breath could knock everything off course. The line needed to be perfect or else you’d have to start all over. And get lectured for wasting expensive paint.

As soon as the line was completed, you refilled your lungs with fresh air, sitting up and loosening up your shoulders.

“Nice work, kid,” Don commented as he inspected the paint job over your shoulder. “Line work’s getting better.”

“Thanks,” you smirked proudly. These days, it was the only thing that made you really happy. Putting a brush in your hand and letting the image in your head come to light on the polished metal for the world to see was the best job you could have ever asked for.

You weren’t sure exactly how you ended up in the garage. Art had always been a major part of your life and identity, with faint dreams of entering the institute for your degree. Your brother swore up and down that your works would be displayed in museums one day. Back then you’d laughed at him, called him crazy. And maybe he was.

Even now you still loved to paint and draw on canvas, creating your own worlds with a few simple ingredients. But those works stayed in your apartment, away from the public eye. The images you made on motorcycles and car hoods were the only ones allowed to be seen. You were more comfortable that way. This world of gears and grease was one you knew all too well, even if working here hadn’t been the plan. Being here made a little more sense than being the dressed up featured artist being adored by patrons with large checkbooks, anyway.

Well, the checkbook part sounded nice.

“I think I’m going to finish this one and head home,” you told Don. It was getting late and your hand was beginning to cramp.

“Sounds good,” Don nodded. “And you’re coming in late tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m going to hit the gym first,” you said, turning around on your stool. You had skipped out on your personal torture yesterday and today, so it was time for a recharge. Plus, tomorrow was Han’s birthday. If you didn’t at least stop by and see him, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Alright, sounds good. Have a goodnight.”

You waved to Don as he walked away. “Good night.”

When you were alone again, you stretched out your hand and got back to the next set of lines to finish out the tank in peace.

 The next morning you went about your normal routine, fixing that too-sugary cup of coffee and yanking on paint splattered clothes before throwing your gym back over your shoulder and heading out the door.

At the gym, Han was already there in his usual spot by the main ring a few hours early, leaning on the ropes from the floor while yelling out punches and jabs at the trainee who was up on the platform working with Jack. You didn’t want to be, but you were actually impressed by the speed of the trainee’s hands. They were nothing but blurs, following Han’s barking orders without hesitation. Mesmerized, you stood a little ways away, arms crossed over your chest as you watched the session.

Han noticed you after a few minutes and brought the training to a halt. “Alright, get some water you two. We’ll pick it back up in fifteen minutes or so.”

The trainee took off his protective gear, revealing his identity to be Yixing from the other day. He must be the one Han was gushing about. His next golden boy.

Pulling a thin rectangular present from your bag, you held it out to Han as you approached him. “Happy birthday, big guy.”

Han smiled broadly as he took the gift. “(y/n), if this is what I think it is, you’re going to make an old man cry.”

“That’s my goal in life,” you teased. To your relief, he didn’t open it right away. You hadn’t expected an audience to be around when you gave the present over. Things like this you preferred to be kept private. Usually, Han spent his mornings watching old fight reels, studying the different methods or just reliving his old glory days in the ring. If he was skipping out on that tradition to train this guy… he must really be something.

“So, how are you doing lately?” Han asked.

You shrugged. “I’m fine. Things are going good at shop. I’ve got a lot of projects going so there’s plenty to keep me occupied.”

“Good, good,” he nodded. “Are you still making time for your own work, though?”

You scoffed, pointing to the gift. “What do you think that is?”

“I know what it is,” Han grumbled. “But you also know what I mean. Your own work deserves attention, too.”

“Look, between here and the shop, home is where my hands get a rest.”

Han raised an eyebrow, no hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Then maybe I should ban you from my gym.”

Your jaw dropped. “Han, are you serious-”

“Is everything okay?”

You sent a death glare towards Yixing that he probably didn’t deserve. It was just instinct. Your connection was being threatened and that put you on edge.

“Everything’s fine,” Han chuckled, showing you that he wasn’t serious after all. You relaxed a bit, but now you really needed to hit something.

“I’m going to go change,” you mumbled. Swiping you gym bag back up from the floor, you headed for the locker room.

When you came back, Han and Jack were gone. The former had most likely retreated to his office to hide from your wrath. Jack probably had some errands to run during his short break and Yixing didn’t seem to be sticking around, leaving the gym mostly empty for you to go about your business. As you wrapped up your hands, however, you learned that you weren’t completely alone after all.

“Need a sparring partner?” Yixing offered, wiggling the punching pads at you when you looked up from your seat on the bench.

You shook your head. “I kind of want to be the one throwing the punches right now.” You weren’t here to just be his target.

“That’s what I meant,” he chuckled. He slipped the sparring equipment over his hands and walked back up to the ring, easily stepping up and through the ropes before stopping in the middle of the platform.

Fine. He wanted to be the punching bag, let him.

Sighing, you stood up to your feet and headed on over, ready for him.

“I won’t go easy on you,” he warned.

“If you did, I’d have to kick your butt,” you taunted. The giggle he let out took you off guard. Then the smile slipped away to make room for a hardened glare and he started barking orders at you in a tone that rivaled Han’s.

“Cross! Jab! Hook!”

Over and over again, he shouted out combinations almost too fast for you to keep up. Every few punches, he’d swing out on his own, making you duck. It didn’t take long for you to be covered in a sheet of sweat, breaths coming out short and raggedy as you fought to keep going. Too soon, though, your arms grew weak. You threw in a few more punches before stepping back, giving in.

“You’re good,” Yixing complimented. He unstrapped the gloves from his hands, tossing them down on the canvas out of the way. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Well, that didn’t take long. You rolled your eyes. “Just because I work out at this gym doesn’t mean I want to date a boxer, okay?”

Yixing knitted his eyebrows, confused. “I wasn’t asking for a date. I’m hungry and I don’t like eating alone.”

That made you stop and reconsider. Because even though you did it every day, you, too, hated eating alone. It was too quiet. It gave you too much time in your head.

“Okay, then,” you nodded. “I’m going to go change real quick.”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

You threw him a lazy thumbs up before jogging out of there. Even though your morning workout was cut short, you were slightly thankful for the change up in your routine. Besides, he seemed nice and – boxer or not – you could use a new friend.

Part of you worried if you were being more open to him because he reminded you of- no. They were very different. He didn’t giggle, among other things.

You didn’t bother to shower since you weren’t trying to impress anyone, just slipping back into your knotted up t-shirt and jeans before throwing your bomber on and heading out of the locker room.

Yixing was already at the front door, awaiting patiently for you. He’d somehow managed to change faster than you, now sporting skinny jeans and a matching black shirt. For a very, very brief moment, it’d thrown you off guard. You’d grown used to ignoring anyone in athletic gear, immune to what it was supposed to be showing off. But seeing the new fighter in streetwear was making your head spin. The hardened concentrated look was long gone, softening his features to be more open and inviting. Before you could fight it, the corners of your lips were turning up.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded and followed him out the front door and to his car.

It was a short drive to the little breakfast dinner, only a few blocks away but you’d never noticed it before. Yixing seemed to be a frequent visitor given the friendly waves from both the wait staff and the cooks visible through the kitchen window.

The first few minutes were spent in silence while the two of you mulled over the menus provided at the table. After the waitress took your orders, you played with the pink sugar packet, flipping it back and forth to occupy your attention. You hadn’t been in a situation like this for a long time so you weren’t sure how to proceed.

“Have you been going to the gym for a long time?” Yixing asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded. “Yeah, since I was a teenager.”

“But you don’t train to fight?” he guessed.

“No, I don’t,” you half laughed. “Fighting was never my thing. That was-” you caught yourself just in time. “No, I would just go to hang out with friends who were more into the boxing thing. I liked the workout better than others, so it just stuck.”

“And you know Han pretty well.”

You snorted. That crazy old man had been a huge part of your life. He was there for you when you were alone and basically gave you a second home to run to. But you didn’t need to voice that out loud. “Yeah. He has a soft spot for me, I guess.”

Yixing smiled crookedly, revealing a dimple in his cheek that just softened his features even more. “He doesn’t seem to hand those out very easily.”

“No, it takes a lot of buttering up,” you agreed. “If you’re training under him and he sees potential in you, you’ll never get that treatment.”

“You seem to speak from experience,” he pointed out.

The waitress arrived then with the large plates of food. You immediately dug in, much hungrier than you realized. Plus, it gave you an excuse not to continue the conversation. The hot-off-the-grill meat tasted savory in your mouth and for a few minutes, you forgot that you were sitting across from someone.

“So, what do you do for a living if you’re not a boxer?” Yixing asked suddenly.

You swallowed the food in your mouth and washed it down with a few sips of water before replying, “I work in a customs shop. I do the detail painting and sketch ups.”

“So you’re an artist?” he dug, excitement flashing in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, kind of.” Shyness, while not a typical character trait of yours, was making you shrink over your food. Being called an “artist” was making you feel awkward.

Putting his fork down, Yixing folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Did you do the work on your motorcycle?”

“Yeah, I did.” Your cheeks were heating up. What was going on? You never reacted like this.

“The line work is really incredible.” Sincerity – not flattery – was more than apparent in his tone. “I noticed it a few times while coming in, but I could never figure out who it belonged to until I saw you drive away on it a few days ago. You have real talent.”

Now you couldn’t even lift your own fork. “Thank you.”

“Did you paint something for Han?”

You cleared your throat, unsure of how to answer. A reply of simply “yes” should have been easy enough. But once buried memories bombarded your inner thoughts.

You’re amazing and someday they’ll put you in the Louvre.

I wish you would stop lying like that.

I’m not! You’ll be this world famous artist and I’ll be the Lightweight Champion across the globe. You can’t paint everywhere I go to fight. We’ll be the greatest team the world has ever seen.

Sure. If that happens, then I’ll paint myself green and dance in the gym.

Deal.

“(y/n)?”

You jumped, pulled from the fuzzy memory. “Sorry?”

“Is everything okay?” Yixing’s face was pinched with worry. Somehow you’d even missed the waitress dropping off the check. He was already signing off the receipt and putting his card away.

“Peachy,” you nodded. Changing the subject, you frowned, “You didn’t have to pay for my meal.”

He waved your protest away. “It’s not a problem. Maybe you can get the next one?”

You knew what he was doing, opening up the conversation of another meal together without outright asking. This wasn’t a date, he said it himself, but it appeared he might want to change that in the near future. And honestly, you weren’t as against it as you thought you might be. Even though he was bring up memories you’d locked away, you found his presence… soothing the hurt rather than multiplying it.

“Sure,” you smiled. “I’ll get the next one.”

Now he was the shy one as he ducked his head. “Good.” Composing himself once again, he stood up. “Let’s go. I have to get back to the gym or else Han will have me on double cleaning duty.”

“That would terrible,” you agreed with a laugh. You weren’t sure the last time you felt this relaxed with a person, this open. It was a scary feeling, but one you were more than willing to further explore.

**

Yxing watched you speed away on your bike, a smile stretch widely across his lips. You’d promised to have dinner with in a few days and he was on cloud nine. This time, he was able to declare it officially a date before you headed off to work.

Each step he took to head back inside the gym was light and cheery, practically skipping as he headed for Han’s office.

“I’m back,” Yixing announced as he stuck his head in, finding Han staring intently at the small TV he used for fight reviews.

“About time,” Han grumbled. He didn’t pause the TV or look away. “If you weren’t out with (y/n), I’d be making you do suicide runs until you threw up for skipping out on training.”

Surprised, Yixing came all the way inside the office. He’d fully expected to get the third degree, declaring to himself that the short meal with you was worth it. You’d intrigued him when he first saw you. No one was willing to explain who you were or why you came to the gym and left without interacting with anyone. Everyone else seemed to just know already, but refused to let him in on it. “Why do you say that?”

Finally pausing the TV, Han sighed. His eyes drifted over to a painting that was leaning up against the large window that gave him access to the open gym space. It was new, something Yixing hadn’t seen before. That must have been your present you’d given him earlier.

The colors were beautiful. Everything blended in with the fake light that gave it a touch of hyperrealism. A fighter’s robe made of shiny green silk laid across a short wooden stool in the corner of a boxing ring. With the folds of the robe, he couldn’t make out the name embroidered on the back, just bits and pieces of the silver letters.

“She’s a good kid,” Han sighed again. “Watched her grow up within these walls. She painted the murals in both of the locker rooms in high school. She was happier back then, livelier. If she wasn’t here with her friends, she was at home with her dad, helping him on his side business fixing up cars, making them beautiful again. She always needed to be creating something. Then she lost that spark.”

Thinking back to the diner, Yixing could see that clearly. You were fighting to hold back something when he complimented you on your work, like you were embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it. Then your eyes lost focus because what he could only assume was a memory coming back to the surface. Treading carefully, he asked, “What happened?”

Han pointed to the fighter on the small screen. “Him. She lost him.”

Yixing’s eyes widen. Because he knew who that was. And the more he stared at the footage flickering on the TV, the more his heart sunk. Because he knew this fight.

He was there the night that fighter died.

[cubeswhump]

Defy Fate; Reanimate, part 2: Giver of Life

Directly follows The Pieces of Osiris.

Tagging @brutal-nemesis and @more-miserables

Warnings for gore, death, self-harm (not done from depression or misery), murdur, drugging, creepy whumper, torture, dismemberment, disembowelment, semi-professional surgery, bit of eye (optic nerve) gore, lots of gross stuff.

Lorelai wished Dearil would laugh and tell her to hush up, that her singing is so pitchy. "You sound like a dying cat," she mimicked in a deep voice, but he stayed limp and cold in her arms.

"Mm! Mmmh!" Viktor tried to scream against the tape as Lorelai set Dearil down on the table by the John Doe.

"Alexa, volume up," Lorelai commanded.

She opened up the John Doe and cut out his heart. She had a donor heart in a cooler, so she tossed his in the trashbag - but she needed the four connective arteries. Removal was slow and intricate.

"I don't know what to do without you," she sang. Time to connect the John Doe's arteries to Dearil's husk. She relied a lot on magic for this binding, her nose dripping blood into Dearil's open chest.

She had never heard of attaching entire arteries to a corpse, so she had to rely on her own imagination and magic for that, but surely attaching the heart would be easier.

She hadn't gotten this far in medical school and had to make do with vague medical tutorials. She clamped the open ends of the arteries. She could have cried with relief when the arteries twitched even with no blood supply.

Viktor stared at her with watery eyes. She filled the syringe with clear liquid and injected it into his deltoid.

"You'll need this. Thos is going to hurt." She paused. "I really am sorry, Viktor, but you're dying for a good cause."

Tears slipped down his cheeks. He was in an awkward position tp fond his vein but she managed to get the IV connected to his arm. She got the other end connected to Dearil's remaining arm and sliced her palm open, drawing the rune on his upper arm.

His heart began beating slowly. This time Lorelai did cry with relief.

She cut Viktor's shirt off and sliced into him carelessly, making short incisions over whatever organ she needed while he writhed against the restraints. She didn't want him to bleed too much while he and Dearil shared one circulatory system, so she burned the sides of each incision with the butane torch Dearil used to make crème brûlée. Victor's eyes rolled back and fluttered shut when she started breaking open his ribcage.

He came in and out of consciousness as she went back and forth between him and Dearil, transferring to Dearil a left lung, a stomach, three quarters of a liver. Viktor was a fighter, going in and out of consciousness and giving the occasional struggle.

"Hecate, Thanatos, Hel, Hades, Osiris, Heka, Freyja..." Lorelai whispeted the name of every deity associated with death or magic that she knew of. She hoped one, if any existed, would hear her pleas and give some form of divine assistance. She panted behind her mask and swayed on her feet, every rune on her body bleeding.

When Viktor started convulsing, mouth bleeding as he bit his tongue, Lorelai slapped him hard.

"Don't ruin this for me!" she shouted.

He didn't wake up this time, and she drained what she could of his blood and transferred it to IV bags that were connected to Dearil one after the other.

She cut into his scalp and skull, filling a cup with cerebrospinal fluid and removing his brain (including eyes) before his heart. She got Dearil's brain out of the vat and connected both to Viktor's still-warm heart and a bag of blood pilfered from the hospital.

She ditched the butane torch and sliced him open autopsy-style with a Y-incision. She hastily harvested and transferred his organs to Dearil before decomposition could start: the other lung, his entire urinary system, his gallbladder (he could live without it, of course, but Dearil loved fatty foods and dairy), his pancreas, his thymus (hopefully Dearil's thyroid, which was still in place, would bounce back), and his intestines (sans-appendix).

She left Victor's husk for now to fix up Dearil's ribcage, which was difficult without rods abs screws. She drew runes over the breaks and the way it reformed was brittle and lumpy, but oh well. His body would have to take care of the rest. Next, she sewed up his Y-incision and transfered skin graft's from the John Doe's unmarked stomach to where she had sliced skin off Dearil to fit him in her suitcase. It would scar pretty badly, but Lorelai would love him all the same.

Then she started on Viktor's legs and left arm. He was so white; the limbs would stand out terribly against Dearil's gorgeous brown trunk. The John Doe was closer in color, but he was very tall and thin and the limbs just wouldn't work.

"Alexa, ten hours of Mozart," Lorelai called.

She took off her soiled gloves to look up bone grafting videos on her phone. She didn't have rods or screws, so she had to keep this pretty natural. Er, magical. But a little bit of medican guidance might help, considering she wasn't studying orthopaedics.

Putting together a human body in pieces was too advanced for anyone, and Lorelai was over here doing it. Who cared that she was only in her second year of medical school? If anyone could do this, it was her.

She glanced back and forth between her work and the video as she sliced into what was left of Dearil's thigh, peeling the skin away from the bone. She peeled the skin on Viktor's thigh back next and shaaped both bones as best as she could until they fit almost like puzzle pieces. A bit of blood on the bone. Healing would be slow, she knew, like a regular broken femur.

Her hands shook and she struggled to thread the needle. Dissolving thread for the subcutaneous tissue. She stitched very carefully, but it didn't matter if the sutures were slightly uneven. She had to keep turning Dearil to suture the entire circumference and he was so much heavier now. Dissolving thread for the dermis, non-dissolving for the epidermis. Repeat on right leg. Repeat on left arm.

She cut into his jaw to realign the bone and sewed it up. Missing teeth gaped at her and his tongue, though less bloated, was still an odd purple. She expected it would improve with the increased blood flow now, as she knew the purple color was due to a lack of circulation.

She took a few layers of skin from his buttocks and used the inch-long patch to graft over his shredded left eyebrow, and then she took the nose from the cooler and very carefully stitched it onto his face. The shape was perfect even if the dplor was off, and she'd help him pierce it when he was awake. His ears too. He'd like that.

She couldn't stop smiling. She could feel a pulse when she pinched the wrist of his new arm. Dearil was coming together; he was coming back to her.

But now she was onto the scary part: connecting his mind.

Dearin's brain was faintly pink now and no longer sagging. The wrinkles had deepened. Lorelai drew a rune on the floor, set a bucket on top, and cut into the John doe's head, careful to avoid the skin she needed from the left side. She placed his brain in the bucket, and then his tongue. She sprinkled some herbs and dust on top, dropped in some paper, and threw in a match. The smell was awful, but she couldn't open a window.

Lorelai sat down with Dearil and Viktor's brains... And then she was opening her eyes, lying on the floor, head pounding. She gasped abd scrambled up to the table, but a look at the brains told her she wasn't out for very long; both were still pink and plump.

She turned Dearil onto his stomach and first set to work on the cerviva columns. C3 was nearly severed in the crash and needed an offering. She took one of John Doe's upper vertebrae to throw into the offering fire and sliced into the scabbing-over laceration on her hand. She aligned the two halves of Dearil's C3 with her fingers and dripped some blood directly into the crack. The spell nearly knocked her to the ground, but the crack fused with the ghost of a scar. But nerve damage was the problem and quadriplegia or hemiplegia were big risks, so more blood. A bit more.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Dark spots appeared along her vision. Bit she had to keep going.

She attached the C1 connected to Dearil's beainstem to his C2 and sewed up the back of his neck. Onto more intricate structures now.

She rolled Dearil over once more, onto his back now. His eyelids came off so easily and Lorelai submerged them in a bowl of blood, herbs, and water. Viktor's ears were close enough in color, and she threaded one optic nerve through the eye socket, pinching the end of what remained of Dearil's optic nerve with thumb forceps and pressing the ends together. She wrapped the connection in paper with an inscribed, bloody rune, focusing her energy on this tiny connection.

Her phone started ringing. Was it daytime yet? With all the blinds shut, she couldn't tell.

A sharp pain struck her head. She removed the paper, and shakily exhaled. The nerve was intact. She repeated the process with the other nerve but this one had a bjt of trouble reattaching.

Lorelai's nose gushed blood, soaking into her mask. She tried again, and again. It finst attached, though the nerve was thin at the merge. Oh well.

She carefully sliced pieces from Viktor's brain to fill in the missing and daged parts of Dearil's parietal and frontal lobes. She kept thinking about Dearil's hippocampus. Would he remember her?

"Please, bless Dearil with two fully functional hippocampi," Lorelai murmured, not noticing how her words slurred together. "Let him remember our friendship."

She carefully sewed his eyelids, now looser and less stiff, back on and taped them closed. Then she drizzled the cerebrospinal fluid onto his exposed brain and took the skull fragments she had cut from Viktor, having been sure to leave a bit of an overlap so the bone wouldn't fall into Dearil's head if it was slow to fuse. She left a piece of skull off to allow for swelling, smeared blood along the crease, and carefully put the scalp flap back on.

She was so tired, she couldn't possibly do this many sutures. She used the stapler to attach it and then got to removing skin for a graft from the John Doe. She drew the path of the incision first, much of the left side of his head with his ear included, and worked on attaching it to Dearil with the stapler.

Just a few more needed. Suddenly he gave a moan and she gasped.

"Dearil... Can you hear me?" she asked breathlessly. She looked horrible: covered in blood and sweat, makeuo smeared down her face, hair wild. Would this really be the first thing he saw coming back?

Just a few more staples. A few more. The stapler fell from her hand as the world went black. She slumped onto her friend's bloodied stomach.

***

Lech mich im Arsch g'shwindi, g'shwindi!

Oh God. Lorelai had fallen asleep, and now Mozart was mocking her. The universe was mocking her.

But when she rose, neck stiff after sleeping in that position, she realized she was so, so wrong; the universe was on her side.

Beautiful pink and purple bruising had blossomed across Dearil's body. His chest rose and fell with rattling breaths.

"Oh, Dearil," she murmured. She picked the stapler back up and finished the job. He gave a shuddering breath with each click. She wiped the blood off his skin with a damp cloth and grinned, marveling at her work.

She wheeled over the stretcher and struggled to pull Dearil onto it. He was so heavy now. She took him to the bedroom she used to sleep in when she still went on vacation with her family, pulling back the blue covers before struggling to move Dearil into the bed.

It was time to stop playing necromancer and be his nurse. She got him set up with a bedpan and got a needle in his arm connected to a bag of saline and painkillers. Antibiotics would be administered later tonight.

Covering loosely with the sheet, she pressed a kiss to the unharmed side of his forehead. "I'll be back soon, Dear. I have things to take care of."

He didn't respond.

She took another trashbag to the surgical room and untied Viktor, dragging him and the John Doe onto the floor. The fire had gone out while she slept, and it wouldn't have been big enough anyway. She raised the bone saw above her head.

***

Viktor's clothes, her own clothes, the bedding from Viktor's deathbed, ropes, the remains of the two bodies stashed in a trashbag and both trashbags stored in the attic awaiting disposal. She lacked the strength to deal with the bed right now, just spraying chemicals on the stained mattress, and got to bleaching and mopping the operating room until it's surfaces sparkled.

She had to sit down during her shower. She was so dizzy even now, and her head pounded. The water running off her was stained pink, and she hoped the smell wasn't in her pores.

She was more bandage than woman after she got done wrapping the still-seeping runes, and she pulled a loose-fitting shirt and pajama pants on over them. She grabbed her phone, setting an alarm to go off two hours before her shift, and settled down on the floor by Dearil's bed with a blanket and pillow.

"I love you, Dearil," she murmured, closing her eyes.

[blackleatherjacketz]

My Brother’s Keeper: Chapter 8

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your brother runs away from the Sanctuary and you pay the price. This Chapter: You finish searching the Kingdom with Negan and have some time to kill.

Warnings: Lemons, Negan’s Mouth, Lucille, Indirect Threats, Daddy Kink, Car Sex, The Kingdom

Word Count: 1434

Read the rest of the story HERE!

The two men led you and Negan through the rest of the Kingdom, Richard’s tall and muscular frame leading you through the infirmary, school, marketplace and every homestead on the grounds as Jerry tagged close behind. He opened every closet, every cabinet door and looked under every bed to satisfy Negan’s nagging need to leave no rock unturned.

You were beginning to wonder where your brother could have gone if he wasn’t here or at the Hilltop. Could he have looked after your mother and her failing health out there in the wilderness? You knew that’s why your family had chosen to stop at the Sanctuary in the first place; your mother just couldn’t cut it out there among the elements. If Richard didn’t help Negan find them, would he just accept that and move on, or was there already an expiration date on this man’s life, too?

You kept yourself silent for the rest of the search though, no matter how badly you wanted to scream their names or revisit old memories to help draw them from their supposed hiding places. Negan’s scintillating presence subdued you still, the fear of him denying you even longer made you no different than that tiger at the end of the King’s leash. You followed close behind as he kept his bat on his shoulder, the blunt instrument acting like a sundial until that burning star finally hit the amethyst horizon. ————————— “Now we wait,” Negan grumbled as the two of you approached his car.

“Wait for what? That’s it? You’re just going to give up?” Your fear seemed to dwindle now that it was just the two of you.

“Give up?” he chuckled. “No way, baby, we’re not giving up. We’re giving them a little time to feel safe; let them feel like we let them go, and then when they leave, POW!” He hit an imaginary target with Lucille. “We’ll be right there to snatch them up!” He smiled at you as his grip on the bat relaxed.

“Snatch them up and… take them back to the Sanctuary, right?” You placed your hand on the car for balance as the idea of Alex getting his face burnt off flooded your visual cortex.

Negan smirked and leaned in close to you, his cologne the only pleasant smell now that you were far enough away from the Kingdom. “Well, that all depends on him.” He lifted a hand and gently brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Let’s not ask questions we don’t want to know the answers to, huh?” His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip.

“The point is you were a good girl for me today.” He let go of your ear and traced his fingers down the outline of your figure, gently lifting the bottom hem of your dress. “I half thought you’d go off the rails if you saw someone who even looked like your nerdy ass brother, but you stayed right by my side the whole time!”

You wanted to nod, to verbalize an affirmation of his suspicions, but all you could do was stare. He was the only person who made you speechless, who literally took your breath away in almost every situation. The danger for your brother was near and very real, but not present just yet. What was that old saying… out of sight, out of mind? You’d rather live in this limbo of a reality, a reality where nothing from the past or future mattered; nothing but his hand on your thigh and his eyes on your lips. All your brain had room to process right now was the fire he always sparked inside it.

He crept his fingers up a path on your thigh to the black lace panties he laid out for you this morning; feather-like touches peeling back the cloth from your warm and eager skin. “You look so fucking good in that dress, I almost forgot why we came here in the first place.” His voice rattled in your ears, signaling a chain reaction in your body as he slid his fingers between your lips. He smirked and teased your length as he backed you up against the car, forcing you to gasp.

“Yeah?” You barely whispered, the warmth of the car nearly singing the skin on your shoulders.

“Yeah, baby,” he reassured you, pressing his thumb against your clit. “You look so fucking good I could just eat you up.” He pushed his fingers in deeper, dropping Lucille behind him as he stepped in closer. “But I won’t.”

He grabbed you by the base of your neck, forcing you to stare into his jealous burgundy gaze. “Because for a second back there I thought you had eyes for Bob Marley,” he paused, amusedly studying your face as he accused you. “I mean, he certainly showed an interest in you,” he growled. His knuckles pulled your hair so tight that the pain from your scalp overpowered the pleasure his fingers drew from your center. “It drove me fucking crazy seeing another man look at you like that.”

You couldn’t tell if this was a real emotion or just another tactic, but his fistful of your hair felt awfully real. You’d always assumed you’d be the one to get jealous with all the wives he had stowed away back home, not the other way around. That was part of the reason you’d avoided him for as long as you did, minding your business in the infirmary while he fucked whoever he wanted. You knew that it was you he wanted now, but at the end of the day you were just a means to an end.

“Maybe he just wasn’t used to seeing a woman in a dress,” you managed to counter, his grip on your scalp more stimulating than you’d care to admit. “Plus, this outfit wasn’t really part of the deal.”

“No,” he paused, his silent moment heavy with possibility, “But you know what was?” His lips spread slowly across perfect teeth, pressing a circle into your bud as your jaw dropped in ecstasy.

“What?” You mumbled, your body an excited bundle of nerves.

“Since you were such a good girl today… despite the King looking at you,” he tightened his fist in your hair, violently bringing you in for a hungry kiss. “You get to come.”

Your previous gasp turned into a moan as he kissed you, playing your swollen wet heat like keys on a classic piano. Different octaves and notes poured out of you as he moved his fingers deep inside, stimulating you like he never had before. It was if he was saving this style of pleasure for last, keeping it locked away in a cupboard to be used only in case of emergencies, and, oh! What an emergency this was!

You blocked out everything else that had happened and let him play you like the instrument you were; wild grunts and groans echoing against the empty walls of the ghost town that surrounded you. Surrendering yourself completely to this tyrant of a man, you let him enter you as the strings of your spine vibrated with each chord his hips plucked into you. Waves of rhythmic pleasure bounded over you as your thighs clasped onto him for dear life, the chorus of breathy moans now a strange duet in the middle of nowhere. You had a feeling that this was it, the last time you’d bond with him on an equal and biblical level with your arms around his neck and your thighs a sweaty mess.

You let him lean on top of you, the silence all but deafening after the impromptu concert you might have given a few nearby roaming walkers. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flush with passion and his grin wider than ever as he finally pulled out of you. He winked at you and zipped himself up, fiddling with the walkie talkie on his hip before pressing a button.

“D’you get all that, Dwighty Boy?” He spoke into the radio as he collected his white hot liquid from between your legs.

“Yeah, Boss, loud and clear. Over.” Dwight replied sheepishly before static covered him up again.

Negan smiled and slid his semen-soaked fingers into your mouth, watching you suck hungrily as he pulled them out past your lips. “Good. And her family?” He found your panties around your ankles and slid them off your feet, smelling them deeply before placing them in his pocket.

“We got ‘em, Boss. They heard everything, just like you wanted.”

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

Tags: @annablack1102 @genevievedarcygranger @negansdirtygirl22 @letsby @negans-network @rasa1945 @chamberofsloths @mblaqgi @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @namelesslosers @collette04 @bishsposts @haleyea @bodhi-black @ptite-shit @jamiekingofmen @ibelongtonegan @chloejanedecker1 @divadinag

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Thorns

I present to you Kinesis: Chapter 30, please feel free to look for all previous and future chapters on my Master List and under the “Kinesis” tag :) Love you all!

Warnings: battle, mentions of blood

[MC]

Thorns

The tunnel smelled like earth, having gone unused for years nature appeared to be trying to take it back. Vines and moss grew up the sides of the brick face, and everyone was careful not to catch it on fire. We wouldn’t set the castle on fire unless we had to. That was plan C, as it stood you were only at A. For now. 

As promised, getting in was easy. Blending in was going to be the hard part. As quietly as you could, the group of you made your way through the halls until you reached a stairwell leading to the barracks. 

“This could go terribly. If it does, it’s been a blast guys.” Gael said with a smile before making his way down the steps. 

There was a moment of silence, a quiet scuffle, and then nothing. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see who would come back up the stairs. After what felt like ages, Gael popped his head out and laughed. 

“You guys look stressed out, don’t tell me you doubted me that much.” With a fake pout, he opened the door and ushered us down the stairs. 

In a matter of minutes, everyone donned Imperial armor, and you made your way out onto the lawn, blending seamlessly into the small groups gathered and receiving assignments. From what you had ascertained the castle was in lockdown, each group getting their own codes to their respective rooms for their specific patrol route. Each patrol route would only overlap once, which wasn’t a problem, it just meant you had to be stealthy. You could be stealthy. 

The hallways and rooms your small group of castle knights had been assigned were on the first floor, near the throne room everyone had agreed to meet in before entering. It shouldn’t be too hard to sneak away, but you were never left unaccompanied, everyone having been paired off to deter or catch insurrection. You could deal with that, though. The pass with Ranmaru was coming up soon, so you kept your eyes peeled. Watching closely, you looked for that noticeable flash of purple before accidentally tripping. Sure you caused a commotion, but everyone was dressed the same and decorations were falling off of the walls, who was really paying attention to who was with who? You hoped that with all of the scrambling of the guards you and Ranmaru would be able to pair off and head on your way. 

You felt a hand tug on your arm and hid your smile as you stood, quickly making your way down the hallway and away from the scene with your partner. You had done it; hopefully, the others had been just as successful. 

“That was too easy.” He whispered to you as you walked towards your rendezvous point. 

“I’ll thank the Old Ones for their help later.” You said, your steps quickening the closer you got to the throne room. 

There was one more corner to turn, and you were there. Fortune seemed to be on your side at the moment as Mitsuhide and Gael rounded the corner on the other side of the hall at the same time as Ranmaru and yourself. Unlike this morning, you couldn’t help it, throwing your head back as you laughed out loud. What had happened to make them so disheveled? 

“Would you stop that? You’re gonna blow our cover.” Gael hissed as Mitsuhide ran a hand through his hair. 

“You are a little louder than necessary Mouse.” You blushed at the nickname and the fondness that flashed in his gaze. 

“What happened?” You dragged out the last few syllables as you tried to stifle your laughter.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gael mumbled as he fixed his chest plate so that it was centered again.

“But I do,” You countered with a wheeze as tears ran down Ranmaru’s face, biting back a laugh of his own. 

“Too bad, we have things to do. An important meeting if you will.” Mitsuhide gestured towards the door. 

The sentence brought you back to the reality of the situation. You were here to fight, this was not your home anymore, you could not galavant and waste time. It was do or die. With a deep breath you entered the code Mitsuhide had been given and pushed the heavy Oak doors open, the hinges making that familiar popping noise as you entered the throne room. 

Gael let out a gasp and grabbed onto your shoulder, halting your forward movement as he whispered quietly. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t think your father had magic?” Mitsuhide questioned Gael as his grip found its way to your wrist as well. 

“He doesn’t. He didn’t. I- What is this?” The shock registering on his face was enough for you. This was unexpected and a problem.

The once pristine white marble floor was covered in a bright red rune, the sharp ends jutting out like thorns painting everything they touched the color of blood. At the center of the pattern on a deep red throne sat Olexy, a sickly sweet smile on his face that sent chills down your spine. 

“You finally made it then did you?” He asked his voice grating, like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Expecting me?” You fought all of the internal alarms ringing, telling you to run like hell out of there. 

“Of course, you and my traitorous son.” The smile never leaving his lips as he stood and drew his blade. “I figured he’d find you eventually. Never thought he’d be stupid enough to come back.”

One of the thorns on the floor moved, making its way directly for Gael. With the stomp of your foot, a barrier was erected around your friends just in time. The dangerously sharp red rune covering your protective wall like a web. 

“This fight is between you and me.” Your voice was harsh as you turned your attention back to Olexy.

“It’s no matter, I’ll take care of them once you’ve been disposed of.” The whole room shifted, and you did your best to keep your balance as it all started to spin.

“Like hell you will.” Venom dripped from your voice as you grit your teeth, you needed to stay calm. Do not let him get to you. 

Without warning you charged forward, drawing the blade Masamune had fashioned for you. Picking up speed as you used the runes on the bottoms of your shoes to push yourself forward, faster than any human had the right to move. In one swift movement, you drove your sword right through his chest. That was it. It was over. 

Your body relaxed, and you sighed only to feel hands closing around your throat. Your eyes snapped up as Olexy’s grip tightened. How? He should have died. 

“It’s too bad, really. You were quite the resourceful young thing.” His eyes glowed red, and you fought the chill that ran down your spine as he spoke. That was not Olexy. Clawing desperately at the hands that held you, you struggled to release yourself from his grip.

As the world started to go fuzzy and tilt, you used every bit of strength, you had to push your magic outward. An explosion would come in handy right about now. You felt the pop, and when the pressure came off of your throat, you gasped for air. Looking around frantically for your friends to make sure they were alright. Only you weren’t in the castle anymore. You recognized this place. This was the island alcove, you were in the Arcane. 

Someone laughed wildly behind you, and you whirled around, now staring directly at a red-eyed demon. 

“Hello, little one.” his voice was gravelly as he slithered in your direction. You didn’t dare move when you were face to face with one of the Old Ones. Opting to nod instead.

“How odd, one minute you’re trying to kill me, the next you’re so polite.” There’s something menacing about the way he hangs on his vowels, and it makes your skin crawl. Again you don’t answer. You know better than that.

“I would like to commend you for making it this far. Unfortunately, that incorrigible Olexy made a deal with me.” His smile touched his eyes, and his pupils dilated. “Whether you are worthy of your powers or not; You shall be my next meal.”

Without a second to spare, you threw up the most reliable barrier you had, concentrating all of your magic to your fists as he charged forward. 

“How about I pass on that?!” Your voice came out a strangled scream as he connected with your magic. 

A hiss of pain escaping him as the Old One tried to push through your wall. You didn’t have time for a triumphant smile; instead, you dropped your barrier and used all of the magic you could muster to punch him square in the stomach in his moment of surprise. The sheer force of the strike sent you flying into the rock wall behind you as he careened into the opposite cavern wall before falling limp into the lake. 

Your head throbbed as you watched him emerge from the murky purple water. 

“You’re much stronger than I anticipated Little One. I no longer feel like playing with my food, though.” He seethed as he grew larger in size, taking up all the space he could. “This ends now.”

His hand came swooping down from the sky, and you braced yourself for the impact, putting up a large flat ceiling of energy if you couldn’t stop him you could at least severely maim him in the process. Besides, if you were flattened, it would be a swift death, right? That wouldn’t be so bad. Sending a silent spark to your friends, you closed your eyes and waited for the final blow. 

“(YN)an!!” A chorus of voices called out your name, well names, the sound echoing in the cavern followed closely but unrecognizable energy.

You smiled. It was nice to be so cared for. A gust of wind nearly blew you over, and your eyes opened in time to see the blinding flash of an impact. The shock of the collision of the energies left your ears ringing and your vision spotty. There was a scream, and it was like the cavern had turned into a vacuum, wind whipping violently around as figures began to emerge one by one. Each with a face you recognized. Maybe this was it. They did say that your life flashed before your eyes right before you go. 

Your eyes shut, a feeling of peace overcoming you as you followed the pull of the wind to wherever it chose to guide you. 

[ravens-rambling]

Love Like You

A/N: I have read tons of touch starved Virgil fics but not a whole lot of touch starved Deceit and that's a shame! Come on people! If there is any side that’s touch starved it would be the snakey boi!! My son needs some love!!! 

This is my first time writing Deceit so his personality is properly off sorry about that! 

summary: When Deceit isn’t sure if he could fit into this ‘family’ cause of how freakish he looks he takes matters into his own hands, luckily a certain dad side is there to calm those thoughts and to assure to the lying side that sure it might be rocky and tough at first. But Ohana means family right? 

WC: 5,183

ships: Romantic LAMP, mentions of romantic DLAMP, platonic Moceit 

warnings: Self-harm, panic attack, sensory overload, self-deprecating thoughts

Tag List: @punsterterry  @frostedlover @070222 @witch197

Deceit has noticed something.

Ever since the others have..accepted him he guessed he could say, they have become more comfortable around him. And in turn, he has observed them.

The way they are around each other was..strange.

They seemed so relaxed around each other. It almost seemed like they will trust each other with their lives. Why would they do that though? Isn't that risky? What if one of them betrays them? Doesn't that thought concern them? How can they be so relaxed, so trustworthy around each other?

Every time he sees them all together it baffles him time and time again.

Often he finds himself awake at night staring at his ceiling pondering the others actions. Trying to understand them and their ways.

And time and time again he just..couldn't.

He often thought there was something wrong with him. Since Virgil trusted them enough to even share his name with them. In such a short time he trusted them with everything he is. Surely he should be the same right?

But it's been months and even the thought of sharing his name with them sent shivers down his spine. Names held power after all. He just..couldn't trust them enough to have that much power over him.

But that sent a certain dread to his very soul.

Maybe if enough time passes by they will get tired of him? Maybe if he doesn't trust them enough soon that they will see he is a lost, broken, cause and start hating him again? Or worse maybe they will see how much he's broken on the inside, how much of a freak and monster he really is.

He already was a freak on the outside for Christ sake.

He's the only one with snake scales on his face. He's the only one with a snake tongue. He's the only one that hisses like a snake. He's the only one that needs the room warm or he could die.

Sure Virgil hisses like a cat.

Sure when Roman is upset he growls almost like a lion.

But that's it. And that doesn't scare the others. Rather they thought it was cute in a way. But his...imoralities? It scared the others at first.

He remembered when he first hissed. Roman had teased him about his scales, yet again, and it got to him. It made him angry and it hurt him inside. Despite his nagging fearful thoughts he turned around and hissed at the creative side, exposing his snake-like tongue and his fangs in the process. Roman had jumped back properly thinking he was going to bite him and his fearful gaze only proved that thought.

The other sides whipped around when they heard that girly scream. Virgil has already seen that scaly side of him so he wasn't fazed. Patton at first seemed a bit scared but within a few seconds, that fear turned to amazement and childlike wonder. Logan seemed..curious is the only way he could describe it.

But once he looked back to Roman his eyes were still wide and to Deceits horror, his hands went to his sword on his side and unsheathed it. He looked about ready to cut off his tongue and fangs.

It took quite a while for the other sides to calm him down before he apologized saying that he has dealt with loads of evil snake people in his realm so it was just instinct.

He tried to play it off like he didn't care then but really it hurt. Is that all that snakes are? Evil to others?

Maybe Patton was just trying to be nice when his eyes sparkled like stars at seeing that side of him.

Maybe Roman was right to be fearful of him.

Maybe Logan was looking for research to get rid of him or if he ever did lash out he knew how to stop him.

Maybe... Virgil has been lying on wanting to be his friend again.

Maybe they all were lying.

Sure he can detect lies but..maybe they were hiding their lies so good that he couldn't pick it up? After all, why would anybody want lies right? Lying is never good. Maybe if he looked like the others it would be easier for them to accept him? Maybe then they don't have to lie to him. Maybe then he really could be apart of their family. He won't have to be evil anymore.

So that was what he was doing.

It was rather late in the afternoon, he couldn't seem to face the others today so he hid in his room the entire day. He was starving but just the thought of seeing their unsure glances behind his back...he couldn't take it today.

That's when the thought occurred to him.

Taking a pair of scissors that he used to cut his hair he one by one tried to peel off his scales.

But as he tried to peel off the first one he noticed how deep it was into his skin. With a frustrated sigh, he realized this might be harder than he originally thought.

As time passed he finally managed to peel off one scale, it bouncing in the sink. Though he winkled his nose as the scent of blood engulfed the bathroom. As he noticed how much blood was coming from his now peeled off skin.

But none of that mattered.

He hated this part of himself. He hated how different he was. This was worth it.

Though as he managed to peel off the third scale his hands started to shake. His vision became blurry on the edges and he had to lean on the counter to study himself. He was properly losing a lot of blood. But he didn't care.

His breath became shaky as he raised the blades once again. Just as soon as it was about to touch his swollen skin, however, a rather loud bang exploded through his room causing him to jump out of his skin.

He somehow managed not to make a noise as the sound of Virgil echoed to his ears, "Hey Dee, Patton's getting worried about you. Dinners almost ready and he wants you there... So um..come if you don't want Pat up your ass...or whatever."

With surprisingly study voice he replied, "Yeah sure V. I won't be down there in an m-moment."

Curses.

There was silence from the door then a flutter of footsteps. Shit.

Before he could think of an excuse there was another flutter of footsteps, these much lighter but with a certain rush to them.

Then a voice, "Hey kiddo? Virgil said he could sense something was wrong. Are you okay? Can I come in?"

No. Nononono. Anything but that. He'll see what he's doing. He'll try to deny his thoughts. He'll lie to his face even more. No. He can't have that.

"Yes, Pat I'm fine. Something to worry about. It's just V being V I'm fine." Even his voice sounded fake to him.

His hands began to shake more as soon as he spoke so badly that the blades slipped from his hand and bounced in the sink making a thud noise. Winching at that he glanced back to the door maybe hoping that Patton didn't hear it.

"Dee? I'm coming in. It doesn't sound like your fine."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Before he could even think of a backup plan the doorknob was turning. Patton peeked his head in and Deceit's breath was stuck in his throat as he saw the other's eyes land on his bloodied face. The pure worry and concern were spread throughout his face as he quickly came to his side.

Tears were already down his cheeks as he slowly raised his hands but drew away before he could touch him knowing that he was sensitive towards touch. Though the pain in Patton's gaze made him believe that he wanted to hug him.

"D-Dee... W-What..ha-happened?"

Deceit looked away unable to look at that face any longer and grabbed Patton's wrists lightly, even that single touch sent sparks throughout him making this all the harder. He hasn't shed a tear..yet. He was strangely..calm even though his heart was beating fast.

"I.. I thought..if I got rid of my scales... The side of me that none of you like..you..you guys would..like me more..it'll be easier for you to..accept me..."

Well, it was out. There was no way he could bullshit around this he knew.

As he for once told the truth a blistering pain erupted on along his scaly side of his face. It was more pain than before causing him to whine out and shut his eyes waiting for it to be over.

Patton let out a sob as he spoke and let out a whine shaking his head, "Dee... N-No..honey... Why did you tell the truth? I.."

He sucked in a breath before drawing his hands away and bringing up a hand to cup his one none bloodied cheek, slowly and gently he turned his face so Deceit could face him. At that touch, his breath got stuck in his throat again. The look on Patton's face made his breath stutter more.

"Honey..we love you for who you are. We love every bit of you okay? Don't ever think we don't. Please...don't get rid of any part of you... I.. I know that we might not show it enough... That us accepting you haven't been..the greatest or enjoyable thing ever. But we are learning. You are learning. And that's alright. When we accepted Virgil it was rocky at first too. But we learned to accept each other. As we will do with you alright? Please..don't do this again.. I love you kiddo."

That sent a blow to his gut. To his very soul. It finally made him crack enough to cry. Tears were leaking down his cheeks, merging with the blood on his one cheek, it was like a dam now.

With a gasping voice, he shook his head, "B-But... I-I'm nothing..like you.." A gasp for air, "I'm so different..so monstrous... How..how could you like me?... H-How... I-I've hurt everyone..of you... How could... H-How could you even..think to like.." Another gasp, "To love..something like..m-me. I'm a snake... I-I'm lies... I-I'm the villian..nobody...likes liars..nob-nobody likes..snakes... I..."

There was a sudden spark in Patton's eyes as he continued to cry, as he spoke. And yet again a flare of pain came from his cheek making him cry even more.

Through the pain, he heard Patton speak again his voice also coming in gasps alike, "Sweetie no... Lies can be good. You are good. You protect Thomas..you protect us. You are not a monster alright? You didn't know the right from wrong in the past. But that's okay cause now you know. Now you know what you did was wrong. And that's alright okay? Again..your learning and that's okay. You are not the villain anymore. Now your apart of this family. And we love you so much kiddo. It's going to be okay I promise you."

He knew he wasn't lying. The back of his mind screamed at him that he was telling the truth. He couldn't detect any lies. But...

How could this be the truth?

He didn't even know what to say back his mind was in pure disbelief. He didn't know what to do.

Patton cried along with him before his cries had stopped. That hand was still on his cheek as he gasped for air. Finally, though that hand went away and before he could stop himself Deceit let out a whine. Despite himself that one hand, that one touch, was grounding. It made him feel real. That this was real despite it sending sparks to his soul.

Instead, as he looked back at Patton his arms were outstretched.

What..what was he doing? Wait...

Patton had a small smile on his face, "Kiddo... Can I hug you?"

He..wanted to hug him? He's seen Patton hug the others, especially Roman, but he always shivered away from them. They seemed so..weird, so exposed... He couldn't quite fathom how.

But anything was better than this cold dread that seeped to his bones at the disappearance of his hand. He needed that grounding touch. Is... Is this how he was going to get it? Is this the only way?

His eyes were wide, untrusting for a few moments, his body tense as he gave a small nod.

Patton smiled more brightly before slowly coming up to him and wrapping his arms around him and...

Oh god...

His body became even tenser. He could feel his muscles screaming to get away from the hot touch. He could feel his mind screaming. His breath became louder gaps as his entire body shook in Patton's arms.

He must have felt this as that sudden bursting hotness was gone just like that leaving him with a cold stone in his chest. In his soul. When did that stone appear? Why is he feeling so cold?

Shivering he wrapped his arms around himself as he looked back to Patton.

He looked..heartbroken he guessed is the only way to describe it.

Another gasp of air and then, "Dee... Have.. Have you ever been hugged before?"

A few heartbeats of silence, a few gasps of breaths, and a shake of a head. Then a loud intake of breath and a cry then a whine that wasn't his. He couldn't even focus anymore. That cold was suffocating him. That cold stone was overtaking his body. He couldn't stand it anymore. He wanted that hug back, it made him warm. Sure it was like standing right next to the sun but he'll take that over this shivering cold any day.

"Oh.. Sweetheart.. Shh... It's okay..do you want me to hug you again?"

"I.. Don't..P-Please... So.. So cold..." He managed to say through chattering teeth.

"Shh okay okay... I've got you... Breathe for me kiddo.. It's going to be okay... I've got you."

He heard that before that burst of surging blistering hotness was on his skin again. It was everywhere. It made his eyes water up again. It made his heart ache from his depths.

"I think that's too much for you. Here let's try this."

A shift of movement and he realized that heat wasn't as suffocating anymore. Rather it was on one side rather than all around him. Looking over he saw Patton under his arm curling into his chest and his arms around his one arm.

That was..better. He could at least breathe. Though that coldness was still affecting him it wasn't as strong, he realized.

With a gasp of breath he looked back down to Patton, "T-That..wasn't..a...h-hug?"

"Yes sweetie it was. This is a side hug... Well almost. But... Dee..you've never been hugged before?"

"When..wouldn't I have? The..others..like to be touched..."

This is the closest somebody ever been in..a long time, that thought popped into his mind. The only time he's ever been touched wasn't very..pleasant. It's always been punches, shoves, the things of the like. But this was..nice..

He almost expected this to be a dream or for Patton to leave him and laugh at him as he walked away.

But as time went on..none of that happened. This was real, he realized.

A shaky exhale escaped from him as his body started shaking again. Patton was saying something to him he could tell, but it sounded like it was coming from a long tunnel. He couldn't focus on it. He couldn't focus on anything other than the coldness seeping through him again and the fact that he was being touched.

Fear spiked through him as well. His body tensed up even more and involuntary he sprang away. His hands gripped his shirt in bunches as he hiccuped.

No, this...can't be happening. Why would Patton give him a hug? Maybe he did something wrong. He must of, why else would he do that? What to try to be nice. No, it properly was going to lead to some punishment. Just like every other time he was touched visions of him being pushed, of him being pulled down and stomped on, blasted through his mind.

Suddenly he realized he couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they were collapsing in on itself. His hands went to his throat as he tried to scratch his skin. Try to make some air get to his lungs. To try to do something. To try to get the pain to just stop. Everything became too much. He couldn't seem to process anything. Maybe if he-

"Dee. Sshhh... Dee, can you hear me?"

"P-Please..do..hurt me..." Deceit managed to choke out.

He tried to back away from Patton as he could see through his tears that the other side was coming towards him. The others hands raised up as he did so making Deceit's breath pause in his throat. His back hit the wall and he gave a whimper at it. He knew it. He knew this was a lie. All of this was a lie.

Breathing coming in gasps he heard a soft voice, "-d begin to be...Half of what you think of me...I could do about anything..."

His eyes slowly opened as he recognized that song.

"I could even learn how to love, When I see the way you act.."

It was...

"Wondering when I'm coming back...I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love... Like you..."

It was a secret that well..didn't really stay a secret for long after the others were involved in his life more but... Deceit secretly loved Steven Universe. It wasn't much of a surprise really, he remembered Logan saying, they all loved musicals as much as Thomas does. And Thomas just about adored that show as much as he did musicals so it made sense that the sides would as well.

"I always thought I might be bad Now I’m sure that it's true...‘cause I think you’re so good, And I’m nothing like you."

As Patton sang he could feel himself calming down he could feel himself being grounded into reality.

Blinking his watery eyes he looked to the other to see him sitting down crisscross on the ground his eyes closed but he could see every few moments he would open one of them to check on him. His hands were close to his sides properly making sure he didn't make the same mistake twice, Deceit thought in the back of his mind.

"Look at you go...I just adore you, I wish that I knew...What makes you think I'm so special"

His mind focused on the lyrics. Focused on Patton's voice rather than the rushed, suffocating thoughts running through his mind. A few tears kept coming down his cheeks but he could finally breathe. He could at least take a few breaths without hiccuping.

"If I could begin to do, Something that does right by you...I would do about anything...I would even learn how to love...."

Patton peeked up again to see Deceit had at least almost calmed down and smiled at the sight. He patted the ground next to him making sure to keep his hands close to his body as soon as he did that. His smile only grew in size as the other slowly made his way over and sat down. His knees drew up towards his chest and he looked away from Patton but he certainly looked calmer.

"When I see the way you look... Shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything... I could even learn how to love like you...."

And with that Patton stopped slowly his eyes opened up fully and turned his head towards Deceit, that beaming smile still on his face.

As Deceit calmed down fully now he could feel that coldness seeping through him again. But it came like a wave this time. It felt like a truck slamming into him. The sensations were all at once making his breath get trapped in his throat again for a few moments.

Patton saw his struggle to breathe yet again and softly said, "Do you want me to touch you?"

Eagerly Deceit nodded his head still not looking at him hoping that he didn't appear too needy. Too desperate.

Softly Patton leaned forward whispering, "I'm gonna take your hands now okay? I'm not going to hurt you I promise."

As his soft hands met Deceits he sucked in a loud breath making Patton draw back in alarm. But quickly Deceit threw himself forward whimpering and gripping for Patton's hands before he knew what he was doing. As soon as he did that another whimper came from his lips.

He was afraid, afraid that his fears would come true. But yet..this was so nice...it warmed him up to his very soul...

He had never been this warm before. He didn't realize how cold and dreadful he once was, his desert finally had rain after so many years of the dreaded silence.  Even this little touch sent electricity spark through his entire body but it made a soft smile appear on his face.

That soft smile made Patton smile even wider.

He tightened his grip slightly, "Dee... Can you look at me?"

His gaze, which was at their intersecting hands, slowly went up towards Patton.

At seeing the fearful gaze in his, mixed with some happiness, it made his smile falter a bit. "Oh, sweetie... It's going to be okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm never going to hurt you, kiddo. I think I know what's going on... It was similar to Virgil. I may not be Logan but Dee... I think your touch-starved and worse than Virgil."

That caused him to stiffen.

"But that's okay! That just means we'll give you extra hugs and love how does that sound?"

A nod then a small, "Not... G-Great..."

Patton beamed leaning forward and before Deceit knew what he was doing his lips went to his non-bloodied cheek.

Deceits eyes went wide and a soft blush came upon his cheeks. That was..a kiss, right? He's seen Patton do that to the others too...

"I love you kiddo. We love you. We love you for who you are. You won't ever get hurt again. You're a part of this family now. Ohana means family and family never gets left behind or forgotten right?"

Tears willed in Deceits eyes again but not from pain, not from fear this time, rather of happiness. He was for once..happy. He doesn't even remember a time he was once so happy.

A sob came from his throat before he nodded, "N-No... I.. I hate you..too.."

Laughter burst out of the other one causing Deceit to chuckle himself.

"What's not funny?"

Patton waved his arm, "Your blush is adorable Dee that's all! Now come on let's get you cleaned up and head downstairs I'm sure the others are worried about us! That's if..you want to of course." Another peck on his cheek then a swift of motion as Patton stood up. He even offered a hand to the flustered side.

After a few confused seconds, Deceit took it with a soft smile as he rubbed his eyes, "Y-Yeah... Sounds...not g-great."

As he was led to the bathroom once again he winced as he saw the scales still in the sink. As he saw the blood that was on the counter. As he saw the bloodied scissors. He swallowed heavily at the sight.

"Hey, shshs it's okay. Why don't you wait outside while I clean this up for you?"

All Deceit could do was nod he had to be lightly pulled outside, his entire body frozen from the sight.

As his gaze drifted around his room, as the more time passed, that ache intensified in his chest. That coldness grew in volume until it became hard to breathe. How long was Patton in there? Minutes? Hours? Days? He couldn't tell anymore.

His arms curled around his torso as he tried to bring some warmth to him. And of course, that did nearly nothing. His teeth started chattering making small noises that caused him to whimper at.

As he opened his mouth to call for Patton to hurry up his eyes blinked as he saw..mist? Fog?

What..was happening?

He opened his mouth again drawing out air and froze when he saw that mist intensified. When did it become so cold? Was it just him? It didn't seem like it was that cold and even so, it became so cold in such a short time how could it...

His breath became gasps as it was getting harder to breathe. Warm... Have to get warm...

Finally, he faintly heard the door open.

He was barely able to turn around his body becoming frozen to the ground as he tore his arms from his sides and grabbed for Patton the best he could. His gasps turned to whimpers as he tried to pull Patton close to him.

Patton was warm. Patton would help him, right?

As arms went around him his head curling up against his collarbone he involuntary cried into his blue shirt. It only took seconds before his freezing self was screaming as Patton's warmness became too much once again.

But he didn't want to pull away. He didn't want that coldness again. But luckily he was shifted back to Patton's side where the intense heat wasn't as bad. It didn't cause him as much pain as a full hug, luckily.

Still breathing somewhat heavily he was dragged into the bathroom giving a sigh as Patton didn't remove him.

"Shshsh... I've got you now Dee. I won't leave you again I promise." He felt the others hand rubbing against his arm making him warmer.

"I-I'm not sorry..."

"No no Dee don't say that. It's not your fault alright? Just hang on to me and breathe for me. That's right..in and out like that. You're doing fantastic."

Once his breathing was back to normal once again he raised his head but kept his hands buried into Patton's blue shirt, now gripping onto it like a lifeline. "I..do know what that was..."

"I don't know either. But we can ask Logan once we get downstairs. Now," He clapped his hands together softly, "let's clean you up!"

That one grounding grip seemed to be enough to bait the freezing cold away as he didn't feel it returning as Patton cleaned him up. Lazily he glanced around noticing he really did clean up everything, the blood, the scales, and even the scissors, were gone. He..really cleaned it up for him...

It didn't take long before Patton seemed satisfied with how he looked, he honestly didn't care much. He was too tired to care anyway.

Instead, he just shrugged and nodded to all of Patton's ramblings. He wanted to sleep now but he knew if he didn't eat anything Patton would get upset. And well he feared that freezing touch would come back. Would Patton be here next time? No, it was better if he just followed where Patton goes.

Suddenly, like a blink of an eye, he found himself coming down the last stair still gripping on to Patton's shirt with a tight grip. But what he saw made him smile lightly.

Roman seemed to be putting the icing on what he assumed to be dessert while Virgil was fighting with him to get the icing tip. Logan, meanwhile, was trying to break up the fighting but it seemed to be a lost cause at this point.

At seeing them all playing and bickering like children it sent a little laughter through him. It honestly made him...gleeful. He felt lighthearted inside and he wasn't sure what this feeling was. For some reason, he felt..included finally. He wasn't sure what did it but this not so pleasant moment seemed to have made him happier. The happiest he's ever been actually. He didn't know how to take it but it was quite pleasant he must say. Weird but pleasant he could certainly get used to this, he must be exhausted.

As Patton came forward to help break up the fight before there is icing everywhere he was dragged along. Though as soon as Patton made his way into the kitchen there was a loud pop noise blinking he found Roman's normal pure while garment stained with yellow icing. And Virgil's hoodie front covered in it as well.

They both continued to bicker but the sight was too much for Deceit. He brought up his other hand to his mouth lightly as he laughed, loudly. He was laughing so hard he snorted a few times. He must have been laughing for minutes before he finally stopped wiping at his now tearful eyes he looked up to see them all staring at him with..wide eyes.

His own eyes slowly went wide at all the staring eyes.

Was..his laugh that stupid? Sure he's rarely laughed in front of them and never laughed that hard before but...

His laugh can't be that bad right?

But as soon as those fearful thoughts went through his head he suddenly heard a loud, "Awwww!!!!"

His head snapped towards the sound greeted to a glittering Patton gaze at him.

Blinking as Patton started bouncing in place his hands to his chin causing him to bounce in place as well trying to keep hold of him the best he could, "Dee!! Your laugh is adorable!! You should laugh more!! Even those little snorts are just so cute!!"

"It was rather quite..okay I must say," Logan said next and despite his words and deadpanned voice Deceit could see a faint trace of a blush on his cheeks.

"Oh come on your freaking out over his laugh Pat? It's not as cute as my laugh right?" Roman spoke up being dramatic as usual even he had a trace of a blush, however.

Patton giggles leaning over to kiss his cheek, "Of course not sweetie."

Virgil was..quiet for once. Glancing over to him he seemed to try to hide his face but as they both caught eyes he could see a small smile formed on his lips and..a faint purple blush on his cheeks as well.

That made Deceit blush they...all thought it was cute? His laughter..cute? They weren't terrified of something that he does for once?

Maybe...this 'fitting' in thing won't be so hard. Maybe he had nothing to fear after all.

Maybe he wasn't as terrifying as he originally thought. And maybe..he wasn't like the villain he always thought he was.

As the others got cleaned up and dinner was started he still couldn't leave Patton's side but for once he didn't mind it. For once he let his guards down. He let his walls down and finally tried to relax around them.

Sure that fear was everpresent, sure that fear still seeped into him from time to time but for once he was content with it. He didn't let it consume him like before.

Cause he knew the others won't hate him again. He knew he was a part of this ohana. This family.

Love like you~

[the-beastslayers-queen]

A Dangerous Game: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 is here. TRIGGER WARNING IN EFFECT AGAIN: DATE RAPE AND DRUGGING. Tagging: @queenofthearchitect @biforbecky2belts @writtingrose @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk and @jeffhardyenigmawwefan I’m still accepting tagging requests so hit my ask box please. Enjoy!

I decided to send Seth off so I could have Finn come over. I was laid up on my couch, an ice pack on my eye to try to reduce the swelling and the deep color of my black eye as I waited for my brother. Once I heard the door knob jiggle, I knew Finn was here and using his key to open my apartment.

“Okay something is definitely up if you have your door locked, Catie,” Finn sounded concerned, “What was so important to have me rush across town from Bullet Club?”

“See for yourself,” I told him as I removed the ice pack from my eye. Finn’s jaw dropped and he jogged over to my side to get a closer look.

“Damnú,” Finn cursed as he inspected my eye, “Who did this to you?”

“McIntyre,” I confessed as he ran his fingers gently against the bruises, causing me to wince at his touch, “He clocked me when I rejected his advances. With my shoulder being the way it is and how soon it was into our engagement, I was uncomfortable. But instead of being understanding, the asshole punched me.”

“Damn it Catriona,” Finn grabbed at his hair in frustration, “Get used to him making advances on you. You’re his fiancée. Now grow up and think of the Club. You have to endure him if we want peace. Now behave around him and you won’t get hit.”

“Are you fucking serious,” I screamed at him, “I am not going to toe the line when McIntyre was more than willing to swing at my face. Get the fuck out, you asshole!”

“Grow the fuck up Cat and deal with it,” Finn shouted back, “You’re marrying him and that’s final.”

Finn stormed out of my apartment and slammed the door behind him. I collapsed to my knees, tears streaking down my face. I was locked into my fate and my brother didn’t have a care in the world to do right by his sister, the girl who had a bright future as a potential cop and threw it all away for him. I had no brother, just a demon that called himself my brother.

I got out my phone and called Seth. He had to know that we need to plan out our escape from Orlando. I was not going to marry Drew. I was going to do everything in my power to get out of this marriage. If I had to marry Seth to do it, I would without a second thought. He’s the man I want to share a bed with, to share the rest of my life with.

“Seth,” I was still in tears when he answered his phone, “Come to my place. We have a trip to plan.”

“What,” Seth sounded confused, “Did Finn not side with you and try to end the engagement?”

“No,” I hiccupped, “He screamed at me that I had to suck it up and be obedient to Drew. He’s not the brother I remember growing up with. This is Bálor, the darkest side of Finn I have ever seen. But please just come to my place. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“I’m packing a bag and I’ll be right over,” Seth agreed and I could hear him starting to pack, “I will work on getting us a game plan to flee the city. Drew is not marrying you, not on my watch. Fuck Finn, okay. He clearly doesn’t deserve his sister’s compassion when he refused to show you any.”

Seth finally arrive to my apartment and I wasted no time in running into his arms. I was still a wreck after Finn effectively turned his back on me. He knew when we were kids I was afraid of being rejected by those that were supposed to be my family, and he’s done the one thing I have feared above all else.

“Cat,” Seth rubbed my back, trying to calm me down, “Just breathe, okay. It’s okay now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to. Finn has no idea what he condemned you to. Drew is a monster, a psychopath through and through. If he won’t protect you from that, then I will.”

“I think I need to tell you why this is hitting me so hard,” I hiccupped as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, “You need to know what I fear above all else.”

I was three and a half when my parents had fallen on such hard times, they opted to give me up for adoption. My parents were too poor to provide me the future I had deserved. Five months after I was given up, I was adopted by the Devitt family. I was hesitant to trust them, but it was their son Fergal, that won me over. He made a promise to me one night when I had a nightmare of being given up again that I knew I was where I needed to be.

When I was 12, I received a letter from my mother’s brother that my birth mother had passed away from a fatal car accident and that he wished to get to know me. He also wrote to my parents, asking if he could take me in for a few years to get an excellent education in the States. My parents agreed, seeing it was a chance for me to get to know my real family and to better my chances to excel and succeed in life. I felt like I was being abandoned again, but Fergal again showed me that I wasn’t being abandoned. I was able to come home for the holidays and the summer to spend time at home.

When I graduated college at 20, Fergal had come over to the States to see me graduate. It was after my graduation that he told me he was starting an organization in Orlando and he needed my help as his resident hacker, I agreed. I knew that if I joined him, I wasn’t going to lose him. I turned down the job offer from the FBI to become a cybercrime expert for them and packed up for Orlando.

But after all the times I expressed my fear of being abandoned, my own brother that had always sworn to be there for me abandoned me so easily. All so he could help solidify his influence in Orlando between the two largest organizations in the criminal underbelly of Orlando.

“Finn is on my shit list for what he’s done to you,” Seth seethed, “The next time I see him, I’m punching him right in his jaw.”

“Seth I don’t want you to start a war with everyone at my expense,” I placed my hands on his chest as he breathed heavily in anger, “If you start a war with anyone it should be McIntyre. He deserves it more than Finn does. He’ll come around once he sees I’m not safe when I’m around Drew. For now, until we have a game plan, I will follow through on this wedding plans crap. Once we’re ready, we’ll make a break for it and run far from this damn city and go into hiding.”

It had been a couple weeks since Drew punched me in my face. My black eye was gone and I was no longer in a sling for my shoulder. I was still in pain, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before when I was first shot. I was still limited in my range of motion, but the physical therapy I was doing to get me back to 100% was helping me get better. Seth has been trying to help me too by coming to my physical therapy sessions so he can learn the workouts I would have to do at home.

But tonight, Drew was hosting a party at his club, Glasgow Kiss, and I was forced to attend by Finn. So I begrudgingly got dolled up for the event. Thankfully it was a masquerade party, so I could sneak in Seth so he can hide in the crowd. I didn’t want to be at this party if I couldn’t sneak him in so I can run off with him. So I wore a cute demon mask, playing on the Bálor name, and I got Seth to wear a wolf mask so I knew where I could find him.

“I’m going to the bar and get a drink,” I told Drew as I got up from my seat in the VIP section, “Do you want anything?”

“No thank you,” he replied, “I’m going to get bottle service over here.”

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged and walked over to the bar to get a drink.

I walked over to the bar, finding a man leaning against the bar wearing a wolf mask. It was the same mask I had picked for Seth, so I decided to have a little fun and flirt with him.

“Nice mask,” I smirked as I came up next to him, “Very fitting for a member of The Shield.”

“You picked it out,” Seth replied as he leaned in close to me, “But I do like the cute demon mask you have on, Miss Bálor. It’s very fitting for you.”

“So any trouble brewing at this damn party,” I asked after I put in my drink order with the bartender, “Because I am so bored in VIP being Drew’s damn arm candy.”

“None that I’ve seen,” Seth replied, “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you. Just please be careful around Drew, okay. I want to have you home in one piece and not bruised.”

“I make no promises,” I winked at him, “I’ll be careful for you. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay. I need to get back to Drew.”

I took my drink and went back to the VIP section and sat down next to Drew. Baron came over to whisper something into Drew’s ear, lingering close enough to me to draw my attention that I didn’t notice Dolph coming over right away. I just rolled my eyes and drank my drink.

When I finished my drink I began to feel really woozy. I swore that the room started to spin. I went to reach over to Finn, trying to find my center.

“I don’t feel so good all of a sudden,” I grumbled as I set down my glass and grabbed my head, “I think I need to go home.”

“Finn I can get her home,” Drew volunteered very quickly, “Let me take her to the office to get her some water and get her away from all the noise in the club.”

Finn didn’t protest and Drew scooped me up into his arms and began to take me away from the crowd. I noticed through my stupor that Baron and Dolph were hot on Drew’s heels. Once we got into the office, Dolph locked the door as Drew laid me down on his bare desk in the middle of the room.

“Alright, Corbin, Ziggler, hold her down and get rid of her panties,” Drew ordered. I began to fight against the two dummies as they made quick work of my panties, sliding them down to my ankles and punching me a couple times in my ribs to stop my moving before holding me down by my wrists and ankles.

“No,” I groaned, trying to resist them, “Don’t touch me!”

Drew removed his pants and climbed on top of me. I spat in his face to try to stop him from going further. All that did was earn me a slap across my face so hard, I had a split lip and I had to spit my blood out of my mouth.

Drew fisted himself a couple times before he slammed into me hard. I felt the wind leave my lungs as he entered me forcefully. I wanted to scream, but Drew tore off his tie and shoved it into my mouth to muffle the sound.

Drew kept his pace up high and hard as he rode me to his climax, releasing inside me. He climbed off me once he was soft and moved to Baron’s position at my wrist. Baron let me go, but Drew grabbed on, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises for sure. Baron repeated the assault that Drew delivered before he then traded with Dolph, he too squeezed on my ankles hard enough to leave bruises there too. Once it was over, Dolph and Baron hit me some more before Drew called them off.

“Alright she’s been punished enough,” Drew ordered them off as I was released from his grip, leading to me curling up into a ball in shame and agony, “Get her panties back on and get her to the car. We’ll dump her at her apartment.”

When I came to the next morning I heard the front door of my apartment open. I tried to sit up, but I struggled since my shoulder was throbbing in pain along with the rest of my body. I groaned and just stayed on my bed.

“Cat,” I heard Seth call through my apartment, “Are you home?”

“Yeah I’m in bed,” I called back before groaning from the pain in my chest and ribs, “Ow, this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“What the hell,” Seth’s jaw dropped as he came up to my bedroom, “What the fuck happened to you? Who did this?”

“Who do you think,” I groaned as I grabbed at my head to fight off the throbbing headache I had, “Damn Drew to hell. I can’t wait to kick him in his manhood.”

“What did he do to you,” Seth was getting more and more pissed off, “Cat, what did he do?”

“He and his too little lackeys raped me last night at the party,” I told him as I finally got up, “They drugged me first and then did the act in Drew’s office at Glasgow Kiss. They then proceed to beat me both during the act and after.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Seth punched the closest wall to him, “I’m going to fucking kill him for this. He truly is a psychopath.”

“We should go to Shawn and have him pull a rape kit,” I told him as I packed a fresh pair of panties into my purse before getting out of my dress, I could hear Seth suck in a ragged breath at seeing my bruises as I changed into a pair of baggy sweatpants and a shirt he had left behind one night before slipping on one of my many hoodies I owned, “I need to get a morning after pill so I don’t have to worry about spawning another McIntyre.”

“We’re leaving as soon as we can,” Seth decided, “We’re running out of town and I’m hiding you away from him. I’m going to elope with you and lay low until Drew moves on. Then we’ll come back and kill him and his whole gang of idiots.”

“I agree,” I sighed as I walked over to him, gritting my teeth due to the pain I was feeling all over, “But for now, we need to get me checked out and then we’ll work on the logistics of our trip out of town.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Seldom All They Seem

Summary: It's time, the souling is descending. But things aren't going smoothly.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Brotherly Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, More Angst

Notes: All right, y’all asked for this. Careful what you wish for. 

How to warn for this?

There's some scary 'birth' related things, mentions of a possible past miscarriage, mentions of a possible traumatic past. I hesitate to say more because of spoilers, so I'll add more tags to the end in case anyone needs them. Scroll all the way down for spoilers!

~~*~~

What Will Be, Will Be

Something To Say, But Nothing Comes

Can’t Go On, Thinking Nothing’s Wrong

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Despite making him a captain in the guard, Undyne still insisted that Edge train with her at least once a week. Partly it was because she was a bossy bitch, as she would gleefully tell anyone, but also a more private concern that both of them keep their skills honed to a razor point.

With a great deal of brutally hard work, Snowdin and Waterfall were slowly turning into places where a Monster could reasonably expect to survive to adulthood. XP Hunters that hid out in Snowdin wood were virtually wiped out once Edge started implementing his traps, as well as any LV-crazed Monsters who used to stalk anyone who took the paths.

Undyne began utilizing his traps in her territories, especially along the borders to New Home. That was still a festering hive of gangs and corruption and the air there always tasted of dust. Underfell would never be safe, not in the way Underswap or Undertale were, but Edge always knew he couldn’t save the world. Not yet, anyway. His focus was on his own corner of it.

A certain amount of safety also promoted a level of laziness, according to Undyne, and at her insistence, they both kept hard at work training. In that Edge believed she was correct; there was no point in creating a safe place if he wouldn’t be able to defend it and he always made sure to meet her challenges head on.

Except for today, when that very specific ringtone trilled a message from his cell.

“You actually have your fucking phone on right now,” Undyne asked with near manic glee. Edge was forced to dodge the vicious kick she aimed directly at his head. “Ain’t I keeping you busy enough, bossman?"

Undyne didn’t believe in pulling punches, not even during training, and Edge had the scars to prove it. Even her words, mockingly sweet, were chosen to sting, but Edge was no longer a stripling to be so easily distracted. He kept his shield of bones up even as he pulled out his phone, his eye lights skimming the brief words.

it’s time. come on down if you want a front row seat.

“I need to go,” Edge said, even as he sidestepped a blow that would have cracked bone if it landed.

That needle-sharp grin twisted into a frown, Undyne drawing up short as she glared at him. The top of the scar that ran beneath her eye patch drew down as her brows furrowed. “You’ll go when I say you can go, Captain.”

Edge was forced to dodge again, this time from a spear that manifested out of thin air. “I need to go, it’s an emergency.”

That gave her a pause, if a brief one. “Yeah? What kind of emergency? If it was your brother, we’d already be hearing alarm bells.” Undyne thrust the point of her spear into the ground, leaning against the shaft even as she gestured exaggeratedly for him to go on.

He hesitated. He trusted Undyne as much as he could trust anyone. She was the one who accepted him into the guard, even when he was obviously a street rat and still far too young. She was the one who trained him how to fight, past the dirty techniques Red ingrained in him from the moment he could summon a sharpened bone. She was his commander and his friend, and surely this wouldn’t be the only time he’d need to make a hasty trip to Underswap. He would need her support.

“It’s my…” Edge hesitated again, searching for a word and settled on a feeble, “significant other. Our souling is descending.”

It was the only time he’d ever legitimately seen Undyne falter in battle or otherwise. The spear propping her up wobbled, knocking her off balance and taking advantage of the opening was pure instinct. He had her on the ground in moments, his boot poised over her throat, but Undyne only stared at him, her visible eye filled with pure shock.

“A souling?” she whispered harshly, knocking his foot aside. “The fuck were you thinking? You can’t just say that kind of thing, you idiot, who knows who might be listening!”

Left unspoken was that Alphys was surely watching them, possibly with popcorn as she salivated over their sparring match. That was the reason Red never allowed him to visit Undyne without an audio disruptor, something she wouldn’t know. Video was allowed; according to Red, so long as she could watch the show, Alphys was unlikely to investigate the sound issue too much, but it was impossible to tell how effective a tool it was.

But he didn’t have much of a choice, they would need Undyne on their side.

“You’re my friend--” Edge tried. He held out a hand to help her to her feet and Undyne slapped it away, getting up on her own.

“No one is that good a friend, you fucking moron!” Undyne took hold of the front of his shirt, nearly hauling him off his feet despite the fact that he was considerably taller. “You don’t tell anyone else, you hear me? No one!”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Edge said, coolly, “I can protect my own.” The visible doubt on Undyne’s face made him stiffen and if time wasn’t ticking away, he would have called her on the insult. But then, she also couldn’t know that the child would be growing up safely a world away, with Rus. Edge could protect his own, better that he wouldn’t need to.

She sighed heavily, swiping a clawed hand over the fronds of the fins on her head. The ones not bound in a tie fluttered softly, “Get out of here. You’ll need to go double next week, shithead.”

Edge nodded and turned on his heel towards Snowdin.

Before he could take a step he heard, “Papyrus?”

Edge hesitated, turning back to Undyne warily. But she wasn’t poised for any sort of attack, her burly arms crossed over her chest and her gaze focused on the ground.

Her mouth twisted wryly as she asked, “Gonna let me meet the little crotchfruit when it’s here?”

Edge smiled faintly, “Its other parent keeps insisting that it should be called a skitten.”

“Ha!” Undyne slapped her knee and her sharp-toothed grin was a more familiar one, easy and wide, “That’s pretty good.”

“And yes,” Edge agreed, carefully. He didn’t have his brother or Rus’s affinity with promises, but he didn’t care to make ones he didn’t at least think he could keep. “If I can.”

She nodded. “Good enough. Go on, daddy, go watch the show.”

He gave her a short nod of his own and started back towards Snowdin. He wasn’t halfway there when his brisk walk became a run, dashing through the streets and ignoring the concerned looks of any that he passed. He didn’t bother to change out of his uniform, only went straight to the machine, punching in the coordinates and waiting impatiently for the portal to open.

Once through, he darted around the side of the house, for once grateful of the unlocked door and only then did he pause for a moment, to take off his boots. The first was peeled away and he was working on the second when he heard it.

From upstairs, through the closed door bedroom door came the sound of a muffled scream.

~~*~~

Next to the bed, Rus could distantly hear his brother moving around, the frantic burble of his words mostly unheard over his own cries and the creaking bed as Rus writhed with the next hot flare of pain.

“it hurts!” Rus sobbed. Undyne never said a fucking word about it hurting! His soul felt like it was being pulled apart, agony lancing through it. Rus curled in on himself, his knees tight to his chest as he choked out another cry.

That morning, Red’s prediction came true; he could feel the little souling, the simplest of joy nudging at his own soul while that little spark began wriggling almost uncomfortably, and that was when Rus knew it was time. He’d called his brother and sent Edge a text before going upstairs, eager for the descension

Only eagerness twisted into confusion as the pain increased. His comfortable room abruptly became too hot, nausea filling him, and Blue came home to find him retching miserably into a waste can, hauling him back into bed even as he moaned in complaint at the rising heat.

Rus stripped down to his shorts before Blue finally opened a window, allowing some chilly air into the room. That helped a little, but then the pain grew, swelling in his chest as the little souling struggled frantically within the cage of his ribs.

“ah, fuck,” Rus moaned, shuddering as the agony built again. Pain laced liberally with fear, was it supposed to hurt this much?

Distantly, he heard the door opening, slamming shut again. Gloved hands grabbed at him, trying to pull him into strong arms and Rus struggled free, slapping ineffectively until they let him go. He didn’t want to be touched, he wanted this to be over, it hurt so terribly.

The salt-sweet taste of tears was heavy on his tongue, making him gag and he fumbled for the trash can again, spitting it away before sagging back onto the sweat-damp sheets. It returned almost immediately; his sockets were streaming as he wept helplessly. He hadn’t ever wanted a baby before this little souling appeared and now he was gripped by terror that he was losing it, please, no.

Through the sound of his own soul throbbing in his skull came the pop of teleportation, followed by a loud, gruff voice, “what the fuck is going on?”

“Red!” That was his brother’s voice, shattered with an incongruous mixture of fear and relief. “Oh, thank heavens, you need to shortcut to Hotland, bring back Undyne--”

Red didn’t reply and the bed next to Rus shifted with the sudden addition of weight.

"hey, look at me.” A sharp finger tapped painfully at Rus’s skull and he cringed away from that tiny hurt added to the pain already racking him, curling up harder, “c’mon rus, look at me.” Barely, Rus managed to open his sockets, looking up blurrily at Red. He was rewarded with a hand cupping the side of his face, gloriously cool and Rus leaned into that careful touch, his eye lights locked on Red’s intent gaze. "i'm gonna get you through this, honey bun, okay?”

He managed a slight nod. Red was an asshole, but Rus believed him, clinging to the shreds of his hope.

"okay. now listen. i know it’s scary, but your soul will let go of the spark before it lets your hp drop to zero, yeah? so you ain't gonna dust from this."

"but the baby," Rus whispered, fresh tears welling. It wasn’t his death he was afraid for, hadn’t even occurred to him. Red’s bony hand soothed over his skull, stroking gently.

"your kidlet is fine, too. the spark can feel what you feel. you're scared, so it’s scared. i need you to breathe with me, okay? just breathe. in…and out…”

Rus did as Red told him, managing to match those long, slow breaths, easing back from panicked blurts. It still hurt, but the pain lessened as his panic faded. That pulling sensation was still there and Rus breathed through it this time. Somehow, now that pain actually felt right, almost a relief.

“that's it,” Red said, still breathing loudly, urging Rus to match it. Distantly, Rus thought he sounded strange, the Hotland accent that always clipped his words fading back. “let your body handle it, it knows what to do.”

He didn’t know how much time passed, Red murmuring soothingly, stroking his skull and jaw. Another hand hesitantly took his own and Rus gripped it automatically, holding on, following the arm up to Edge’s worried crimson gaze. His expression tightened when he saw Rus looking, mouth forming a word that Rus couldn’t hear over Red’s constant, soothing rapport, breathe.

“i am breathin’,” Rus mumbled. Maybe it was the grouchiness in those few words that made a faint smile quirk the corners of Edge’s mouth. He could see the tremble in his own hand as he reached out, fingertips grazing Edge’s cheekbone. “like it when you smile.”

Edge’s sockets widened, that smile faltering but before Rus could mourn the loss, he felt the last thread tying the souling to his own soul snap. He cried out, but the pain was already fading, gentle warmth drifting downward as the souling descended into his abdominal cavity.

There wasn’t time for him to even look before his magic flared uncontrollably, his midsection filled to bursting with the flood of it. It was over as quickly as it began and Rus lay back, panting, the taste of sweat and tears still heavy on his tongue.

A soft cloth appeared and Edge tried to wipe away the sweat on his brow bone. Rus pushed him away impatiently, struggling out a blearily. "baby?"

Red was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his still snow-damp boots leaving wet smears on the sheets. He offered Rus a sharp-toothed smile. "may as well get a good look, a few hours you won't be able to see anymore."

Shakily, Rus rose up on his elbows. In his midsection where usually there was only the slender column of his spine, his magic was encasing him in ectoflesh from his ribs to his pelvis. Through the translucent orange, he could see the glow of the souling, its light dimmed through his shimmering magic. Already the ghostly shape of bones was forming around it. As Red said, eventually the magic would lose its translucence and they'd have to wait until it was ready to see it again. Around the bed, the others crowded in, and as different as they looked, Blue and Edge were wearing matching expression of wondering awe. Or maybe not entirely matching, Edge's still seemed tainted with concern, but eh, couldn't blame him for worrying about his kid. Rus knew exactly how he felt.

Rus sank back down, managing to lift a trembling hand to curve around that soft swell. Not a souling any long but an actual baby, readying itself to be born. Another hand joined his, still wearing a stupid glove, entwining their fingers. Beneath their combined touch, the souling gave a happy wriggle and Rus groaned. Okay, great, the kiddo was fine, now he wanted to sleep for about a week.

As if he’d pulled the thought directly out of Rus’s skull, Red hopped to his feet and said briskly. "okay, he needs to get some rest and you two ain’t real good at holding still. go do laundry or some shit, you can goggle more at the…” Red grimaced. “at the skitten when rus wakes up.”

To Rus’s weary bemusement, Edge and Blue both reluctantly obeyed, falling to the will of the Older Brother. Before he stood, Edge leaned down and pressed a kiss to the curve of Rus’s belly, the way he always had to his sternum before. What he whispered to their little spark this time, Rus couldn’t hear. He was already halfway to drowsing when Edge tucked the soft blanket over him, but the feel of a mouth brushing his own woke him right the fuck up.

Rus barely had time to give Edge a wide-socketed look, he was already moving towards the door, crimson bright on his cheekbones in a match to Rus’s own flusterment.

Huh. They’d fucked more than a dozen times, why was it a chaste kiss that left Rus feeling flutters in his soul that had nothing to do with the recent eviction of the souling?

At the door, Edge hesitated, silhouetted in the light from the living room. His voice was thick as he said, "Brother. Thank you."

Red only snorted, tossing the socks that Rus peeled off earlier into the laundry hamper. "didn't do nothin’ but help calm him down. baby would've been fine either way."

The door closed softly and tired as he was, Rus lay there, watching Red bustling around the room, cleaning up scattered clothing, tying off the liner in the waste can so it could be discarded. It was like looking at a distorted mirror of his own brother.

“red?” Rus croaked out.

“you’re supposed to be sleepin’, honey bun.”

“thirsty.” That was an understatement. His tongue felt like it recently did a tango with some sandpaper. Red was gone and back in a flash of a shortcut, holding a glass filled to the brim with lovely water. He held it while Rus drank thirstily, only spilling a few drops before he sank back with a grateful sigh. “thank you.”

“not a problem.”

“no, i mean, thank you, for everything.” Beneath the blanket, Rus settled a hand on the curve of his belly again. There was only a flicker of movement this time, lil' skitten was probably as tired as he was.

Red blew out a sharp breath and set the empty glass on the side table with a thunk. “already toldja, didn’t do anything. you woulda been fine.”

Much as he wanted to believe that was true, Rus wasn’t convinced. He was so tired, the world seemed soft and blurry around him, but sleep was still elusive. With Blue and Edge gone, this hushed moment felt like one for secrets, and Rus found himself asking in a low mumble, “what happened to your baby?”

Red went very still. “gonna need to let that go, kid.”

It was gently said, probably great advice, but Rus’s mouth wasn’t finished. “i’ll share this baby, if you want.” He could do that, right? It already felt like he was going to be sharing with the whole of the Underground. Edge wouldn’t mind, he was sure of it. Pretty sure.

“heh.” Red shook his head, ruefully. With a grunt, he hopped back onto the bed and lightly, he stroked a hand over Rus’s skull. His tone was almost fond as he said, “you taleverse monsters always gotta be the hero, dontcha. you ain’t even gonna remember this, honey bun. go to sleep.”

He wanted to, so very much, but tears were thickening again in his sockets, surfacing with his imaginings of another little souling, one that was lost, “m’sorry. ‘bout your baby.”

He shouldn’t have said it, cringing a little, waiting for that petting to get rough with anger. Red only kept up that light, soothing touch, tracing his coronal sutures the way a concerned lover might or maybe a parent. Rus wouldn’t know. He’d never really had either.

“don’t be, ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” Red told him, very, very softly. “my baby grew up just fine. little stupid, sometimes. now go to sleep.”

Almost, Rus wanted to argue, what did that even mean? But he was so tired and the little soul in his formed belly was already giving off its own feeling of sleepiness, dragging him down.

Remember this, he told himself fiercely, but thought was already fading. He slept, dreamless and deep, and never heard when Red got up and left, closing the door silently behind him.

tbc

Read Next Chapter

Notes:

Okay, so spoilers below!

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It's heavily implied that Red was pregnant before and that he did end up giving birth, very likely as a teenage parent. Nothing else surrounding his possible pregnancy is explained yet or even implied, other than it happened. It is however, heavily implied that Edge is his child and not his brother.

End spoilers.

[carry-on-my-pretty-weeper]

Catching Lightning Chapter 8

Author: carry-on-my-pretty-weeper

Character(s): Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: cursing, attempt bank robbery, bomb

Author’s Note: I’m getting off of school soon so I’ll have more time for

While you were home you thought about who you were going to cosplay when you got your ‘danger alert’ feeling. Stripping down and throwing on your suit you crawled onto your fire escape. Climbing over the safety railing you pushed yourself off of it resulting in you descending down the building. Thinking about how it hurt last time you tried to concentrate the energy in the air to push the heat in your body up. Sure enough the knowledge of hot air rising helped you to land gently on your toes before you took off running. 

Crossing streets and turning corners you came upon a bank. Looking inside you saw a man looking suspiciously about so to not draw attention to yourself you snuck through the side door. Sure enough he pulled off his jacket which showed a bomb strapped to his body. You froze not knowing what to do in this situation so you hid yourself. He started talking to the banker there saying that if he didn’t get the money he wanted then he’d blow the bank and himself up. You would need to separate him from the detonator. Feeling the energy in both the bomb and the detonator you wondered if you could drain it. Like a reverse spark. He made the security guard get on the floor and kick his gun away from him to the door. You stepped out of your hiding position and announced yourself.

“You know usually to get money people take out loans,” you stated nonchalantly taking on a persona of a superhero.

“Who are you?” He asked taking his attention off of the guard. You wanted to get him distracted while you drew the energy out of his explosives.

“I’m Haywire and it seems here that what your doing is illegal,” you said calmly like he wasn’t trying to rob a bank or kill a bunch of people in the process.

“Get on the floor unless you want me to blow this place up!” He yelled, you could see the paranoia in his eyes. You slowly bent your knees lowering yourself to the ground with one hand on the ground and one hand in the air. He thought you were surrendering but while your hand was on the floor you sent a bolt through the ground in a line which raced to the bomb then the detonator then back through the floor into your hand. Your burn started to glow as you absorbed the energy.

“But you see I don’t think I can give up so easily,” you started, “I mean not as long as you have all these innocent people here.” You got up and started making your way over to him.

“Don’t make me do this,” he said while holding up the now useless device.

“You don’t have to do anything. But know if you try to blow up this place and you die you will take all of these innocent people with you. Do you really think you’ll get it good in the afterlife if you take a bunch of innocent souls as well?” You tried to reason with him. Maybe you could talk him down from this. Everyone in that bank was hanging on your every word.

“I can’t-I can’t I already started it I have to finish it,” he said while closing his hand around mechanism. He was going to press the button, he really thought he was going to take his life. Police cars started showing up outside. They quickly hopped out of their vehicles and started pointing their guns. His eyes became panicked as they had surrounded the bank.

“You don’t have to do this,” you pleaded again even though nothing would happen you wanted his conscious to be clear, “If you give up your weapons then you’ll only be charged with attempted robbery instead of attempted 1st degree.” You started to move towards him with your arm stretched out to him. The police started talking through speakers that only seemed to spook him more.

“Officers I know you are doing your job but right now you are doing more harm than help please let me handle this,” you yelled to the police outside. The man watched your interaction and saw that you were in fact trying to help. So he glanced outside and back to you. The police outside watched everything with their guns pointed.

“If you give me the detonator I promise that you will leave this place alive,” you spoke gently. Continuing over to him slowly he took one more look outside before placing the detonator in your hand. As soon as it left his hand you broke it between your fingers and let the security guard cuff him. He walked out of the building and the police placed him under arrest but by the time they came back inside for the victims you were gone. When you bolted you didn’t notice a certain web-slinging hero waiting on a building watching the entire ordeal go down.

When you had gotten home you peeled the suit off of you and hid it and went into the bathroom connected to your room to take a shower. This was by far the most stressful situation you’d been in you thought while the hot water hit your back. You had worried that the police might have caught you when you were trying to help. Thinking about how many people in that bank that heard your voice and now knew what your voice sounded like scared you. What if they recognized it when you were out and about? Deciding that from now on you would use a deeper more New Yorkerish voice to throw off the people you saved. After you washed out your conditioner you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. You walked out of your bathroom and realized you forgot to close the window to the fire escape. Grabbing the frame you pushed it closed. You threw on baggy clothes and walked out to your kitchen. There your dad was cooking dinner and humming along to the radio. You hopped onto the kitchen island and asked “Whatcha making?”

“Spaghetti.”

“Somebody toucha my spaghet,” you replied to his answer while laughing.

“Did you just meme at me missy?” he asked with a smile. He knew a couple vines but he wasn’t an expert like you.

“Yes I did. You’re finally catching on old man,” you joked. He turned to you.

“I am not old,” he guffawed at you. You didn’t actually think he was old but that’s how you guys joked with each other.

“Uh yes sir you mostly definitely are old.”

“Well when you are my age you are going to think twice about that statement,” he said while he stirred the sauce. You resisted the urge to make another meme reference as you sat at the dinner table that doubled as a homework station. You picked up your backpack that you tossed on the chair earlier and got out homework. That’s when the radio stopped playing music to report about a bank robber who used a bomb to try and scare the workers into giving him money.

“A hero who goes by the name Haywire convinced this man to put down the detonator to the explosives. Which she then turned over to the police before disappearing from the crime scene,” the newsman reported, “here are some eye witness accounts from victims that were trapped in the bank.”

“She ended up talking him down from killing himself and everyone in there.”

“Haywire saved my daughter and I. I’m eternally grateful to her.”

More victims spoke out as you looked at your dad. Trying to bring the subject up to him in the most nonchalant way possible.

“What do you think of that? It sounds like there’s a new hero around,” you ‘observed’ with as little as interest in your voice as you could possibly have. 

“Well as long they’re out there keeping you safe I see no problem with it,” he said like a dad would. It’s amazing how most parents’ first thoughts are about their children. Thinking about your birthday present from earlier you put your pencil down.

“Did you know that MJ, Peter, and Ned got me tickets to Comic-Con?” you questioned him. You shuffled your feet back and forth while you waited for his answer.

“Of course! When Peter asked me at first I said no because a couple of kids at a convention wasn’t okay with me. But after a bit of convincing and begging Peter changed my mind. The boy made a damn powerpoint presentation about why you should go,” he said chuckling to himself. He brought up the pasta sauce to his mouth and tasted it. Offering some to you, you gladly obliged and sipped from the wooden spoon. 

“It’s really good dad, mom’s going to love it,” you hummed. Peter made a powerpoint? That placed a small smile on your face. What a nerd you thought affectionately, well he’s your nerd.

That night while you laid in bed you were nervous about going to sleep. What if you had that nightmare again? Well it wasn’t necessarily a nightmare but you could have sworn you felt the pain. Closing your eyes you didn’t fall asleep. You tossed and turned before realizing why. ‘Danger alert’.

You quickly got dressed and jumped out of your window. But what you didn’t know was how exciting tonight was going to be.

Tags: @stevieboyharrington @fandomlover03 @markusstraya @speggehi @thetimidsarcasticcat @condy-wants-a-cookie @feline-space

[spongeekat]

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types , Deadpool - All Media Types , Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Mary Jane Watson, Eleanor Camacho Additional Tags: Spideypool Big Bang 2018 , Prompt Fill , Peter Parker Needs a Hug , Deadpool has a daughter , Hurt/Comfort , Peter has anxiety , Anxiety Attacks , Secret Identity , Identity Reveal , Peter chasing Wade Summary:

"Look, I’m just a Deadpool. I know I’m not Dr. Phil. But I couldn’t just let you make some bad decision and let the world lose one more hot piece of ass. Anyways, I live in the area and saw you standing on the ledge, and I thought I could maybe talk you down. Dying hurts, in case you were wondering. It’s not worth it.” Dying...hurts? Talk him down? Bad decision?

Oh.

“Oh.” Everything suddenly connected and the gears started turning in Peter’s brain. “No, wait, I wasn’t…” He didn’t quite know how to explain he wasn’t there to do that without completely explaining why he was up there in the first place. Any resolve he may have had earlier about revealing his superpowered persona had melted away, his plans going awry within seconds. "

Or Peter is madly in love with Wade, and plans to meet him on top of his apartment building to reveal his identity. Wade thinks Peter is standing on the ledge ready to jump, and takes it upon himself to make sure he gets home safe and finds a reason to live again.

read on ao3

Part 1 Here

Here is part 3! I missed a week due to home issues, but the rest of the fic should update normally! Next chapter will be much longer as well. 

And huuUUUUGE thank you for putting up with my lateness @alurkerofnote :D

Day 3 - Tuesday

Peter’s hand rubbed against the zipper track beginning above the curve of his spine, fingertips again coming up empty. His arms dropped uselessly against his side, groaning to audibly show his disappointment.

His zipper was there somewhere. He heard it dinging against the metal teeth up the length of his back, and if he kept feeling for it he would find it.

Peter yawned, tears peeking out from the corners of his eyes, as his fingers continued to prod in the small of his back. He was completely and utterly exhausted. The night previous perusing the city had been brimming with robberies, car jackings, and muggings, as if the slight increase in temperature prompted every convict to crawl out of their hiding spots to wreak havoc. He’d clawed himself into his bed sometime around 5 AM, caught 2 hours of sleep, and was out the door sprinting to class by 7:00. He was looking for any reason not to go on patrol, even if it was as minor as an unlocatable zipper, to at least give him a chance to rest for a few seconds.

His gloves eventually brushed the pull tab, and he deflated. Guess he had to finish suiting up. He tugged the zipper up to his neck and fiddled with the spandex momentarily, pulling it snug in all the right places.

That was, until a knock on his window pane had the tired boy jumping 5 feet in the air and throwing himself backwards into a defensive position on his furthest wall. His toes firmly drug to a stop on the wallpaper, one arm shooting out with his fingers ready to tap his web-shooters if need be. There was a muted scuffling behind the glass, though his curtains were drawn so he couldn’t see who was there. It didn’t take long to figure out, however.

“Petey, Petey, Petey, Petee-eee-ey~” The intruder was caroling his name to the tune of Jolene, repeating his knuckle raps obnoxiously to the beat of the song. “I’m begging of you please just let me in.”

“Wade?” Peter snapped as realization sunk in to his chest. It took seconds to calm his adrenaline-ridden heartbeat, more relieved that he wasn’t about to face a criminal than he was mad Wade had nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. He peeled himself silently off the wall, taking short, but annoyed, steps to stand behind the curtains without drawing them. “What the hell, dude? You scared the pants off of me. Why are you on my fire escape? And singing Dolly Parton?”

Wade hummed the rest of the verse to himself, presumably out of parodying song lyrics, before he started to whisper-yell. “Ignoring the fact I should totally make fun of you for what you said, I’m here to check up on you! I said I was going to keep those sweet cheeks safe. Can I come in?”

“Into my bedroom?” Peter asked, weakly, swallowing the suggestive- but intrusive- thoughts that the question entailed. “Um, I’m kinda...preoccupied.”

“Ooooooh?”

“Not like that!” Peter groaned, smacking a hand to blanket the reddening of his cheeks. God, he had to change, and fast. He tore the zipper undone he had put in so much effort to find, shoving the suit off his shoulders and hips. “Give me a second!” He kicked the rest of fabric off and lodged it under his bed, using a pillow for extra cover to be safe. His web shooters clattered into the lockable drawer on his desk, the cartridges following them. Shutting the drawer so hard it shuddered, he located the first clothing options in sight; a pair of fluffy pajama pants and an Einstein shirt 2 sizes too big (which was totally a gag gift from MJ months ago that he’d never put  away), which he shimmied into. Confident that he had probably concealed every Spidey related item in his panic, he drew open the curtains and flashed Wade an unimpressed look. And there he was, in his full-suited glory, hanging upside down on the rail of Peter’s fire escape as if it was a playset.

“I have a few questions.” Peter said as he pushed the glass open, the screen absent due to years of him climbing out for his nightly routine. Wade didn’t seem to notice- or at least didn’t comment on the lack of one- looking ecstatic that he even answered. “First...why didn’t you call to check up on me? Or use the front door?” He gestured vaguely towards the direction of the living room to accentuate his point.

“You barely texted me today.” Wade answered, curling so he was sitting on top of the bar and facing Peter. The sit-up made his muscles bulge in the leather covering his thighs and abdomen and Peter inhaled carefully to maintain a level expression. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t lonely. Also, I missed you.”

“Good to know.” Peter rolled his eyes, watching Wade drop to hang upside-down childishly. “Just come in. You’re gonna break the rails.”

“Me? Getting on the VIP list to Peter’s bedroom? I feel like I got a golden ticket! Move aside, Willy Wonka!” Wade dropped himself to his hands, flipped ungracefully on his feet, and followed Peter’s lead to let him crawl inside the apartment. His muddy boots hit the carpet and he managed to pull his entire body inside the small opening. He paused upon straightening up, giving his bedroom the same scrutinizing examination he had to the living room his first time visiting. “Never mind. I wanna go outside again. You’re messy, and that’s something coming from me.”

Peter stared at him silently. The mercenary shrugged and half-lept to fall on top of his mattress. “Kidding. It’s cute. It fits you.”  

Peter did his best to ignore the creaking noise of his bed, making his way to his office chair to sit across the room. “I appreciate the housecall, but is that the only reason you came? I actually was kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’m hurt. I brought home-cooked meals and you already wanna kick me out?” Wade gasped in faux-pain, pulling off his pink Hello Kitty backpack. He drew out a grocery bag filled with containers, setting it beside the foot of the bed.

Peter was taken aback, a slightly stunned expression passing over his face. His outward appearance hardly changed, yet his stomach churned nervously at the thoughtful gesture. “You cook?”

“Nah, they’re frozen, but I make a mean pancake in case you’re ever interested. It’s the thought that counts though, right?”

“Thanks.” Peter rubbed his forearm, finding anywhere else to look to avoid staring at Wade.

“Soooo, what’s a kid like you busy doing tonight?” Wade asked as he stretched out across his comforter, propping his feet up on his mattress. “Playing games? Watching porn? Still wallowing about that ex-girlfriend that’s pregnant with someone else’s money-burner?”

“What? No, there’s no ex-girlfriend, dude, I already said that.” Peter muttered, struggling not to let his vision wander to his Spidey suit shoved  beneath Wade’s sitting place. “I have a lot of homework I have to catch up on.”

“Boooo-oring.” Wade kicked a few of his pillows aside, rolling onto his side as his bed squeaked again. Peter desperately needed that noise to stop if he was going to guard his sanity.

“Okay, well, this was a great visit and all, but you can text me next time you wanna play therapist, okay?” Peter pushed himself to his feet, walking over to offer his hand to Wade to help him up. He stood there a moment with no reaction, Wade seemingly refusing to accept it, instead sitting up on his own.

“Do you seriously want me to go?” Wade asked, a weird tone ebbing into his voice. Was he confused? Disappointed? Peter wasn’t .

“I-I mean, yeah, I already said I was busy.” He was trying to not sound as annoyed as he felt, but his throat was taut with irritation. It wasn’t quite with Wade, though, because he was trying to be nice. Mostly he was upset with himself; with his inability to execute with his plans that had landed him in a difficult situation he couldn’t imagine resolving without either or both of them ending up hurt; with his emotions that were so intense they were painful, only made worse by the fact Wade was acting so generous to him outside of his superhero identity; and with the fact Wade knew his name, his family situation, and where he lived. Yet he still wasn’t able to bring himself to say that simple sentence.

I’m Spider-Man.

He’d been ready to lay it all out on the line two days ago, albeit with hesitancy, but somehow he had convinced himself that Wade might actually start to reciprocate his feelings if he knew the man behind the mask. His gaze trailed to the plastic bag still resting on the mattress. He had gone out of his way to care for him multiple times. He might be a fun project for Wade to pass the time, but Peter didn’t think he would go this far for some kid he found fun to mess with.

Peter’s eyelids screwed shut, his mind piecing together a way to confront the issue. He could ask him why he was hanging around, and hopefully conversation would naturally circulate back to Sunday night. “H-Hey, Dea-”

“I’ll get out of your hair.” Peter suddenly felt the air change and Wade was towering him, his much larger frame barely an inch from his chest. He had to turn his head up at a steep angle to look at him. There wasn’t the usual humor in his words, and his body language was a lot more tense. Terrific. An upset Wade was never fun. He always had to dig to even get a hint of what was bothering him.

“What?” Peter blinked, watching as Wade shimmied passed him to grab his pack and sling it on his shoulder.

“You said you had stuff to do. I can tell when I’m a problem, Petey-Sweetie. Glad to see you didn’t off yourself today. Good job on that.” Wade shoved the window he had come in open, poking a leg out so that it connected with the grate of the fire escape. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Peter chewed on his lower lip, his confession filed away in a queue of things to tell Wade in the future. He gave a short nod, guilt immediately radiating in the pit of his abdomen. “Thanks...for this all. Sorry to cut this so short. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“You better. I’ll be waiting.” Wade dropped his pack out the sill, waiting for it to clang against the metal, then ducked his body out of the small cavity. He grabbed his bag, moved to grip onto the ladder leading down into the darkness, then craned his neck to shout one last thing. “You  should get a window screen. You’ll get spiders or ants in your room if you leave it open like this.”

Peter suppressed a spurt of ironic laughter, settling for an amused half-smile instead. “I’ll remember that. Goodnight, Deadpool.”

His weight made the ladder rattle and bang on the poles obnoxiously, probably annoying every other neighbor underneath him, until the sound disappeared and Wade had run off. Once Peter wasn’t able hear his boots scraping the asphalt he pulled his curtains shut, finally feeling able to breathe.

He bent to grab the meal containers, to put them in the freezer before he left for his patrol. It was quite the stock of food, enough to stop him from starving for the rest of the week that Aunt May was absent, and his stomach growled in appreciation.

Maybe he’d see Wade on patrol as Spider-Man, and they’d converse with the comfortable familiarity that had developed naturally between them through years. Wade would make some flirtatious joke, along with one about the spider being his hero that had the strength punch him into another timeline, and they’d team up and be on their way. Peter would be able to feel like his strong, normal self. They’d be friends and superheroes, and not a weak kid and his supposed guardian angel. No lies hanging heavily between them.

He’d muse on Wade’s kindness, that he didn’t deserve, later. For now, he pulled his spidey suit out  and started dragging it up his legs. He had a city to protect, people to save, and his angst would have to be put on reserve for another day.

[clumsywonderland]

When Maidens go Swimming - Part 2 - nsfw

Summary: Nervous Ivar can't keep his hands to himself. Words: 864 Warnings: Fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, nsfw. A/N: I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out, but yeah let's just go with it. Also, again, English is not my first language and I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. If you happen to notice any, please let me know!

Tagging: @lovemypikachu @whenimaunicorn @heathensisterwives @titty-teetee @beltzboys2015-blog 

Read part 1 here - Read part 3 here

Ivar carefully lifted his hand to touch her face, fingers lightly tracing the strange patterns of her golden freckles, barely touching her, afraid she would break and crumble underneath him. She watched him closely, following every move and every contraction his muscles made and he wondered if she was afraid of him. But those green eyes, reminding him of spring, showed him no fear.

Her hands wandered down again, fingers eager to touch the warm flesh of his erect cock and he suddenly acted on instinct. He grabbed her wrist, nails digging into the delicate skin and she hissed in pain when he drew blood. 'I can't,' he admitted, avoiding her piercing gaze. She pulled herself free and crawled onto his lap. Knees planted into the sand on either side of his hips, dress slightly hitched up which made her show more skin and she placed his hands onto her bare legs. He could feel his heart hammer against his ribcage and his throat went dry when his thumbs nervously stroked the pale, soft skin of her long legs. She grabbed his chin, forced him to look up into her eyes and smiled encouragingly at him. 'Maybe the girl was just stupid,' she said. Her slender fingers peeled her dress off her shoulders and pushed the fabric down over her belly until it rested around her hips. Heavy, full breasts spilled out and she combed her fingers through his hair, fisting it, pulling and eventually dragging his face into her chest. He closed his lips around one of the rosy buds, teeth grazing it and his lips curved upwards into a wide grin when he heard her sigh above him. His hands left her legs and he cupped the other breast, massaging it, rolling the hard nipple between his fingers and pulling it until she mewled in pleasure. She sighed contently as his hands wandered across her skin, wanting to feel and know every inch, every freckle, every scar on her pale flesh. He squeezed her waist, dragged her dress further down and kissed her neck, his hot breath making her shudder as he left a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. She could feel his hard member pressing against the inside of her leg and she bit on her lower lip, no longer willing to guide him through this patiently as she felt her body responding to him. She wiggled her dress off her legs, stepping out of it and almost ripping the fabric in her haste. Her hand curled around his cock, hot and thick underneath her curious fingers. She moved the skin up and dipped her head down, dragging her tongue across the length of his shaft and giggled when she heard him moan. Carefully she took him into her mouth and he groaned impatiently, fisted his fingers into her long hair and pushed her down. She gagged and gasped for breath as she was forced to take all of him at once. She sucked in her cheeks, pushed her tongue flat against him and softly grazed her teeth along the length of his cock. She heard him curse above her and his breathing became heavier, growling and moaning as she finally found a steady rhythm. One of her hands wrapped around the base, pulling the part of skin up and down that she was unable to take into her mouth. She twisted her hand and rotated her tongue, drawing more curses from his lips as he dug his nails into the back of her neck, pushing her down faster and demanding more speed from her. She felt his cock twitch in her mouth, his pre-cum salty on her tongue and he suddenly dragged her up by her hair. His cock left her lips with a pop and she whimpered at the loss of contact. When she came face to face with Ivar again, he suddenly seemed angry with her. His eyebrows formed a frown that made his forehead wrinkle slightly and his eyes were squeezed halfway shut, looking at her through thick lashes. 'I told you, I can't,' he spat at her, blue eyes filled with a fire that sent a shiver down her back, clawing into her spine. 'You must have heard them talk, you must know.' She weaved her own fingers through his and brought his hand down between her legs, never breaking eye contact and she smirked when his eyes went wide and his lips parted in surprise. He felt the wetness between her legs, dripping down his fingers as he stroked her carefully - proof of the fact that she wanted him, needed him, would have him right here. His fingers ghosted over her clit and she shuddered at the shock of pleasure that shot through her body and made her knees go weak and her legs shake. Her eyes fell closed. She grabbed his shoulder to steady herself when he applied more pressure and threw her head back, lips parted while gasping for breath. He bit the tender flesh of her neck, leaving behind a red mark and he grinned against her skin when she cursed. 'You see? You can. I will show you.'

Part three will be up soon!

If you would like me to tag you in part 3 or in any future fics that I might write, let me know!

[thewinsisterchronicles]

What You’ve Done (P5)

Warnings: angst, sadness, physical abuse, language, Dean doing V BAD THINGS LIKE WHY???

tags and a/n at the bottom

"Where are we going, again?" Y/N asked. She was half listening to Dean, half looking out the window at the clouds overhead, as she curled up in the front seat of the impala on the long road. She wasn't really paying attention, which was unusual.

She’d been doing it frequently, lately. Normally, she was sleeping with one eye open and a knife under her pillow. It wasn’t uncommon for hunters, but Y/N slept less, ate less, and practiced more than any other hunter that Sam or Dean knew. Whenever she wasn’t on a hunt, researching, eating or resting, she was either in the gun range or in the war room, sparring with whoever was willing- or, alternatively, beating up a punching bag at 3am when she couldn’t sleep.

More likely, she didn’t want to sleep.

Sleeping is lethal, she had said to Dean. You can’t fight when you’re asleep; you can’t even trust yourself. You’re not safe.

Thus, she had rarely been seen not working. It concerned the boys, and they often tried to encourage her to find interests elsewhere. Until recently, she hadn’t taken to it. Now, however, she was watching movies with them, playing games with them, talking to them without trying to peel away the layers of who they were…

It was an improvement, really. She wasn’t fully unquestionable with them and their intentions, but at least it wasn’t constantly on the forefront of her mind anymore. When Dean brought it up to Sam, he simply suggested that Y/N was beginning to trust them.

She was trusting them. Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

"We're going to meet some hunting buddies," he replied nonchalantly. His voice was steady, but something lingered behind the words. If Y/N had bothered listening more closely, she would have noticed.

"Sam's..." Dean faltered. "Well, Sam couldn't come because he was doing some... important research, and I figured it was about time you met other hunters and see what they’re like."

Y/N finally looked over at him, arching her eyebrow.

"You want me around other hunters?" She questioned. Dean swallowed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Dean, the last time I was around another girl my age she tried to break my wrist. I talk to get what I want. Not everyone’s a fan of that. "

"Then this is the time to learn some manners," Dean retorted harshly. He sighed. He needed to calm down, to get off the edge of whatever nervous chasm he was teetering on the brink of; especially with Y/N, with what he was about to do to her.

They drove on in silence for a long time after that. Dean could feel Y/N looking at him, but neither of them spoke for a while.

"Are you okay?" She finally asked. Her voice was calm, collective; Dean knew it well.  “You've been a bit... off, the whole ride. You good?”

She stared intently, caringly, at Dean's face. Concern was etched into hers, like she was afraid for Dean.

He absolutely hated it. Dean… Dean didn't deserve her caring, her compassion, her empathy or whatever else about her. She didn't know.... He shoved the thought out of his mind.

You’re fine, he thought. Cut yourself off.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth. Y/N squinted.

"Yeah, sure you are," she muttered. "Listen, you don't want to talk? That's cool. But I'm not gonna judge, just saying-"

"Well maybe you should just quit saying things," Dean snapped angrily at her.

He saw her flinch before the words left his mouth. Actually flinch. Dean had never seen her flinch before; not even when they were being tortured, or when they were fighting. She’d wince, maybe. But not flinch. He couldn’t get that angry at her.

Y/N had this way of... making him calm down. It was most likely, though, that she calmed him down out of fear; like she was afraid he'd do something bad. It did the trick, but he’d never actually....

Dean didn't like the way it made him feel after everything had settled, like she had only calmed him to save herself. That was absurd. Dean would never harm her.

Dean clenched his jaw. Wasn't that what he was doing now?

"Sorry," he sighed. "Just... I'm a little nervous, to be honest. I don't know how this is gonna go down, and I..." He faltered.

"Y/N," he started again. He looked over at her.

"Y/N, you know... you do know I'd never want you hurt, right?" He said. Y/N swallowed and didn't say anything. No one did for a while.

Dean turned off the exit into the bush. Y/N frowned slightly, but kept her mouth shut.

"We can't exactly meet a couple of sketchy people to talk about monsters in the open highway," he lied through a smirk. "Tends to draw a crowd."

He saw her smile softly. He tried to memorize the shape of it on her face.

The bumpy road tossed Y/N around as she sat in the impala beside Dean. He pulled it into a park, continuing to give off that weirdly-nervous energy. She didn’t want to push him- maybe he’d talk, when he was ready- but something was off.

"They're taking a long time," Y/N sighed, shifting in her seat. "You sure they're meeting us here?"

"This is where they said to meet up," Dean replied stonily, looking down ahead at the road. He checked his phone.

Something rumbled up ahead. Y/N turned her head. A truck appeared on the dirt road. She watched as he stared at the vehicle.

Something clicked in her brain.

Oh.

Of course.

It rolled up across from the impala. She gulped. Her right hand tensed until she couldn’t feel it; anger surged through her veins, almost as fast as the fear drew the blood from her cheeks.

Dean said she was family. He promised she’d be okay. He swore every night when she’d wake up screaming and sobbing and staring at her wall like Clyde could somehow come out of it and-

She let out a deep breath. Of course he’d betray her; Sam was still in the picture. Y/N cared deeply about both brothers, more than she ever had for any of her own relatives.

But Dean promised she’d be okay.

Surely, there was more than one car like that in America. A different hunter could have the same car. Dean wouldn't bring her here if Y/N was going to be in danger.

Would he?

For the first time in her life, Y/N wasn't so sure.

The car pulled up to a stop, tires squealing as the person inside stepped on the breaks. Y/N looked away. She shrank into her seat as she heard the car door slam open and shut. Her gaze was locked somewhere in the distance as the gravel crunched under feet that walked closer to her.

"Well, well, well," a horrifyingly familiar voice called out. A rough hand opened the car door and grabbed her arm. "Lookie what we got here, boys."

He wrenched her out of the car, making her fall on her hands and knees. She took a deep breath before moving to stand. Something kicked her gut, knocking the breath out of her and sending her sprawling again.

“Dean-” she tried.

"Shut up."

Crack.

The sickening sound of Clyde's boot crushing her nose resonated through the air. Y/N coughed, almost as if unfazed by his behaviour, as she spat blood onto the dirt below her. Dean clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly, looking at the man standing above her.

"That's enough." His voice was hoarse, like it pained him to speak. He cleared his throat. "Just... just take her."

“She’s not yours to play with anymore, Winchester.” He smiled humourlessly, something cold behind his bloodshot eyes. He squatted beside Y/N. “She’s mine now; you don’t get no say in what happens to her.”

Clyde pulled harshly on Y/N’s hair, sending shooting pains through her scalp. Y/N looked up at Dean, just fucking sitting there, letting this happen to her. He didn’t return her gaze. Clyde pulled hard on her arm, throwing her in the direction of the truck.

"Please-" She groaned, earning a boot to the knee as she tried to stand. Dean refused to look at her. Clyde laughed with the two other men Y/N suddenly noticed. "Dean, don't let them- no, no-"

A hand struck her face again- she couldn't tell whose it was- and she tumbled down to the ground.

"Get up," Clyde's gruff voice barked at her. She moved slowly. "I said get up, bitch." He drew his leg back and kicked her. She whimpered at the blow. Dean looked up at the sky ahead of him, blinking profusely.

"Is that necessary?" Dean's voice cracked.

"Our deal was you get her to us, and we's ain't gon tell nobody about your brother's secret," Clyde snarled. "That's it. What happens to the girl now ain't none of your concern."

Dean's face twitched. He still didn't look to Y/N.

She wasn't sure she wanted him to.

"Dean..." Her voice was a whisper. She still couldn't believe what was happening. Dean- her Dean- the Dean who had taught her every Led Zeppelin song and showed her the wonders of pie and music and what life could really be like with a friend, a family- was walking away from her. He was the only true family she'd ever had, the first person to show her kindness and love and compassion and forgiveness.

And there he was, walking away from her the only time she asked him to stay.

"Dean," she heaved, blood and sweat and dirt on her face. "Dean, don't let them take me. Please-"

Crack.

Her eyes refused to open, but the unmistakable sound of a car door closing met her ears. She began to panic.

"No- Dean!" She cried. The rumble of the impala engine echoed in her mind, the dirt kicked up from it making its way into her lungs. She coughed and hacked, still screaming after her brother.

"Don’t leave- fuck!" she screamed. A cloth was pressed over her mouth. Y/N smelled... chloroform. Tears leaked from her eyes as she struggled to stay conscious. She writhed viciously, trying to get away from the cloth that covered just enough of her face so that she couldn’t breath anything other than the toxin while she watched him drive away.

Something wet reached the edges of the cloth. It was salty.

She didn’t fucking care.

Dean left her. Sam left her. Once again, Y/N was alone.

Tags: @zeusmyster @mogaruke​ @dunkirkc​ @assbutt-still-in-hell​ @spn67-sister​ @thegreasiestbear​ @sammysbeanie​ @thyotakukimkim @lemonadegazeelle

A/N: wooOOOOOOO BOYYY I am sort of sorry for that but like ????I really wanted to write it

also I'm v sorry that it’s not nearly as long as the last one but I just kind of wanted this to be snappy and short and all that jazz so ://///// but the next part will be................................................. interesting