#I woulda said blood loss but yeah

[crmsndragonwngss]

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P8)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Joel makes his decision to leave Ellie. But what will he decide about the reader?

Warnings: crying, cursing, fighting, yelling, blood, guns

Author's note: I'm crying- this hurts my soul.

Masterlist

Part 1 and 9

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Joel walked up the staircase of the little house that was now theirs.

Tommy agreed to take Ellie to the fireflies in the morning, and he was relieved. 

He carefully climbed up the stairs, opening the master bedroom door.

Y/N was sound asleep on the bed. Joel could tell from the way she slept on top of the covers with a tissue in her hand that she had fallen asleep crying. It broke what was left of his heart knowing that he was the cause of it.

He shut the door quietly and moved to Ellie's room.

Ellie was quite awake. And angry.

"Is this really all they had to worry about?" She asked while staring at a diary from before the breakout. "It's bizarre."

Joel nodded, "Listen-"

"-Why are you here? If you're gonna ditch me, us, then ditch me."

"What exactly did you hear?"

"'I have to leave her. You have to take her.'"

"I made this decision for your own good. You're better off with Tommy. He knows the area better than I do."

"Do you give a shit about me?"

"Of course, I do."

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF?" Ellie sat in the silence, "I'm not her, you know. Maria… she told me about Sarah-" "-Don't." Joel growled. "Don't say another word."

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel. But, I've lost people too."

"You don't know what loss is."

"Everyone I have ever cared for has either left me or died. Except for you and Mom. So, don't tell me I'd be better off with someone else, because the truth is.. I would just be more scared." Ellie froze, realizing she had just called Y/N Mom.

Joel sat on his thoughts. "You're right. You're not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain't your dad. And I'm goddamn sure Y/N isn't your fucking Mom. Now, come dawn, we're going our separate ways."

He turned to leave, but Ellie spoke up just barely, "What about Y/N? Are you just abandoning her, too?" 

He stopped, turning around to face the girl again. "Y/N has enough in life that she won't miss us."

And he slammed the door behind him.

Y/N peered out from the doorway of her room with puffy eyes and messy hair. Her voice was soft and concerning, "…Joel?"

He left out a breath at the sound of her voice. "…what."

"Is everything okay? Is Ellie alright?"

"Ellie is just fine. She's leaving in the morning."

She tilted her head, taking another step out into the hall.

But Joel stopped her before she could go too far. "Don't. Just go back to bed."

He wished he wouldn't have seen the tears that filled her eyes as she closed the door once more.

…

The next morning, Y/N sat with Ellie on her bed, helping her pack her things. 

"You know," Ellie sighed, "Joel said something about you yesterday… while we were fighting."

Y/N shook her head, "Let's not talk about that. Let's just enjoy what we have left with each other, yeah?"

Ellie nodded, "Alright. I like that."

They continued packing the girl up, trying to make small talk about the trip ahead of her.

"Why are you staying? Why can't you come with me?"

Y/N stood straight, "I'll be extra weight. And… as much as I want to go with you, I can't leave Joel. He needs someone just as much as you do. And you'll have Tommy."

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

Y/N held her breath to see Joel. 

But it was Tommy.

Y/N sighed and helped Ellie carry one of the bags, "Mind if I walk with you guys, Tommy?"

He shook his head, "I'd never mind that."

…

The walk was quiet and awkward. 

But what made it worse was the sight at the stables.

Joel was strapping a saddle onto a horse.

Ellie grumbled, "Come to say goodbye or something?"

"No," Joel immediately replied, "I came here to steal one of these horses and go."

Y/N felt her heart drop. He was going to leave her behind like that with no remorse?

"I woulda gave you one." Tommy replied.

"I know." Joel nodded. His gaze finally moved to Y/N and his shoulders slumped just barely, not thinking that she would be there. His gaze quickly shifted from her from the guilt he felt. "Anyway, that was 30 minutes ago and I guess…" 

He sighed as he approached Ellie. "You deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Tommy-"

"-Let's go." Ellie replied, throwing her bag at him.

"O…Okay." Joel nodded. He sighed and turned to get the horse.

Y/N grabbed at his sleeve. Her voice was weaker than she would've liked, "What are you doing?"

He did everything he could to avoid her eye contact, "I'm taking Ellie, I guess."

"Bullshit." She reasoned, "You're gonna take me, too. You were gonna wake me up, weren't you? Before we left?"

"We?" Joel asked.

Y/N's mouth fell open and she took a step away from him. "You were… gonna leave me here?"

No one in the stable dared to say a word.

"Listen, I left you a note."

"Fuck your note, Joel Miller."

His jaw clenched. "You don't mean that."

"I fucking do. And fuck you."

"Calm down."

She scoffed and took a few steps back to give herself a moment to breathe. When her breathing went back to normal, so did her tone. "I don't understand."

"You have everything you need, here."

"But, you're not here."

Fuck, he thought. This was gonna be harder than he anticipated. 

"No," he reasoned, "But you can have a life here. A good one."

"How many times do I have to say it, Joel?" She pleaded. "I don't want any run-of-the-mill life. I want a life with you. I don't give two shits what we do. You… and Ellie… that's the only family I'll ever need."

If only she knew what she was saying.

Joel fought in his head how to tell her. What to say. 

If only he would've left earlier, and she would've woken up to the note.

The note that told her everything.

The one that was sitting on the coffee table in the living room, written in his scribbled handwriting- that note.

The one that said he loved her too much to make her choose. So, he was making the decision for her.

He knew she wouldn't be saying all this if she knew the truth.

But his heart was too damn selfish to tell her.

"Alright." He sighed, "Go pack your shit up. We leave in 30 minutes."

The small shred of happiness that broke through her face only tormented Joel more.

She placed a hand on his chest, "Thank you. Really. Thank you."

But Joel's eyes were looking at Tommy, whose was nodding his head slowly, taking in Joel's decision to hide the truth.

…

Y/N had never ridden a horse until here in Jackson, and she was nowhere near comfortable on one. 

Hence, why she was on the back of Joel's.

It was nice to be this close to him. Her arms were wrapped around his waist. She could smell that overwhelming scent of sweat and pine that he could never seem to wash off.

And she knew she made the right choice in pleading.

And Joel knew he made the wrong one.

He knew the second he said okay that he was being self-centered and foolish.

But he could never deny her.

He knew that he would have to hold this secret until they returned to Jackson.

Then she could scream and cry and curse him all she wanted. And turn to her own family.

But he couldn't help but be relieved that he could share just a little more time with her.

…

"Wide right. You're flinchin'." Joel smiled.

"The target's too small," Ellie tried to reason.

"That target is fucking huge," Y/N smiled.

"And I'm not flinching," Ellie continued, "rifles just suck."

"Just give it." Joel muttered.

"Okay, but it doesn't aim right."

Joel smiled with a low hum. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it. Gentle, steady, nice and slow-"

"-You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" Ellie yelled.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, trying to mask her amusement. Ellie caught it and decided to keep pushing, "Is that how he fucking does it?"

It was Joel's turn to laugh as he watched Y/N's entire face turn a bright shade of red.

"Leave her alone," he finally said, still laughing.

"Alright." Ellie sighed, "But this isn't gonna work. It doesn't aim right."

Gunshot.

Perfect shot.

"You. Dick."

Y/N smiled again despite her red cheeks, happy to be with her little family.

She placed her hands on Joel's shoulders and leaned over him, giving him the lightest peck on the cheek. 

And he couldn't help but smile, too.

…

"So, I've been thinking," Joel mentioned as they rode through the university, "I don't want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean… if the deal is that I can do anything?"

"Yeah," Ellie said, "That's the deal."

"Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer."

Ellie began to laugh.

He turned to her on his horse, "Why is that funny?"

She straightened up on her own, "Well, you gotta sing something now."

"No."

"Oh, Ellie," Y/N smiled, "I've heard him. It's actually pretty decent."

"Really?"

Joel looked over his shoulder at the woman, "Respectfully, sweet girl, shut the hell up. Quit telling the kid stuff."

She laughed loudly, almost falling off of the horse.

…

As they rode through the university in search for the fireflies, they found it to be abandoned. 

Each guard station left deserted.

Finally, they tied their horses to trees and decided to take a bit on foot.

He helped Y/N down carefully, "You got your gun?"

She nodded in a worried manner.

They wandered through one of the buildings before hearing a noise.

Joel barely peaked out of the window to see four men wandering outside in search for something.

"Out the back."

The ran as quickly and as quietly as they could towards their horses. But due to their place out in the open, Joel knew they'd have to make a run for it.

"Ready?"

The girls nodded.

He led them out to the horses and began to throw their bags onto the them. But he was distracted. 

"JOEL!"

He ducked in time to miss the swing of a baseball bat from one of the men. The bat broke as it hit the tree behind him.

Joel grabbed the man and head butted him harshly before putting him into a chokehold.

The sound of his neck snapping was unmistakable.

Joel dropped the body and turned to the girls to check on them.

Y/N let out a soft breath and put her hands on his chest, "You alright?"

He nodded, letting his fingers go to her hair, "Yeah… yeah?"

"Y/N…" Ellie said quietly.

She turned to look at Ellie and saw the girl's concerned gaze at Joel.

Y/N turned back to Joel and followed his gaze too.

The broken bat handle was protruding from Joel's stomach.

"Oh, fuck…"

Y/N was frozen as she looked back up to his face.

He grunted and took a hold of the handle, pulling it out with a yelp.

"Joel.. get on the horse," Ellie reprimanded. 

Y/N saw the other three men approaching at a run, and it spurred her into action. 

"Get him on the horse, Ellie!" She yelled.

One they got him on, Y/N pushed Ellie onto her own before getting on Joel's and riding off in the nick of time.

…

While Joel steered the horse, Y/N was holding her hands to the wound from behind. 

She was grateful that his body was blocking the sight of his blood on her hands.

"I think we're good," Ellie finally sighed. "Joel.."

Y/N gently pushed against the man, wishing she could see his face, "Joel…?"

His pale body fell from the horse.

Y/N jumped down, as did Ellie.

They kneeled on either side of him.

Only then did Y/N see the bright red on her hands. 

The way it colored the white snow around them.

"I can't…" she cried, "I can't do this, Ellie…"

"Fuck!" Ellie yelled as she tried to wake Joel. "Y/N, c'mon. You gotta help."

"I can't, Ellie. I'm not strong enough…."

"Please," Ellie pleaded, "I need you."

Her words immediately struck something in Y/N because she began to move back to Joel with determination. 

She couldn't let her only family fall like this.

.........................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Frayed Ties - Chapter 24 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

They took a slower, more careful pace this time.

The rain was getting heavier and heavier.

Danya could feel Yore's energy in his mind and he held onto that.

As long as he could feel him, he was alive.

Someone must have run ahead to explain what had happened because when they arrived at the settlement there were people ready to carry Yore into a long building containing half a dozen beds.

An older man took charge of the situation as soon as Yore was settled into one of the beds, looking him over and clicking his tongue loudly.

"Stupid. He knew not to do this."

"Weren't stupid," Slone said. "It was a choice."

The man shot Slone a look.

"It was a stupid choice."

"Compassion ain't stupid, Duffy. He saved the girl. Can you save him?"

Duffy looked down at Yore and then back at Slone.

"Look at him. No, I can't."

Yore was no longer bleeding but his skin was reddened from the tiny cuts that covered every inch of it and it was increasingly taking on a purple hue from the bleeding underneath its surface.

"Not everyone dies from it."

Duffy turned to a young girl who had been lurking awkwardly behind him.

"Ansel, find the mages some dry clothes."

Ansel nodded and hurried towards the door, draping a blanket over Slone's shoulders as she passed him.

He hugged it around himself for comfort, but made no effort to conceal his nudity.

"Slone, I'm not going to lie to you or give you false hope. Not even if you want me to. I've seen people die from this, and not one of them was as bad as he is right now."

"But there are stories," Slone insisted.

"Cases as bad as this, maybe even worse, where folks survived."

"Who knows how true those stories are. More legend than anything."

Slone pressed his lips together and looked away.

Duffy sighed.

"You hear his breathing? See the blood that's leaking out of his nose and mouth? That's from his insides, right down to his lungs, being just as cut up as his skin is. He's bleeding internally."

"The bleeding on the outside stopped already. The inside stuff will as well."

"Blood loss is only the first thing he has to overcome. There are all kinds of other very serious problems this will cause. He might last days if he's lucky but he won't survive this."

"No. He's strong."

Slone glared at him for another long moment, then he shook his head and walked out of the cabin.

Danya turned around to check on Lynna, only to find that she'd already curled up on one of the other beds and shut her eyes.

He decided to leave her alone for now and followed Slone instead.

Slone hadn't gone far.

He was standing on the small covered porch outside, staring out at the rain, the blanket still clutched around him.

Danya came and leant on the railing next to him.

"He's not going to die," Slone insisted.

"Okay," Danya said.

He didn't know if that was the truth or a complete impossibility but he didn't think disabusing him of the notion would be as helpful as Duffy seemed to think it was.

"Were you two close growing up?"

"Huh?" Slone glanced over at him. "Oh. Well, we weren't really together all that much. He was busy..."

"Doing training?"

Slone nodded.

"He had all kinds of things he had to do an' learn 'cause of being the heir and I've been going wandering off on my own since I was a tiny thing. But we always got on real good. Sometimes we'd just go exploring together for days at a time."

"Sounds nice."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. And remember when I told you about the thing with the wyvern?"

He pulled the blanket down to show Danya the scar on his shoulder.

"How I got this?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, that happened when I was out exploring with Yore. He was the only one around and he heard me yelp and he came running."

Slone ran his fingers over the scar.

"He was only 'bout sixteen at the time. Never woulda bet on him against a full grown wyvern. Hell, I wouldn't bet on myself against one now. I thought we were both dead when he ran into that cave but he grabbed that fucker by the throat and tore into it and he saved my life."

"Wow."

"Yeah and ain't nobody but me saw that, Danya. Ain't nobody else see him take on that impossible fight and win, so how would they know what can and can't kill him? Fucking nothing can, far as I'm concerned. Heck, I started to have doubts when he was missing for months but I was wrong about that. I ain't gonna doubt him again."

"I believe you," Danya said. "And... if he's not going to die, maybe I can help him. I have some very minor healing abilities. Nothing that would make any difference to whether or not he died but I might be able to minimise long term damage. Though, only if it's external."

Slone gave him a grateful smile.

"Reckon you could do anything for his eyes or his hearing? I don't think he'll die but if you can make it so he won't be blind and deaf after he heals it'll make a hell of a difference to his life."

"You know, I have no idea. Let's go and find out."

In just the short time they'd been outside, Yore's skin had bloomed into an even more alarming pinky purple hue.

Every inch of him was a raw, tender bruise.

Danya sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand over one of Yore's eyes.

"What's he doing?" Duffy asked.

"Danya has a bit of skill with healing," Slone explained.

"He can save him?"

"No," Danya interjected. "I can't feel deep enough to do anything at all for his internal organs, which I imagine are the real concern but... maybe his vision."

Duffy sighed.

"Well, it can't do any harm. He might wake up at some point, and if he does I'm sure he'll be grateful for the opportunity to see his family again."

"Hmm."

The damage permeating every inch of Yore's skin was overwhelming.

Danya could feel the tears in the delicate structures of Yore's eyes but it was hard to focus on them with so much other damage pulling at his mind.

So he decided not to bother.

He simply pushed energy into healing whatever part of Yore's flesh that lay under his fingers he happened to lock onto.

Eventually that would include the important parts.

Before he could really get into things, though, Ansel returned with dry clothes for them.

Danya changed, then roused Lynna and helped her with hers.

They must have been children's clothes, judging from the fact that they fit at all.

The adult werewolves were much bigger than them.

Danya returned to his healing task and spent a moment trying to figure out which eye he'd been working out.

Depressingly, there was no noticeable difference in the damage to them to judge by.

Though, he had only been working for around ten minutes before he was interrupted.

This wasn't something he could expect to have fast results.

He'd just barely gotten started again when Yore's mothers rushed into the room, both naked and wet.

Danya went and sat on the next bed over to give them some space.

Zunda sat down next to her son's head and reached out a hand but she seemed afraid to touch him.

She gripped a handful of the blanket he was laying on instead.

"I regret encouraging his selfless nature when he was a child."

"No." Emity sat down next to her wife, shoulders touching. "This was his choice. He did what he thought was right and we shouldn't devalue that sacrifice. He's a hero."

Zunda sighed.

"I was going to say that I'd rather an utter bastard of a living son than a hero of a dead one but that wouldn't be him. And I only want him."

"I don't think he'll die, mum," Slone spoke up but he sounded far less insistent than he had when he'd been talking to Duffy.

Zunda looked at Slone, then back down at Yore and shook her head.

"Even if he doesn't, he won't be the same."

"Maybe he won't be as fast or as strong or anything like that but it don't affect his brain any. That's the one thing that don't change when we shift, so it won't be damaged. He'll still be him."

"What kind of life would that even be for him?"

"Danya has a bit of a talent for healing. Can't do everything or anything that'll save him but he's gonna try an' fix his vision and hearing up a bit."

"I've never done anything like this before, so I don't know how much I'll be able to do but I'm going to try my best," Danya told them.

"Thank you," Zunda told him. "If you think you can help him even the tiniest bit, we should let you get back to that. If there's anything you need, just ask."

"Will you bring Simon back here when the fighting is over? I understand he's human and you might have objections to that but I need him to keep my energy balanced."

"Of course. I admit I don't fully understand what's going on but those humans are friends with my sons and it seems they picked well. Trust Yore to say he's going to join the human military to learn about our greatest enemies and then come away with the one group of humans who would become revolutionaries as his friends."

"As kind as he is, he's not naive," Emity said.

"He's just a bloodhound for goodness."

Zunda smiled as she stood from the bed.

"An accurate description. Danya, I'll see about tracking down your human while you do what you can for my son."

"Thank you."

Danya returned to his spot on the bed and got back to work.

[sweatforged]

silas  wasn't  the  type  of  guys  to  take  chances,  usually,  but  in  this  case  it  worked  out  in  his  favor  -  clearly.  not  that  he  thought  atticus  wouldn't  have  been  able  to  patch  him  up,  but  he  chose  the  right  back-up  cabin  to  try  his  luck  at.  lions  1  vs.  silas  2.  take  that,  lions.  he  should've  grabbed  his  medical  supplies  before  heading  out,  but  ...  you  were  always  smarter  in  hindsight,  weren't  you?  no  use  in  dwelling  on  his  lack  of  preparation  now,  he  could  think  about  future  improvements  later.

  champ,  huh?  man,  he'd  not  been  called  that  in  a  long,  long  time.  didn't  think  he  ever  would  again,  really.  but  it  did  add  that  familiar  little  twist  to  their  conversation  -  like  he  was  talking  to  an  old  friend,  when  in  reality  they'd  ..  not  really  spoken  before,  but  there  was  still  that  level  of  mutual  trust  (he  hoped)  between  them  as  they  were  aware  of  each  other's  capabilities.

  his  quite  visual  description  had  the  son  of  kratos  almost  laugh,  cheeks  puffed  up  with  how  wide  his  grin  was.  "i  think  i  woulda  noticed."  they  were  dropping  their  pants,  but  for  different  reasons,  surely  &  not  at  him.  he  could  be  some  of  these  kids'  dad  &  they  seemed  way  too  interested  in  each  other.  not  that  that  was  a  problem.  he  was  fine.  "i  ain't  dyin',  am  i?  wait,  don't  tell  me.  keep  the  compliments  comin'  though.  ow."  little  grumble,  although  it  wasn't  really  that  bad.  just...  stung,  a  spromised.  talking  helped  distract,  so  the  effort  was  appreciated,  even  if  he  didn't  quite  believe  everything  the  other  said.

  "guess  i  didn't  expect  it  to  go  fountain  on  me.  i'm  used  to  blood  an'  bruises,  nosebleeds  an'  all  that.  but  geez."  he  got  a  kick  to  the  face  a  few  times  prior  during  fights  &  he  was  used  to  that  bleeding  quite  a  bit,  but  his  arm?  that'd  been  unexpected.  this  is  why  he  shouldn't  fiddle  with  injuries.  "thanks  for  helpin'  out.  good  to  know  you  ain't  jus'  a  pretty  package."  yeah,  had  to  be  the  blood  loss.  "yeah,  yeah.  keep  goin'.  i'm  fine.  you  see  anythin'  in  there?  uhhh...  i  dunno  metal?"  that  fucking  steel  lion.

"Ah." Atticus was properly out with OIlie or Romeo- considering how much a homebody the son of Athena was. There weren't exactly that many options outside of that. Not that the actual location of Atticus was the real concern right now. There's a little huh expression at that information the other wouldn't be here if he didn't trust him. Which said something about the impression he'd left on Silas the last few weeks. Remy moved back towards the other demi-god with the first aid kit as he flicked it open. It had been a while since his first aid training since...hey, he'd been a barrister before being a demi-god. It wasn't exactly a profession that led to a lot of bloody situations. But there was a time before that. Before Oxford. Before that charming accent of his. When he lived on the streets, that for the first time might actually be useful.

"Ha. I think you're mistaken there, champ." That posh English accent teased over at the other as he reached up with a bandage to wash away that blood on the other's arm, to try and see the wound at its inception point. To know just how deep it was. "A hot older man like yourself? Got half the camp dropping panties, I bet." He teased as he dropped that bloody bandage into the box before plucking up that sterilizing alcohol to wash out the wound. "And yeah, I think you're very, very strong handsome. This is going to sting." He pointed out as he uncapped the tip before he tilted it into the wound on the other arm. He wasn't sure what sort of things you could catch from fighting a goddamn lion but he wasn't about to test that simple fact. "Oh yeah. There's always way more blood in someone than people think. It always shocks people." He remarked as he flicked his eyes up to meet Silas eyes. "You good for me took going? He didn't want to hurt the others all.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

[mailboxmerchant]

winning!Ranmaru Kageyama x Reader: What Have You Done?!

a/n: i just finished the most recent installment in yttd andn holy fuck,,,,,,winner! ranmaru just. holy shit! i love him so much. (also i guess you sort of take saras place? like shes there but youre ranmarus buddy instead and uhh hc that she got joe’s doll for a partner because i love thme) hgnghgh)\

also please leave requests!!! please!!!! for almost any character from almst any fandom!!!!!! please!!!!!!

also this is....a long one. probably gonna be a two parter! <3

“I’ll hold him back, just go! Reko...she....she’s-” 

Watching with the others in the classroom as Kurumada held Ranmaru to the ground by his head, you looked down at Ranmaru’s pleading expression. 

Before you could reach for him though, you were quickly ushered out by your panicked friends and allies.

Ranmaru....what did you...

◤...three hours prior to this...◢

“Keiji! I’m here! Please come out, everyone is so worried!”

“y/n....”

“Are you...there Keiji?”

A hand that clamped around your shoulder sent you into shock as you sprawled forward to the ground. “Waugh!!! Wh-who!?!?” You whipped yourself around to face a concerned looking Ranmaru.

“Heya y/n.” He said with a smirk and a wave. “Gah! Ranmaru, you scared me...!”

“Clearly.” He smiled as he offered a hand out to you. You gave him a pleased smile as you took his hand. “So....Keiji was a no-show, huh?” 

“I mean, Sara was too worried to go alone so I offered to go in her place...but it looks like we should have followed Keiji’s instructions, huh?” You laughed dejectedly, as the missing friendly policeman’s absence was beginning to create a deep worry in the back of your mind. 

The expression on your face seemed to clearly resemble your disappointment of not finding him, as a pair of fingers snapped out in front of you. 

“Heeey? Earth to y/n, I asked you a question. You alright?” 

You gave a curt, polite nod. “Sorry, yeah, what did you say again?”

Ranmaru sighed as he patted your back, “Man, you’re a mess today, eh? I asked....ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴹᵃᵖˡᵉ ˢᵃᶦᵈ....” The last part was quietly spoken, but you heard what he said, and you knew what he meant.

“What!? You mean about what she about....winning?” Ranmaru’s uneasy expression meant that was exactly what he was talking about. 

“We can’t! E-everyone has been...working so hard together, and with you all as our new allies-” “They’re not all your allies. We were made to get rid of you humans, but Maple told me something the rest of them don’t know. Why won’t you let me act on it?! I can save us, save you!”

“That’s enough! I can’t...hear you say that. Not you, Ranmaru, please.” 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, y/n, I swore I’d protect you. Reko, Sara, Keiji, everyone! I’ll kill them, and I’ll get you out of this horrible game!”

As if the idea of winning crossing Ranmaru’s mind at all hadn’t hurt enough to hear about, here was your partner for this entire floor’s length of horrors telling you he’d kill all your allies to save the both of you.

Ranmaru wasn’t wrong. You were tired. You wanted to go home. You missed your friends, and your regular old life. You adored Ranmaru, and even without knowing what to do after this could end, you wanted to have him by your side.

What am I thinking?!

“Ranmaru! I don’t want you to protect me. I want us to all escape together, and I could never ask you to betray our allies!”

Something about the way you delivered that line stuck with Ranmaru though. You couldn’t ask him? Then you didn’t have to. He’d help you, and he’d take all the responsibility too. All the guilt, the hardships, the terror? He could handle it...if it was for you. You and him were going to win, and you were going to live. And after all his efforts, maybe, just maybe, you could be his.

And with the seeds sown, Ranmaru’s mind began racing with ways to get every single human and doll eliminated before they could realize what was going on. 

And that would begin with the lovely, unknowing Ms. Reko.

◤...present time...◢

“Oh...no....” Sara uttered, her breath entirely taken away from the sight before us.

The magnetic trap mechanism in the locker room had been activated while Reko was in it. “Reko, please, no...holy shit...” Q-taro mourned. Her grotesquely snapped neck was just barely holding her entirely hanging body to the ceiling by her collar.

Everyone was whispering their words of loss and grief. You couldn’t speak though. You instantly made the connection between Kuramada tackling Ranmaru and what he had said about getting here quickly. This was preventable. And actually....

This was your fault.

Ranmaru wanted you to win, and he wanted you to take him with you. You didn’t chastise him enough to stop this, and now Reko’s blood and tears were on your hands. 

The quiet stip-step of shoes tapping on the concrete floor sprung you from your remorseful daze. “y-y/n...I swear...I didn’t-” 

A louder, heavier pair of feet could be heard hitting the solid ground harshly. 

“Bastard! You’ll pay for what you’ve done!! My trust, their trust, you’ve ruined everything!” Kurumada went in for a swing as Ranmaru barely dodged him, bumping his backside into your front.

“NO! It wasn’t me! I wasn’t even anywhere near this room, I was with y/n!” 

“That was a whole goddamn hour ago, you lying piece a’ shit! You woulda been in the control room well after that!”

“Why would I kill Reko?! I had no motive to kill the humans, our tasks were erased and our connections were cut! I would never-”

“Bullshit. No motive? What was all that crap about winning for, then?”

Ranmaru fell silent.

“You...you thought I was dead. And you thought you could leave the transceiver on and cheer yourself on for winning the game, huh?!”

Ranmaru’s silence persisted, your stomach dropping further than you thought possible. 

He took a slow inhale...

“Yeah. I did think you were dead, but now I see you’re just as big of an obstacle as ever. All you damn dolls. I’ll get rid of you all, and y/n and I are gonna win.”

“Ranmaru...”

“I didn’t think I’d get caught on the first try, I mean geez! I really hoped it’d be easier than this, that I could be stealthy, but apparently not...” 

It was like his entire demeanor changed. His usual hesitance to speak, his more crouched and small frame, and his kind meekness were all completely stripped away, replaced by this malicious, devious darkness that seemed to emanate off his body.

“Well, well! Somethin’ fun’s happening in here, amirite?!”

“M-Midori!?” You cried out as his arm creepily slung around your shoulder. You backed away as Ranmaru stayed staring him down. “Ohh, what perfect timing. Midori...I have a deal for you, something to keep this game interesting.” Ranmaru sounded like a perfect copy of Midori, it was beginning to frighten you. Reko’s body still left all the survivors in shock, no one but the three dolls who were as lively as ever being able to speak.

“ ᴿᵃⁿᵐᵃʳᵘ...ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ, ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ...“ You finally uttered. 

“What might this deal be, my pathetic doll?” Scoffing at his comment, Ranmaru pleads with him, “If you could just please...kill the dolls. Leave me as the sole doll and I swear I’ll give you a show you’ll never forget.” You weren’t sure what made you sicker, the grin that was spread across both Ranmaru’s and Midori’s faces, or the dark tone Ranmaru suddenly took, his genuineness shining through. He would kill every survivor. You might really win, and you still didn’t know what to think about it. 

The tension in the room was so thick you could slice through it with a knife. Everyone's eyes were trained on you, Ranmaru, and Midori. You felt sick, the energy of the room suffocating you slowly.

"I think I could do something like that."

As if it couldn't drop any lower, your organs practically just disappeared from inside you. "H-hey, you're not...serious, are ya?" Q-taro finally spoke up, the first of the survivors to actually something.

"Why wouldn't I be? This deal is of great benefit to me....and y/n it seems." Midori's tucked in smile sent shivers down your spine as he stared at you with his widened eyes.

"First though...the banquet has to happen."

The reminder brought the most sincere relief you'd ever felt in your life. You still had time to convince Ranmaru not to go through with his ridiculous sabotage plan.

The room calmed as everyone slowly and hesitantly made their way back to the graveyard. How was anyone supposed to work together after something like that...?

◤...to be continued (eventually)...◢

I HAD TO END THIS BECAUSE I WAS SLOWLY FORGETTING WHERE I WAS GOING WITh thIS SO ILL START WITH THE BANQUET IN THE NEXT PART TY FOR READING PLEASE REQUESTS MWAH ILY BYE BYE<3

[kaijuscientists]

Company

My fill for the SFW day 2 prompt: Hurt/Comfort of @dincobbweek

Title: Company

Cobb's supposed to meet Din at a seedy bar in Mos Eisley, but he’s running late and a group of regulars are giving him trouble.

Cobb sits at the bar of a dive in Mos Eisley, waiting for Din. He’d contacted him the day before, on short notice, but he was going to be in the sector and stopping on Tatooine, and Cobb was not about to pass up spending a night with his Mando.

So, Cobb had hightailed it all the way from Mos Pelgo, excitement simmering in his belly at the prospect of seeing Din again.  Unfortunately, it seems Din is running late. Cobb checks his chrono for the fifth time, an hour and a half past when Din had said he’d be there. 

He’s already had a few drinks waiting, and he’s just minding his own business, enjoying his liquor when a rowdy group of humans walk in and situate themselves at the bar. It doesn’t take them long to single Cobb out of the slim crowd, 

“Never seen you here before.” one of them asks. A skinny looking, nerf herder of a guy. 

“Ain’t never been here before.” Cobb says, swirling his drink in his glass. 

“What brings you in?” “Meetin’ someone.” 

“Who ya meetin?” “A friend,” Cobb says, feeling his temple start to flare. “That ok with you?” 

“I dunno.” A second guy chimes in, with a bigger build to him. “Depends on who’s comin’ doesn’t it.” 

“Well, I don’t personally see how that’s any of your business.” Cobb says. 

The last guy, big and bald, starts now. He’d been sizing Cobb up, looking him up and down.  “You’re not from around here are you?”

“I’m about as tatooine as you get.” Cobb says, pushing his empty glass across the counter. The bar keep refilling it, looking like he wants to say something, maybe tell these guys to behave, but it’s not worth the effort or what it might cost him in tips. 

“Based on that accent of yours.” The big guy says, “I’d say you are from some out skirt moisture farm.” 

That makes Cobb’s hackles rise instantly. 

“What business have you got here, really?”

“I told you” Cobb says, tenuous grasp on his temper slipping. “I’m just meeting a friend. Leave me be.” 

“Why don't you just get out of here.” The bald one says, Cobb guesses that he’s probably the one in charge. “This is our bar, and I'd personally like to drink in peace.” 

“Then just leave me alone, partner.” Cobb says, every hair on the back of his neck bristling as one of the guy's lackeys starts to circle him where he sits.  Cobb bows his head, breathes deep. Last thing he needs is to start a fight. He should at the very least wait for Din to arrive before he does that. “I’m not lookin’ to start anything.”

Cobb rolls his shoulders when the guy leans in close, breathing down his neck and it takes all of his self control to not throw back his head and break the guy's nose right there.   

“Hey,” Skinny says, motioning at Cobb’s scarf. “I think this guy has a brand under there.” 

“Oh, you’re a slave, huh.” The leader says, his interest suddenly piqued.  “That sure explains a lot.” 

“I ain’t been a slave in a long time.” Cobb says through grit teeth, his knuckles white as he grips his glass. “Now i’m only gonna ask nice one time — back the fuck away from me.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.“ Leader says. “You got any papers?”  

“Maybe we oughta take him in, just in case,” Skinny says, still hovering around Cobb’s back.  “Might get a reward.” 

Cobb slowly pushes away from the bar, ready to cut his losses at this point and leave the bar, maybe he could try to find out what’s keeping Din. 

“Hey you ain't going anywhere, lemme get a good look at that brand.” The leader guy says, finally reaching out and trying to grab Cobb. 

Cobb doesn't like that one bit, his arm shooting out and knocking the man's hand away before he can make contact. “Do not fuckin’ touch me.” 

That’s when the guy behind him decides to grab him, and this time he does throw his head back, hearing and feeling the sickening crack of cartilage as someone's nose breaks. Followed by some muffled cursing as he’s let go. 

“I did warn you.” Cobb says, losing no time before launching himself at the leader, throwing a punch that lands on his jaw and knocks him back.  He quickly spins, throwing another punch at the bald guy, and kicking back to land a kick in the skinny guy's stomach. 

Cobb kneel’s, laying into skinny, punch after punch, until the big guy throws his arms around Cobb’s neck, pulling him back and off his friend. Cobb, reacting on pure instinct at the point, sinks his teeth into the man's forearm, making him let go with a furious scream. 

“You little shit.” The leader yells, grabbing Cobb by the back of his shirt and throwing him to the ground, where he lands sprawled on his belly on the dirty floor, gasping as the wind is knocked from his lungs. 

He’s flipped on his back, and before he can wiggle free, he’s pinned to the ground, knees digging harshly into his chest. 

“Lemme go.” Cobb growls, fighting against the hold, kicking out with his legs, 

“Oh shut up.” the guy says, drawing back his fist, slamming home into Cobb’s face several times in quick succession. 

Cobb is left dazed with his ears ringing when the weight holding him down suddenly relents. He tries to get up, only for sharp pain to explode in his side, as heavy boots collide with his chest over and over. He rolls onto his side, trying to curl into a fetal position to protect his middle. 

Until everything goes quiet and stops.  

Cobb forces his eyes open, uncovering his face to find everyone's attention is on the door. He lets his head fall to the side, and sees a blurry figure standing backlight in the entrance. 

A silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. 

“You’re fucked now.” Cobb groans.

“Is that who you were waiting for?”

Cobb just smiles, blood on his teeth. 

Din walks into the bar, approaching the group with his hand resting on his blaster.

“I think it would be wise if you took your leave.” Din says. And when no one moves a muscle, only staring wide eyed, Din unholsters the blaster and points it right in the man's face who’s holding Cobb down. “Now.” 

The three run, leaving just Din, Cobb, and a few other patrons. 

“For your trouble.” Din says, tossing a few credits on the bar.

“I’m glad you showed up.” Cobb says, as Din lifts him to his feet, he sways until Din gets a hand on his waist to steady him. “I… I coulda taken‘em though.” Cobb mutters, clenching his eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness, leaning into Din.  

“I’m sure you could have.” Din says, placatingly. “Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking.” 

“M���not drunk.” Cobb sighs, his head aches and his face is throbbing, and each breath burns his against his ribs. “I’m injured.”

“I know.” Din says, slipping his arm around Cobb's waist. “Let’s go, I’ve got a room.”

They make their slow way through the streets of Mos Eisley, to the little hotel Din has a room at.  Cobb leaning heavily on Din as they walk, each step jarring his chest, he knows he’s going to have some bruised ribs tomorrow, if not, some cracked.  

“Wait here.” Din says, depositing Cobb on the single bed to return just a moment later with a damp towel.  He sits next to Cobb, cupping his cheek to hold him in place as he gently cleans the blood from his face.  “You want to tell me what happened back there?” 

“They didn’t like how I looked.” Cobb sighs, hissing when Din presses against his split lip. “Started talking shit, saw my brand and threatened to turn me in since I don’t have papers.” 

Din cringes under his helmet, that would certainly be a great way to get a reaction out of him. 

“If I hadn’t been late,” Din says, folding the towel over to a clean clean, dabbing blood from Cobb's nose. “Maybe this could have been avoided.” 

“Those assholes woulda gave me shit regardless.” 

“Maybe.” Din says, moving to clean the dirt smudged on his temple. “But you wouldn’t have ended up in a fight alone.” 

Cobb laughs, regretting it as pain bursts in his chest, gasping as he presses a hand to his ribs. 

“How are your ribs?” Din asks.

“Feel like I got stepped on by a bantha,” Cobb says tightly, gingerly letting out a breath.  “I'm afraid I am not going to be up for any sort of strenuous activity you mighta had planned on tonight.” 

“Do you think I came here just for that?” Din frowns as he runs his fingers though Cobb’s hair, checking for any hidden bumps. “That I see you as what? A convenient fuck.”

“Can’t see any other reason.” Cobb says, letting his eyes fall closed at the feeling, almost asking Din to keep stroking through his hair when he pulls away all too quickly. “I wouldn’t blame you, if it was.”

“Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Din says, gently taking hold of Cobb’s face in both of his hands. Cobb should probably feel intimidated, having the undivided attention of a mandalorian staring him down. But he just feels… cared for. Din presses his thumbs in along his eyes, seemingly satisfied with the lack of response from Cobb. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Cobb shakes his head.  “You could get company anywhere though.” Cobb says, watching as Din stands, removing his armor piece by piece, placing them neatly on the small desk in the room.

“I don’t want anyone else's.” Din says, unzipping his flight suit, stepping out of it. He’s left in just his helmet, boxers and an undershirt when he turns to face Cobb. “I just want yours.” 

Cobb wants to crack a joke here, about how Din looks ridiculous in his under clothes and helmet, but he can’t find the words, can’t do much of anything under Din’s gaze, except feel his cheeks go suddenly warm. 

“Ok,” Cobb says quietly, following Din as he crosses the tiny room, and starts to undress him with the same care he showed to his armor. Slipping Cobb’s shirt down over his shoulders, he can already see the first bruises forming along his ribs, dark purple and mottled. 

“I can get you something for the bruises tomorrow morning.” Din says, letting his fingers trail lightly along Cobb’s ribs and down to his belt.  Cobb lifts his hips when Din asks, letting him pull his pants down, leaving him in just his underclothes too. 

Din lifts the blankets, tucking Cobb underneath before sliding in behind him. He slips his arm around Cobb’s waist, and pulls him gently flush against him, handling him with more care than Cobb thought he was capable of, compared to their usual rough tumbles.  Cobb sighs, relaxing back against Din’s warm chest, resting his arm over Din’s, drawing his hand up to rest over his belly, lacing their fingers together. 

“Hey, Din?” Cobb whispers, smiling when he feels a rumbling hum in response against his back. “Thank you.” 

“Go to sleep.”

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

Okay but let’s talk about the opening of Fallout 4

And I’m not talking about the part where you gotta pantomime your way through a half-hour of BS at least before you’re actually allowed to step out into the world and get shite started [seriously Bethesda, if you’re gonna keep making openings like this, please include a ‘get to the point’ option and stop making modders do it for you. First time it’s interesting, second time it’s mind-numbing.] I’m talking about when you roll up on the museum and have to help out Preston and the gang-- and I’m just gonna rant for a few paragraphs here so here’s a read-more cut so I don’t clog up dashes too badly. 

Fallout 4 never gives you the chance to value human life. 

Fallout 3 had this issue as well, but it’s even more glaring in 4 because in 3 an order came down for your death. When you aren’t given a choice, what you’re doing can at least be penciled in as self-defense. 4 expects you to devalue raiders and treat them as unreasonable threats, to see them as a shooting gallery and nothing else... but there’s a serious problem with the framing.

You made me pantomime being a normal person for the first 30 min to hour of your experience, and now you’re telling me a normal person can just pick up a gun and start popping people with no moral issues. 

This is required to even get close enough to talk to Preston. He might take out all the raiders if you’re willing to wait 20 minutes, but when you put yourself into the role play head space of a character, what kind of person ducks behind the sandbags and waits for the dude with the laser to pick everyone off? And there is no force preventing you from simply running away, this is true-- but doing so simply removes your ability to interact with what is a core mechanic of the game a-la the minutemen and establishing settlements. So if you wanna keep the game experience intact, and follow along with the mission? Murder is required, without any time taken out to consider the value of human life or if that murder is justified, or if your character is capable of that kind of violence. 

To say I dislike this headspace in shooters, that whomever the denoted ‘bad’ group is are just okay to treat as squishy playthings, more so in shooters that try to integrate choice and morality, is a massive understatement. There are plenty of other things in the commonwealth that could threaten a group of settlers that aren’t people, and framing us as a normal person [PARTICULARLY IF YOU PLAY AS ‘NORA’ WHO WAS NOT A MILITARY MEMBER] who is just immediately ready for this is ASSUMPTIVE BULLSHIT. More so when you remember that if you played as ‘Nate’ this dissonance would be less-- it assumes a male audience who would choose the male protagonist, and his military service makes this opening a lot smoother. But when you don’t? It becomes batshit insane. Your average lawyer is not ready to just pick up a gun and wreck people, even when there are innocents on the line. 

So, if ya like, I’m gonna propose an ‘alternate’ idea for what this mission could have been that would have kept all the same elements. The raiders, the power armor, the deathclaw-- but not forced the player character directly into murder. 

Step 1: Finding Dogmeat. 

When we find Dogmeat, he appears to be just... wandering the gas station? And yeah, he’s in our path, but Mama Murphy appears to think that Dogmeat went and found you, so let’s take that a step further. Let’s say Dogmeat actually ran and found you-- that he spawns into the world when you get past the footbridge, and no matter where you go from there Dogmeat will find and bark at you. That no matter how you treat him, Dogmeat will try to lead you to Concord and ruin your stealth by running in circles around you and barking if you try to go the wrong way. That this pupper is trying to find someone to help his group, he found you. 

Step 2: The approach.

So say we follow Dogmeat, who leads us to where the raiders and Preston’s group are in standoff. And yeah, sure, we pass the main road where they’re all sandbagged up, but Dogmeat leads us around back to a rear entrance the raiders have not yet realized exists. Possibly a fire escape that has a ladder that could be released from above that was pulled up when Preston and co hunkered down. While, yes, the player could choose to engage the raiders at this point, deciding they’ve seen enough and take on the museum from the front? Going around, Dogmeat barking, and Mama appearing to let the ladder down because she probably knew you were coming gives you a non-violent in. Why haven’t the group left? There’s too many of them to just sneak out, Mama is old and slow, and Jun is nearly catatonic. No changes have to be made to the group to make that path out non-viable, it’s simply a way for you to get in, speak to Preston, and understand what the fuck we’re dealing with here without the one and only solution being kill everyone-- though the power armor is posited as something that might be helpful in a show of force to get the raiders to fuck the fuck off. 

Step 3: The Raiders.

Banditry is not something ‘bad people’ do. It is an act of desperation. The idea that all the raiders are just the most repugnant people on the planet, and there appears to be no fuckin’ end to them is the same flavor of bullshit that’s used in all that war on drugs propaganda 50′s politicians were so high on. The idea of ‘Oh, the raiders are just bad people, so it’s okay to shoot at them’ ignores that they are people. People with lives. People with motivations. People who had their own path that led to where they are and what they’re doing. And what motivates a person to this kind of violence?

Starvation, usually. And I’ll be the first to say I don’t make great decisions when I’m hungry, either, but let’s dig a little deeper on this. Let’s step into the role of the leader of a raider group for a few seconds, get into this head space, and think about what’s going down with Preston’s group. 

Imagine that I am a leader of a raider band. Let’s imagine that it started as me and a friend getting forced out of Diamond city, possibly given exile, because we couldn’t find work and decided to steal some food. The lack of work was no fault of our own; me and my friend may not have known the right people, or had the right skill sets, or been willing to take work that risked our lives as if we were worth nothing. Maybe we survived on good will for a while, but after so many hungry days got desperate, held up the Dugout for all the caps they had, or stole food from the general store, and tried to run with the take before we got caught. Whether we were caught, stripped of our gains, and then thrown out, or we got away-- we now have a place we can’t go anymore, and are at the mercy of the outside world. Are we bad? Are we bad because we were starving to death and desperate? Am I bad for coming up with a not great plan but at least trying to take action rather than just quietly dying in a gutter? I just wanted to eat. So now me and my friend are drifters, and we stick together because we’re all we got. And maybe we meet another drifter here, and another one there, and on some hungry night someone gets the idea that hey, if we all jump out from the side of the road and threaten a trader, maybe they’ll drop some of their stock without a fight?

We don’t want caps. We want food. We can’t spend the caps, and we don’t wanna get into a fight because none of us can get treatment-- we’re exiles and criminals. We don’t want blood, we want to eat.

So we threaten a trader, and that goes well-- we got supplies! But those supplies don’t erase our records. We still need to live, and this food is only gonna last so long. The traders know about us now, they talk-- even if we got money, who the hell would trust us? No one, that’s who. Even better, sounds like our little hold-up horned in on some other group’s territory that we didn’t even know about, and they ain’t happy with us. We all have guns, but none of us have ever killed anyone. None of us want to. We just wanted to eat.

So did the other group. They just wanted to eat, too, but they saw us horning in on their territory. Their take. Those supplies belonged to them. They have mouths to feed. More than us, probably. We stole from them, and all we wanted was to eat. 

Whatever happens next is desperate, and it’s a baptism in blood. It’s a process of alienation. While there may be a select few who are actually out of their gourd and enjoy the violence, the majority of people who engage in banditry are desperate and hungry. 

So what the hell does this have to do with the group holding up Preston’s group?

By all rights, Preston’s group does not have anything a gang of raiders wants. Even if they’re far enough along that caps have value to them again, able to do trade with their own network, injuries are expensive and often lead to permanent disability because these groups lack consistent access to medical supplies and knowledge, and fatalities means your crew is down an important and useful member. SO WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY WANT? 

In the canon encounter, what they want is nothing. They want to wipe out Preston’s group because the game said so [I think there’s a terminal entry about it later, like they’re getting paid or something, but no payment is worth getting wiped out the way they did, and you don’t run a group that big on blind arrogance alone. Gristle woulda been displaced by then. All the caps in the world aren’t worth your life; you can’t feed dead crew members, and greed is useless when you’re blacklisted from all the settlements with any sense of luxury] They exist to shoot at. But when we ascribe motivation to them, what the fuck do they want? 

The power armor. 

It’s a tool; something that would change the balance of power in the area, make other groups think twice and lower the chance of losses when trying to gain supplies. Screw wiping these morons out, there’s only five of them left-- hold them at stand-off for a day or so until someone breaks and asks to negotiate, make them drop everything they’ve got as the toll for getting out, and then the group steps in to take the prize. There’s no need for anyone to get shot, just gotta starve ‘em out a little and then let them run with their lives. 

Step 4: The Death Claw

So we have a stand-off situation that could... probably be pretty easily negotiated through without major loss of life. Your player character is a third party, after all. Opens up some non-lethal ways of doing things if you wanna convince Preston and co to give up all their stuff if it means getting out with their lives. Likewise, a high speech character could possibly go to Gristle and convince him that you’ve seen the power armor and it’s wrecked, no worth the effort he’s spending on bottling this crew up, and the men he’s probably already lost in the process. Or maybe a character with high intelligence could work with Sturges to sabotage the power armor, handing it over to the raiders knowing that in a day or two it’ll fall apart. All of these make for some interesting shades-of-gray choices...

Then the deathclaw shows up. In the middle of negotiation. Everyone gets forced up to the upper floor; no time to kill each other, there’s a giant murder machine prowling around the lobby and it is only a matter of time before it climbs up to the second floor and starts ripping out walls and doors to get at people.

This could have served to make the situation even more interesting-- if you’d gone aggro in the beginning and started killing raiders in the streets, you have less people to deal with a massive threat that could kill the fuck out of you. If you’d been in the middle of convincing the raiders to take a sabotaged set of power armor, you’d have to explain to them why the power armor isn’t gonna help you... or let Gristle take it and get murdered when it freezes up and leaves him stranded to get ripped out of the can and munched. Is that murder? How’s the player feel about that? Meanwhile, if you hadn’t killed anyone and were in the middle of negotiating a bloodless solution, you might have a chance of unifying everyone to take down the deathclaw-- possibly with a future bonus that Gristle and his crew wanna go straight and giving you the choice to set them up within your settlement system, or becoming yet another ‘civilized’ system that won’t work with them because they’re too far gone. 

...................... I may have to write another fic just to explore these ideas in a modified canon. 

[idabbleincrazy]

Lineage ~ A Missing Scenes Ficlet

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: T

Pairing: Spangel

Characters: Spike, Angel, Mentioned: Wes, Fred, Dru, Angelus, William, Anne Pratt

Word Count: 1425

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, Mutual pining (kinda), Introspection, Sire/Childe dynamics, Vampire Dynamics/Vampire Family Dynamics, Parental Issues All Around, Missing Scene Fic, 5x07: Lineage, past Spangelus

Summary: Spike muses on his failed attempt at comforting Wes, and finds some comfort of his own from Angel.

A/N: Minor warning of Spike reflecting on his mother's demon and the things she said before he staked her, but not detailed. I really had to think long and hard on what scene i wanted to expand on for this one given that it was a Wesley-based episode with only slightly more interaction between Spike and Angel than the last. Think I did pretty good at bridging the gap to help ease the way into the happenings of Destiny.

Feedback is golden!!!!!

Spike watched Wesley beat a dejected path back to his office, a pang of sympathy aching in his silent chest for the ex-Watcher. His wording may have been off-putting, but he did understand quite well how Wes would have felt for those scant few seconds when he thought he’d killed his father. After all, unlike most vampires, he hadn’t wanted to kill his mother. He’d tried to save her, and had been gut-wrenched when the demon in her turned out to be so wretchedly vile. He had only wanted to give her her health back, show her the kindness a loving mother deserved, only for it all to be thrown back in his face, for the truth of his mother’s long-hidden hatred of him to be revealed once the soul no longer kept her from speaking it. 

Was this why the majority of other vampires killed their parents, rather than share the gift their Sires bestowed upon them? Did their lack of a soul finally pull the wool away from their eyes, finally allowing them to see how their fathers had tried to mold them in their image with no thought to what they might want, how their mothers would clutch them to their breast but only to keep them under their thumb, the only way to feel as though they had some semblance of control over anything in their pre-planned lives? Had they finally seen the truth that their parents only loved them so long as they remained in line, kept their heads down and did as told? Less and less fledges bothered to seek out their parents for their first kill these days, but Spike had put it down to the fact that Sires barely bothered to stick around long enough to see them fight their way from the dirt, let alone order them to kill off their family. 

He had once figured it was a rite of passage, from one life to the next; scratch out your old family to begin again with your new. Because that’s what your Sire was, along with anyone else of the shared bloodline, family. Any other Childer they still kept with them and their own Sires, if they had stuck around, were family. Near pack-like in their devotion, and with similar pecking orders, each Clan had a duty to their blood, and so, he had always figured each fledge had been told to rid themselves of any mortal ties as a show of dedication to their new life, an act of fealty. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe he was just one of the few who had been fooled into thinking they had actually been loved by their parent. Drusilla had never thought to order him to kill his mother, had never explained the deeper meaning of it. And by the time he had met Angelus, the mishap had already fled his mind, tucked away as just another tragic loss, and he never thought to ask.

Spike sighed, shaking himself from his thoughts. Any more brooding, and he’d start turning into Angel. Lord knew he did enough of that for the both of them. 

Spike decided it was worth a check-in with his Grandsire; knowing him, he had probably done the same thing he had in an awkward attempt to comfort Wesley, calling forth the remembrance of killing his own father once he had risen from the grave. At least the pillock was talking to him again, instead of turning him away with a wordless look or grunt, or ignoring his presence all-together. He still couldn’t quite figure out the whole cold-shoulder stint, and was anxious to keep it from happening again. He was after all, family. The only one left who he could still turn to. Family had always meant too much to William for his own good, and Spike was just the same, no matter the years between the two lives. Angelus had treated him like family, much as any vampire could, and that bond still smouldered there, regardless of all the pain and anger of their past. Too deep to smother even with a pair of souls between them. Odd, that even as a not-quite-a-ghost, those feelings lingered, bolstered even, by this new level of loneliness that came with his intangibility. 

He floated through the closed door of Angel’s office, and as expected, found him staring out the window, lost in thought. 

“Can feel you brooding from all the way out in the lobby, mate. Take it you tried to comfort Percy too, eh?”

“Yeah,” Angel spoke softly, not turning from the view as Spike sidled up alongside him. “Don’t think it worked very well. Killing your father in a hatred-fueled bloodlust isn’t exactly the same as thinking you killed your father to protect someone you care about.”

“Guess not. Don’t worry, Peaches. You’re not the only one with egg on ‘is face. Told him ‘bout me mum. There’s a bit of info he probably never got from all those books at the Academy.”

Angel huffed a quiet laugh, turning to look over at Spike. There was an odd sadness in his eyes as he regarded his insubstantial Childe. Spike felt almost as though he were standing in another ghost’s cold-spot as his Grandsire considered him, a shiver running down his spine. 

“You always were more human than demon, weren’t you William?” Angel ignored the look Spike gave him at the use of his old name. “You tried to save your mother, instead. I’m sorry that didn’t work out for you the way you had hoped.”

“Nah, worked out for the better, in the end, didn’t it? Angelus woulda had a field day takin’ the mickey out of me for it, straight away. A fledge with mummy issues. Do wish the demon in her hadn’t shown itself to be quite so crass though. Took a while to shake that off.”

Angel frowned, knowing all too well what Angelus would’ve done. How he would have tormented the boy to no end, used his mother to bring him to heel, only to stake her right in front of him. He found himself wishing yet again that he could reach out and actually touch Spike, the demon in him wanting to provide some paltry comfort to the melancholy Childe beside him. 

“There’s a reason why fledges aren’t meant to Sire anyone. Whelps, either. Had Dru been thinking clearly, she would have thought to forbid it. The turn, it doesn’t work out right if the Sire isn’t at least close to master status. I’ve heard tales of it going even worse than your attempt. What your mother became, wasn’t her. A demon that unfit would have taken even the purest love and twisted it.” 

Spike was grateful he couldn’t cry in this ghostly form, his eyes stinging with the unshed tears. He focused his thoughts and reached out to lay his hand over Angel’s where it rested against the back of the couch, his lips curling up into a sad smile. 

“Thanks, Grandda. Not sure how much I really believe that, but thanks all the same. Reckon it provided me more comfort than either of us gave Head Boy.” Angel huffed again and looked down at their hands. Spike gave his fingers a squeeze, his soul lifting a bit as he saw Angel register the feeling with a flutter of his eyelids. “Saw Brain Girl headed over to ‘is office, maybe she’ll do a better job at it than us, yeah?”

“Hmm, hopefully. Fred’s usually pretty good with that stuff.”

Spike pulled his hand away and made to leave, not wanting to wear out his welcome so soon as he’d regained it. 

“Guess I’ll be off then, let you get back to your musin’.”

“Spike.” Spike paused mid-turn, his head tilted in confusion. Angel rolled his eyes to diffuse his own nerves. He spent weeks keeping his Childe at a distance and figured they could both do with a bit more of each other’s company; he knew how much the boy hated being alone so much. “You can stay, really. I can brood just as easily with you here.”

Spike scoffed and returned to his spot, this time his hand merely resting on the couch next to Angel’s, unwilling to push his luck. He may not quite be walking on eggshells with his Grandsire, but he could feel how fragile their companionship still was. He could make do with the silence for now if it meant they were taking a step closer to what they were before.

“Ta.”

~~~~~

@thewhiterabbit42​ @prose-for-hire​  

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 72

If we still had film or that damn Polaroid camera, I thought, from my perch in the tree above the beach, watching as our group trained below me. I was watching, my quiver on my back, bow hung over my shoulder, and pad to scribble notes on in my hand. This was my new reality. With Lydia’s mother throwing down a gauntlet that warned us just what the Whisperers were truly capable of, the loss, the cruelty, we trained regularly now. And with training came new duties. With new duties came new bullshit. One such thing was my current predicament.

 Not only had I learned to climb a fucking tree better than a spider monkey with more shit packed on me than I cared to think about, but I was being given more responsibilities. There were, pardon the fucking pun, whispers about giving me one of our communities to lead, but I put my foot, leg, entire fucking being down on that one. I didn’t care what my last name was, I was NOT going to suddenly be the fucking leader. Nope. Not gonna happen. No matter how much often Negan brought it up with a twinkle in his fucking eye. Weirdos, every single one of them.

Where was I? Right, sitting alone in a tree, watching my baby sister attack a fucking undead beast while our mom proudly waited to see if she needed backup. What do you do on an average day? I jotted notes, where I saw weaknesses. What I thought could use some improvement, how I thought we could close ranks better. My gaze didn’t linger on anyone too long, not Judith, not Mom, not Daryl. This was training, there wasn’t time to worry or fret. I had to treat it like a battle, and in battle every second counts. Kissing a boo boo or hugs and loving can come after the danger is neutralized, first things first.

 Once the last of the dead was truly dead, I lowered myself to the ground, raking my eyes down the list, reading through my notes to make sure they made sense. Daryl and Mom join me, each one hovering over one of my shoulders, to read over what I noted.

“I noticed that that flank seemed weak-” Mom pointed out, and I heard Daryl give a small grunt of agreement. “If we move-” and on and on.

“Tara woulda been proud of what we’ve done here,” Daryl said, drawing me out of a daydream I didn’t realize I’d fallen into. I blinked away from the mesmerizing sound of the waves crashing and noticed that the two of them were watching me and not the sea. I had to fight against the urge to roll my eyes OR jump in the fucking ocean.

“She told me-” I sighed, I knew exactly what Tara had told her, them. What I’d told HER. Fuck. “You’re right, Jessi, you KNOW that.” Sure, but it doesn’t mean I WANT it. “Ezekiel needs a break. It’s time.”

“No it’s not.” I pushed away from the two of them. My FAMILY for fuck’s sake. “I’m going to go find Rick Grimes’ OTHER offspring. Do me a favor and don’t divvy up the other communities until I get back? I’d hate for Judith to end up with Oceanside and RJ to get, shit, what’s left?” With that parting shot, I finally rolled my eyes, my shoulders, and my neck and left in search of the two members of my family that didn’t ruin my day for shits and giggles.

Unless of course, I was staring down at the mask that was looking up at me with a mocking stare, my baby brother happens to fish out a fucking Whisperer mask during playtime on the fucking beach. Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the fucking saints. Seriously?!

As though regular training sessions as friendly communal communities wasn’t enough? Now we’re talking lockdowns and people are elevating issues faster than we did after 9/11. Yes, I recall the olden days when things like terror attacks were big news rather than you know, people eating and killing one another was what happened on any day that ended in ‘y’. I was arguing with Mom, knowing that Judith wanted to argue beside me, but this time I actually had a leg to stand on, and Daryl shocked everyone by siding WITH me.

“She’s right.” He muttered, eyes locking on Mom’s. “Jessi’s the only one that stands up for her,” Lydia, he meant, since I was the only other person beside him that was openly supportive of him as an unbiased backer. Mom’s voice was as the leader, and she stayed out of the votes in Council, the others were openly disdainful and THIS? This fucking mask was going to fuck things up for that poor girl in ways that I didn’t even want to think about. “She’s got to go back, soon.”

Judith wanted to come with me, but I shot that down. Her and RJ, they had to wait and come back with Mom and Daryl. Safer with larger numbers, with stronger soldiers, with more eyes and more weapons, I knew she wanted to argue. Luckily she didn’t.

 I’m nearly within the site of the wall of Alexandria when the explosion rings out. And trust me when I say that the worst place you could ever fucking want to be during an explosion like that is on a fucking HORSE. I was pretty sure that I had bruises in spots that even Negan wouldn’t find.

By the time it’s all said and done, I’m in pain, I’m exhausted, and it seems never ending. And I’m right on all counts. I’m back home, but I haven’t a clue what’s going on, because it’s mass chaos. Just constant motion, no sleep and go go go.

Lydia is beside me, promising me that she hasn’t given up, but also that her mother isn’t behind what’s going on. Which I try to focus on, but then Negan is near me and he’s asking me if something hurts and then there’s nothing BUT pain. FUCK. Pain and bright burning light.

“Did you fall?” Why is his voice so fucking echoy? He’s right in front of me, but his voice is so far away? I’m trying to make sense of it, of any of it, but then the dizziness hits. “Jessica Grimes, don’t you fucking dare shut your goddamn eyes you hear me?” My eyes snap open. “That’s right, sweetheart, look right at me.” And then Daryl is beside him and his lips are moving but I don’t have a clue what he’s saying. “She’s got a goose egg, see?” Negan’s hand is covered in blood, where the fuck did he get all that blood? “Yeah, she’s not going to be our little soldier today.” And then nothing.

 When I wake up completely and truly, I’m in my bed in my little house, with Negan holding me cradled to his chest. My first thought, not going to lie, was that I’d died. That I had finally died and was completely and totally dead and gone and we were both in heaven. That’s the only way that he was in my house, without being cuffed, holding me like he wasn’t a lifelong prisoner of my father and family.

“How are you feeling, Jessi?” His voice was rough and deep, from sleep, worry, and from being Negan. I sighed at the very sound of it, and from the way it vibrated through me.

“My head hurts,” understatement of the decade. My head felt like I’d been using it as a battering ram on the world’s heaviest door or wall. “What did I miss?”

Negan’s sign felt heavier than my head. “A lot, but then again, not much.” He snuggled further into me and I let myself return the favor. “That fucking mask has everyone acting like they all have needles up their assholes. Lydia’s taking the brunt of it, of fucking course. Between that and some satellite that has Dr. Smartypants up in arms, the constant undead fucks showing up from the fucking noise, and you, Jessi Grimes, practically crawling up covered in blood and looking for all the fucking world like death-” he groaned, clutching me to him and rolling me onto my back so he could hover over me and drink me in. Making sure that I was really alright, in one piece, and he took time to check every single inch of me. And he wasn’t just using his hands.

I was arching up into his very talented mouth, pleading with him to stop or to give me more, or possibly for him to just fucking smother me when I heard it. A tiny little sort of noise. And maybe, possibly, just MAYBE if I hadn’t heard the noise in a past life I wouldn’t have heard it this particular time, but I had and I did. “Daryl?” It came out louder than I meant it to, and it had an effect that NONE of us expected- or alright ALL of us did.

“NOT my name, Jessi,” Negan’s voice was muffled, and oddly amused, and he seemed intent to keep his mouth thoroughly occupied. His tongue flicked me THERE and I gasped, right when Daryl’s head cleared the doorway. Fuck.

“Damn it,” Daryl growled, even though Negan was UNDER the blanket and ALL of my pertinent bits were modestly covered and to be fair Daryl was PRIVY to ALL those bits. “Why’d ya go and holler for me?”

“Wasn’t actually a ‘holler’,” Negan offered, still sounding mumbled, still NOT helping. “And it’s your own damn fault, you made a noise.”

“She made one first,” Daryl accused, and I felt like I had to be hallucinating. Clearly I was experiencing traumatic brain injury, right? I’d wake up and NONE of this would be real. RIGHT?!

[littlemisswolfie]

i get too attached

Based on this post [x]. New Moon AU where Charlie calls Harry instead of Billy when Bella gets depressed because he thinks Leah can help.

Bella Swan is a pathetic girl, Leah thinks. And it makes her angry because she used to be a pathetic girl, too.

She never asked for this. She never asked to babysit the daughter of the white guy her dad hangs out with. But her dad said, “You know what it feels like to be in her shoes. You’re her best hope,” and Leah can’t bear to let her father down after he weathered her meltdown after Sam left, so she agreed. And now Bella is sitting in her living room in a hoodie than hangs off her too-thin frame and barely breathing. 

Jacob Black has been sniffing around the house, but Leah chased him off with her dad’s rifle after the fifth time he knocked on the door. “If she wanted you,” she spat, “she woulda asked. Get off my property.”

Everyone around her--her dad, her teachers, her friends--are babying her. And Leah doesn’t think that’s what she needs, because it’s definitely not what she needed. So she barks, “Hey, Swan, you like cooking, yeah?”

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Bella lifts her head and meets Leah’s eyes with her own. “Yes,” she says, so quiet Leah almost can’t hear her over the sound of the waves nearby.

“Good.” Leah throws the fridge door open and gestures vaguely to the insides. “Mom’s working a double tonight and none of the rest of us can tell our ass from a frying pan. If you’re gonna be hanging around here, you might as well pull your weight.”

Leah waits for the command to register, and watches with no small amount of satisfaction as Bella slowly rises from the couch and makes her way to the small house’s small kitchen. “Allergies?” she asks, sounding a little more sure of herself now that she has a task.

 Biting back a smug grin, Leah says, “We’re garbage disposals. We’ll eat anything.”

*

Leah isn’t gentle with Bella Swan. She doesn’t talk to her in a soft voice or walk on eggshells around her. She’s loud and commanding and crude, because that’s what she wanted when she was mourning the loss of Sam and his love.

And, lo and behold, not babying an almost adult and making her confront her feelings actually works. Who fucking knew?

*

Leah looks at the two trashed bikes in the bed of the old truck, then to Bella, then back to the bikes, then back to Bella. “Are you high? What makes you think I know anything about bikes?”

Bella doesn’t cower like she used to when Leah snapped at her. “What? Are you afraid of getting your hands dirty or something?”

“Where’d you even get these pieces of shit?” Leah asks, not willing to dignify her taunt with a response. 

“I found them on the road.”

“And you just picked them up?”

“No one else wanted them, obviously.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

“You can bitch at me and hold a wrench at the same time. Let’s see if we can get these babies up and running.”

And, well. A snarky, swearing Bella is a lot more entertaining than a zombie Bella, so Leah rolls up her sleeves and gets to work.

*

Bella brings a printed out tutorial for riding motorcycles to the rez after the bikes are fixed up and they spend a few days teaching themselves how to ride. When Bella falls off and scrapes her knee and passes out at the sight of her own blood, Leah runs back to town to buy her knee pads. The only kind the closest store has are kiddie ones, but Bella’s definitely small enough, so Leah buys a whole set of sparkly Barbie elbow-and-knee pads.

Bella laughs when she sees them, and the sound makes Leah’s heart thud a little harder in her chest.

*

Leah’s over at Bella’s for once, sitting with criss-crossed legs on the cool tile of the Swans’ kitchen floor while Bella whips up a lasagna that smells so good her mouth is actually starting to water, when she finally feels comfortable enough to open up.

“Do you ever wonder why your dad called my dad instead of Billy?” she asks.

Bella pauses in her layering and tilts her head down towards Leah. “Not really. Why?”

“Because he knew I know how you feel.”

Bella freezes. “What do you mean?”

And so Leah tells her about a girl and a boy, and about a life they were supposed to spend together, and about the girl’s heart-sister who took her happily ever after away.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until Bella’s arms (still too thin, god, she needs to eat more, what the fuck?) snake around her shoulders and pull her head to rest on her pale shoulder, exposed by her too-big Mariners shirt that is probably actually Charlie’s. “I’m here,” she says in a soothing voice that somehow doesn’t make Leah feel like she’s being pitied. “I’m here.”

It takes another twenty minutes for the lasagna to make it into the oven, but Leah doesn’t complain.

*

Despite her newfound friendship with Bella, Leah feels her temper rising. Little things like Seth using up the rest of the milk or her mom not closing her door when she leaves her room send her flying off the handle. For a few weeks she thinks it’s PMS, but when her period comes and goes and she still feels angry all the time, she starts to worry.n

It all comes to a head one night when her dad gets upset with her for a bad grade on an English test. What could have been a quiet, if heated, confrontation becomes a shouting match that makes Seth (little Seth, who’s grown what seems like a foot in a month) start edging towards the gun mounted on the wall. 

Then her dad says, “Maybe I should call Charlie and tell him not to send Bella ‘round anymore if you can’t focus on your studies--” and that’s what does it. Anger tears through her like a bullet and suddenly her bones and muscles are snapping in unnatural directions and her clothes are shredding and where she was once a young woman she is now a gray wolf.

*

Leah knows she killed her father.

That’s why she doesn’t answer Bella’s phone calls. That’s why she keeps her door locked when she smells Bella coming into the house. 

Her father had a heart attack because of her. And she’ll never forgive herself.

Maybe being in the boys’ heads and the boys being in her head is her punishment. Having to see Emily living the life she was supposed to live is how she can pay for her father dying. 

(Except it doesn’t hurt, seeing them together. She doesn’t want Sam anymore. She doesn’t think she has in a while. The worst thing about the pack mind is Jacob fucking Black and his 24/7 Bellathon.)

(She refuses to think about the implications of that.) 

(Because Bella already loves someone else. A very male, very leech-like someone else.)

*

The day of the funeral, Bella has finally had enough.

She pounds on the door to Leah’s bedroom. “Fuck you, Leah Clearwater!” she shouts. “You don’t get to abandon me! Not like Edward! I won’t let you!”

“Leah.” She winces at the sound of her mother’s stern voice. “Bella’s right. I understand you’re hurting, but you can’t cut yourself off. Get your ass out of your room and come to the funeral, or else I’m gonna tan your hide.”

Leah’s already dressed in her funeral dress that’s a few inches too short on her, even though she wore it to old man Joseph Featherstone’s funeral six months ago. Must be the werewolf thing. She looks at herself in the hand-held mirror she nailed to her wall by the handle in an attempt to recreate a vanity a few years ago and sighs. “Time to face the music, Lee Lee,” she mutters to herself, and she stands up and throws open the door.

As soon as her eyes meet Bella’s, her whole world crumbles and rebuilds itself, with a skinny, pasty, leech-loving white girl at the center of it all. 

“Fuck,” she says. and before either Bella or her mother can react, she pulls Bella into her arms and buries her nose at the point where her shoulder slopes up to her neck and inhales, and, for just a moment, things aren’t terrible.

One day, they might even be kind of alright.

<Previous | First | Next>

[justsmilestuffhappens]

Day 5 (14th of February) - Valentine’s day gone wrong @buddietinesweek

Coincidence for your thoughts

Eddie couldn't believe he was doing this. Yeah he'd tried to dated one nice woman a few months ago but was this okay. He didn't know how he felt entirely about this.

Tía Pepa: Eddito try it. You don't have to sleep with them just mingle and take it from there.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he stood in front of the restaurant. He couldn't believe she signed him up for this.

Tía Pepa: Don't roll your eyes at me like you do sometimes chico.

He huffed as he walked in. He got seated at his station for the speed dating. He felt like this made him look desperate but Eddie didn't want to judge the others here everyone had their own reasons. Maybe some of them were looking for meaningful connections and not just a lay on valentine's.

The first round began. As he started talking to a sweet red head he heard a distinct laugh. Huh?

Eddie turned from where he was seated on the outside corner of a square seating arrangement with the guests facing outwards towards their moving dates.

"No one's ever said that about my birthmark before. An angel kiss huh. That's a new one." Buck said with a smile to a tall brunette.

"Well that's what we call them in babies where I work. Some fade but not always. My sister has one by her lip. So what kinda name is Buck?" She smiled and squinted.

"Well Meg it's my nickname from my last name Buckley." He laughed.

"Umm. Eddie was it? Look if you'd rather wait for her to come around then fine. It was nice meeting you." Layla said as she checked out of the conversation and pulled out her phone.

"Sorry." Yikes. Way to go Eddie.

He didn't correct her that his attention was actually drawn to Buck and not the woman. It wouldn't have made much of a difference he felt. Buck was here too?

The bell dinged. Eddie had one more person before the brunette was at his table.

"Hi. I'm Reina. What's your sign?" His new date asked with dirty blond hair and a streak of blue.

"Umm. I don't really know that. I think it's scorpio or taurus." Eddie answered with a shrug.

"Uh. No. I'm sorry. I'm not DTF or whatever. I've got a strict no sex on the first date policy now." Buck chuckled then nervously looked down from his date.

"You're wasting my time? If the sex is bad then why would I bother." Another blond said throwing her hand up in annoyance. "Ring the bell already!"

Wow. Eddie didn't know whether to be happy or sad buck was having a bad time with this one. He decided he could be both if she wasn't willing to wait it was her loss. Buck was worth waiting for.

"Oh God. Help!" Meg the first girl paired with buck who was between them now shouted.

Both Eddie and Buck got up and moved together to help her date now.

The guy between them was clutching at his throat.

Eddie lowered him down on the ground with Bucks help who didn't even question Eddie's presence. They fell into their usual routine.

"Anaphylaxis?" Buck asked as he kept people a safe distance from them for breathing room.

"Yeah buck. Sir I'm gonna check your pocket. Do you have any kinda EpiPen?" Eddie was already checking both. Nothing.

"I've got one!" Reina pulled it out of her purse.

Eddie injected his thigh as Buck was already on the phone for an ambulance to be dispatched.

"Peanuts." He rasped.

"Okay sir. An ambulance is coming. They're gonna make sure you're okay. We don't know if you'll need another dose before you get to the hospital." Eddie looked at the table.

There were no peanuts out to trigger his allergy though.

"Meg?" Buck asked as if he'd read his mind.

"I ate some earlier. Fuck! I didn't know." She was crying. "I'm sorry"

"He's gonna be alright. It's not your fault. We've got him." Eddie tried soothing her worry.

It was an easy but dangerous mistake. She was still a stranger to him after all and he didn't know to tell her.

The paramedics from another station took the guy and nodded at the handoff as they strapped him to a gurney .

Blake, as they'd learned was the man's name, had insisted on giving Meghan his business card with his cell written on the back.

The speed dating session had sorta broken up in all the chaos. Only a few were still willing to stay and went back to their seats.

Buck, Meg, and and Eddie among the ones to leave.

"Dude that was crazy. I feel bad for the guy. Reminds me of my bad valentine's day experience. Choked on a breadstick. Abby managed to give me a tracheotomy, it didn't scar too bad." Buck was standing with Eddie outside.

"Wait. That was on valentine's? I just remember it being bad. Holy shit Buck!" Eddie's glad she saved him. It sounded horrifying and must have been worse to experience or remember.

"Yeah. I think it was just us both being nervous. Took it as a sign from like god trying to help me not have sex after our date. I was still Buck 1.0 back then." Buck turned to his name being called.

"Are you two paramedic?" Meghan asked as she walked over.

"Uh, well my partner Eddie here is more so than me. We're firefighters for the 118. It could have happened to anyone. He'll probably be fine. Don't beat yourself up." Buck said.

"Oh wow. Maybe it's fate you two saved him. Thanks again. I woulda been scarred for life and Blake would be dead." With that she left to her SUV.

"Hey. Wanna grab a bite? Chris is with Pepa tonight since she wanted to make sure I had no excuse for not coming."

"Dude I'm starving. When Maddie told me about this I thought it included dinner. I couldn't even enjoy happy hour because of my blood thinners. It's bogus." Buck laughed making Eddie laugh too.

"Well if you'd read the letter at the door. So follow me back to mine or wanna go to yours?"

"Definitely yours. If you drink too much you won't have to drive." Buck patted Eddie's arm before going to his jeep.

Eddie's truck read out a voice command text he got from Buck. He'd order wings and rice that'd get there a little after them.

Once they were at Eddie’s they went inside.

"So. I didn't know you were gonna be there, it's good you felt to trying. Maddie had to threaten posting my karaoke routine if I didn't agree to try it. My own sister blackmailing me, can you believe that?" Buck joked as he got the door paying.

"I know how you feel. It could've been worse. That could have happened to us or we might not have been there." Eddie helped sort their order after Buck brought it to the table.

Buck could have one of his egg rolls since he always gave Eddie a few of his wings.

"Maybe Meg was right? Fate brought us together to help save that guy. And got us out of Amelia's love is a battlefield warpath. She’d have gotten to you in a few rings of that dumb bell." Buck poured some of the hot sauce Eddie liked and had gotten him into.

"Dtf?" Eddie joked.

"Oh man. You heard that? We're be being that loud?" Buck cringed.

"No. Umm. I'm just good at picking you out of a crowd. Gotta be able to find my partner to have his back Buck." Eddie said

He was avoiding saying how he'd been drifting to listening to Buck and his date thought he was interested in the woman with buck but she was wrong.

Buck drank from his glass before talking again.

"You ever seen Love Actually? Me and Mads watched it for the first time the other night. I think it's running again tonight or we could look it up." Buck waited for a replay.

"Only pieces of the beginning. We can look after we're done."

Watching a romcom sounded good. After they could see something else.

They both ended up passed out on the couch a little after the movie was over and they'd switched to an action movie with spies fighting over a girl dating both of them.

Neither had said much after the first movie was done and the revelation that the guy was coming home from overseas to return to his boyfriend or husband. They’d been starting to doze off.

They'd wake up after an hour to lay down properly as Eddie reminded Buck of his back.

It was a great pseudo date even if neither of them wanted to risk calling it what they felt.

Eddie couldn't tell if it was the beer, him being rusty, or him feeling comfortable when Buck but he woke to him in the morning without being startled.

"So. I'm gonna start on breakfast if you want first shower." Buck said from Eddie's doorway as he turned to him knocking on it.

"You're the best. Be our live in chef Buck." Eddie half joked before yawning.

"Careful or I might take advantage of sleepy and hungry Eddie's offer." Buck teased with a wink.

"You say that like it's a bad thing" Eddie grinned.

Was that too flirty? Uh.

"I'm sure we could work something out. Living here. Getting to see you guys more. Commuting to work. Sounds like it'd have its perks." Buck shrugged and laughed. "Alright sleepy head. Get up. I've got pancakes and eggs to make."

With that buck left to the kitchen.

Eddie thought about it. Buck's place was nice but they had room here. He wouldn't mind if Buck actually did take up his offer. Eddie would tell him again later, sans sleep in his voice.

For now he needed to get ready. Buck could go with him to pick up Christopher and drop him off at school. Chris would love that.

Eddie knew Christopher would love Buck moving and being around more too. It felt right.

He let the water wake him fully as he heard Buck whistling and singing while he cooked. Eddie wouldn't mind waking up like this more often, that's for sure. He hoped Buck would think about it.

[nancywheelxr]

Hey can you do the rest of the siblings finding out what happened to Klaus while he was in Vietnam? And maybe them eventually believing him when he says he’s sober because of this? Honestly anything with Klaus and validation would be wonderful. I’m sorry if you’ve done this already or if it was too vague! I reallly enjoy your writing, you’re doing a great job:) thank you for existing

Hey, thank you so much! Actually, thank you for existing!

“Is this Vietnamese food?”

It’s a fair question to ask and Diego can see where Allison is coming from, but perhaps the more pressing question would be: “since when do you cook?”

“Well, you know,” Klaus shrugs, sitting down himself at the table like this is just another dinner and not the most surprising thing yet to happen today, and honestly that in itself is a true feat. “There was this sweet old lady in the bar we used to go back in Vietnam, she used to give us free food. Well, me and,” there’s a barely noticeable hiccup on his voice, and Diego is sure the others don’t notice, except maybe Allison, but he does, and he regrets asking in the first place. “Dave. She said he reminded her of her son. Anyway, she taught me how to cook a few things.”

It’s strange to see Klaus grow quiet, his sentence ending without any exclamation points or nonsensical things to make someone laugh, and sure, it’s better than the mood swings from the first days after he came back from ‘68, but it’s still odd and uncomfortably sad.

His siblings, though, aren’t aware of the shit they’re dragging up when Luther frowns, setting his fork down. “Wait. Did you just say Vietnam?”

“Who’s Dave?” asks Allison, and Five grimaces in a way that tells Diego he also knows this is not going to be a good night for Klaus.

“Right,” Klaus says, drawing out the word and pushing food around uninterested in his plate. A crease appears on his forehead as he stares down his glass, eyes unfocused. “I keep forgetting I never told you guys about the war.”

“I’m sorry, war?” Vanya coughs, choking on her soda in bewilderment. Which, Diego supposes is a fair reaction. “As in the Vietnam War?”

“That’s the one,” he snaps his fingers in her direction and points, but the cheerfulness in his gestures doesn’t reach his eyes. Klaus is always bleeding out emotions, and if his manic glee was easy to spot before, his sadness is no different, especially after everything they all went through together. “Remember that briefcase those psychos with the stupid masks were asking about? So, turns out it’s a time travel machine thingy. Sent me straight to 1968, smack dab in the middle of the war. Who woulda thunk it, huh?”

“Are you telling us that you fought in the Vietnamese War?” Allison asks so incredulous that Diego is surprised her jaw isn’t hitting the floor. She blinks, looks at Luther like she thinks Luther should say something and opens and closes her mouth a few times when he doesn’t. “Klaus, that’s– I mean, I’m so sorry, how did we miss that? Are you alright?”

“Oh, that’s because it brought me back to a few hours after I left. Very convenient, although I wouldn’t recommend it.” Klaus tries for a smile but it’s wobbly and so unconvincing, even Luther picks up on the sadness spilling at the edges. “And I am perfectly fine, it even got me to sober up!”

“So you didn’t spend much time there?” Luther mumbles his way into a question, clearing his throat.

“Ten months,” he says shortly, clipping his answer like it hurts to get the words out. Diego bets it does.

“Jesus Christ, Klaus,” Luther breathes, eyes going wide at the thought of Klaus fighting in a war in the middle of the Asian jungle, more than five decades ago. Ten months in that hellhole– Diego shudders at the thought. “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

There’s a pause, and Diego watches as his brother sips his water with shaking fingers. His entire expression changes, softening into a gentle smile that Diego has only ever seen once before. It’s tender and fond, spelling out so much affection that leaves little room for grief. “I met someone,” he says quietly, almost to himself, and they wouldn’t have heard it if the room hadn’t gone deathly silent. “I loved him more than anything, enough to stay forever if– I loved him.”

The fact that Klaus had come back alone and his use of the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. Vanya looks sadly at him, reaching to pat his hand in comfort, and Allison lets out a little oh. “Was that Dave?” She prods, probably sensing it would be best for Klaus to unfurl his grief off his chest, lay it on the table, talk the hurt down. It might help, not that Diego would know, he prefers to keep things for himself. Sometimes it’s good to keep shit bottled up, sometimes you gotta hold on to the glass shards to remember what looking out the window felt like, even it if it cuts you. But that’s Diego. Klaus has never been like Diego when dealing with shit.

“Yeah,” Klaus nods, smiling the same little smile from before, but it’s definitely sadder now, shaky like his hands. “He was an American soldier, showed me around when I got there, and– he was the best person I’ve ever met. The kindest, the most beautiful, it was like– I never believed in God, but I could believe he was an angel. I thought, I don’t know, that we were gonna ride out the war and, I don’t know, live life? Happily ever after, the whole thing,” now that he started talking, it’s like Klaus can’t stop. The words pour out of him like rain, sizzling down the dinner table. “And we were happy, these ten months. It was hell back there but it was paradise with him, until– war is a pretty dangerous place, you know?”

Diego rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezes comfortingly, because the waver on his voice is so unlike him, they all can’t help wanting to bring back his old self. Well, fairly new old self. The one that laughs without anything else in his blood. Allison averts her eyes, looking down at the flowers embroidered on the table cloth, “I’m so sorry, Klaus. We never knew– if you ever need anything, we are here for you.”

Luther nods along, terribly uncomfortable but seems determined to stick around to show his support, and Five is looking anywhere but at Klaus when he says, “I am sorry for your loss, as well. And like Allison said, we’d like to help.”

“Thanks,” Klaus grimaces, drumming his fingers on the table nervously. Everything about it screams the overall awkwardness about the whole thing. They have never been good at this emotional, sentimental bullshit, each of them bad at it in their own special fucked up way. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

A minute ticks by before Vanya speaks quietly over the second of the clock. “Is that why you got sober? To speak with him again?”

Klaus is the one coughing now, clearing his throat before replying. “Yeah, actually. What’s the point of this little cursed power if I can’t use it for selfish reasons once in my fucking life.”

“Did it work?” She asks again, equally quiet.

This time the look that crosses his face is half anger, half grief. “Not yet,” he huffs, stabbing his food with his fork. “But I’m not giving up on him.”

“Sounds healthy,” Five comments, sounding flippant in his usual way, but Diego can hear the underlying worry. The I understand, and he bets Klaus does too. “But I left Dolores at the department store, so what do I know, right?”

“When is the last time anyone in this family ever did anything healthy?” Diego snorts, taking the opportunity to dispel the heavy air hanging over the room.

“I, uh, ate a salad last week,” Luther volunteers in a rare show of awareness.

There are weak laughs from the others, and Klaus even cracks a smile. It’s a fairly weak start, but baby steps are still steps, and Diego had expected a much worse reaction from them. In fact, he had expected Klaus not to tell them at all.

It’s nice to get a good surprise for once.

[space-helen]

Forever

Words: 3547

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve and the reader knew each other before the war. They’ve been through a lot together including the enlistment process, project rebirth and fighting Schmidt. 

A/N: So the summary is really bad and I also think the fic is very weak in places but I’m going to put that down to the fact I haven’t watched the movie in like a year and the writing break I took. I actually enjoyed writing this though and I’m proud so I hope you enjoy!

Request: Can I request a Steve one-shot, where he falls in love with Bucky's twin sister (and vice versa? Since Reader is patriotic too, she tried to enlist everywhere, just like Steve, and eventually got approved to be the second candidate for Project Rebirth (making her the second super-soldier). Before Steve and Bucky go on their last mission as Howling Commandos, Steve proposes to her + they also go on ice together in the end. - @witch-of-letters

____________________

You picked up the enlistment form from the table. You couldn’t even remember how many you’d filled out, most of the enlistment officers had laughed in your face when you turned up, saying you couldn’t enlist because you were a woman. It was worth another shot though surely? After all, if your twin brother, Bucky, could get in why couldn’t you?

Walking out of the cafe you began heading home, after searching through your bag to find your keys you looked up to see two familiar figures walking out of an alley. “Bucky? Steve?” they turned to face you.

“Y/N” Bucky replied, a smile on his face, Steve stood next to him adjusting his jacket. As you approached them you opened your arms for a hug from Bucky.  

“So want to explain why you two were down a back alley?” you let your eyes run over Steve’s face, seeing his obviously busted lip and dried blood from his nose.

“Well. Steve here was about to get his ass handed to him, but thankfully someone turned up in time to stop that happening.” Bucky said rolling his eyes.

“I said I had it under control. The guy was being an idiot, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Bucky unwrapped his arm from you and ruffled Steve's hair. “Sure you did pal, sure. Anyway, I’ve got to run.” Bucky turned and hugged you “Walk Y/N home would ya Steve? I’ll see you both later.” he patted Steve on the shoulder before heading off in the opposite direction. The fleeting conversation was nothing new from your brother.

The two of you made general conversation as you walked the couple blocks before moving onto how you were going to miss your brother, your voice slightly cracking as you spoke about him leaving. “Y/N it’s alright, Bucky’s going to be ok. Besides you have me here if you need anything.”

You smiled and looked into Steve’s eyes “thanks, Steve." "I know Bucky means a lot to you too, being your best friend and all.”

“Yeah I’ll miss him but he’ll be home soon enough.”

The two of you went silent for a bit. “How’s enlistment going for you?” you asked.

“Same old same old I guess. No one wants me as usual. Trying again tomorrow.” the two of you stopped outside your apartment.

“Me too, I filled the paperwork out today and everything.” you pulled the sheets of paper out of your handbag.

“Guess you’re not having much luck either?”

“Apparently no one wants a woman to fight. Who woulda thought?” you laughed.

“Well you’d make a great addition, you’re the strongest woman I know, determined with a heart of gold. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

The heat rushed to your face “Thank’s Steve it really means a lot. Same goes for you, you’re special you know, destined for great things.”

Steve laughed “Well they’re missing out on the dream team then aren’t they? I guess it’s their loss.” there was a short pause “Well you best be getting inside, I’ll see you later?”

You hugged the man. “See you later.”

You made your way to the enlistment office. You were late and you felt guilty since you said you'd meet Steve. Walking inside you scanned the sea of shirtless men for Steve, people whistling at you as you took steps further into the room. Before long a shorter thin figure standing up caught your eye. You felt even more guilty now, you hadn't even been able to talk to the man before he went in. Nonetheless, you quickly registered before taking a seat where Steve was just sat.

A while later your name was called, standing you walked towards the private rooms when Steve and a grey-haired man, with circular glasses and no white doctors jacket, exited a room and approached the desk. Puzzled you continued walking. Just as you reached the doorway Steve’s eyes caught yours “Is everything ok?” you asked. The man with him turned and smiled at you before leaving Steve’s side.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Go, I’ll be right here when you come out. I’ll explain it all then.” Steve replied as a man in a white coat was trying to guide you into the room.

As always the process went quickly, the examination officer commenting on how maybe you weren’t the best fit for the front, this one specifically seemed against women fighting especially when he said “We don’t need your type on the front. Why are you even bothering to waste our time?”

You shifted on the bed. “What do you mean by my type? Is it because I’m a woman? I care about the lives being lost out there, I want to help.”

The man looked up from his clipboard. “How about you just go home and cook yourself up some dinner? Take your mind off things."

Grabbing your coat and handbag you left the room before practically running out of the enlistment office. Steve hot on your tail. “Y/N!” you kept moving wanting to get as far away from the office as possible “Y/N, wait up will ya?”

Stopping you turned to see Steve come to a halt in front of you, clearly out of breath. The first thing Steve noticed was the tears building up in your reddened eyes. He felt a weight on his chest he hated seeing you upset "What was that all about? Are you ok?"

You looked away from the man before looking back the tears now heavily flowing. "They didn't accept me again." You stammered out "the guy was … he was so rude Steve…"

"Hey." He put a hand on your arm "hey, it's alright. That guy's a jerk. Calm down alright?"

You wiped the tears from your face a couple still falling "I just want to help."

"I know you do. Come here." The man opened his arms up for a hug and you accepted. Burying your head into his neck. He'd always had a heart of gold and been there for you alongside Bucky. Steve soothingly rubbed circles into your back as you stood there in each other's arms.

"Thank you." You whispered as you pulled away.

"No problem at all. I'm here for you." The man said as his eyes scanned your beautiful features.

The two of you began walking side by side, towards your place. "So who was that guy who came out of the room with you?"

Steve looked at you before looking back in front of him, knowing he had to tell you the truth. "He came into my examination and they're giving me a chance. He said that maybe there are enough big guys out there fighting and it's time to give the little guys a go." He paused "so yeah he authorised my application. After grilling me about my multiple enlistment attempts that is."

You laughed "Steve that's amazing. I knew you could do it."

"And I have no doubt you will be able to too. Please don't give up"

You could see your apartment "I wasn't planning on it. I'll keep trying even if it kills me. I can't be here helpless but no one will listen."

"You're voice will be heard. You'll make a change, your special." The two of you stopped outside your apartment your eyes locking together for a moment. Your heart skipped a beat.

Steve coughed to break the silence "well looks like this is you." He awkwardly spoke turning away from you.

"Yeah, this is me I guess." You took a step towards your door before turning around "I am happy for you Steve. You're perfect and really deserve this chance." You could see the man blushing "I'll see you tomorrow or something? Come over or call me."

"Yeah see you soon. Have a nice evening."

"And you Steve."

With that Steve watched as you entered your apartment before heading towards his own.

You hadn't seen Steve in weeks, maybe even months. The last time you'd seen him was after your last failed enlistment attempt when he dropped you home. You were worried.

Then out of the blue, you received a call from him a week later and since then he’d been calling you once to twice a week. Originally talking about his training and then slowly not being able to talk about much his side. Saying it was classified information and that he'd changed. Just from subtle things over the phone, you could tell he'd changed but you didn't know how. He was still that caring person you'd fallen for before he left.

Hanging up you moved away from the payphone and towards the enlistment office. Today was the day again. Another enlistment attempt, but this time was different you didn't have Bucky or Steve with you.

After registering you didn't have to wait long before you were called up. Walking into the room with the open curtain you sat on the bed. The man saying he'd be right back. That was when a soldier walked in and held the curtain for another man. The man that was with Steve. He nodded towards the soldier who left and closed the curtains. Unsettled you shifted on the bed.

"Hello Y/N, my name is Doctor Abraham Erskine. You may have seen me before?"

You nodded "yes I think I have."

"Well, answer me one question. Why do you keep applying?"

You fiddled with your hands, oh God you were in trouble "I just… I can't help but think of all those people out there losing their lives. I want to help out, I want to be heard. There must be alternative methods for winning than the great amounts of bloodshed. There are so many people out there fighting, it might not be the best method but if it's the only one we have right now I want to do it alongside them and maybe work towards something better, help them maybe not make as many mistakes. Be an extra pair of hands and brain to help out." You laughed "Also apparently no one expects a woman on the front so why not? Might trip up a couple people."

You finally looked up at the man who had a sparkle in his eyes and a small smirk on his face. "Well, Miss I agree with you and want to give you the chance. Your friend Mr Roger's said you were determined, had a heart of gold, wanted to make a change, help people in any way you could, were selfless and recommended you for project rebirth, and from what I've seen and looked into you're exactly who we're looking for, for our second candidate."

"What's project rebirth?"

"I cannot divulge too much information but Mr Roger's is currently on the project, he was our first candidate. You would need to do a series of training before we move onto other things."

Steve was on this project. He'd told you he'd changed and you didn't know how. Would the same happen to you? You turned it over in your head before coming to a decision "I'd be more than happy to participate."

The man smiled and shook your hand "Welcome to project rebirth." He scribbled something in your file and the two of you left the room as he stamped your file. "Pack some bags someone will be around to collect you in the morning."

"Thank you, Doctor Erskine."

The training had been going well so far, now you were here, a couple of weeks later ready for what he was calling the ‘rebirth’ to happen. Earlier today you’d had an in-depth conversation with him, he explained how Steve went through the rebirth too and the serum changed him and would change you too. He spoke about how they’d adapted the serum a little bit and didn’t exactly know the extent of the changes that would happen to you but they hoped that they wouldn’t be as extreme. The Doctor mentioned the words super soldier a couple of times but didn’t go into much detail. This all worried you but you’d come this far you couldn’t turn back now? You’d been calling Steve almost daily since starting the training, telling him about all of the different session you’d been having with Agent Carter.

Hearing someone enter the room you looked up from where you were sat on the bed, if you could even call it that, as you peered over to the door you saw a rather bulky, tall, blond man enter the room. You stared at the familiar face for a second before you realised who it was. “Steve?” you rushed over to the man, him capturing you in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you,” you spoke into his chest.

His arm moved to the back of your head and cradled you close, bending down he placed a kiss into your hair. “I’ve missed you too.”

“They said you changed but I didn’t realise it was like this. I thought it was going to be loads of tattoos or something.” you laughed pulling away, receiving a laugh in return as the man tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Dr Erskine appeared next to you “Y/N it’s time.”

Walking over to the bed you lay down and turned your head to look at Steve, “Going to be completely truthful, I’m scared.”

He reached over and held your hand as someone injected something into your shoulder. “Truthfully it will hurt. You can stop it at any time though just say so. Remember project rebirth isn’t about the physical traits it’s about the mindset. Also, you’re so much luckier than me you don’t have an audience.”

You nodded and looked at the ceiling “Ok I’m ready.” closing your eyes you felt something cover your chest and arms before everything became a blur. Steve watched from the side of the room, worry painted all over his face. It hurt him thinking that you were going through the same pain he went through not that long ago.

Before you knew it, it was over, you stumbled out of the device before being caught by Steve. “How’d you feel?”

“Warm” you laughed before you were taken away to conduct a couple of tests.

A while later you were reunited with Steve, the two of you talked about your new abilities and what that meant for the both of you. Steve telling you the things that he had learnt and how he’d been reunited with Bucky. Dr Erskine entered the room and took a seat near you. “The serum appears to have worked in a similar way to how it did on Steve without changing your appearance. You are as strong and fast as him but do not appear any different than before you went through the rebirth.”

You laughed “At least I won’t need to buy a new wardrobe I guess.”

Steve smiled and Erskine nodded his head “Unfortunately we are unable to carry on with training like before as you’re needed out on the front immediately as you’re one of our biggest assets right now. After all, who would suspect a woman?” the man cheekily said.

Seeing Bucky for the first time in a while was a rollercoaster of emotions at first you practically sprinted at the man, nearly knocking him over on impact when you brought him into a tight hug. After embracing for a while you broke down in tears reflecting on how much you truly missed your brother. But now everything was back to normal, the two of you laughing and joking as you normally would back home. Even if you were in a battle situation.

Sitting just outside of camp on a log you were mentally preparing yourself for the next mission with the howling commandos. You’d been on a couple before but you had a feeling that this one was going to be different. You were lost in your thoughts until a small cough from beside you brought you out of them. You immediately knew it was Steve before he even spoke. “May I sit with you?”

Nodding the man took a seat next to you. The two of you had become very close as of late and then Steve finally asked you out a couple of weeks ago and you’d been dating ever since, but it all felt so natural as if you’d been dating for years. “I’m worried Steve.”

The man put his arm around you and brought you into his side “Why? Talk to me?”

“I just have a very weird feeling about this one. It’s probably nothing.”

“If you have a bad feeling. We’ll be extra careful on this one.”

“Thanks.” you tilted your head up to kiss the man. Before the two of you sat in silence for a while, just listening to your surroundings. Steve took in every second of it, the feeling of you in his arms and the peace he felt in this moment. It was rare that the two of you had moments like these.

You shifted in his arms and stood. “We should probably be getting back.” you started slowly walking back, hoping he’d walk with you.

“Y/N wait.” turning around you saw Steve approach you quickly. “I’ve been thinking… I feel like this is the right thing to do but others might not agree. It’s probably not the right time either. I’ve asked Bucky but…”

“Just spit it out Steve,” you said with a small laugh.

“Marry me?” the words came out quickly and you were stuck there in shock. “Obviously not right now. When we get home? After all of this is over.”

You moved towards the man and grabbed his hand he looked up from the floor to meet your eyes “Of course I will Steve. I’ve loved you since way before the war even started.”

Steve’s face lit up before he grabbed you around the waist for an embrace and spun you around. Putting you on the ground he looked panicked. “I almost forgot.” reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small normal-looking cigarette box. “Sorry, it's nothing nicer. I’m so unprepared I was going to find a nicer box for it. When ma’ gave me the ring it didn’t have a box so I used what I could find on the street. Uh, yeah its a street box but let's forget about that.” he opened the box and presented you with the simplest, most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. “It’s not a lot but it’s from my ‘ma. She wanted me to give this to the person I want to spend the rest of my life with and that’s you.”

Steve took your hand and placed the ring on your finger. “Steve it’s beautiful.” Putting your arms around the man’s waist for one more embrace he brought you close before leaning down and placing a tender kiss into your hair.

“Let’s head back.”

“I’ve got to put her in the water,” Steve spoke as you fiddled with a panel trying to disarm some of the bombs but nothing was working.

“Please don't do this, we have time we can work this out.” Peggy’s voice came over the comm

“Right now we’re in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die.” you rushed towards Steve as quickly as you could, a limp slowing you down. In the fight against Schmidt, you’d taken a beating. Trying your best to both stabilise the ship and neutralize the man.

Joining him at the front of the aircraft you saw the problem on the screen and just nodded towards Steve, there was nothing else that could be done. This was for the greater good.

“Peggy, this is our choice,” Steve spoke before he aimed the aircraft towards the sea. He turned his head to look at you before capturing your lips in what could be your last kiss. There was very little likelihood you’d survive this. The kiss was hungry and sad as tears streamed down both of your cheeks.

Pulling away you spoke. “Peggy?”

“I’m here.” you could hear the tears in her voice. She’d been a very good friend to the both of you.

“Once this is over we’re going to need to go out to celebrate. Maybe dancing? After we go bridesmaid dress shopping.” your voice cracked midway through.

“Alright. A week next Saturday at the stalk club. 7 O’clock on the dot don’t be late.”

“We’ll be there.”

“You know I still don’t know how to dance.” Steve joked a small sad laugh came from you

“Just be there, the both of you” Peggy whispered.

Steve ended the transmission with Peggy and looked at you one last time, his blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes filled with tears much like your own.

He turned to look back out of the window as you slid your hand down his shoulder to grab his hand tightly. The other ready to brace yourself on the back of the chair. He brought your hand to his mouth as the ground came closer. “I love you Steve” you sobbed out.

his grip on your hand tightened “I love you Y/N. Forev-”  Tag List: (open)

Let me know if you want to be added to a Steve x reader or marvel tag list :)

[hollowcrovvn]

The Ostensive Fumblings of Being Human (part 3)

Pairing: Connor x female!reader Rating: T (please note rating change) Summary: Set two months after the ending of Detroit: Become Human, androids are living in government created “pop-up” communities while efforts are being made to integrate them into society. You are a grad-student volunteer with the Detroit Crisis Response Unit (DCRU), working to help with relief efforts. And now, finally it’s time for that coffee.

Notes: Disclaimer: I am obsessed with Machiavelli so it was only a matter of time before I threw him in here. And by obsessed I mean I loathe most of his points of view and like some of them. It's a love-hate thing. One of my first “date questions” is always on Machiavelli and I feel like it is very relevant given the upheaval and changes in the “government” in the end of the game as a result of the revolution.Though his bit on Moses is making me have all the Markus-needs-to-eventually-appear inklings. (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (ao3)

It had started as just a regular conversation on interests, tucked in the back of the coffee shop where there were nice sleek couches to lounge in, but had divulged into an intense debate on one of the most important topics of the past-- Kindles.

“Okay. The world treated eReaders like the devil in the early 2010s. Now? Can barely find a printed book anywhere.”

“Which has cut down on mass deforestation since paper is no longer in high demand.” Connor noted, playing devil’s advocate so perfectly it was enough to make a conflict addicted girl swoon.

“Exactly! So why all the fuss back when? Cause of some preoccupation with nostalgia ? Even now you got guys like Hank who bemoan the loss of paperbacks, as if we’re all gonna forget how to read in the meanwhile.”

Connor smiled and reached out, plucking the sleeve of your jacket aka the remake of the 2003 Canada Goose brand. He sat back, looking pleased with himself as you grumbled into your second latte. Granted, it hardly looked like coffee at all but more like chocolate milk with the amount of creamer you’d had them use. You’d refused to order your usual, to Connor’s chagrin. He had not yet it seemed formed an opinion to what your actual favorite was.

“It’s different! They responsibly source the materials for those coats now.” you insisted, but Connor only smiled and smiled, refusing to concede to your point. As if he had any room to talk. This man had at least four different styles, alternating between professional, casual professional, street  and hipster circa 2010. He mixed them sometimes to interesting effects. You were pretty sure he spent the majority of his paycheck on clothes.Then again, after spending most of his life being forced to wear the same damn android branded attire, you could hardly blame his enthusiasm.

“One could argue the shift to electronics however, is contributing to the climate change phenomenon.” Connor added, picking up the paperback book in question that had started this conversation. It was one of Hank’s, which was shocking. The Prince by Machiavelli. You half wondered if it was meant to be a joke on Connor’s expense or if Hank had actually recommended something halfway decent, if not a bit pessimistic, for the Android to learn about.

You huffed, “So we’re killing the planet no matter what. Great. Cheery. I need another coffee.”

Connor’s LED whirled, blinking before settling a solid blue. “Your pulse is elevated to 97 beats per minute and your blood pressure has raised by 8 and 6 points in systolic and diastolic blood pressure, respectively. I would advise switching to water.”

“How do you know that's from the caffeine and not your innate magnetism .” you said, trying to lower your voice to a “sultry” level, but only managing to laugh.

“That would be highly improbable. I emit no traceable magnetic fields.”

Then the mother fucker winked .

You had begun to realize the parts of his personality you thought were intentional deadpan humor, were in fact, just deadpan facts. That one though? Definitely intentional . He picked up the book, thumbing open the pages that were dogeared and worn.

“Published in 1532, a political treatise by Italian diplomat and political-theorist, Niccolo Machiavelli. Considered one of the first books of modern philosophy, it’s topics range from human nature, military prowess, governments and history.”

He flipped to a specific page that you could tell had been once been highlighted and circled several times, now faded with time. Once upon a time, maybe Hank had noted it.

“Men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, for everyone can see and few can feel.” he read aloud, perfect and clear. You shut your eyes and listened.

“Every one sees what you appear to be, few--” he stopped abruptly, drawing your attention upward. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, “Few... really know what you are.”

His LED flickered yellow for a few seconds and then faded back to blue. You didn't really have the heart to tell him the quote was being taken wildly out of context, because it fit too well. It spoke to him. Let it mean what he wanted it to mean.

“This should be a very interesting read. Have you read it?” he asked, turning to the beginning of the book.

“Oh yeah, me and about 100 other people in PHI 1100. “Contemporary Moral Issues”. After I limped my way through the introductory course, I managed to do somewhat decent there.”

“Do you enjoy philosophy?”

“I tolerate it. Barely. With clenched teeth. I think it’s all well and good to “feed your mind” as Dolce would say, as long as your stomach is full. That’s not a common thing for the poor though so philosophy has always seemed to me as… well, a rich-man’s way to kill time.”

You swished the remaining dregs of your latte around in the bottom of your cup.

“I think it’s real easy to sit on high telling people they need to think of this, or that when you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.”

Connor gave a wry smile, “Then it is a good thing I don’t eat. I will need to read a few more selections before I form a more in depth opinion.”

“Knock yourself out, hipster. I’ll send you all my ebooks I had to get for the classes if you want.”

He perked up, the LED on his temple spiraling.

“My designation code should appear now on your phone for upload.” he said with excitement. His eyes held onto yours patiently, the intensity of it making you flounder, quickly grabbing your phone. Sure enough there was a message that a “RK800” unit was attempting to sync to your device.

[ allow synchronization? y/n? ]

You clicked yes and watched as the phone took on a mind of its own, files opening and flipping at rapid speed until it settled upon your digital library. You set the phone down carefully, eyes flicking between Connor and the device. He had that same far away look Josh got when accessing the web. It took only a few seconds before your phone flashed the words the same time Connor spoke them,

“Upload completed. Thank you, reading these should be very…” he paused, “Fun.”

“And I thought I needed to get out more.” you said, enjoying the bright look of wonder on Connor’s face as his eyes flickered back and forth, clearly already browsing the new selection.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” he said, tilting his head, “I should have clarified if you meant to send them now.”

“It’s definitely gonna take some getting use to if you make a habit of connecting to my phone, but nah, it doesn’t bother me.” you said, but Connor still looked skeptical so you continued,  “I’m a little jealous to be honest, woulda made reading those bricks easier if I knew you three years ago.”

“It is very efficient. However, no more so than any other academic assistant android you could have purchased then.”

You felt a twist in your chest at the way he said “purchased” so easily when you could tell by the faint grimace on his face that the idea was as disturbing now to him as a “deviant” as it was to you.

“I meant like a classmate,” you quickly added, “Like the way we are now.”

“You study urban planning, not philosophy. Perhaps I should browse those texts as well so we can have more “classmate” simulate conversations.” he said, tilting his head to the other side as if considering the idea further.

“We can always talk about you.” you said, “What do you like?”

His head tilted slightly further, he almost looked like a puppy when he did that, brown eyes soft and always, always curious.

“I enjoy solving cases with Hank-- Lieutenant Anderson. I enjoy calibrating my reflex drive with coin tricks. I like talking with--”

You held up a hand, “Whoa whoa, back up! Coin tricks?!”

Your sudden enthusiasm seemed to take him off guard, but within a moment he produced a quarter from his pocket. He let it slowly walk across his knuckles one way and then faster backwards. You watched, rapt in attention and smiling bright.

“What else?!” you asked and Connor gave a lopsided smile, standing up.

“I need a bit more room for this one. Okay. So-- first you flip.” he said and did so, flipping the coin up once in the air, “And then--”

He flicked it so fast from one hand directly into the other that you almost missed it. Your entire face broke open, “Ooooohh my god! Do that again!”

He was more than happy to oblige, this time flicking the coin back rapidly and then ending by catching it between two fingers.

“Okay you have got to teach that one to me.”

“I’m not sure if you’d be able to get it without a lot of practice, but-- here.” he took your hand in his, carefully directing you to hold your fingers in a scissor shape the way he had. His eyes were intensely focused as he moved you exactly where he needed, carefully stepping behind you and placing his hands on your hips.

“Stand a bit more grounded.”

He nudged your shoe with his and you complied, hoping he wasn’t registering the heat rising up in your face. Was he holding on just a bit longer than was really even needed? A bit tighter? You could just barely feel the brush of his shirt at your back, leaning towards it.

“Don’t move.” he said, a soft command. You stood back up straight.

He came around to stand at your side, not even noticing the small gathering of people who were now watching the pair of you.

“Alright. Ready?”

You nodded.

“Just... hold… still.”

He paused, LED whirling for a moment before he flicked the coin and it found itself, trapped perfectly between your index and middle finger. You all but squealed, laughing with unbridled delight.

“That was so freakin’ cool! Can we do it again?”

But before Connor could take the coin from you, a man pushed over to the sitting area and scowled.

“Hey. No fuckin’ tin-can’s. Did you not see the sign lady?”

You were caught off guard, but Connor immediately straightened.

“Sign? There aren’t anymore signs.” you said, remembering that there was no tell tale red sign with a blue triangle issuing that androids were not allowed when you entered.

“There should be. There was. Now we gotta deal with these plastic freaks acting like they own the damn city.”

He looked Connor up and down with measured disgust, eyes lingering on the LED that was quickly flashing yellow.

“You should keep your pet at home.” the man continued, “You don’t see people bringing their dogs where others eat.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to please return to your table.” Connor’s voice was more mechanical than you had heard it before, measured and even, despite the yellow light flickering.

“I detect levels of ethanol on your breath. A bit early for a nightcap, isn’t it?” Connor continued and the man’s expression switched quickly to shocked and then pissed.

“Keep your fuckin’ eyes off me, freak.” he said, shoving Connor, who did not even move a fraction. “Public intoxication is a misdemeanor under Section 750.168 of the Michigan penal code. I advise you take your coffee home, sir, and sober up .” Connor said, standing up way too far into this guy’s space to be mistaken for anything but an invitation that said, Hit me, do it. I dare you.

You moved forward, quickly slipping your arm between the two men, curling it around Connor’s abdomen. You slid your entire body between them, the asshole guy stepping back.

“Hey, he’s a cop . See?” you pushed aside Connor’s jacket, displaying the DPD badge on his hip.

“You wanna add assaulting an officer to that rap sheet he’s already typing up from his head?”

The guy noted the badge and despite his initial aggression, he took a step back.

“Whatever, bitch.”

You sighed, relieved he was backing off, until Connor lurched forward from behind you. You spun around, pushing your palms flat against his chest. He didn’t resist you, but he didn’t take his eyes off the guy either.

“Apologize to her.” he said, each word punctuated with rigid coldness, LED flashing red.

“Fuck you and your plastic-fuckin’ girlfriend.”

“Hey!” a voice drew all three of your attention up to a barista wearing a different uniform than the others, designating her a manager, “How about you all take a breather somewhere else before I call the real cops?”

“Fine.” you said, pushing back at Connor who had stepped forward again trying to outmaneuver you.

“It’s a nice sunny day and I’m not a fan of the smell of shit and espresso.” you said, giving the guy a glare of your own. You took Connor’s hand, ignoring any comments from anyone else as you headed out the door. Connor didn’t fight you, but walked briskly away from the coffee shop to the point it was now like he was leading you.

His grip was tight, unrelenting. His LED was still a vivid circle of red. Once you were far enough away, you dug your heels in and released his hand. He stopped, but still held on. He snapped his eyes to yours, looking confused and just so-- lost. Like he wasn’t even sure where he was or where he was going.

You didn’t even know where to start.

“… Connor, I am so sorry.”

What else could you say? You were the stupid one who invited him there. His brows furrowed tightly, anger still twitching in his lips as he shook his head.

“Don’t.” he said, voice strained, “Don’t apologize for them .”

His jaw was tight, working and unclenching. He was rubbing your hand in his own, a tick similar to his coin. People walked around you as you both were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, giving Connor nervous glances as they passed. He noticed finally and stepped to the side, filing into an empty alley facing the street.

“I need a minute.” he said, his pulmonary functions attempting to slow. You stepped closer, reaching up to gently touch his back. You stroked up once.

“Of course, just… take all the time you need.”

He was tense, every carbon fiber cord in his body ready to respond, to act. His LED began flickering, slowly turning yellow and holding.

“It’s becoming more common.” he said, disappointment evident in his voice.

“I’d say it was always common, people feeling safe to express their stupidity has just gotten worse.”

“Not that.” he said, sighing, “My… temper. Hank says I have a temper .”

A deviant android with a quick fuse, that wasn’t entirely unheard of, but yet Connor seemed disturbed more so by his own behavior than the other guys.

“I detected a significant jump in your pulse and breathing rate. You were upset. I upset you.” Connor said, going to release your hand. You snapped it back up before he could, squeezing tight.

“Connor. Look at me.”

He did.

“I wasn’t upset because of you, I was upset for you.” you said, searching his eyes, making sure you confirmed his understanding before you continued, “That guy was being a grade A dickhead and I… I made you show me those tricks and it just drew all that attention to you. It’s dumb and it’s unfair , but I should have known better.”

“I wanted to show you.” Connor said, insistent, “I knew it would make you smile. I… like that. When you were asking what I like. I like receiving positive feedback from you. It’s very informative.”

That got a laugh from you, quiet and resigned.

“Like that. I don’t know how I got you to do that, but I’m attempting to work it out. So far the data has been inconsistent.”

“Really?” you said, “How so?”

“You laugh even when I am actually not trying to be humorous.” Connor said, as if you were a bit silly for not knowing.

“You’re a funny guy.”

“Hank would say otherwise.”

Connor’s LED had returned to blue, holding steady.

“Your temperature is dropping. You should be getting home so you can warm up.”

“No.” you said, grinning. This time when he furrowed his brow it was not as sharp.

“Your current core temperature is not a debatable subject, ---. You are at 97.9 degrees.”

You hummed, “So question. When you do that, are you scanning my entire body or just the surface temperature?”

Connor opened his mouth, thought better, and then it closed it. You swore if he could blush he would be. You inclined your head expectantly.

“What else does the scan pick up?” you asked, both curious and enjoying the look of semi-panic rushing over Connor’s features. The blue LED flickered just for a moment.

“I know that you have not eaten in the last four hours and will begin to feel hunger pains in approximately the next twenty to thirty minutes.” he stated matter-of-factly, “You have a healed fracture on your left ankle, most likely from rolling it sometime within the last two years. Also, your pupils dilate when you look at me, indicating that you find me aesthetically pleasing.”

“Ho-kay.” you said, interrupting him and snatching your hand back, “You had me at the beginning there, I’ll admit.”

“Did I successfully embarrass you, ---?” Connor said, putting his hands into his pockets and following after you with a renewed smugness.

“Um. That’s such cheating. I can’t control my pupils!”

“Of course. I understand it is not conscious. Besides. I was designed to be pleasing .”

“Yeah? Then I’m gonna need you to tell me where to file a product complaint.”

Connor laughed and it sounded so human it infected your own smile.

“”Hello, yes Cyberlife?”, you continued, using your hand to mimic a phone, “”Do you take constructive criticism? Because your RK800 model is becoming a royal pain in my ass.””

“I’ve never had a bad review in my life!” he asserted, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense.

“That’s because you’ve only been alive for seven months! God. You’re an infant. I am literally on a date with an infant.”

Your laughter subsided when you noted Connor was no longer part of the chorus, turning to look at him, you found his own eyes trailed on you with the barest of smiles.

“This has been… different. Good, but different.” he said, choosing the words carefully, “I’d like to do it again.”

“Yeah, yeah, you smug bastard. You probably already know I’m going to say “yes” by the micro expressions of my eyebrows or some crap.”

Your joke was cut short as Connor stepped forward, gingerly reaching up and letting his hand trace the side of your face, thumb rubbing in gentle circles for a moment over the spot right next to your brow. His eyes were hooded, intent.

“No. I don’t think I see anything.”

He was so close-- god damn him for being so close. You couldn’t read his face at all on whether he was being serious right now or was being a tease. The LED light on his temple gave nothing away in it’s blue aura.

“Wait...right there.”

You felt your breath catch.

“I detect the forming of premature wrinkles.”

“Oh, you asshole. ”

You swatted at him, but he was too fast, dodging out of range with a school boy grin.

“I’m freezing and I’m hungry and I think you need to go home and think about what you’ve done.” you said, crossing your arms against the frigid breeze.

“I told you all of those things a minute ago.” Connor said, returning to arms reach long enough to offer his hand in what you assumed was to be a handshake. You scoffed and submitted, letting him take your hand again lightly. He squeezed and let go.

“I’ll text you later.” he said, mirroring your own words. For a moment it almost felt so normal. Just a boy and a girl on a date. It hadn’t turned out to be what you expected, but that was something you were beginning to think you could live with.

“You better.”

When had it become so hard to concentrate? You rapt your stylus against your desk, oblivious to the crowd and the constant hum of conversation as people moved around the facility. You hadn’t heard back anything from Josh regarding the files you brought, in fact, you hadn’t seen an android inside the DCRU office in several days. You leaned back in your chair, hoping to catch a glimpse but instead found yourself looking right into the pencil skirt of London Fog-- aka your supervisor, Miranda.

“You interested in getting out of here?” she asked, curly brown hair tied back in a bun. You think she must been a librarian in a past life based on how she dressed. Nothing else would explain those cat eye glasses.

“Depends.” you said, voice wary. She laughed, because honestly you didn’t have too much choice in it.

“We’re doing a quick run through. We’ve gotten reports that there have been some break ins through the fence perimeter around the--” she stopped, trying to avoid the word “camp” like most people in charge. It was not a good connection to form.

“-- housing facilities. Just need to assess the damage and estimate cost. The androids asked specifically for the director to come, but she is busy elsewhere.” Miranda shrugged, “If I have an intern following me, I look more important!”

Ah, the director. Cinnamon dolce.

Knowing that there was not much more discussion to be had, you picked up your tablet and your coat.

“Where’s the damage?” you asked, voice weary.

“We’ve got a ride to the other side of the facility all lined up for us.” Miranda said, flicking through some documents and sending them to your tablet.

“It’ll be a good learning opportunity!”

Sure. Yay. Fence maintenance.

By the time you arrived it became very obvious that this was not some accidental damage or wear-and-tear, this was a full on someone-took-pliers-to-the-fence-and-cut-a-hole damage. You recognized Josh out of the crowd of humans and androids. He gave you a faint smile and then turned his attention to Miranda.

“Was it a break out?” she asked, earning a narrow look from Josh.

“We’re not prisoners here. Everyone knows they can come and go as they please.” Josh said, voice edged with warning.

“So break in?” Miranda said, confirming to herself. You flipped to the incident report she sent to your tablet and began to jot down notes.

“It would appear so. But nothing was taken. No one has seen anyone strange around the homes either.”

The “homes” for lack of a better word, were simple modular buildings, stacked in sets of three with outside stair railings. A few androids stood on said stairs, peering over the side down at them. The entire facility sat in an old parking lot formerly used by GM back in the late 2000s. It had been sitting vacant for years now and taken by the government for use in the re-homing process.

The modular homes were efficient, if not always “cozy”. The androids were able to file comfort requests, but you’d seen the stacks. It was hard to imagine it was easy to get much of anything, but it was safe . Safer than outside, where humans might attack an android on the street. Here there were soldiers and fences that were meant to keep the outside world out, not them in.

Markus would have not accepted anything less.

“I don’t like that. Have the military units informed to be looking for someone who doesn’t belong and pull any CCTV footage from this area.” Miranda said, stepping forward and examining the fence more closely.

“Tracks say three people!” a voice yelled from above. There was a young looking blond man, standing at the very top of the modular complex. He quickly made his way down, easily constructing a safe path to the ground.

Josh smiled with familiarity, taking the hand offered to him by the man warmly.

“When did you get back into the city?”

“A few days ago. Glad to be back though. D.C. is somehow even colder.”

Miranda turned her attention back towards the two men, greeting the newcomer with nothing more than a faint nod.

“Simon. You said three people?”

Simon nodded, pointing to a variety of spots that now showed traces of mud and slush disturbance.

“Three. They circled in, came this way…”

He moved ahead, heading behind the modular unit. There was a good fifteen feet between it’s back and the fence.

“Then this way. Stopped here, but then one set of tracks keeps going while the other two circle back.” Simon’s eyes narrowed, giving Josh a strange look.

“Something isn’t right. I smell--”

A flash. Blinding and loud. So loud that suddenly your ears were filled with unbearable ringing. You felt your feet lift from the ground, heat bursting across your skin. There were quick flicks of pain, as if a hail storm had pelted you. And then you found the ground again, hitting hard to the concrete as the ringing just kept on. Something heavy fell on your chest, knocking the wind from you.

Your vision blurred, arms shaking as you tried to find something, anything to hold onto to make the world stop spinning. Someone was ontop of you, arms curled around your frame. The smell of thirium and smoke was thick in your nostrils and when your vision came to, there was blue andJosh.

All cradled in a backdrop of red flames.

[lickstynine]

Oily Jace and the Smol Greasy Bitch (part 1)

A/N: Since @sickandvomiting and I are in love with our 50′s AU of Jace and Elizabeth, and equally in love with brutal whump, we decided to write the story of how Greaser Jace got his scars. I had to change the origin, since a car wreck that severe would’ve just straight-up killed him back then. Anyway, this was really fun to write, so I hope y’all enjoy reading it. Coordinating illustration(s) to come.

Jace felt like he’d been walking for about ten hours, though it had really only been about thirty minutes. Normally his long legs could’ve taken him from the bar to Elizabeth’s place in ten or fifteen, but it was hard to walk quickly when he was actively losing blood. When he’d first stood up, it had been a struggle to ignore the searing pain of several deep cuts. Now he was so lightheaded, the pain was negligible, but his ability to stand was quickly fading. It felt like he’d been trudging through miles of concrete jungle. He was about to give up and lay down in an alley to accept his fate when a familiar sight wobbled before his eyes. Just down the road, Elizabeth’s dilapidated brownstone was visible under a flickering streetlight, its telltale patches of moss and missing brick mercifully familiar.

Jace sighed in relief, sending a fresh jolt of pain through several cuts and some probably-cracked ribs. It stung fiercely, but it woke him up a bit, and he forced himself to keep walking, cursing and fumbling as he scaled the rusty fire escape. His right wrist screamed when he grabbed onto the railing, but he didn’t let go. Just two flights of creaky old stairs, and he’d be safe. By the time he reached Elizabeth’s window, he was one stiff wind away from toppling right back down the fire escape. He leaned heavily on the rail, using his good hand to rap on the glass.

“Ey! Doll face! You up?” Even in this state, Jace knew well enough to whisper. If he woke up Elizabeth’s neighbors, or god forbid, her parents, they’d both be dead.

Momentarily the curtains were drawn back to reveal Elizabeth’s face behind the glass. The grin she wore at the surprise of seeing him quickly faded, however, as she got full sight of him. Blood streamed down his face, neck, and chest, staining his white t-shirt a dark brownish red.

“Jace, what the fuck!!” she hissed, opening the creaky window as quietly as she could. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him into the room, but pulled away when he winced sharply.

“I… I can clue you. Kinda.” Jace climbed in the window himself, hissing, wincing, and groaning and eventually just landing face first on the ground. “Shit…”

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, and her hands momentarily flitted to his back before she stood back up and peeked out her door. Good, the hallway was clear. They hadn’t heard.

“Better get to explaining there, honey,” she whispered, closing the door as quietly as possible. She fluttered back to him and helped him to sit upright. “Thank god the floor is wood,” she muttered when she saw the bloodstain left on the scuffed floorboards.

“Sorry.” Jace tried to grin sheepishly, but it was more of a grimace. “I wasn't even tryin’ to start shit this time.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“I wasn't!” Jace cried, “I was at the bar with the guys, and there were a couple punks hangin’ out nearby... hollerin' at the bartender and just bein' assholes. Leo and Donny had to bail early, so it was just me and Aaron there the rest of the night. It's gettin' late, we're about to head out, and we hear a ruckus over on the far side of the bar. It's those punks from before. They're all over this kitten, they clearly wanna neck 'er and she is not havin’ it.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from Elizabeth. She scrunched her nose distastefully, and he continued.

“So I go over there. I tell 'em to back off unless they wanna knuckle sandwich. Aaron cut out soon as I started talkin'. You know him, he's such a wet rag with that shit. Too scared of gettin' in trouble. But anyway, so I'm tellin' these punks to leave the girl alone, they tell me to get bent and go back to grabbin' at 'er.” Again, Jace paused, and Elizabeth scoffed obligingly.

“So I yanked the closer guy offa her and decked him, and his friend lets go'a the girl to help 'im. At first I was creamin' 'em, like those two were half dead, and then outta the woodwork, like five more guys pop up to help the bastards. But I don't wanna just bail, cause what are they gonna do to that girl if I turn tail like Aaron. So I'm just tryin' to keep my head above water, and one of these nosebleeds breaks a goddamn bottle an' comes at me with it. Nearly cut my fuckin' head off before I kicked it outta his hand. Dunno what I woulda done if the bartender hadn't threatened to call the cops. Jackasses ran off, but it was already past close, so I had to cut out, too. I didn't even see where that girl got off to… I just hope those creeps didn't find her."

Elizabeth just hummed in response, at a loss for words. As he’d been speaking, she had started wiping the blood off his face and neck with a washcloth and the water from her hot water bottle. She paused and met his eyes, and cupped the uninjured side of his face with her hand.

“I’m so sorry that happened, sugar,” she said, wiping a streak of blood and sweat from his cheek with her thumb. “But hey, we match now!” She flashed him a concerned smile, and was pleased when he momentarily grinned back, though the expression quickly morphed into a grimace.

Jace shrugged, his face immediately screwing up in painful regret. “I mean… it was the right thing to do… I think. Maybe I shoulda just butted out...” He sighed, and his good hand flew to his ribs, which were aching much worse than earlier. Any last dregs of adrenaline were long gone by now, and he could feel the edges of the cuts on his chest tugging with every breath. “I'm gonna hafta borrow a shirt from Donny or somethin’... If I come home in this, Mom's gonna flip her lid.”

“Hey, no, it wasn’t your fault. People are just… like that,” she said, resuming her work on his wounds. “I would offer you one of my dad’s shirts, but it would be like me trying to wear a baby onesie,” she added with a chuckle. After a moment, she stopped again. She could see deep down into the whitish yellow viscera in some of the cuts, and while the bleeding was slowing, it wasn’t slowing as quickly as she’d like.

“You should really get to a hospital, Jace,” she murmured. “All I’ve got here is iodine, alcohol, and Rawleigh’s.”

“That should be fine.” Jace shrugged, as if he had a bad paper cut and not a couple pints of blood soaking his shirt.

“It won-” she started loudly, but caught herself and lowered her voice to a whisper again. “It won’t be fine! I can’t take care of this by myself, you need a doctor!”

Jace sighed. “How do you want me to get there, Liz? Aaron picked me up today.”

“I dunno, we could flag down a taxi or something? I don’t have any money though, and I don’t think I can very well ask my parents,” she trailed off. “Besides, I doubt any cab would take us with you lookin’ like this.”

“Yeah, I got money, but…” Jace sighed. He was wracking his brain, trying to figure out who he might be able to call. At first, his vacant gaze seemed thoughtful, but then his eyelids fluttered and he slumped forward against Elizabeth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed, tapping his face. “Jace, c’mon baby, wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she held his head against the crook of her neck and stroked his hair, swallowing down the newfound panic that was crawling into her throat. “Shit!”

She pushed Jace back against the wall as gently as she could, though his head lolled back and hit the drywall with a hollow thump. She muttered an apology despite the fact that he couldn’t hear it, and stood as quietly as she could, afraid the thud had woken her parents. She listened for a moment, head cocked toward the door—nothing except her mom’s muffled snoring from down the hall.

She made her way to their living room, dancing around the creaky floorboards in a routine that was now muscle memory from repetition. She dialed the number as quietly as she could, wincing every time to rotary dial reset with a click and a metallic ring. When the operator picked up, she gave the number to Jace’s home, and silently hoped upon hope that it would be his dad answering, and not his mom.

The phone rang a few times, and Elizabeth practically collapsed with relief when Vody’s deep voice and clipped accent came through the receiver.

“Hyello? Who this?” He didn't sound angry, luckily, but he was definitely confused. Phone calls at three in the morning rarely meant good news.

“Mr. Romanovich! It’s Elizabeth. Please come to my house, it’s important. Jace is here. Please help.” The words came tumbling out in a rush, accompanied by sudden tears and a choked sob, and she found herself hanging up the phone before he could even open his mouth to respond.

Vody stood over the phone for a moment, dumbfounded as it buzzed in his ear. He could only imagine what Jace had gotten into, but he supposed now wasn't the time to worry about it. Not bothering to throw on real clothes, he simply grabbed his car keys and stepped into the boots he'd left by the front door. It wasn't cold out this time of year, and even if it had been, New York winter was about as cool as a Siberian summer. Despite being clad in only his boxers and a tank top, he strolled shamelessly out to his car, climbing in and gunning it down the road.

The streets weren't as busy this time of night, and it didn't take long for Vody to pull up in front of Elizabeth's brownstone. He parked out front and hurried up to the door, hesitant to actually knock at this hour.

Luckily, the door swung open as soon as he reached the landing; Elizabeth had been listening for him. She held a finger up to her lips and pointed to his feet, and for a moment Vody caught a glint of tears on her cheeks in the dimly lit doorway. He took off his clunky boots and she guided him deftly through the hallway, showing him how to avoid the noisy floorboards. They miraculously made it to her room with minimal sound. There, Jace had slid down the wall and was slumped sideways onto the ground, seemingly lifeless. Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth when she reflexively gasped, and after dashing over to him and taking a moment to compose herself, she turned to Vody.

“Please help. He’s hurt bad.”

Vody sighed quietly. He wasn't exactly fazed - he'd seen people in much sorrier states during the war - but that didn't mean he wanted to see his son torn up and bleeding to death. He didn't bother asking questions yet, crouching down to scoop Jace off the ground as carefully as possible. Jace groaned slightly, his eyelids flickering, but he slumped over against Vody's chest as soon as he was picked up. Vody stood up easily, not at all bothered by the weight. Elizabeth hurried to open the door for him, and they crept out to the car in fearful silence.

Once Jace was placed carefully into the passenger seat, Vody climbed back into the driver's, starting the car while Elizabeth hopped into the back. He finally broke the silence, as there was a rather important question to be asked.

“You know where nearest hospital is?”

“Yeah.” She supplied him with the location and the quickest way she knew to get there, and once again fell silent. Her eye was fixed on Jace, and she reached up to squeeze his shoulder. After a few moments she spoke again, this time more quietly.

“I should have called you sooner. I’m sorry. I waited too long.” A sob caught in her throat and she bit it back, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. Nonetheless, they rolled down her face and she ducked out of sight, ashamed of both her inaction which led to this situation, and the way she was currently handling it.

“Hey. You okay. You not nurse. Not trained to take care of hurt people. Freak out is normal. You try to help. That what matter. We go to hospital now. Will be okay.” Vody reached one of his long arms back to gently pat her shoulder.  

“You cold?” He asked tactfully, having been trying not to stare at her very thin nightie for a while now. “Should be blanket somewhere in back.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said with a sniffle, pulling the worn fleece around her shoulders. “The hospital is right up here,” she added as they turned onto the correct street.

Vody went quiet again as they pulled up in front of the emergency room. He parked right there, rushing around to pick up Jace and carry him inside. The poor nurse at the desk looked horrified, hastily paging the doctor on call. It wasn't long before a stretcher appeared, nurses pushing it and a doctor hurrying alongside. Vody set Jace on the stretcher as carefully as possible, following along without waiting for an invitation as they wheeled off down the hall. He gestured for Elizabeth to come with, fully ready to fight anyone that tried to stop them.

She tagged along behind him, jogging to keep up with their quick pace. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, feeling exposed in the public hallway. She didn’t even bother to gather the ends of it off the floor, instead letting it trail behind her like a sad cape. When they arrived at the room, the nurses stopped both of them, one laying a gentle but firm hand on Vody’s chest.

“You can both stay here and watch, but you have to give us room to work,” she explained. “There’s a waiting area down the hall, too,” she added, though it was more of a suggestion than an additional detail.

“We’re staying. We’ll stay out of your way,” Elizabeth stated.

Vody nodded firmly. He wasn't going anywhere until he knew Jace would be okay. He leaned on the wall, sighing quietly as he watched nurses frantically slice away Jace's clothes and work to staunch the wounds that were still trickling blood. When the doctor got to work, Vody finally looked down at Elizabeth.

“What happened?” His voice was softer and more subdued than Elizabeth had ever heard, the mischievous twinkle long gone from his eye.

“Some punks gave him a beating when he tried to help out a girl they were harassing,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jace. There was so much blood. She reached blindly for Vody’s hand, and ended up latching onto his arm with trembling fingers. He put an arm around her, strong and sturdy. There was a long sigh followed by silence as he pondered his response. He didn't want to say Jace should've left the girl to be harassed, but he couldn't think of a better solution either. It was just a shit situation. He sighed again, low and heavy.

“Am trying to decide if I should call his mother. Obviously, will tell her either way, but... Don't know if better to go home and talk later, or call now.”

“Jace wouldn’t want her to worry,” Elizabeth replied. “He didn’t want you to worry either,” she added after a second.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Vody snorted. “He seriously think he just going to come home and pretend he fine?” He shook his head. “Too much like me.”

Elizabeth found herself chuckling along with him. “I think he really believed he could just waltz in and no one would notice a thing. He’s a real dipstick sometimes…”

Vody nodded, a smile flickering on his face. It faded quickly, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Have cigarettes in car. I go get. You stay, watch him.”

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth caught his hand and he paused.

“He’s gonna be okay, Mr. Romanovich.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “He always is. He has to be.”

Vody forced a smile for her. “He have you. That help.” He trudged off down the hall, ignoring the strange look he got from a passing nurse.

As promised, he returned a few minutes later with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in hand, one already lit in his mouth. He held them out to Elizabeth without a word. She took one and allowed him to light it for her as she puffed, blowing a small cloud of smoke against the glass of the ICU room wall. The scene seemed to drag on for far too long, with an alarming amount of blood and sharp tools. Easily the most gruesome was an incision the doctor made between two ribs, inserting a tube to drain blood from the chest cavity. Even Vody grimaced at the sight. Between him and Elizabeth, the pack of cigarettes was quickly depleting.

Eventually, the doctor came out to talk to them. He explained that they had patched up all the cuts, but they wanted to keep an eye on Jace for a while, since some of the wounds were deep, with one having nicked his small intestine, and another puncturing his left lung. They were going to take him for x-rays now that he wasn't going to bleed out on the radiologist, and do further repairs once they knew for sure what was broken. Vody nodded along, listening closely but at a loss for words.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elizabeth replied in his stead. As he left, she turned to Vody and grabbed his large palm. “Hear that? He’s gonna be okay.”

Vody sighed, nodding half-heartedly. “Da.” He leaned against the wall, slowly sinking down until he was sitting on the floor. It honestly looked a bit ridiculous - a giant man, smudged with blood, wearing work boots and heart-print boxers, sitting on the pristine hospital tile. He had told himself he was going to be calm. He was the father here, he had to be responsible and take care of things. At the same time, it took all his self-control to stay quiet and composed. He felt like an idiot. A failure. A fuck-up. Had he raised Jace to be too much like himself? Should he have been keeping a closer eye on his son? How the fuck did this even happen? He sighed deeply, and it wobbled as he choked down a sob.

“Mr. Romanovich?” Elizabeth questioned, hearing the slight tremble in his breath. She laid her hand on his shoulder hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“Hm?” Vody didn't dare to look up; he felt pathetic. He was sitting on the floor crying, being comforted by a little girl. The hallway was far too silent to miss his sniffles, and his face burned red with embarrassment.

Without a word, Elizabeth stepped into the now empty ICU room and rooted around for a bit before discovering a cache of blankets. She brought one out and draped it around Vody’s shoulders before sliding down to the floor next to him and resting the side of her head against his arm. Sniffling quietly, he patted her hair in silent gratitude.

“He’s okay,” she whispered. It felt as though any sound in the quiet hall would break the thin barrier keeping their emotions at bay, and she closed her eyes as the words dissipated against the white walls.

Vody kept a sturdy arm around Elizabeth, awake and alert as much as he didn't want to be. He was too on edge to even consider spacing out - it felt like if he blinked, he might open his eye to a doctor leading them down to the morgue. Of course, that wasn't the case, and after a while, a nurse came to talk to them. She explained that they'd found several breaks, but luckily, none were compounded. They'd had to put screws into Jace's wrist, since he'd fucked up the alignment of the bones pretty badly (likely trying to climb the fire escape), and they wanted to keep a close eye on his ribs, to make sure they didn't interfere with the healing of his lung. Despite this seemingly endless list of awful news, she assured them that Jace was expected to recover completely; he would just need care and rest for a while.

“He’s stable now, I can take you to his room if you like?”

Vody nodded, scrambling to his feet and helping Elizabeth up as well. He hurried after the nurse as she guided them to a simple patient room. Jace was sprawled out on the bed, his lanky legs mere inches from drooping off the edge. His wrist was wrapped heavily in plaster and bandages, and his arms and torso were covered in fresh stitches, including particularly nasty gashes across his left pectoral and below his navel. The tube was still in his chest, and he was attached to a delightful assortment of monitors to track his vitals. The entire right side of his face was covered in bandages, with a long line of stitches and a patchwork of bruises on the other cheek.

Vody couldn't help cringing at the sight. Somehow this was almost worse than the gorey mess earlier. Maybe because he could no longer tell himself it was just the blood everywhere that made it seem so bad, or maybe because he'd never seen Jace look so weak and vulnerable. It felt wrong, and Vody couldn't help feeling responsible. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but hesitated, not wanting to jostle Jace or mess up any of the equipment.

Elizabeth had no such anxieties, and rushed to his side. She brushed a strand of hair off the exposed side of his face, fingers tracing along his brow, then down his jawline. They lingered momentarily on his lips, and she smiled sadly when she felt his warm breath on them. It reminded her that he would be okay. Jace stirred slightly at her touch, letting out a soft groan. Vody perked up at once, watching them closely.

“Jace?” she whispered. “You awake?”

Jace's eyelids fluttered, and he squinted against the bright hospital lights. His vision was hazy, but the massive mane of dark curls hovering over him was unmistakable. “Hey, doll face… how goes it?”

“Oh, just peachy,” she replied with a chuckle that ended in a stifled sob. Tears began rolling soundlessly down her cheeks as she took his face in both hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she added, voice thick with emotion.

“Didn't miss it as much as I thought I would. Shit hurts.” Jace was trying to be light-hearted, but even faking a smile made him grimace. He patted the mattress beside him with his good hand. “C'mere, there's space for your skinny little ass.” That brought a more genuine smirk out of him, followed by a grunt of pain. Every movement seemed to hurt, even just talking. “Christ alive, they got any drugs in this quack shack or do I just get to sit here suffering?”

“You’re already on enough to send any of us normal folk to cloud nine,” she said, hesitating and shooting a glance in Vody’s direction. “But you’re a pretty big cat too, so you can probably handle some more. I’ll go get the nurse, leave you two alone for a moment.” With a quick pivot, she scampered away, leaving the room in a breathless silence as Jace’s good eye focused slowly on his father.

“Shit.” Even as he'd realized he was in the hospital, Jace had still naively hoped his parents hadn't found out. He was clearly panicked, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. “Okay so, ya see, the thing is-”

Vody cut him off. “Hush. Miss Lizbeth told me everything. You think I'm mad at you, Jason?” He was almost laughing as he said it.

“Well… kinda?” Jace admitted. He didn't even have a good reason for why. He'd just assumed that going out, being rowdy, and getting into trouble meant his parents would be pissed.

“Did you start fight?” Vody asked plainly.

“Not really… I mean… I threw the first punch, but I was just tryna get those creeps offa that poor girl!” Jace tried to sit up, naturally getting animated as he defended himself. He promptly fell back on the pillows with a grimace.

“Then why would I be mad?”

Jace paused, looking up at his father for a moment as he thought. “...I dunno.”

Now Vody couldn't help laughing. “Too much my son, you are…” He plunked down on the foot of the bed, patting Jace's knee gently. “I not mad at you. Was worried, of course. But I not mad. Your mother…” Vody sighed, knowing Serafina likely wouldn't be happy about Jace getting in a fight, even one most people would consider justified. “I will talk to your mother.”

Jace cringed. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

Vody snorted. “Well, yes. How am I explain broken hand and stitches face?”

“...right. Good point.” Jace sighed. He really didn't want to have to talk to Serafina, even if Vody talked to her first. He got distracted from his worries when Elizabeth walked back in with a nurse, who approached Jace with another syringe and inserted it into his IV tube.

“Just a little more morphine. We don’t want to go overboard,” the nurse said with a small smile, which Elizabeth returned as the nurse left the room.

Jace visibly relaxed as the meds hit his system, and Elizabeth found herself laughing. “Naturally, you beat up some goons, get totaled, and end up high as a kite on the good stuff.” She took his hand in hers, careful to avoid the bandages and stitching. “Fucking beatnik.” She raised an eyebrow when he smirked at her, no longer wincing at the movement.

“Look,” he grinned, “this wasn't how I planned to spend my Friday night. The beat life chose me.”

“It's Saturday morning. Has been for while now.” Vody chimed in.

“Shit, is it?” Jace looked at his wrist as if he ever wore a watch.

“Da. Sun came up hour ago.” Vody confirmed.

“Ah, shit…” Jace smiled apologetically at Elizabeth. “Sorry baby. Normally, I try to make our all-nighters a little more fun.”

“Jace!” Elizabeth hissed through clenched teeth and leaned in conspiratorially. “Your father is in here with us, shut up!” She flashed Vody a sheepish smile and clamped a hand as gently as she could over Jace’s mouth when he started to speak again.

Vody just chuckled. “Your secret safe with me. He not get habits from his mother.” He sighed. “Who I probably need go talk to. Wish luck.”

“Slay the dragon!” Jace encouraged, muffled by Elizabeth's hand, who flashed Vody another apologetic grin.  

As soon as Vody left the room, Elizabeth whirled on him in mock outrage.

“You knucklehead! Sayin’ shit like that in front of the old man,” she muttered, climbing up onto the bed with him. “You really are the most, aren’t ya?”

“Baby, I'm more than the most.” Jace grinned, slinging his less-damaged arm around her. “Like your nightgown, by the way. Meant to tell ya earlier, but I was busy… y'know… bleedin’ out.” He laughed, drowning in far too much morphine to be worried about his mortality.

She curled into his chest with a snort, tactfully avoiding his more grievous wounds, and gently kissed his collarbone before laying her head down and falling silent, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

“You really scared us, you know,” she said finally. “Us meaning him too. He was terrified.”

Jace snorted derisively. “You're pullin' my leg. I've never seen Dad scared.”

“Really, babe. Like, really really.”

Jace furrowed his brows, seeming to be in serious thought for possibly the first time ever. He didn't say anything for a while, then quietly ventured, “How bad do I look?”

“Like how I imagine someone might look after a tiger attack. Which is to say, pretty damn bad.” She fell silent for a moment, then quietly added “Scary bad, honestly.” Her hand trailed slowly along the edge of his bandages, mapping out the new tracks it would have to follow.

Jace cringed. She hadn't even tried to sugarcoat it - it was too bad to bother. He'd been considering asking for a mirror, but now he was honestly afraid. “Oh… shit.” As stupid as it was, he couldn't help being more worried about his appearance than his health. Cuts would recover. Good looks… not so much.

Elizabeth lifted her head to face him, and found his eyes darting down to assess the damage for himself, slight panic beginning to show in his face when he saw exactly how many injuries there were, their centers stained a deep browning red.

“Hey, don’t do that. Not yet,” she said, lifting his chin with two fingers and tilting it toward her face. “Not yet…” She smiled sadly when his good eye finally focused on hers, and she kissed his brow. Jace tried to force a smile, but it didn't stick. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the drugs, but he was struggling to focus. Thoughts were spinning around like a whirlwind in his head, and the bed no longer felt steady beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut with a tense sigh.

“You’re okay, baby,” Elizabeth said, rearranging herself so that his head could rest on her chest instead. “I’ve got you.” She carded a hand slowly through his hair. The nurses had washed the blood and product out of it to get him cleaned up before the surgery, and it was soft under her hand.

“Just sleep. We’ll deal with whatever comes up tomorrow. For now, just sleep.” She continued her gentle ministrations, and when his good eye remained wide open, head spinning with endless possibilities, each less desirable than the last, she started humming. Gently, sweetly. A stupid little song that they’d heard in a jukebox when they first met. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut as the morphine made the thoughts indecipherable and he stopped trying to think, and stopped trying not to think. Instead, he just let himself be, and feel Elizabeth’s hands in his hair, the warmth of her body, and sound of her voice. And eventually, he was lulled into a deep but peaceless sleep.