#ILL HOLD HIM DOWN GET THE TASER

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

��We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

[trippygalaxy]

Can I have some Sacred Realm cuddling headcannons where the reader is taller then them?

YEP YEP!! I do only do 3 characters if its a group headcanon so Ill just randomly pick three of the boys! If you want another part to this just ask!

EDIT: SORRY THIS IS SO LATE-- WRITERS BLOCK IS A BITCH

Worlds

The hero of Worlds could not care less about your height-- he doesn't mean it in a rude way but its just something he doesn't see as a big deal!

That doesn't mean he won't use it to his advantage and be a little shit--

Worlds is definitely the type of guy who will tease you when cuddling. Like, this man will press his cold ass feet against your calves, if he decided to be the 'big spoon', and will GIGGLE as your screech (wait-- can spirits even have temperature??)

Honestly he is at the perfect height for that-- standing at 5'4'' or 1.65 m it gives him the perfect reach to DRAGGGGGGGG his bare and freezing feet down your calf/shin.

He's even goes to tickle/taser your sides, and when you go to run away from his wiggly fingers he's quick to sling to your waist with his strong arms, making himself a dead wait that you would have to drag around--

Worlds' no caring for the height difference, would still prefer to be the 'big spoon' in cuddling positions. BUT he also really likes having your head resting in his lap as he gently pokes your face <3

The hero is quite laid-back when it came to physical affection, so its not out of the ordinary for the man to randomly come up from behind you and all but ATTACH himself to your bad! What a little sloth

Realm/Link

I like to think that Link is someone who has a DEATHGRIP on you when you two cuddle together. Like, YOU AINT MOVING UNTIL HE'S AWAKE /pos

maybe that comes from his abandonment issues, who knows

Standing at 5'5 or 1.68 m, it very much isn't uncommon for many to be taller than the hero, so your height doesn't 'put off' or intimidate him. If anything he'll find it a little flustering but wont ever admit it!

He's actually rather flexible with sleeping positions! He doesn't mind being curling up in your arms as the small spoon or having his arms wrapped around you as his legs are tucked nicely against yours!

BUT, if he is feeling really upset (whether from his own self doubt or harsh words from his spirit mentors) he prefers to be held against your chest, your hands brushing through his hair as he listens to the steady heart beat in your chest.

There can be some semi awkward moments as the hero gets somewhat buried by either your hair or back as your turn in your sleep, but Link is quick to laugh it off, never wanting to make you feel insecure or upset about your height!

All that matters to him is that you're near him, that you aren't leaving him alone until the sun comes back up once more!

Wild

Another 'short king' /j is Wild who stands at 1.77 m or 5'8"! So it isn't uncommon for Wild to find others (both hyilan and otherwise) who are taller than him! But from all of his exploring and adventure, he is very much used to that.

If anything, the hero takes it in STRIDES!!! He will gladly curl up into your arms and let you pull him into your chest. Wild would kill to have a nice, cozy night in with some comfort foods on the side while he's all nice and warm in your hold <3

Would MELT if you buried your head into his hair or if you just played with his hair in general. You're one of the FEW people that are aloud to go anywhere near his hair. Normally he'll just lay his head in your lap if he wants u to play with it but when cuddling he'll just tap at your hand for a moment before you catch the hint and play with his hair.

Normally, Wild likes being the little spoon just cause he enjoys how safe he feels when you're wrapped around him- which your easily able to do with your height, but he isn't against being a jetpack if ya want!

BUT dont expect to a normal cuddle sesh with the wild hero! Nono, the hero isn't against throwing some...pranks into the little cuddle pile when you least expect them >:3

One time he put hard pasta in his mouth before cuddles, and when you pulled him close he crunched down on it to replicate the sound of cracking bones before going limp in your arms.

After a panicked yelp from you and a swat to his arm after he revealed the prank, he was promptly denied cuddle privileges for a while....Worth it.

Taglist: @the-cucco-nuggie @baileyboo2016 @skyward-shade @yourlocaltreesimp @zelda-the-sacred-realm

[tommyboykaulitz]

Bam Margera x reader

Description:You and Bam sneak off during a party after work for some…intimate time.

Warning:Oral (m receiving), p n v, swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol

~

“Whenever your ready Bam” Knoxville yells out.

Your boyfriend Bam is standing at the top of this big ramp leading into a bowl full of tasers, the man behind the plan obviously being Knox. Bams last stunt of the day before you can head home. Bams about to drop in when Johnny turns to the camera saying “So we’re playing a little prank on Bam Bam today, not only is he dropping into all these tasers but we also attached one to the bottom of his board in case he doesn’t get enough of a shock.”

Right when you look back to Bam, you see him barreling towards the tasers and he skates around getting tased at least 20 times before picking up his board and weaving through the rest to get out. Still holding his board he walks up to the camera, and Knox sends of the taser board. Bam yells at the unexpected pain and throws the board at Johnny.

“What the hell man?” Bam laughed at Johnny who was falling on the ground, his iconic laugh following him. You laugh with him before Bam playfully shoves you and tells you to start getting ready to leave. You turn around and start saying your goodbyes when Steve-O asks “Hey you planning on stopping by the party tonight?”

“It’s not one of you ‘wonderful’ house parties is it?” You ask cocking a brow up.

Steve-O lets out a short chuckle “No man Pontius is throwing it. It’s at his cabin in the woods.”

“Oh if Pontius is having it, definitely. We’ll be there.” You hug Steve-O and finish saying your goodbyes before Bam wraps his arm around your shoulders and walks you to the car. You get in and start driving to Bams place before heading to your own.

“Hey be ready by 7, I’ll pick you up.”

“What for?”He asks giving you a quick peck before hugging you.

“Steve-O invited us to Pontius’ party tonight.”

“Oh sick, ill be ready. I love you. Drive safe.”

You tell him you love him too before you head home. It’s only 5 so you have a half hour before you need to get ready. You go to your room and just sit on your phone charging it. Your alarm goes off signaling that it’s time to get ready. You strip down and get in the shower. Your covered in mud so it takes you a bit longer today. When you get out you try and decide what you want to wear. Knowing Pontius there is going to be a lot of random people there too so you just chose something comfortable. Your wear your baggy low-rise khaki pants revealing the strings of your g-string with a black playboy top. You don’t do any make-up and just straighten your hair. You check the time and you still have 15 minutes before you need to head out to pick up Bam. So you grab your stash and start rolling some joints, blunts, and a couple bowls. You grab your bong, keys, phone, and one of Bams sweaters before getting in your car to pick him up.

~

You pull up to Bams house and honk a few times. Telling him to come out. He gets to the car and plants a few kisses to your lips and neck before you push him off.

“What the hell man, I can’t kiss my girlfriend anymore,” he says mockingly.

“Oh shut up Bam. I just want to get there on time,” you shove his shoulder laughing.

~

You guys pull up to the party right after Steve-O. Bam immediately jumps out and sneaks up on Dunn before tackling him to the ground.

“Y/N you made it. I brought some blow.” Steve-O holds out a little bag of c0ke.

“Sick, I brought us some tree.” Your respond showing your bong.

You and Steve-O walk over to the fire and sit by Knox, Pontius, Ehren, and Dico. You plop down in the loveseat across from Pontius and start emptying your water in the bong.

“Oh hey Y/N, you gonna share?” Dico asks holding out his hand. You pass him a spliff before taking a few rips out of the bong. You feel a cold wet sensation on the right side of your neck, you whip your head around to see Bam handing you a beer. You give him a kiss as he sits down beside you with his arm around your shoulder. You keep taking big rips from you bong until the bowls empty.

“Dammit,” you say pissed realizing your not high yet. You turn to Steve-O and do a little hand gesture, wiping the bottom side of your nose, before sneaking off to the house with him.

“Where yall going?”

“We’ll be right back baby we’re just going to get some more beers.” You tell Bam giving him a quick peck. You walk up the hill to the house with Steve-O thinking where people won’t see you. You walk into the house and people are everywhere. You go upstairs and go to the bathroom. People. You try going to Pontius’ parents room. People. You decide your going to have to go to Pontius’ room. Which was always trashed hints why nobody ever goes into it. You and Steve-O walk in and clean off a table and make room for you to sit. He pours some of the contents of the bag out on the table and you crush up 6 lines. Three for him and three for you. You take out a crushed up dollar from your pocket and roll it up tight before sn0rting up the wonderful lines you’ve made. You sit there for a second before Steve-O gets up and goes to the bathroom.

You knew what was going to happen later. C0ke always made you horny so you stood up and cleaned up Pontius’ bed revealing the only clean spot in the room. You walk out the room and meet up with Steve-O.

“You ready to head back Y/N?”

“Yeah let’s roll.” you say as you put your shades back on. You walk down the hill to the rest of the guys.

“Hey your ba—wheres the beer?”

“Fuck I knew we forgot something. Some fans kept talking and talking and wouldn’t let us go.”You quickly responded before sitting beside Bam. He pulls down his sleeve and wipes the powder of your nose you forgot about.

~

The party kept going and you were getting hungry for Bam. Seeing him sit there all beat up from the stunts he did that day. You lean in and whisper in his ear “How ‘bout we go somewhere a little more…private?”Kissing his earlobe as you pull away. He looks at you with excitement in his eyes as you stand up and pull him to the house holding his hand. You manage to sneak past people without them seeing you. You walk into Pontius’ room and sit Bam on the edge of the bed, wasting no time you undo his heartagram belt buckle.

“Woah someones impatient,” You pull his pants down a little, him lifting his hips to help you get them off. You kiss him and then let you finger slip into the waistband of his boxers before pulling them off. Grabbing him at the base with one hand and his balls with the other. You lick the small amount of precum that was already leaking out of him. You hear a small gasp come from him.

You never really give him blowjobs so when you do he loves it. He looks down at you and he makes eye contact as you lick the bottom of his shaft before taking his tip in your mouth. You play with it with your tongue before taking all of him in. His head falls back with instant pleasure as you bob your head up and down him. You pull up and only have the tip in your mouth before feeling him bring you back down “Fuck Y/N” you pick up your pace and go quicker following your lips with your hand. “Baby I’m so close,” he lets out a moan which makes you moan. Feeling the vibrations Bam brings your head down and releases a load down your throat. As you come back up you lick the last amount off before pushing him back on the bed.

“God baby, your so good”

“Thank you baby, now how about a little more? You think you can fill this little pussy Bammy?”

“Oh hell yeah” he pulls your shirt off after his own and tears your panties off.

“BAM!” you yell mad about him ruining your favorite G-String.

“I’ll buy you a new one”

“You better,” you put his tip under your wet hole as he grabs your hips. You start slowing sinking down on it before he pulls you down to fill you. You moan at the sudden feeling of him inside you and he kisses your breasts because of it. Your too impatient to go slow you start slamming up and down on his cock holding the headboard as you both let out a series of pleasurable noises before you announce your close. You start grinding forward and back on his cock to get him close. He grabs your ass with one hand and your waist with other before flipping you so he is on top.

He starts slamming into you moving his hands up to your breasts groping them and playing with the nipples between his fingers. He slams into you one more time before you cum all over him. He starts to pull out but you want him to cum in you so you wrap your legs around him. Pushing him back in so he can too. He lasts a few more pumps before he fills you up. Both of you liquids spilling out of you and down your thighs. He gets up and grabs a towel and cleans you up. He lays with you there your naked bodies pressing up against each other as he cuddles up behind you.

“I love you Y/N”

“I love you too,” You fall asleep and when you wake up in your bedroom and Bam is nowhere to be seen.

“Dammit, I dreamt about Bam again”

[arkhamsunflowers]

im bored in chemistry soo hi hi

A is for ALLESO: Wheres the Van is pretty good. ofc i will give you my all and donacdum are great as well

B is for BALDWINS LAMENT: i wish the heists weren't so scattered on console so the story is more cohesive. pretty sure console is missing a good chunk of all the newer stuff

C is for CONTRACTOR: the Dentist, i replay his heists the most

D is for DLC: Hotline Miami, i love jacket sm

E is for ECMs: i cant really answer this since ive never done stealth good, but Big Oil is fun

F is for FUUUUUUU: any forced stealth hiests, i play dodge but no matter what some cop is gonna spot me

H is for HIEST: Heat Street. its super fun

I for ILIJA: depends on the hiest. I usually only get things for Big Bank and the Diamond hiest

J is for JOKERS: Bain knowing the Mercy Hospital job was a bad idea but doing it anyway

K is for KILLKILLKILL: axe

L is for LIVE ACTION: Jimmy holding the main 4 hostage and them being horribly confused

M is for MASKS: Richard (not returns), Wolf, Sokol and Dallas. The Corey mask is also cool

N is for NO MERCY: i dont really have any?

O is for OVERKILL: killing a dozer with melee at super low health and no armor

P is for PAYDAY: i just really want some of the DLC characters to make a comeback. i love the main 4 but i also want sokol and jacket yknow

Q is for QUIT: getting downed by a sniper for the final time as i'm running for the van on a team of AI

R is for RESERVOIR DOGS: i think it would be cool for James Bond or something. i really hope they bring back some of the old crossovers especially considering how much they're tied ro the story now. Ofc i think it would be hilarious if there was another crossover from a character played by Keanu Reeves since we already have 2 (bodi and John Wick) Matrix?

S is for STOIC: no surprise here but Sociopath. after i complete that ill start working on Ex-presidents or Maniac

T is for TASER: going to melee an enemy only to realise last second it was actually a cloaker smh

U is for UKRAINIAN: him asking if we were experiencing radiation poisoning in meltdown

V is for VILLIAN: Dentist? hes the reason half of the things happen ig.

W is for WE CALL THIS A DIFFICULTLY TWEAK: Hard and normal. i've started playing harder missions though

X is for XENODIAGNOSIS: yes and no. im gonna miss him in Payday3 but he's technically still alive?? like hes in the presidents body so like ig its fine that he died

Y is for YULE: sometimes. i hate halloween missions sm though

Z is for ZEAL: im hyperfixated on it lmafo. but honestly its a pretty replayable game and its super fun. i do wish console got updates but ill just wait untill i can get a good computer to play Payday on it.

The ABCs of Payday - Q&A edition

You can either answer all of these yourself & tag people to also complete it, or you can RB and your followers can pick a letter and you answer. Or you can just do nothing that's cool too ig.

A is for ALESSO: favourite track?

B is for BALDWIN'S LAMENT: any regrets or things you wish were different about the game/story?

C is for CONTRACTORS: favourite contractor and why?

D is for DLC: favourite DLC you own?

E is for ECMS: favourite stealth/stealth-only heist?

F is for FUUUUUUU: most-hated heist?

G is for GENSEC: favourite pager line?

H is for HEIST: all-time favourite heist?

I is for ILIJA: are you a favours lover or do you prefer the challenge of going in without favours?

J is for JOKERS: dumbest thing/moment about the series?

K is for KILLKILLKILL: favourite/best way to kill cops?

L is for LIVE-ACTION: favourite live-action/web series moment?

M is for MASKS: favourite mask/s?

N is for NO MERCY: hot take/unpopular opinion about the games?

O is for OVERKILL: best/coolest thing you've ever done in-game?

P is for PAYDAY 3: hopes for Payday 3?

Q is for QUIT: what makes you rage/quit?

R is for RESERVOIR DOGS: cross-overs you'd like to see in Payday 3?

S is for STOIC: favourite/most-used perk deck?

T is for TASER: most surprising moment/thing that happened in-game?

U is for UKRAINIAN: favourite Vlad moment?

V is for VILLAIN: favourite baddie and why?

W is for WE CALL THIS A DIFFICULTY TWEAK: preferred/most-played difficulty?

X is for XENODIAGNOSIS: would you want Bain's disease to be curable and why/not?

Y is for YULE: do you typically play seasonal updates and why/why not?

Z is for ZEAL: what makes you excited about Payday and keeps you coming back to play again and again?

[starlightshadowsworld]

Behind the Hockey Mask

Saw this scene on tik tok

And just

Raph standing up but immediately pushed behind Casey.

Casey standing between Raph and Splinter like a great wall.

Shielding Raph and holding him with one arm.

And meeting Splinters anger with his own.

Part of him is shaking.

Part of him is afraid.

But Casey won't let that stop him.

He glares at Splinter, taser in his hand that no one saw him grab.

"Stand down"

"Casey Jones you will cease this at once, I am talking to my son."

"Talking my ass, you know exactly what the fuck your doing... Stand down and I won't shove this thing so far up your arse you'll be able to taste it tomorrow."

They are all looking at Casey but he doesn't see it.

He's mapped an escape, his whole body is on high alert and yet his arm around Raph is gentle.

Splinter takes a step forward but Casey is faster.

He's pinned Splinter to the ground with his taser at his throat.

"I warned you"

It's only because Raph is begging... Actually begging him to get off his dad that Casey does so.

Splinter stays sitting down, taking a few calming breathes before saying their conversation will happen later.

He leaves.

Casey doesn't take his eyes off him till he's gone.

Before holding Raph, squeezing his shoulder with a smile that is nothing but kindness.

The change is instant.

It reminds Raph of Leo.

"Case?"

"No one gets to use intimidation tactics like that...and call it a lesson." He says, sitting down beside Mikey who shuffles closer to him.

Casey rubs his head like he would ruffle Angel's hair.

"Anger can be self destructive no shit. Any emotion can be if you let it get too far. Love, you could love someone so much it destroys you from within because you forgo everything you are to keep them happy... And than they leave."

Casey gazes up at Raph "your hot headed but you know when to cool your self down. Your not self destructive Raph, your protective. Your kind, your an arse hole and a brother...You don't got nothing to worry about."

Raph blinks, a small smile making it to his face "thanks man."

Casey nods, looking at the door where Splinter left "man needs to remember he's not just your sensei..."

Maybe Splinter was ill too?

Casey hoped not but if it came to it he'd look after the turtles too... April if he had to.

No one got hurt on his watch.

He would destroy himself before the ones he loved was hurt.

[yuufujimaru]

Apologies I totally misread the message at the beginning of the chapter!

Honestly if there any scene past I’d love to see it’d either be some of yuu’s adventures in the forbidden forest or what held him up so much in his dorm right before night raven showed up to dinner!

So these will be a bit spaced apart since I still have the story to worry about! But I hope you enjoy this!

Yuu blinked to awareness as the sun rose over the horizon, his head clear as he shifted a bit on the ground, noticing something was covering him.

“I see you do not lie when you say you arise with the sun,” the smooth deep voice of Firenze made Yuu look up to the centaur who smiled at him, holding a bowl of meats and fruits as he kneeled to be closer to Yuu in the tent he resided in.

“Who placed a blanket on me,” he asked, shifting to sit up as he pushed the item down, grunting as he cracked his neck and back while Firenze folded up the blanket.

“Some of the foals. They thought you would get cold,” he chuckled, handing a knife to the boy who proceeded to cut up the fruit with dizzying precision.

“Of course…Sorry for having to spend the night again,” Yuu grumbled, using the knife to bring some slices to his mouth as he munched on them without much thought. “I didn’t intend for that…Norbet was whining all night…”

“He has been worried about you,” was the answer Yuu got. “I am sure that much is obvious…you are very ill.”

“I’m perfectly fine thank you very much-”

“Mentally.”

“…I am not,” Yuu whispered silently.

More and more his father was referring to Firenze on the actions he should do for his son, and Yuu was well aware of the fact. If the fact that his father was contemplating meds for him at the moment was an indication.

“Well, I think you should take a bath in the pond and then get to see the unicorns before you head back to the castle. It’s a big day,” Firenze smiled, and Yuu had a bad feeling that he knew something about what happened when he came to the forest in the middle of the night.

‘Why did you call me,” he asked as the centaur got up. “I thought you had an important ceremony to do this whole month?”

“…Nothing. Never mind it,” he began, Yuu raising a brow at him before nodding and dropping it if it meant the centaur would get off his own case. “I thought you had come in last night, there was a disturbance in the forest,” he commented, getting up.

“Aragog and her brood most likely,” Yuu grunted, Firenze nodding before allowing Yuu to exit his makeshift tent to the rising tent.

‘Human,” Firenze’s second in command, Luther, sneered.

“Loser,” Yuu stated blandly before handing him his bowl while Firenze chided the other for the nickname.

“Yuu! Yuu,” some of the younger foals rushed over, the boy grabbing his weapons he usually brought, a knife and a taser, putting them back into his belt as he turned to them. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, you have a special ritual and I was never meant to be here. Me and the elder got too into it when we spoke last night,” he sniffed, fixing up his hair as a few of the younger foals scraped the ground. “What?”

“I…Is your father going to come here and spend winter yule with us this year?”

“…Why are you asking,” he asked, crossing his arms as he moved to the small stream to wahs his face.

‘You always spend Yule with us and never your own father. You should spend time with him-”

“The relationship between my father and myself may have been better than years past…but were not close enough to celebrate holidays…besides, we don’t see a real need to do it you know,” he commented. “Might as well skip the bath…I can do it at the castle-”

“But Family is important! You saved my mother and father from the…the…Am-”

“I am not denying that, Lothric,’ Yuu sighed, the young foal having tears in his eyes as he looked up to the human. “But sometimes…the modern world? Muggled? GThey are less attuned with their emotions, the Japanese…my race…they don’t openly express themselves…it’s shameful.”

“It…It’s not,” he yelled, rushing out as his sister sighed and patted Yuu on the shoulder before rushing after him.

“Damn emotional kids,” he sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed his boots and slipped them on. Lothric’s father comes forward, yuu jolting at the eyepatch he was wearing before looking away.

If only he had been a minute earlier-

“Enough of that,” Loran sighed, crossing his arms as his wife Lilian come forward with a small rucksack. “I am alive and I can still fight and I can still play with my children. I haven’t lost a limb, so it’s all good.”

“Still…If I hadn’t been held back by the teachers last year…I could have-”

“You're a student, and you don’t live in the forest. Our problems are not yours and I think you should take advantage of the life you have,” he took the sack from his wife and handed it to the boy. “Here are some items that we collected to gift you. Hives from fallen comrades, hair, tears and…other…fluids,” he coughed, Yuu smirking as he looked at some cloudy vials before nodding. “Your medicine for us has been a great blessing.”

“It’s the least I can do for all you let me do in the forest,” Yuu shrugged, rolling his shoulders as he stood up and moved to head out of the settlement. “I will see you all later. I plan to spend a lot of time here when the tournament starts.”

“Honestly,” Lilian huffed. “Forcing children into a death match, I don't get humans,” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey…me either,’ Yuu shrugged the woman shaking her head before motioning for him to get on his way, the boy doing so with a silent wave.

As he walked through the hazy morning fog of the Forbidden Forest he couldn’t help the feeling that something was going to happen as he made his way to the unicorn settlement. As much as he liked to think he knew everything about Hogwarts, the magic was old and was more mysterious and tricky that Peeves. It held secrets and let him in as much as it let in Dumbledore.

The boy was unsure of what was going on, but given the feeling he had the night before as he was awoken to the sound of his windows slamming shut repeatedly, the castle was trying to keep him out.

Which was a first.

It usually tried to keep him in.

From opening up unused passageways that the Marauders Map didn’t even show to creating a dorm for him to even breaking the restricted seals on the restricted section of the library, it seemed to try and entice him to stay and never leave.

The Chamber had begun to morph to his own preferences as well, pipes unused for centuries had been magically ripped off and a burning fire in the mouth of where the basilisk once came out of now roared, allowing him to create magical chemical equipment he might need. The water had been cleared as the passage to the Armory Godric had made was opened to him. The old training room was made use of during his spare time for him to train and workout.

Since all they did was fly and that was such a waste of a good field they had.

But still…Hogwarts acted like it did not want him to leave most of the time. Like the old magic was trying to connect with him in some way.

That or it was Dumbledore’s will, since the old coot-as much as he was a nice person to him and his father-was not willing to have another dark lord rise in his damned school.

It would be bad press for sure.

“Child! Child!”

“Haaa,” Yuu sighed as Aliz came forward with Al, their youngest foal. “Hello…I see you all in good spirits today.”

“You came to visit,” Al knickered out, nudging Yuu’s side as the boy grunted and nodded, heading into the groove once more.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, cracking his neck as he entered the main area, being greeted with happy sounds as the youngest foals bounded over to him. “Arrgh! No! Leave me be,” he yelped, dodging their nudges and nubs of their growing horns. “Aahh” he whined as they all began to demand attention from him like cats and he grumbled under his breath. “Come on, let’s get you all brushed,” he sighed, all of them rejoicing as he sat down and pulled out his horse care kit.

“I thought you were not going to come to the forest at all for the month,” Rohesia commented, coming forward with her eldest son who knickered before heading off to the side.

“I thought so too. But The castle kicked me out and Firenze sent a message saying he needed to speak with me,” he began brushing a young female foal. “The castle is emanating such a strong magic that it’s making me sick.”

“Something seems to be in the works,” she commented, sitting down as the next foal came.

“I guess,” Yuu shrugged. “That or it’s Dumbledore and he’s keeping me away from the ministry idiots come today,” he snorted, Rohesia shaking her head as she watched the emotionally stunted boy try and get a particularly nasty knot out of the foal's mane.

“You're a unicorn, not a kelpie! Stop swimming in the pond,” he hissed, putting more product in as the poor child wilted and looked at Yuu in sadness. “No! Stop that! You know that your hair gets really bad when you go into the water and then take a nap right after!”

He continued to lecture unicorn and all other unicorn foals as they came to him for their monthly grooming, Rohesia enjoying the atmosphere as she laid next to the boy and enjoyed the feeling around her.

She had a feeling this next year was not going to be good, not in the slightest.

So she’ll enjoy this feeling now, because something tells her it’s not going to last.

“HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU TOLD TO GO POND SWIMMING,” Yuu screeched as another foal came with a messed up mane. “NONE OF YOU ARE KELPIE’S! DAMNIT,” he squirted out more product and began to erratically fix the foals hair as the others knickers under their breath and continued to graze.

Ah…what a nice day.

Hours passed before Yuu managed to finish and make all the children presentable is one way or another. And he cleaned himself up to leave, he was so done with the Unicorns for the time being and he had already seen the crybaby that was Norbert the night before when he had gotten a nightmare…

Honestly, you would like it was a puppy with how much the thing needed comforting and snuggles to be able to fall asleep without nightmares.

“I thought he was a cat, but he’s more like an overeager puppy with abandonment issues,” Yuu grumbled, heading to the west side of the castle and knocking on some stones before a passageway opened up and he began the leisurely trek back to Ramshackle.

“Meow!”

Yuu stopped to turn around, seeing a ruffled cat approaching him.

“Heya Mrs. Norris,” he smiled, opening his arms to allow the old cat to jump into his arms. “How are you?”

“Meow!”

“You got tired hearing Filch complain about wanting to torture students huh,” he commented, exiting the passageway to the hall leading him to his dorm.

“Oi! Give Mrs. Norris back,” Filch’s voice was heard down the hall.

Mrs. Norris gave a head meow, claw latching onto Yuu’s arms as he flinched and rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, Yeah,” Yuu grumbled. “I got treats, come on.”

“Didn’t you hear me! Release Mrs. Norris! Side’s you have to be at the dinner tonight-”

“There is nothing worth my time, all there is are the lackey’s of Fudge and the announcement of the death match, Filch,” Yuu snapped, the older man flinching before he hobbled after the boy. “You dragged me out of my dorm last time, and if you do it again I will hurt you,” the boy warned, heading into his dorm and slamming the door in his face.

“You need to go! Dumbledore was insistent!”

“He told me last night and I am not having it,” Yuu snapped, plopping Norris on a seat by the fire to which she meowed happily at and rolled on her back, purring happily. “Now scram, before I actually hurt you,” he snapped.

He heard the man scramble away and nodded to himself, taking the cloth and water that Mipsy had set out and began to wash the smell of mane and tail off of him for the time being until he finished some work on her head. Luckily he had rushed to stop a foal from going into the water and ruining his work, so most of the sweat and smell was off of him.

Once he finished he worked ot get dressed, Norris meowing as banging sounded and he growled.

“Oh, your asking for it,” he grunted.

“Dumbledore told me to tell ya if you don’t come peacefully he will confiscate the rest of of your materials across all of the labs and will give the teachers permission to force you into class,’ Argus called out, Yuu snorting.

“Bullshit. Come back with a better lie next time you wannabe,’ Yuu was feeling particularly vicious today.

“W…Why you! You!….You good for nothing demon child! No wonder your mother left you,” he bellowed.

“….You really wanna die,” Yuu nodded, opening the door to see a panting Argus who realized what he said. Mrs. Norris let out a warning meow as she jumped into the man’s arms and began hissing in his face in an attempt to get him to run away.

“I…I uh…” He then turned on his heel and rushed out faster than Yuu had ever seen and it set him off.

He grabbed a vase from the side table by the door, rushing out he slammed the door closed which created a large bang through the air as he released the vase.

BANG!

CRASH!

“DUMBLEDORE!” The man bailed out pathetically as Yuu began to cover ground between the two of them and get closer and closer. He snarled as he used a secret passageway and increased his speed to meet him there before he got out.

“GET OVER HERE YOU DAMNED GLORIFIED HOUSEKEEPER,” Yuu roared out, anger flaring out so impressively his hair felt on fire like Idia’s. “I am going to make you regret what you said you good for nothing mama’s boy that lives like a damned rodent watching a bunch of kids like a damned pedo!”

He continued to spit vitriol out, anger all encompassing as he reached the doors of the great hall and increased his speed to enter and beat the man senseless, decorum be damned.

“I said get back here you…” he snarled as he entered the great hall only to stop short at the sight before him.

Was he still dreaming?

Was he still in the Forbidden Forest? Had he accidentally eaten a hallucinogenic mushroom again?

Don’t ask.

Because what was in front of him shouldn’t be…as much as he had always wished it.

“No way,” Jack breathed as he pushed past everyone and next to Crowley who looked shocked as well. “No…way…” It was Jack’s voice and viage and…and everything about him was so perfect.

“J…Jack,” Yuu breathed. He could feel himself shaking as his eyes sought out the faces of the people he long to see so much these painful four years. “Ace… Deuce… Epel… Sebek…,” his breathing increased as he looked at them all.

“W…wait,” Sebek yelped, looking between Jack and Yuu in shock. Yuu felt himself smile as the volume of his voice rang in his ears and he shook even more.

“I knew it…you smelled like him…you’ve been lying to us,” Leona accused, turning on Dumbledore as he turned to him. “You said that you didn’t…that he…”

“You never asked fully,” Dumbledore informed them, Yuu looked up to him before he heard a whine and looked to Malleus…Tsunotaro…Tsunotaro who was holding…

“Grim,” Yuu choked out breathlessly as his beloved putty, whiny cat looked up, they locked eyes for a moment and that when his eyes began to water, then he began to wail.

“AAHAHAHH! YUUU,” he screamed, rushing out of Malleus’ grip and running to Yuu.

“NO WAY!!!” Deuce and Ace yelped as Floyd laughed happily. “NO FREAKING WAY!”

“SHRIMPY!!!” Floyd cried out happily, hands thrown up in joy.

“AHHA!! JAMIL! JAMIL IT’S YUU!”

“AH~! MON TRICKSTER! HOW I HAVE MISSED YOUR GAZE! NIGHT RAVEN HAS GONE MANY A NIGHTS WITHOUT SUCH A BLINDING BEAUTÉ!”

He stood in shock as he gazed at all of hid friends, all of his annoying, dramatic, self centered, idiotic and down right mean friends and he couldn’t fight the overwhelming feeling of wanting to burst out and cry.

He turned to Malleus who looked so shocked and so overjoyed in that minute.

“Child of Man…” he breathed, face full of disbelief. His legs moved without him even thinking and Yuu found himself tackling the first person he could. The smell of leather, sword polish and berries overwhelmed him and a single name entered his mind.

Lilia.

“It’s good to see you,” Lilia’s deep voice was comforting as he held onto the boy tightly. Yuu was shaking in the embrace as he held on tighter and tighter to the fae who continued to speak with him. “…It’s so good to see you,” his voice was chalk full of emotion as leaned back to brush his hair back. “Oh…” his face fell when he saw how much older the boy was. “Oh..by the seven.”

The dam broke.

And…

For the first time…Yuu cried openly.

He wailed so loudly like he heart was being torn out of it’s chest as he clung to the older fae who held him like he was the most precious thing in the world. He didn’t want this dream to end as he clung and clung and clung to the older fae who allowed him to do so without complaint.

“Oh…i’m so sorry…so…so sorry,” he apologized as they fell to their knees. “Shhhh, Shhh, Shhh, everything is alright. We're here…we’re here.”

“Yuu,” He heard a myriad of voices call to him and he smiled, looking up to see a mass of people approach with teary faces.

“OIIIII WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU LOSER,” Ace demanded as he hugged Yuu tightly, Yuu chuckling into his chest as he looked to see a teary-eyed Deuce and a smiling Jack.

“YY..YYUUUUU,” Deuce wailed out as Jack wagged his tail happily and hugged both Yuu and Ace.

“HUMMMMAAANNNNN,” Sebek wailed out as he stumbled into a hug that Yuu wailed into also. They both laughed out loud before Yuu grunted as he was slammed into by a petite boy.

“YUU! YUU,” Epel roared out, nearly forcing him into the ground at the slam he did that was supposed to mimic a hug.

And for once, Yuu didn’t care about appearances and basked in the craziness that…that was Night Raven.

So very Night Raven indeed.

[petroltogo]

@sagaduwyrm said “I've been hoping that the AU would explore Tsuna's relationship with Chikusa and Mukuro, so I'm really excited about this.”

In the beginning I actually planned to focus a lot more on the Kokuyo Gang and Tsuna than I ended up with in the main story. Mostly because their relationship turned into this whole mess of mental fuck-ups, connections and manipulation that would’ve taken a lot of time and background understanding on how mental gifts (especially Mukuro’s) work and with how many other characters ended up getting involved, I just couldn’t devote as much time on disentangling those strands as was needed, so we ended up with Mukuro lurking in the shadows, never really stepping out of it. (Which, tbf, is very Mukuro.)

Anyway, since you’re interested in their dynamic, here’s what else I’ve got so far (which is not a lot I’m afraid, mostly backstory that I discarded for the main fic):

Here’s the thing only Mukuro knows, only Mammon so much as suspects:

Mukuro is born a blade sharp enough to draw blood at the slightest touch. He doesn’t remember a time where he wasn’t, where he was soft and squishy and warm, and so maybe he never was. Maybe he’s always been more weapon than human, maybe that’s what makes it feel so natural.

Mukuro is a powerful mental and so what Vongola Inc. teaches him his how to tear mental barriers down, how to break into minds and shatter them. They build him up because he is young, he is weak and under control and they fool themselves into thinking that won’t ever change.

[But Mukuro is powerful and talented and so very, very greedy and for every mind he enters, every mind he crumbles into dust he takes something with him. Something more dangerous than the guns and tasers his warden carry: Knowledge. Ideas. Concepts. For every prisoner they throw in front of him and tell him to find a name or a place or whatever inconsequential thing Vongola cares about, for every scientist who isn’t wary enough to avoid eye-contact, Mukuro goes in and takes everything he can get his hands on.]

[continues under the cut]

By the time Tsunayoshi stumbles upon him, Mukuro knows how to break human minds, how to twist them into a sick parody of the people they used to be, how to unearth secrets and absorb entire lifetimes in the span of moments. He knows what fear and anger and hatred tastes like, knows torture and biology and how the human body works. Knows he is a monster and that he wants freedom and that the scientists have no intention to ever let him go.

[He doesn’t know what sunshine is. Doesn’t know what comfort can be found in a hug. Doesn’t understand the purpose of tears beyond clearing the eyes of dust particles. Has no concept of what home means.]

Tsunayoshi isn’t wary, isn’t so carefully hidden fear and disdain. Isn’t carefully locked down emotions and raised mental barriers. And Tsunayoshi’s mind is open, so open Mukuro feels the thoughts brush against his own before their eyes even meet, feels the mental presence brush and curl around him like a kitty eager for a scratch [Mukuro has never seen a kitten before and the phantom sensation of soft furr beneath his fingers, a rumbling purr sinks easy and effortless into his consciousness], welcomes him in and Mukuro is so startled he doesn’t think to push forward, to pull back, simply basks in the warm feeling of the sun on his skin.

[Mukuro is raised as a weapon. For good or ill, no one has taught him how to shield himself against another consciousness, how to keep his own sense of self secure amidst the onslaughter of another mind. So he absorbs and adapts and changes with every mind he enters.]

Mukuro doesn’t understand friendship because Tsunayoshi isn’t sure about the details himself. But he understands that Tsunayoshi is warm and that he will destroy anything and anyone who tries to take that away from him. He understands, too, that Tsunayoshi shouldn’t have freed him, that they will discover what he’s done [there’s enough mind readers around here that Mukuro hasn’t killed yet and Tsunayoshi is too open, too soft, too vulnerable to leave behind, but Mukuro can’t take him with him, not when he doesn’t have a safe place yet and Tsunayoshi isn’t afraid of going home] and it falls to Mukuro to ensure he won’t be punished in Mukuro’s place.

For the first time when Mukuro slips into Tsunayoshi’s mind, he pushes. And. [Mukuro has been born a blade, has been sharpened further with every mind he cracks and he has never learned to hold back his strenght, has never learned to control or moderate it because why would he?]

Tsuna’s mind shatters.

[Here’s what Mammon will never reveal, not to Lussuria, not to Xanxus and certainly not to Tsunayoshi: Tsunayoshi’s mind is unfriendly, painful, hard to navigate. Not because it’s protected -- that’s a side effect, not the cause -- but because it was torn apart and then some insane, powerful, desperate mental tried to glue the pieces back together. There’s no point to it. The damage is years old and against all odds, against all reason Tsunayoshi is functioning, fully capable of rational thought, of making decisions and memorizing information. There’s no point because Mammon is powerful but even they couldn’t replicate this feat because it doesn’t just hinge on power. It hinges on blind faith, on an unfailing conviction of I will it and so shall it be that isn’t found in grown people well aware of their own strengths and limits. It hinges on breaking yourself apart to fill the holes you’ve torn in with your own spare parts only human minds don’t come with spare parts.]

Mukuro -- can’t accept that. Refuses to. So he dives deeper and does what he’s never done before, never cared to, never wanted: he puts a mind back together, sews the layers back together with a care he didn’t know he was capable of, smoothes over the rough edges, soothes the torn and bruised parts and because Tsunayoshi is hurt because it’s his fault and Mukuro has never felt guilt before and Tsunayoshi is even more vulnerable right now until he heals [he will heal] Mukuro leaves him with the best protection he can give, the only one he trusts to look after Tsunayoshi to the best of its ability: himself.

Fast forward roughly 16 years:

“Hello Tsuna-kun,” Mukuro greets the young man who’s sitting crossed-legged on the dirty, dust-covered floor. It’s dark and cramped in the tunnel and he has to squint into the darkness for a few seconds before he can make out what used to be a pathway to the main layers, blocked by bolders, rocks and debris.

“Hello Mukuro,” two voices answer in perfect unison.

[Next to Tsunayoshi stands a young boy, about seven years old, with one bright blue and one glowing red eye. “Huh,” Mukuro says. “I thought we were taller.”]

[maybeimamuppet]

the best medicine

Cady is very worried. It’s almost noon and Janis still hasn’t answered her good morning message. She’s trying to calm herself; Janis is renowned for being a late sleeper, especially on weekends. But she wasn’t in school yesterday, and they haven’t spoken or even texted since Thursday night. Something must be wrong.

She decides to start doing some math homework to distract herself from her anxiety, pulling out her textbook and grabbing a pencil from the cup on her desk. She’s working on her fifth problem when her phone finally pings.

Jellybean: good morning butterfly

Jellybean: sorry it took me so long to answer i’ve been asleep all day

Caddy Cakes: It’s fine, darling. Are you okay??

Jellybean: i’m not great

Caddy Cakes: What’s wrong?? :(((

Jellybean: i’m sick. that’s why i didn’t come in yesterday 📷

Jellybean: doc says it’s strep. had to get swabbed

Caddy Cakes: Oh no, poor Jellybean 📷

Caddy Cakes: How long have you been taking antibiotics?

Jellybean: uh since yesterday morning i think ?? why ?

Caddy Cakes: If you’ve been taking them for more than 24 hours you’re not contagious anymore. Do you want me to come take care of you?

Jellybean: u don’t have to do that babes. i’m all gross rn

Caddy Cakes: I don’t care, lovey. I picked up lion crap as my daily chore for eight years, I can handle a sick girlfriend. I wanna take care of you 🥺

Jellybean: if u really want to, cads. my mom and jules are out of town, there’s a key under the ceramic frog in the garden

Caddy Cakes: I’ll be there in fifteen 📷️mwah! 📷

-

Cady puts down her pencil and closes her book, heading downstairs and grabbing everything she might need to help her sick girl. Two different painkillers, the recipe for the super-awesome-cure-all-wonder soup her family always makes whenever illness hits, some medicinal African herbs to make tea with, and some soothing lozenges for sore throats. That should be everything.

Once she grabs her phone, jacket, and charger, she takes her bike from the garage, since her parents took the car to some convention thing. She texts them to let them know where she’s going and heads out.

————-

She’s so distracted worrying about Janis she doesn’t even notice where she is until she arrives at Janis’ place, hiding her bike around the side of the house and taking the key from the frog.

She heads up to Janis’ bedroom, finding her in the dark, huddled under several blankets, and with Pancakes resting protectively at the foot of her bed. Janis looks half-dead, her skin is pale and flushed pink with the fever, and her eyes are glassy and fogged over. She’s clammy and burning hot to the touch, and clearly in a great deal of pain.

“Oh, mpenzi,” Cady breathes. “My poor love. How long have you been feeling so bad?”

“It hit me on Thursday when I went to bed. I woke up yesterday and my throat felt like it had shards of glass in it,” Janis croaks out a whisper.

“You poor thing,” Cady strokes a hand through her sweaty hair, Janis leaning into her cool touch. “Have you taken your antibiotics yet today?”

Janis shakes her head. “Haven’t had enough energy to get water,” she explains.

“Shh, Jellybean, don’t try to talk, you’ll just hurt yourself more. I’m guessing you haven’t had breakfast either?” Janis shakes her head again, wincing at the mere idea of swallowing anything. “I know, darling, but you still need to eat. I’ll make something that won’t hurt too bad, okay? I’ll be right back.” She tucks Janis in a little tighter and heads down to the kitchen.

The Sarkisians don’t have a lot in their fridge, but enough that Cady can scrape up a decent breakfast. She makes some quick scrambled eggs and grabs a banana, those are both healthy and easy to swallow. Pancakes hasn’t been fed either, so she fills his bowl with some food for him to find before she fills a cup with cold water and heads back up to her love.

-

Janis is now lying on top of all of her covers, the fever changing her temperature every minute. “Here, mpendwa. The other pills are just ibuprofen, it’ll bring your fever down and help with the pain,” Cady says as she pours out one of Janis’ antibiotic pills and some painkillers.

Janis swallows everything obediently, grimacing at the sensation in her throat when they go down. “My poor sickie,” Cady says sadly, handing Janis the plate of breakfast. She must be totally miserable, she would usually protest absolutely everything happening. Janis hates feeling useless. “Can I draw you a bath, Jellybean? It might help your temperature. It’d make you feel less gross, too.”

Janis nods happily, excited at the idea of a comforting soak. She takes a small bite of her eggs, wincing again as she swallows. Cady kisses her burning forehead gently and heads to the bathroom, spying a bottle of lavender bubble bath. She turns the tap, filling the tub with lukewarm water. If it’s too hot, Janis’ temperature will go too high, but if it’s too cold it will just be uncomfortable for her. She uses entirely too much bubble soap, causing a large wall of foam to rise above the water level. Oh well, Janis loves lavender anyway.

Janis is just finishing her meal as Cady heads back to her bedroom, nibbling slowly at her banana. “It’s ready whenever you are, Jay. Do you want me to stay with you or wait in here?” Janis points to herself. “Okay. Has the medicine started working yet?”

Janis nods, standing slowly and throwing her banana peel away. She tries to walk over to where Cady is waiting by the door, but her knees buckle just before she can make it. Cady lunges to catch her before she hits the ground, pulling her back upright again. “Hate this,” Janis grumbles weakly.

“I know, my love. You’ll feel better once those antibiotics actually start working, I promise. Um, I put in a little too much soap,” Cady mutters once she’s managed to half-drag Janis to the bathroom. Janis chuckles weakly at the tower of bubbles, slowly stripping off her clothes and stepping in.

Cady scoops some of the foam and rests it on top of Janis’ head, giving her a bubble hat. “You’re so cute,” she teases. Janis just huffs, pouting and crossing her arms under the water. “Yes, I know, you’re my tough punk protector. But you’re also adorable.”

Janis shoots her a look that says “I can live with that, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Let me go grab you a towel and some clothes to change into and then I’ll wash your hair, I know you love that. Try not to drown,” Cady jokes, heading back towards Janis’ room. She folds back the blankets to allow the sheets to air before she grabs some comfy shorts and fuzzy socks, a thin tank top, and a hoodie to go over it from her dresser.

She bursts out laughing when she comes back, finding her girlfriend with the bubbles still on top of her head sunk down into the tub so that only her eyes and nose peek out from the mound of foam. “Alright, sit up for me, lovely.”

Janis emerges from the bubbles slowly, as Cady lathers her hands up with Janis’ signature apple shampoo. Once she starts massaging it into Janis’ dark roots, her eyes flutter shut and she gives a contented purr. “You’re just like Pancakes. You both love having your heads scratched.”

“He doesn’t like baths,” Janis says quietly. “And he’s a little bitch.”

“Janis! He’s your son, don’t be mean. He was guarding you when I got here,” Cady chides jokingly.

“He bit my toes! I was napping!” Janis insists hoarsely.

“Okay, that was mean of him. Look up and close your eyes,” Cady says, tipping her chin up and scooping water to rinse the soap out of her hair. Janis gives a pleased shudder at the warmth cascading over her head.

She goes for the conditioner next, squeezing out a little more than she needs and warming it in her hands before stroking it through the blonde ends of her girlfriend’s hair. She works it up from the bottom slowly, the excess giving her a reason to massage Janis’ scalp again. Anything to make her feel a little better.

Once that’s done, Janis lowers herself back into the cooling water, exhausted just from holding herself upright for so long. Cady gives her a moment to rest, telling her some stories of things she missed during school the day before.

“Did you know the way the football team hazes new people is with a taser?” Cady asks, prompting Janis to pop an eye open curiously. “One of the guys who sits next to me in sociology was talking about it. One of the other seniors has one and they tase all the freshmen on the ass when they first join the team.”

They both start giggling at that, Janis in particular getting a vindictive joy imagining the same jocks who used to shove her in lockers getting their asses shocked.

“And obviously your natural instinct is to move away from it, and he said the guy with the taser just kind of follows them with it,” Cady says, making them both laugh harder. “Like, they keep leaning or running away and he just goes with them.”

“That’s great,” Janis whispers. She pauses and then says, “I’m cold.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Cady asks. “Or do you want to get out?”

Janis nodded at the first bit and points to her once she finishes speaking. All she really wants is to be held. Cady goes quickly to fetch another towel for herself, coming back and taking her clothes off. She ties her hair up so it won’t get wet and slides into the tub behind her.

“Ooh, it is cold in here now,” Cady says quickly, adding just a touch more hot water to boost the temperature back up. Janis leans back against her and turns her head to tuck her face into her neck, inhaling her comforting scent of rosewater perfume. “Is this better?”

Janis just nods, trying to relax and ignore the burning in her throat. “Another story?” she whispers quietly, glad she’s so close to her girlfriend’s ear and doesn’t have to strain her voice.

“Sure, Jellybean. Let me think... did I ever tell you about the time a lion broke into my tent?” Cady asks, running her fingers through Janis’ wet hair and gently separating a few tangles. Janis shakes her head. “I was nine, I think. Some new cubs had just been born on the reserve and I got to help with the newborns every now and again. One got really attached to me, followed me everywhere like a little puppy. She was kind of the closest I could get to a pet.”

Janis looks very interested in the story. She always does, she loves Cady’s Kenya tales.

“Anyway, one night I was asleep and I remember being a lot warmer than usual, like I had an extra blanket or something, and I couldn’t move as much in my cot. I woke up in the morning cuddling this baby lion. She’d managed to hook the zipper on one of her teeth to get the flap open and just plopped herself right in my arms. I was lucky her mom didn’t eat me. They’re very protective, but she was just laying outside waiting for the cub,” Cady giggles at the memory.

“That’s cute. What was her name?” Janis whispers.

“Louise. My dad named them. They were supposed to be named Lewis and Clark because they were the first ones that would be living in a new area of the reserve, like the first explorers. But they turned out to both be female, so we called them Louise and Clarke instead,” Cady says. “I miss them. I think those two were my favorite.”

“You’ll have to introduce me someday,” Janis mumbles sleepily. “Can we get out now please? I’m cold again.”

“Okay, Jay. Here,” Cady hands her the cushy towel and pulls the drain in the tub, helping her to stand. “Your clothes are here.”

She dries herself off quickly and tugs her old clothes back on, Janis trudging through her aches and fatigue to dry herself and pull on her clean clothes. Once she manages, Cady leads them back to the bedroom, preemptively taking a hold of her girlfriend so she doesn’t fall over again.

“Do you want lunch, Jayjay?” Cady asks, wrapping a towel around Janis’ head so her hair doesn’t get her clothes wet. Janis shakes her head, popping one of the lozenges Cady brought into her mouth before flopping back down on her bed. “Nothing? You have mac and cheese.”

Janis pokes her head up at that, apparently having reconsidered. She hadn’t eaten at all yesterday, so she’s actually quite hungry, despite the pain in her throat. “Okay, take your temperature while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a minute.”

————

Pancakes follows her back to the kitchen, and Cady gives him one of his ‘diet’ treats and some pets for helping to take care of Janis. “Good boy. But stop biting Janis’ toes, you little perv. She’s sick.”

She decides to make the tea with the herbs she brought to go with their lunch. Janis isn’t a big fan of tea unless it’s super fruity, so she adds a lot of milk and sugar to the mug to cover some of the earthy flavor. She also adds honey, having to psych herself into grabbing the bottle and squeezing the sticky stuff into the mug, grimacing at the goo on the bottle and washing her hands quickly afterwards.

-

Janis was apparently waiting for her the whole time she was cooking, lying on her bed watching the door with her sad brown eyes. “I love you,” she croaks when Cady comes back in.

“I love you too, my bluejay. What was your temperature?” Cady hands her the warm bowl and rests the mug on her nightstand. Janis shows her the thermometer, the little screen glowing yellow and showing 99.0. “It’s gone down a little, the bath must have helped.”

Janis reaches for the mug, taking a cautious sip of the warm tea.

“Good?” Cady asks, coming to sit behind her with a hairbrush and some hair ties. Janis nods.

“You put honey in it?” She whispers, sounding a bit pained. “Good job.” Cady struggles with certain textures to the point of nearly fearing them, honey being the worst. Imagining touching honey gives her almost the same reaction as imagining watching someone break a bone.

“I did. You owe me for that,” Cady teases jokingly, gently brushing out Janis’ damp hair and twisting it back into two Dutch braids, slightly challenged by her side shave but managing regardless. “Now your hair will be all curly like mine.”

Janis touches one of the braids, playing with the elastic at the bottom. She points to her desk, where Cady sees a notebook resting. She goes to grab it and a pen; Janis’ throat must be hurting too much to speak again.

“When did you learn how to braid like this?” Janis writes.

“I did it a lot in Kenya, and Damian helped me practice and taught me new stuff. He lets me practice on a wig he has. It’s fun,” Cady explains. Janis gives a nod of understanding. Cady realizes something after a second. “Hey, do you want to learn some more sign language? Now is kind of a perfect time.”

Another nod. “Okay, write down something you need or want and I’ll show you the sign for it.”

Janis writes, “Snuggles?” and blinks at her hopefully.

“Aww. Of course, mpenzi. That looks like this, by the way,” Cady says, making a sort of peace sign with her first two fingers bent back, resting it on the back of her other hand. Janis copies the motion, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Yeah, just bend your wrist back a little more. There! Okay, you can take some more medicine and come here.”

Janis swallows a few tylenol with what’s left of her tea before letting Cady pull her in. Cady lies on her back, pulling Janis to rest on top of her with her head on her shoulder and face tucked into her neck. “Comfy?”

Janis nods. “Will you read to me?” She mumbles shyly.

“Sure, my love. Which one?”

Janis leans over to grab Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children from her nightstand before cuddling back into her. Cady kicks the blanket up over them with her feet, tugging it tightly around her girlfriend’s shoulders as she opens the book.

“I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.” Cady reads, Janis listening intently even though she’s read it several times before.

Cady kisses her still-warm forehead gently before continuing. By the time Jacob winds up in Wales, Janis’ breathing evens out and she can hear a faint whistling sound with every breath. She dog-ears the page (knowing that Janis is very pro-dog earing) and continues reading silently to herself as she eats her own lunch; it’s an interesting story. Once the light from the setting sun just barely starts stealing in through the window, Cady decides to get started making the soup.

She very delicately shifts Janis off of her and tucks her in again, Janis grumbling crankily in her sleep for a second at the removal of cuddles. Cady leans in and pecks her nose before she goes, giggling quietly as it crinkles like a bunny’s.

She pads down to the kitchen quietly to work on the soup, tiptoeing so as not to wake Janis. The Heron’s super-awesome-cure-all-wonder soup is actually just chicken noodle soup, but a really delicious homemade variety with some extra spices. Cady is lucky Juliana likes to cook, they have everything she needs except the chicken and vegetables.

She decides to check with Damian first, he lives closer than the grocery store is and she doesn’t want to leave Janis alone for too long.

africabytoto: Hey Damian, do you happen to have any chicken and carrots and celery at your place? Janis is sick and I wanna make her some soup 📷 all she has is dino nuggets and frozen peas

sashafierce: Aww poor Jan

sashafierce: Let me check. What did she catch?

africabytoto: Strep throat. She’s miserable, I hate to see her like this 📷

sashafierce: She got strep all the time when we were kids, she hasn’t had it in a while. Poor thing :(

sashafierce: You’re in luck little slice, we do indeed have your poultry and veggies

africabytoto: Oh yay thank you!!!!!! I’ll be over soon, I just need to write her a note in case she wakes up

sashafierce: Sounds good :))))

-

Cady scrawls “Went to grab some ingredients for your dinner, be back soon. Text if you need anything, love C xx” on a post it note and sticks it to Janis’ bedside table, kissing her forehead gently. She feels a little cooler now, so the medicine must have finally kicked in again.

She grabs her bike from and heads over to Damian’s house, finding him waiting for her on the porch with a bag of goodies. He stands from his chair when he sees her, coming to wrap her in a hug.

“How is she?”

“She’ll be okay. She’s really weak right now and still in a lot of pain, but she should be feeling a lot better by tomorrow,” Cady answers, peeking into the bag. Ooh, ice cream.

“Poor Jan. She got strep all the time when we were little. Turns out she just had giant tonsils, she had them removed the day after her mom finally took her to a specialist in second grade. She hasn’t gotten it since, until now,” Damian explains, letting Cady go.

“I hate seeing her like this. She’s so tired and weak. But she is extra cuddly today, that’s been nice,” Cady says sadly.

“She always is when she’s sick. The only thing that makes her feel any better is being held, and then she pretends like it never happened once she’s better. She has to ‘maintain her image’.” Damian says, doing air quotes at the end.

“Sounds like her,” Cady giggles. Janis’ punk image was checked at the door when they got together, but she still clings to it desperately. “I should get back before too much longer. Thank you for this, I owe you one.”

“No you don’t, just tell her I said to get better and give her a hug for me. See you on Monday, Cads.” Damian says as he hugs her one more time and hands her the bag, heading back into his house.

————

Once Cady has pedaled back to Janis’ house, she heads up to her bedroom to check if she’s woken up yet.

Turns out she hasn’t, but she’s tossed her covers away and is spooning poor Pancakes, who looks like he’s just barely tolerating the affection. Cady goes to give him some scritches when she spots the tip of his tail flicking in annoyance, trying to coax him to stay.

She pecks Janis on the forehead again, frowning at the heat she feels. She scraps the note she wrote now that she’s returned, writing a new one explaining that she’s downstairs if Janis wakes up and needs something.

-

She decides to do the dishes first, scrubbing out the plates and cups as well as the pan and pot she’s used so far today. She probably should have done it earlier, but Janis needed her more.

Once that’s handled, she starts prepping the chicken and veggies, cutting the vegetables into bite-sized chunks and seasoning everything with the various spices. It’s designed to have enough flavor to taste even through a stuffy nose, so it takes a lot of seasoning.

She seasons the chicken broth as well, adding in the noodles and vegetables to boil. Pancakes comes trotting down the stairs once she puts the chicken into a pan to start cooking, licking his fur back into place after Janis’ rather aggressive cuddle session.

“Hi Pancakes, did Janis finally let you go?” Cady asks, checking the time on the microwave. “It’s your dinner time, too, let’s get you fed. Not that you need it, chunky.”

She picks up his bowl and scoops some of his food out of the can, giggling as he brushes against her legs and purrs very loudly. “I’m going as fast as I can, calm down.”

He dives in once she puts his bowl back down, munching happily on his salmon and turkey paté. Gross.

Cady cuts up the now-cooked chicken into small chunks, adding it to the pot and giving everything a stir. Pancakes hops up on the counter next to the stove once he’s finished his meal, sniffing curiously at the steam coming from the pot.

“Get down, young man. You had your dinner, this is for Janis,” Cady scolds jokingly, scooping him off the counter and back onto the ground. “I’d give you some, but the spices aren’t good for your tummy.”

She ladles the soup into two bowls once it’s finished, cleaning the dishes she used right away since Janis is still asleep. She finds a tray in one of the cabinets, grabbing it so she doesn’t have to carry  everything up in her hands.

The soup is warm, so Cady gets some apple juice from the fridge so Janis can have something cold to go with it. She makes extra sure that Pancakes isn’t around her feet before picking the tray up and heading back up to her girlfriend.

-

Janis is still asleep, on her back now and shivering slightly. Cady frowns, resting the tray on her dresser and heading to wake her. She brushes her thumb against Janis’ cheek gently, leaning down to kiss her forehead a few times. Janis’ eyes flutter open at the attention, and she gives a pained sigh.

“Hi, lovey. How are you feeling?” Cady asks gently, handing her the thermometer to check her fever. Janis gives her the saddest look and a thumbs down, obediently sticking the thermometer under her tongue. “Worse than earlier?”

Janis nods as the thermometer beeps, pulling it out as it blinks red at her. 102 degrees. Cady frowns at it before shutting it off and putting it back on Janis’ nightstand.

“I made you soup, it’s my family’s secret recipe,” Cady says quietly, as Janis seems to be showing signs of a headache. Janis perks up slightly at the mention of soup, looking around for it. Cady goes to grab the tray, settling in next to her and taking her own bowl.

“This is good. I’ve never had homemade soup,” Janis whispers hoarsely.

“Never?”

Janis shakes her head. “I always got the canned stuff.”

“Well now you have me. I’ll make you soup whenever you need it,” Cady says, leaning over to peck Janis’ forehead. “You should take your hoodie off. You’re burning up, my love.”

“I’m freezing,” Janis responds in her notebook, having leaned over to grab it off the nightstand.

“Freezing looks like this, in sign,” Cady says, holding both hands out in front of her and curling her fingers slightly at the knuckles. “The soup will help warm you up, you’re going to cook yourself if you keep your shirt on.”

Janis pouts but pulls it off, being careful not to knock her bowl. Cady finishes hers and leaves to go get a cool cloth. It’s still too early for Janis to have another dose of medicine, so she’ll have to bring her temperature down a bit the old fashioned way.

Janis has finished her dinner by the time she comes back, sipping carefully at the juice and wincing slightly with every swallow. She perks up when she sees Cady come back, finishing off the glass and resting it back on the tray.

Janis does the sign for snuggles again, blinking sadly at her. Damian did say it’s practically all that helps.

“Let me go clean these dishes, and then I’ll come back and cuddle you, I promise. Rest this on the back of your neck,” Cady says, handing her the damp cloth. Janis takes it and stands, the soup having given her just enough strength to get herself to the bathroom.

Cady takes everything back down and rushes through scrubbing them clean, leaving them to dry in the rack instead of doing it by hand before hurrying back upstairs. Janis has returned by then, looking so small curled up under her blankets.

Cady crawls in next to her, and Janis shifts to sit on her lap and cuddle into her shoulder. Cady rubs her slightly sweaty back gently, leaning down to kiss her cheek and adjust the cloth on her neck.

They sit there for a while in peaceful silence, until Cady feels tears soak into her shirt and hears a quiet sniffle. “Oh, Jellybean, what’s wrong?” She asks sadly, holding her girl closer.

“Don’t feel good. Hurts,” Janis whines hoarsely, letting out a whimper of pain. Janis cries a fair amount, but almost never from physical pain. She must be feeling miserable.

“Oh, mpendwa, I’m sorry. I wish I could do more for you,” Cady says sadly. “My poor love.”

“Medicine?” Janis asks quietly with another whimper.

“You can’t take any more yet, it’s not safe. Just a little longer,” Cady tries to comfort gently. Janis chokes out a sob at finding out she can’t take anything more yet, and has to continue dealing with the pain on her own.

“Please?” She begs.

“I’m sorry, Jellybean. You’ll get sicker if you take more. Shh, lovey, you’ll make yourself feel worse if you cry, shh.” Cady squeezes her tighter, rubbing her back again. “Damian gave me some ice cream for you when I went to get the stuff to make your soup, would that help?”

“What kind?” Janis asks tearfully.

“That really good caramel stuff you like,” Cady answers, wiping her tears gently. “Do you want me to go get it?”

Janis thinks for a second, wanting the ice cream to help her pain but not wanting her Caddy to go. She nods after a minute, scooting off her lap with a sniffle. “Hurry back?” She whispers, blinking her watery brown eyes pitifully at Cady.

“Always, my love. I’ll be right back,” Cady insists, kissing her red cheeks gently and leaving again.

True to her word, she comes rushing back in no more than forty-five seconds later, brandishing a pint of non-dairy ice cream and a spoon. She sits down again, pulling Janis back into her lap and opening the frozen treat. Desperate to do what little she can to help her girlfriend, Cady scoops some onto the spoon and holds it in front of Janis’ lips.

A testament to her illness, Janis accepts the spoon feeding without complaint. “You’re really feeling sick, hm? You almost never let me feed you,” Cady says, getting her another bite.

Janis just nods and nuzzles into her, opening her mouth again. She’s exhausted, it’s nice not having to exert herself. They continue this for a while, until about a quarter of the pint is gone and Janis puts the lid back on it gently.

“Did the cold help at all?” Cady asks, adjusting her grip on her as she leans to put the ice cream down. Janis nods and holds up her fingers in a pinch sign, signaling that it helped a little. “Good.”

Janis shuts her eyes and tries to rest as best she can, held securely in her girlfriend’s arms. Cady starts rubbing her back again and gently humming a lullaby, something Janis doesn’t quite recognize. She just cuddles in closer, nuzzling into Cady’s neck. She can’t quite fall asleep because her throat and head hurt so badly, but she gets close and rests there quietly for a while.

Cady kisses her forehead softly after about a half hour, telling her she can have more medicine now. She heads to fill up a glass with water and put the ice cream back in the freezer, handing Janis another dose of ibuprofen and another of her antibiotic pills once she comes back. Janis takes them thankfully, immediately swallowing them all down.

“I’m amazed you can swallow those with a throat infection, they’re absolutely massive,” Cady says, shocked at the size of the antibiotics. “I never understood that. Surely they should be small and easy for people to take.”

Janis nods her agreement, huddling under her blankets in a desperate search for warmth. “Stay over?” She asks pitifully.

“If you want, my love. Let me tell my parents and borrow some pjs,” Cady says, texting her parents that Janis is still very sick and needs her to stay, before grabbing a large t-shirt and some thin lounge pants from Janis’ dresser and changing quickly. She comes back once that’s done, pulling Janis back against her chest and kissing her forehead. “Get some rest, Bluejay. You should feel better tomorrow.”

Janis falls asleep once the medicine kicks in, held safely in Cady’s arms.

————-

When Cady wakes up the next morning, Janis is already looking much better. Her temperature is almost normal and she’s gotten some color back. She’d woken up a few times in the night, needing more medicine for her pain before falling quickly back asleep, but it seems to have done its job well.

Janis’ brown doe eyes blink open after a few minutes, the fogginess cleared and the beautiful shine back. She grins upon seeing Cady looking at her, stretching and giving a yawn. “Hi.” Janis says, sounding much less hoarse and pained.

“Hi,” Cady responds, kissing her nose softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Still not totally back, but better,” Janis says softly, protecting her recently returned voice.

“Good. I missed your smile,” Cady says. “I liked the extra cuddles though. That was the only good part.”

Janis chuckles. “Thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m annoying when I’m sick. I get so clingy. Whiny.”

“Love, you were absolutely miserable yesterday, you’re allowed to be clingy and whiny. I liked taking care of you, I just didn’t like seeing you hurt so badly,” Cady chides gently.

“I love you,” Janis cuddles back into her, kissing the spot on her chest she can reach. “You’re the best medicine.”

“I love you too. I’ll always be around to take care of you.”

-

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. please let me know what you thought!

first request fill is coming next week!

lots of love,

ezzy

[supergirl-writingz]

Kidnapped

B!D

Request: if its not too much, maybe B!D gets kidnapped some how?

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, Extreme Injuries

Note: i hope you like it! i really like this one because its my first fic that is more dark! alsoo kinda want to do a part 2 of this with B!D dealing with her physical injuries, and having PTSD about the whole thing? idk maybe if you guys want haha if someone requests ill do it.. enjoy:)

You had a long day at school, and couldn’t wait to get home. Usually your sisters Kara or Alex could pick you up, but they had some DEO business to take care of. You didn’t mind walking, it was your time to clear your head after school. You texted your sisters that you were leaving, and started your walk home. 

You took your normal route and noticed that nobody else was around and it made you uneasy. You started to walk faster, when you noticed a man come out of the bushes and grab you. You tried to fight against him but he held a towel to your face, causing you to lose consciousness as you breathed in the fumes.

You woke up slowly, not remembering what happened. The second everything kicked in, you panicked. You were standing, but your arms were tied to a bar above you, so you couldn’t lower your arms. You tried to pull your arms down as hard as you could, but it didn’t work. You wished you could reach your Supergirl watch. You sighed and looked at your surroundings. You were in a dark, cement room that reminded you of a basement. There were no windows, and one door. It was freezing. You tried to calm yourself down, Kara and Alex would realize soon enough when you don’t text them saying you got home. 

Suddenly, the door opened and a man with a mask walked in.

 “You’re finally awake” he said.

“What do you want with me?” you shouted at him.

“Word on the street is that you know Supergirl’s real identity”

“Why would I know that?” you responded.

He started to explain to why he knew you were connected to Supergirl. The amount you have been saved by Supergirl, greatly outweighs the amount anyone else has. It was only time before someone made this connection.

“Well I’ll never tell you” you say, trying to sound brave.

He laughed and put his face inches away from yours, “We’ll see about that”.

You spit in his face causing him to slap you.. hard. You cried out unable to hold it in. Then he hit you again... and again... and again. It felt like the punches were getting and harder and harder with each blow. He hit your face, your stomach, your ribs, and he even punched your throat one time. You could barely breathe. You were coughing up blood and you were pretty sure your ribs were broken. 

“Are you ready to talk yet” he spat at you.

You shook your head. You weren’t gonna give up. If it was Kara in the position, she would do anything to protect you. 

“Fine. Have it your way” he said as he walked out of the room.

You took this as a chance to breathe and try to calm down. It didn’t last long until the man came back, this time with a video camera. He placed it down so it was facing you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I’ve hacked into the local news channel and I’m gonna broadcast this so that Supergirl will see and reveal her identity to save you” he says with a grin on his face.

He went and turned the camera on. He told Supergirl that she had one week to reveal her identity, or he’d kill you. 

You found your opportunity and yelled “Don’t do it Supergirl I can handle it”

Your comment earned you a punch to the gut. You tried your best not to yell out, you didn’t want Kara to give in. Little did you know, Kara, Alex, and everyone you knew was watching... heartbroken at the sight of you. You looked pretty bad. You were bleeding all over. Some of it dry, some of it fresh. You were in a lot of pain too, but you had to be strong for Kara. 

Your captor got up and shut the camera off, “Now it’s time for some fun”.

He did all sorts of things to you. First off, he would drug you. The drugs made it scarier, it made you unable to react and process the pain you were going through. He beat you, he whipped you, he barely gave you enough food and water to survive, and he would use his taser on you. You had no idea how long you’ve been here. All your thoughts and memories were starting to get jumbled. You were going numb. 

As he was beating you, you were starting to lose consciousness. You thought this might be the end. You thought you were gonna die. Just as you were drifting off, you felt the beating stop. You opened your eyes again and saw Kara-well Supergirl. That couldn’t be real. It was just the drugs. You convinced yourself you were imagining it, and started drifting again. You just wanted to stop fighting, you just wanted to let go. 

You were about to when you heard Kara’s voice say, “Do not give up on me Y/N, please keep fighting”

You heard her. She was real. You were being rescued. You had to fight. You went in and out of consciousness while Kara flew you to the DEO. You were fighting to stay awake but everything hurt so bad. You wanted the pain to stop but you know you made it this far. You could do this.

You got to the DEO and Kara carried you to the Medical Bay and put you down on the bed. You saw Alex come over, tears in her eyes.

“We got you babygirl, you’re gonna be okay” Alex said with a smile.

You managed to give her a small smile and fell into a deep sleep.

You woke up with a start, not knowing what happened. You tried to get up but Alex and Kara rushed to you. 

“Shh try not to move hun, you’re okay” Kara said soothingly. 

Panic filled your body as you remembered everything thats happened. You started to cry as the pain hit you like a truck. 

Then, Lena walked in. “I’m so glad your awake darling, let me put more pain medicine in your IV”

You nodded thankfully, feeling the comfort of another familiar face. Lena had taken care of all your injuries. It was hard for her, Lena was like your third sister. You were so grateful for her. She explained the extent of your injuries and how the healing process would happen. Honestly, it was pretty bad and it freaked you out. Lena held your hand as she spoke to you, and looked in your eyes. It made the news less horrible some how. 

You looked over to Alex, “What happened to the guy who took me”.

She replied, “He’s in DEO custody, he won’t hurt anyone ever again”

This made you feel safe. I mean, as safe as you possible could after going through what you’ve been through. You made Lena and Alex go home and get some rest, but Kara stayed. You and Kara had a long talk, she felt responsible for what had happened.

“I know you would have rather me given up who you are rather than let that man do those horrible things to me, I know that. It was my choice. I wanted to be strong for you Kara, because your strong for me everyday” you said to Kara squeezing her hand.

Kara had tears in her eyes, “You were so strong, even stronger than me. I’m gonna get you through this little one” 

You smiled, “I know you are”

Kara climbed into the bed with you as you fell asleep. You knew you had a long road ahead of you. Not just physically, but mentally. You have been through something traumatic, and it wasn’t gonna be easy to recover. It was gonna take a long time for you to finally feel safe again, but somehow with your sisters and your friends by your side, it seemed possible. 

[charlieliqueur]

Mark X Camper!Reader (Unus Annus)

Camp Days - Part One

Summary/Warnings: Unus Annus spoilers? Takes place during Camp Unus Annus, includes some of Camp Unus Annus fan stuff like the camp cabins and etc, and some of my own variations. Reader is 18+ years old, and part of cabin Taser Fire, since it seems decreed that Mark is the head counselor for that cabin. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go to the Camp Unus Annus posts and you'll find the stuff pretty quick.

---

You didn't remember signing up for this camp. Probably because you didn't, you couldn't have. Oddly enough, you barely remember anything before waking up on a bus, a bag packed and other 'campers' waiting to arrive. This felt off, the bus ride, the look of it, how isolated and almost abandoned it felt. It had all the wrong feelings.

But you were still here. Almost immediately after stepping off the bus a blond man and brunette woman held out stacks of shirts. One stack white, one black. You carefully picked one, and the woman kindly said "Welcome campers! This isn't our official welcome, but we wanted to make sure you had a uniform for initiation! I'm one of the counselors here, my name is Amy! And this is Evan!" They both waved happily.

What were you doing at a summer camp again?

Why would you be here-

Suddenly you all were being ushered away to a grassy clearing with a bonfire pit. Near a roaring fire were two men, wearing semi-matching black and white clothes. One in white, one in black. They turned towards the group of several, beyond several, dozen campers of varying ages, looks, and personalities.

"Welcome to your first day of Camp Unus Annus! In just a few moments you'll be directed to your cabin!" Said the short haired one. The longer haired man said "Don't forget, Camp Unus Annus and officials are not responsible for any harm or death caused here."

"Death??" Asked a few, they also seemed to have no idea how they ended up here.

"Um, excuse me, but I don't remember signing up for this camp," said one girl.

"Me neither!"

"I don't remember too!"

"Uh, me either!"

They two men looked at one another and began laughing. It seemed almost fake. They looked back at the group of confused people. "Of course you didn't sign up, that's not how Camp works here. Now come on! And-" the man in the white shirt looked to the man in black and they said in unison looking over the group, "Don't forget the Buddy System!!"

---

You had been sorted to your cabin. You stood among a group of confused and concerned campers, as they tried to find buddies before your counselor arrived. You got paired up with a man named Gerald, mainly because he had no one else and seemed distant enough not to bother you too much. Though he seemed a little incompetent.

You all looked at the still-packed collection of supplies, when suddenly a rushing of footsteps and a loud voice boomed, "Heeeeey campeeers!!"

You all looked to see Mark. He adjusted his white shirt briefly before smiling and saying "I bet you're all thrilled to be here, and-- What's this? You don't have your tents up yet?? Well hurry! Nightfall is coming soon and the bears will be out, and the bats, and deer, and snakes-- Just, chop chop!"

The group looked among each other hesitantly. "B-Bears?" Asked a girl.

"Yeah!! And not just the animals. Bear Cabin is... well, we won't talk about them."

"Aren't you betraying the buddy system?" Asked a young man. He seemed rather upset. Probably didn't like being at a summer camp he didn't sign up for. Neither did you.

"Yeah, you've broken your own rule!" Added another boy, the first one's buddy.

"Do you wanna talk to me about rules or do you wanna listen and live??" Mark demanded strongly. Most of the younger teens immediately started opening the tent bags, pulling out the plastic structures and beginning to set them up. Gerald and yourself began setting up your tent as well. The older group members glared and hesitated, before joining in as well.

Soon tents were set up, and as Counselor Mark was inspecting them, a large portion of Taser Fire gathered around a fire pit. "What are we supposed to do?" Asked one boy, his name was Daniel. "What do you mean?" Asked Lizzy, a twenty-something girl.

"Like, the fuck are we supposed to do?? Just play along to this summer camp BS? Hasn't anyone realized we've been kidnapped??"

"Speak for yourselves," said Mickey, a thirteen year old boy. "My home fuckin' sucks, I'd rather be here getting covered in mosquito bites than have another drunk fight with my dad," he said openly. It seemed he felt safe here. What was this place doing to you all? Some now anxious, some now comfortable? And what were you feeling?

"Okay campers, it seems dusk has begun. Why don't we get a fire started for a little meal before night, eh?" Asked Mark, gesturing with an open smile. You all looked around at each other and sheepishly nodded. He gave off vibes. Vibes you weren't sure how to feel about.

"And tomorrow, we start the fun!" He assured, before gathering some wood from a pile and making a firepit. You yawned and looked around. "Hey, where's Gerald?" You asked, when suddenly the man stepped beside you, zipping his fly. "Sorry, just stepped away to-"

Suddenly Mark seized him by the collar of his shirt. "Remember... the buddy system. Nobody leaves the group without their buddy!! Understood??" This was directed at the whole group, who nervously agreed, fearing what their counselor would do if they disobeyed. You stumbled back a bit from the muscles man who practically held your buddy a foot off the ground. He lowered Gerald to the ground and stepped away, refocusing on his fire.

It started up in no time, and the campers gathered around it. You looked off into the distance and could see a few other distant lights. Fires or lanterns. There were five cabins in total.

Thicc Water, near the lake.

Breaking Wind, in a clearing.

Earth Girth, near a river.

The Bears, near a cave system.

Taser Fire, on a rocky area near the forest.

You were studying a map that had come with the supplies. Your fingers traced paths and memorized some bigger details. This place felt off, and you wanted to know where to go if you needed to run somewhere. Either away from something... or someone...

Your nervous eyes glanced up at Counselor Mark, a guitar in his hands while he strummed a tune and hummed a song no one knew. He gave off an ill aura. Ted Bundy mixed with Jigsaw and maybe a cult leader or two. Suddenly Counselor Mark saw you watching, and after your eyes met briefly, you looked back down at the map.

"So tell me all your names," he requested, and you looked up with only your eyes, to see his looking across everyone.

People answered, some more reluctant than others. What worried you most is how some who had been very upset being here were suddenly laughing and sharing past stories and tales. Once more that feeling hit you, a feeling it seemed only a few others realized. This place, these people, it was wrong. At least... at least Mark was...

---

You were lying awake in your tent, your buddy Gerald asleep beside you. He wasn't exceedingly friendly, or strong, or smart, but least he didn't snore. You were propped on your arm, a zippo lighter in your hands, lit to provide enough light to read the map. Then you noticed something in the corner. You brought the lighter closer, and it revealed words, full National Treasure style.

Near the logs whom fell, find the stories they tell. A land of old, of death and cold...

What... the... fuck? What was this about?

You suddenly heard footsteps. You clicked the lighter shut, stuffed the map under your bag, and pulled the covers of the sleeping bag over your head. You were nearly silent, but not suspiciously so. You heard them get close to the tent, and heard whispering, but you couldn't identify who.

"Such a shame..."

"Can't follow the rules, can't stay in camp..."

"It is day one, Annus, give them time."

"Life is not fair, nor is death. Time will march ever forward, my friend. Lessons must be learnt in the time they have. Momento Mori."

"Yes, that is true... which tent was it?"

"This way..."

You covered your mouth, hoping they couldn't hear your ragged and terrified breaths. You listened to the footsteps leave. It took you hours to fall asleep, and even then you were plagued by nightmares. Of two men, one in a white suit, one in black, they were familiar but you couldn't place them, their faces just out of sight.

---

"UNUS ANNUS! UNUS ANNUS! UNUS ANNUS!" A chant erupted through a speaker system you hadn't noticed existed, the sound of distorted male voices. You sprung upright, hearing someone rustle the tents and say "Time to get up campers!"

Counselor Mark.

You groaned, and suddenly went still, remembering last night. You waited for Gerald to step out so you could change. You left the tent as well, seeing a fire already started. A majority of the group was gathered round, laughing and joking and making food.

"Where's Jake?" Asked a voice, one that sounded pained and scared.

"Who?" Asked one girl.

"JAKE!" Said the boy, as if we should know. But you did, you actually remembered. Jake and this boy were the two who pointed out Mark breaking the rules. Mark simply laughed it off and said "Jake has been removed from Camp Unus Annus, should've followed the rules. Now, who wants bacon??"

"Me!!" Cheered some, holding out their plates. You stuck farther back, pulling your map from your pocket. You saw a circle appeared around a spot on the map. You couldn't leave alone. Buddy System. Didn't wanna end up like Jake...

"Hey Gerald?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going somewhere, come on."

"But what about-"

"You'll live. Besides, that bacon seems... off..."

"What do you-"

"Just shut up and follow."

"Okaaaay."

He followed you as the both of you headed towards the marking on the map. "Gonna let me know what this is about?" He asked, walking lazily, not even concerned on wild animals in the woods or poisonous plants and crazy counselors.

You yawned deeply, restless from last night's sleep. You didn't have a lot of time. Then you saw it. Stuck under a log that seemed like it had fallen decades ago, poking out, was a journal. "Help me move this," you demanded of you buddy, trying to force the log to roll.

"Y/n, you sure? It's all damp and rotted, there might be like slugs or-"

"Dammit Gerald push the log!!"

He whined again before pushing against it with you, and it rolled over enough for you to kick the journal free.

"All this way for a notebook? Pfft..."

"Yeah, a notebook. One you won't mention or you'll have more than just Mark to worry about," you warned darkly.

What was wrong with you? Would you normally say that? Yes, no? You couldn't remember. There had to be something about this place. A toxic material waste, brain fucking everyone.

Gerald hesitantly agreed to secrecy, then began his journey back, you following close behind.

"Hey, look, Taser Bitches!" Shouted an unfamiliar voice. You both looked around, before seeing a small group of kids, wearing matching bandanas. Thicc Water.

"Alright guys, pelt 'em!!!" Shouted someone, and they raised water balloons.

"What the fuc-??"

You urged Gerald to run and you both began sprinting, water balloons crashing and splatting all around you, the water seemed oddly thicc.

However you escaped with your lives, and luckily it seemed counselor Mark was gone. Good. You pulled the journal out in front of you and read the first entry.

I don't know what day it is. Not what they say. They think today is tomorrow and is also yesterday. I've been here weeks and they're saying day three. This place is wrong, so fucking wrong. But I can't leave. My buddy started the idea of cabins. He seems to be leaving me. I can't escape without help...

You entered your tent and exhaled shakily. You took a seat on the polyurethane floor. Was this from the beginning of the camp? It had to be a while ago, these cabins and all had been here for a long time, the signs and everything super old. Like, decades old. That's when what you read next horrified you.

Counselor Mark and Ethan are up to something. Kids keep going missing and it's only ones in their cabins. I have to get the fuck out of here...

How old are they? What the fuck was this?? Was this real, what did this even mean, that Counselor Mark and Ethan are-

Suddenly there was a rustling on the tent, like knocking, and a scary familiar voice asked "Hey y/n right?"

To be Continued...

A/N: Woo!! I hope to finish this story, or at least get a good few parts out. What's going on? Spoooooky. Anyways, things will obviously get more dramatic as it continues. Hope you enjoyed!

[starryknight09]

Friendly Fire

Febuwhump Day 4: impaling

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter dodged the drone that tried to ram into him and kicked it as it passed by.  It fell to the ground in a clump of metal.  These things terrorizing Manhattan weren’t hard to destroy but there were so many of them the sky practically looked black.  It was the Avengers first mission since they’d defeated Thanos after Captain Marvel had snapped the gauntlet.  It was too bad she’d disappeared back into space a few weeks ago because they could really use her right about now.

Peter swung closer to the main battle where most of the drones seemed to be amassed.  He shot out a taser web along the way taking down another five drones that were crowded too close together.  

“Nice shot kid.” Tony said as he flew by.

“Thanks Mr. Stark.” He grinned under the mask and shot out another web at a drone that had ventured too close.  “Is it just me or does it seem like we’re not even making a dent in these guys?”

“According to FRIDAY we’ve taken out about ten percent of them.”

“Wonderful.” Clint complained over the comms.  “So at the rate we’re going, we’ll have these things cleaned up by tomorrow morning.”

He wasn’t wrong.  They’d been at it for almost an hour now and the sun was about to set.

“Anyone have any bright ideas?” Rhodey asked.

“We could really use Thor right about now.” Clint said.

“Yeah well point break’s off philandering with Quill and his merry men, so we’re going to have to make due.” Tony said.

“It’s too bad we can’t just EMP them.” Peter said, all his skills being tested as he dodged drones, webbing up as many as he could and striking any that got too close.

“We’d have to take out a significant portion of New York's power, and mine and Rhodey’s suits, for that to work, so let’s try to avoid that.” Tony sniped.

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way then.” Clint said.  Peter briefly caught sight of the archer on the top of nearby rooftop as he swung past.

To be fair, there was a lot going on, so what happened next wasn’t completely Clint’s fault.  Or Peter’s.  

A handful of drones attacked him simultaneously, and they were too close to use his webs.  He landed a hard hit on one, but when he did, he got too close to another one and his spidey sense flared as it shot its lasers at him.  He yanked hard on his web to dodge out of the way and narrowly avoided getting hit, but the moment he moved his spidey sense wailed at him.  Before he could figure out why, his leg jerked.  What?

“Oh shit.” Clint swore and a second later the pain hit him.  His leg felt like it was on fire.  He looked down at it and it took a moment for his brain to process what his eyes were seeing.  One of Clint’s arrows had speared through the fleshy part of his calf.

Oh.  Ow.  Ow ow ow.  The shock and the pain of it had distracted him enough that he’d forgotten to throw another web out to stay in the air, so now he was falling on top of bleeding.  He managed to focus and fire a web onto a building, just in time to slow his descent so he skimmed across the ground and landed on his good leg without hurting himself any further.  He slowly crumpled to the concrete, staring at his skewered leg stretched out in front of him.  Blood leaked out and stained the pavement.  The sight made him dizzy.  Luckily, none of the drones seemed to have followed him.

“Uh, anyone got eyes on the kid?” Clint asked over the comms.  Peter knew he’d fallen out of the archer’s line of sight.

“Why?” Tony asked immediately, and Peter could sense his tension.

“He might’ve, sort of, just a little bit, gotten in the way of one of my arrows.”

“What?  You shot him?” Tony yelled.

“It was an accident!”

“Where is he?  Peter!”

Oh right.  He could talk.  “I know how a shish kabob feels now.” He groaned.  “Can’t say I’d recommend it.”

“Where are you?” Tony asked, panicking.  “Never mind.  I see you.”

Ironman flew toward him and landed with a clang.  The helmet retracted and Peter could see the man’s eyes widen as he took him in.

“It’s not that bad.” Peter tried to reassure him.

“Not that bad.  We need to work on your definition of those words.  You’ve been impaled.” Tony said, crouching down to get a closer look at his leg.

“It’s just a flesh wound.” Peter said and let out a hysterical laugh.  He couldn’t help it.

“Not funny.” Tony had gotten touchy about him getting hurt ever since he’d come back from the snap.

“No but seriously, it’s just the fleshy part.  I think if you just pull it out it’ll be fine.”

“Pull it—” Tony stopped and took a deep breath.  “You never pull it out.  If you ever get stabbed or skewered or whatever you leave it in.  Capiche?”

Peter nodded.

“And you’re supposed to be a genius…” Tony muttered to himself and then the next moment the helmet of his armor formed back into place.  “Try to hold still kid.”

Peter frowned.  “I thought we weren’t taking it out.”

“I’m not.” Tony said and one of the fingers on his armor uncapped and Tony aimed it at the arrow.  A focused laser shot out of the finger and sliced off one side of the arrow, near enough to his skin that Peter felt the heat, but it didn’t burn.  Tony repeated the same process on the other side so now only about an inch of arrow shaft stuck out on each side of his calf.  For just hitting his leg it sure was bleeding pretty profusely.  The puddle of blood under his leg had been slowly expanding.  Looking at it made him feel a little ill.

Tony seemed to notice the same thing in the next moment.  “Let’s get you out of here kid.”  Before Peter could protest, Tony had lifted him up in his arms and taken off.

“What about the fight?” Peter asked, starting to feel lightheaded.  They’d barely been winning before and now they were losing Spiderman and Ironman.

“Don’t worry about it.  They’ll be fine.” Tony answered, sounding distracted.

Peter wasn’t sure he believed him, but he didn’t have the energy to argue.  He closed his eyes.

“Stay awake Pete.”

“I’m awake.” He responded, opening his eyes with a reluctant sigh.

The rest of the flight passed in a pain filled blur.  By the time they made it to the compound he wasn’t feeling the greatest, but he was still awake, and he wasn’t crying or screaming in pain even though he kind of wanted to.  Every jostle had sent sparks of agony up his leg.  Who knew how much an arrow wound hurt?  He had a new respect for Hawkeye and his primary weapon of choice.  He never wanted to end up on the wrong end of an arrow again.

“How are you doing?” Tony asked as he deposited him on the waiting gurney on the roof.  Peter gave him a weak thumbs up and the man gently pulled off his mask before they started wheeling him to the elevator.

“Don’t worry.  I’m going to kill birdbrain.” Tony growled.

“Don’t.” Peter said with a wave of his hand.  “It was an accident.”

“He should’ve known better than to be shooting those things so close to you.”

Peter knew it wasn’t worth arguing over.  Tony was acting like an angry dad, and when he got like that, nothing Peter said would change his mind.  They descended and as soon as the elevator doors opened, they pushed him into the medbay, Tony following alongside the bed.  Dr. Cho was already waiting at the exact spot where they stopped and locked the bed.

“I saw the scans from FRIDAY.” Dr. Cho said, more to Tony than him, as the medical personnel started helping him out of the suit.  “It should be an easy enough fix.  We’ll put him under to take the arrow out and stitch up the artery and everything else, but he should be back to normal in a day or two with his healing ability.

Tony let out a relieved sigh.

“You should go back and help.” Peter suggested once he knew the injury wasn’t too severe, even though he didn’t really want Tony to leave his side.  He winced as they finished carefully peeling the suit away from the arrow, guiding the ends through the holes in the suit, but unable to keep from jostling it slightly.

“I’m staying.” Tony said, adamant.

“But—”

“They’ll be fine.  Trust me.”

Peter acquiesced with a sigh, hoping Tony was right.  He tried to ignore the flutter of motion around him as the medical people worked, attaching an IV and all the necessary wires to him.

“Hey Mr. Stark?” Peter prompted and Tony purposely didn’t acknowledge him as he continued to stare at a monitor over Peter’s head.  Peter sighed.  Right.  He tried again.  “Hey Tony?”

“Yes?” The man looked down at him with a smirk.  Peter rolled his eyes.  Ever since the snap, Tony had been relentless about Peter calling him Tony instead of Mr. Stark, and Peter had been working on it, but it was a work in progress.

“When I wake up will you watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with me?”

Tony shook his head in consternation.  “You’re a menace kid.”

Peter grinned.  “Is that a yes?”

“We’ll see.”

“It’s a yes.” Peter said confidently.  “Because you love me.”

Tony’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly but Peter noticed it.  “Sure do.” He confirmed, something Peter was pretty sure the pre-snap Tony never would’ve admitted, especially around other people, but this Tony was different.  He was softer, gentler, more willing to share his emotions and show affection.  Peter was still trying to adjust.

Tony ruffled his hair.  “But don’t tell anyone I said so.  I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Peter snorted.  Ok, maybe he hadn’t completely changed.

[love-and-monsters]

Quarantined with a Tiefling

To help us all deal a little bit with the current situation, I’ve decided to write a story for MKM’s monster quarantine. Hopefully it will help lift your spirits.

GN reader X M tiefling, 3050 words.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave.” The werewolf at the door folded her ears back and drew up her lips in an impressive show of teeth. “You’ve all been exposed.”  

“That’s bullshit!” A wyvern leaned over the werewolf, showing off an even more impressive set of teeth. “You can’t keep us here. It’s not fair. I have family waiting for me!” He lifted an arm. “Get out of my way.”

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down.” A human wearing the same uniform as the werewolf marched over. She was holding a taser. The wyvern snarled, but backed off. “Look, you were all on the plane with her, so any of you could be infected. You have to stay here for a week to ensure that you aren’t sick and won’t transmit it to anyone else.”

“What if we can’t get sick?” a vampire asked. “It’s not far to keep us here just because we were on the plane.”

“There will be a few doctors along momentarily to screen for those of you who cannot catch diseases. All the undead will be free to go after proper disinfection procedures. The rest of you will need to wait out the full time of quarantine.” The crowd rumbled with discontent and the human raised her voice. “We will do our best to ensure that you are compensated for your time, but you are staying here.”

Several people approached her and guards started to converge on the area. You withdrew, back to the furthest edge of the room, away from the angry crowd. Several other monsters were there with you. A nervous-looking harpy was curled up in a corner, a naga was stretched across the floor, and a tired tiefling was slumped next to your belongings.

“Sorry,” you said, approaching him, “I just need to get into my bags.”

He blinked at you and shifted away from your bags so you could get into them. A yawn split his face, revealing large fangs. He attempted to lean back against a nearby column, but his long, curling horns prevented it. Grimacing, he lay awkwardly over what you assumed was his bag.

“Are you all right?” you asked cautiously. He focused on your with surprisingly bright purple eyes. They set off his dark blue skin in a striking way.

“I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. His voice was clear and low, not raspy as the sick woman’s had been. “I had a red eye connecting flight to this one. I don’t sleep well on planes, so I’m afraid I’m a bit exhausted.” He sagged back over his suitcase. “I hope they set us up somewhere soon. I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” you said. “You’re not worried?”

“About the illness?” He shook his head slowly. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” you said. “More worried about my work, to be honest.” He looked at you curiously. “I work in museum archives. I can’t do my work remotely and if I’m not there, I’ll fall behind.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’m a graphic designer. Just flying back from a meeting with a client. As long as I have my computer, I have work.”

Almost as soon as he’d finished speaking, there was the crackle of a bullhorn and a voice boomed out over the crowd. “Attention all passengers!”

You sat up and looked toward the front of the room. A tall minotaur was standing there, yelling into a megaphone. She was flanked by the werewolf and human from before while a few other uniformed people walked out into the crowd. “You have been gathered here because you were all passengers on flight 441, which, it has just been confirmed, was also attended by a woman carrying Mirkwood Flu.” A murmur spread through the crowd and the minotaur raised her voice further. “It is unlikely to cause death, but due to its rapid spread rate and its ability to affect nearly all species, we have been told to quarantine all passengers to ensure that this disease does not spread further.”

Angry yells started to break out from patches of the crowd. The minotaur seemed unaffected. “This quarantine will last a week, in which we will provide food and shelter for you. If any of you have contracted this disease, you will be treated for it before you can leave. Please follow the designated employees to the quarantine zone. We apologize for your inconvenience.”

The angry buzz of the crowd started to break into serious fighting in a few areas and guards converged on them. The tielfing next to you stood up, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing with his spike-tipped tail. “You don’t want to stay here.”

There was a thud from the nearby crowd and the buzzing of a taser. You took a step back, then turned and hurried after the tiefling. A few of the security officers were leading a group of people through a corridor blocked off with plastic sheeting and you joined them.

“Were you near that woman on the plane?” the tiefling asked as you walked down the hall.

“I don’t remember,” you admitted. You hadn’t paid especially close attention to the passengers around you on the plane. The only thing you could really remember was that she hadn’t been in your row. “Was she near you?”

“Three rows back,” he said. “I recall she was coughing a lot. I didn’t think much of it. The air on a plane is so dry.”

The corridor opened up into a large room. Cots had been set up along the walls, each one with simple white sheets and plain white clothes sitting on it. One of the security guards at the door held out his hand to you. “Your bag, please?”

Both you and the tiefling clutched your bags tighter. The security guard narrowed his eyes. “Your items need to be disinfected. They’ll be returned to you after quarantine.”

“I need my computer,” the tiefling said. The guard looked unmoved.

“You will have your items returned to you after the quarantine,” he repeated. He held out a hand.

You handed your bag over and gave the tiefling a meaningful look. He gritted his teeth, but removed his bag from his shoulder and passed it to the guard. With a nod, you were free to enter the room.

You walked over to one of the beds and sat down on the edge. A doctor wearing one of the contamination suits they wore in disease movies approached you.

“You can step behind the curtains and change,” he said, gesturing to curtained booths toward the back of the room. “We’ll need to disinfect your clothes as well.” You glanced at the tiefling, half-expecting him to protest that as well, but he seemed to have given up on protecting.

“I’m not wedded to these clothes,” he muttered. “You don’t have to give them back.”

He vanished behind one of the curtains and you followed suit. You folded your clothes in the designated corner and changed into the slightly scratchy outfit they had provided. It was about as flattering as a potato sack, made exclusively to cover your modesty and nothing else.

The tiefling was sitting on the bed next to yours by the time you returned. The clothes weren’t doing him any favors either. He’d managed to acquire a notepad in the time you’d been gone and was sketching something with a stumpy pencil.

“What are you drawing?” you asked.

“Trying to come up with ideas for a new logo for a business. I’m supposed to get back to them by Wednesday, which apparently isn’t happening.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a good reason,” you said. The tiefling shrugged.

“They don’t care about my reasons. They care about results. I don’t have any job security. They can fire me for any reason. One of those reasons can be not getting back to them in time.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. There wasn’t much else you could say. The tiefling sketched a few more lines, then grimaced and shoved the paper aside.

“No point. I can’t reference my notes or send this to anyone without my computer,” he said.

“You could think of it as an impromptu vacation,” you suggested. He glared at you.

“Ah, yes. This is the height of luxury,” he muttered, gesturing around the room.

“Yeah, it’s not great,” you agreed. “Not exactly a resort, is it?”

The tielfing chuckled dryly. “No, it is not.” He stretched out on his bed. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I? My name’s Essen.”

You told him your name and the two of you shook hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t be touching so much,” he said as you broke contact.

“It’s airborne, I think,” you said. “We probably already have it if we’re going to get it.”

“What a cheerful thought,” Essen said. He sank back onto the uncomfortable cot. You stared around the room in silence. More people had entered, looking morose and resigned.

“This place is so boring,” Essen complained after a few minutes. “Here.” He offered you the paper, which he’d drawn a tic-tac-toe board on. “Play me.”

You played him to a standstill back and forth a few times before moving on to other games, like Pictionary and one that involved flicking folded paper between fingers held up as goalposts.

Eventually the hazmat-wearing authorities passed out trays of food to you. It was a meager meal that you classed as better than airline food, but only just. Essen glared at the tray as though it had personally insulted every member of his family. As you had learned in the past few hours, it was extensive.

“If they’re keeping us trapped here, the least they can do is offer us decent food,” he said, prodding at it with a fork.

“It’s not that bad,” you said. “I mean, did you really think they were going to give us five-star restaurant food.”

He rolled his eyes and took a tentative bite, mouth twisting. Admittedly, you were having trouble stomaching it too. The mushy vegetables and incredibly overcooked meat weren’t exactly appetizing.

The authorities passed out little toiletry bags after that and you and Essen washed up. He yawned and stretched out in bed, tail twitching. “Good night,” he said. He buried under the thin blanket, covering most of his head with his hands.

You tried to sleep too- there wasn’t much more you could do. But the strange environment and the noises of children crying and people coughing and shifting about made you uncomfortable enough that you couldn’t sleep.

Just as you were finally starting to drift off to sleep, you heard a noise from Essen. You rolled over to look at him. In the dim, indirect light of the room, you could just barely see his expression. It was crumpled, forehead wrinkled and lips drawn up into a snarl. It looked like he was struggling against something. His tail lifted against the blankets, untucking them from the end of the bed. He made a strangled crying noise.

You scrambled out from bed and leaned over him before hesitating. You didn’t want to just wake someone up. Then he let out a whimper and you got over your anxiety.

“Hey!” You took hold of his shoulder and shook gingerly. He woke with a start, scrambling away from you and nearly falling out of the bed himself.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to wave away the curious gazes that fell on you two. “You were making noises in your sleep. Are you okay?”

His skin was too dark to tell if he was blushing, but given the way he shrank back against the bed and averted his gaze, you guessed he was. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he muttered.

“Oh, you didn’t. I wasn’t asleep. I was having trouble falling asleep, actually.” Essen gave a weak smile.

“That’s good. I’m still sorry for disturbing you. I’m fine, though.” He sank back into his cot. There was a stiffness to him, though, that made you a little uncertain.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, a little too quickly. He relaxed into bed and, after a moment, you did the same, eventually falling asleep.

You were served breakfast soon after you woke up and then you were left mostly to your own devices throughout the day. There wasn’t an awful lot to do in the quarantine. They offered you some entertainment, in the form of books and a child-friendly movie playing on a projector, but you still felt restless. Essen apparently felt the same, given the amount of pacing he was doing.

“I’m going to go insane before we get out of here,” he said. “A week? They can’t keep us here for that long.” He tugged at his hair. You could almost hear his teeth grinding.

He was interrupted by someone across the room bursting into thick, rasping coughs. A few of the suited doctors converged on them and, after a moment, they were herded out of the room. Essen dropped onto your cot next to you.

“You’re not feeling sick, are you?” he asked. You shook your head.

“You?”

“No. I feel all right. Aside from the aforementioned boredom.” His tail flicked, tapping against your leg for a moment before whisking back to his side. “You’re handing this a lot better than I am. What’s your secret?”

“Thinking about the stuff at the museum. I figure if I can’t organize it there, I can organize it here. I’ll just do it physically when I get back.”

“How can you organize it if you can’t see where everything is?” he asked.

“I have a photographic memory. I remember exactly where everything was when I left it and the layout of the room, so I can sort things in my head. I can also go over some of the files I read when I left, so I can write up a report on them when I get back.”

He perked up. “Really? That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“It’s not that exciting. I just have a really good visual memory. Anyway, it’s kind of a pain. I can’t reread books or anything because I remember everything that happened in them.”

“But it must still be really useful. You don’t forget anything you read, so you must be able to remember a lot of the details you need for your job.”

“It does make me a really good organizer. I don’t forget where anything is. I could give an entire tour of the museum in my mind probably, because I have the entire layout and all the information memorized,” you laughed. Essen’s eyes went wide.

“Please, would you?” he asked.

“You want me to give you a tour?” you asked. He nodded eagerly. “It’s not going to be that exciting. I can’t actually show you any of the objects we have or anything. I’m not much of an artist, so I can’t draw them or anything.”

“That’s all right. I’ll take anything.” Essen sat back in bed, looking at you expectantly.

By the end of the day, you had managed to get through most of the pre-treaty sections of the museum, with a special focus on the tiefling settlements that had occupied most of the continent.

“Fascinating,” he said over another slightly rubbery dinner. “I never realized exactly how many tiefling civilizations powered themselves with runic magic.”

“Runic magic’s really old school. There’s a big section of the museum dedicated to it. Actually, I wrote my graduate thesis on a few different runes and their speculated uses. It’s really a shame that we don’t know a lot of the runes that were used back then. I was trying to prove that the rune for fire could be activated through combination with the rune for earth using an undetermined connection rune, which would create hot spots in the ground for warming their towns during the winter.”

“Could they be activated together?” Essen asked.

“I didn’t prove it conclusively, but I think I showed a lot of evidence.” You put your tray aside. “It’ll be nice when we can actually head back home. Maybe I can give you an actual tour.”

Essen lounged across his cot, yawning widely. “It’s a date, then.” You could feel your cheeks going warm, and you quickly hurried to the bathroom to wash up for the night.

Again, you had trouble sleeping. Essen seemed to fall asleep immediately, but before you could join him, you heard him groan and roll over in his sleep.

You looked over. His expression was screwed up again, tail lashing with agitation. Hesitantly, you reached over and shook him awake.

“You were, uh. Kind of yelling in your sleep,” you told him. He sat up slowly, breathing in great, gasping gulps. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He grimaced. “I said I don’t sleep well on planes, but I don’t really sleep well anywhere other than my home,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was a kid, I get nightmares everywhere but my house. It usually takes me a couple of weeks to get used to a new place.”

“I’ve heard of that disorder before,” you said. “When I was researching old tiefling civilizations. You’re probably descended from the guards who watched over their towns at night. You’re having nightmares because your body’s unsettled by the change in location.”

“That’s nice and all, but I don’t really care why it happens. I just want it to stop.” He sagged against his pillow, blinking heavily.

“Scooch over.” He frowned at you, but allowed you to get into bed next to him. “Um. It doesn’t always work and there are some better therapies for it, but in the short term, having a person watch over you while you sleep can help.”

Essen reached up to rest his hand gently over yours. “You don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t.” Your heart pounded in your chest as he nestled closer to you, eyes closing.

“If I have to be quarantined,” he said, “I’m glad that you were here with me.”

“Me too,” you said. His fingers tightened over yours and he gave a quiet sigh of contentment.

[barb-aricyawp]

Can I get something with Steve and Tony? No idea what, it's a bad mental health day an I'm trying to keep myself from spiraling, so maybe a hint of hope at the end that things will be okay? Only if you want to of course and if this takes your fancy. I'm down for whatever you write, Barb.

I’m so sorry about the spiral. I’ll keep things light for you. If you’re in the mood for something darker, drop me a line.

trigger warnings: implied medical experimentation, captivity, drugging, needles, forced nudity, forced to watch, the power of friendship.

“Hey,” Tony says, trying to nudge Steve awake. His eyelids flicker, a flash of blue, and then nothing. His head lolls to his shoulder. Totally out. 

Tony chances a glance up to the doctor preparing their next torture instrument. Back still turned. 

And Tony’s head is ringing from the taser that jolted 50k shocks through him, and there’s copper on his tongue, and he’s pretty sure his left ankle is fractured, but he’s got to do something.

He gives the cuffs binding his hands above his head another try. They give a creak, but they’re bound to a metal table leg and he’s not the one with the super strength here, Steve is, and they are so fucked if Tony can’t get him awake by the time this doctor fills that syringe with what he can only hope is this year’s flu vaccine, but probably isn’t.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Tony says, rattling his cuffs. “I’m fine with the Beauty, but the Sleeping is a problem.” 

Tony is bound to the same table where Steve is strapped down and manages to jostle it enough to stir Steve. Steve’s eyes open fully this time. Immediately, Tony knows that he’s still out of it.

He blearily looks around the operating room, down to his body which is magnicuffed to an operating table, and then to Tony. Tony, whose hands are bound to a leg of that operating table. Useless.

Steve breaks into a big, warm smile for Tony.

“Hi,” Steve says, giving his fingers a little wriggle. That smile is the biggest, friendliest Labrador Retriever smile Tony has ever seen and he almost feels bad for breaking the bad news.

“Yeah, hi back,” Tony whispers, eyes on the doctor who is still absorbed in her work. “Look, can you get out of--”

“I’m not in clothes,” Steve interrupts, his face a moue of confusion. “What--” He gives his arms a jerk and hits the magnicuffs and now he’s getting the damn picture. Now he’s realizing how trapped and how fucked they are. “Tony, what--”

“Oh good,” the doctor says, her voice chill and crisp. “You’re awake.”

Steve tries the cuffs again and table creaks this time, but he’s still immobilized. Maybe if he weren’t fighting off the drugs. Maybe if Tony could get the multitool in his back pocket. Maybe if they had consulted with the other team before infiltrating this Hydra bunker...

The good doctor taps the bubbles out of the syringe and at the sight of that finger-long needle, Steve’s body gives a great, involuntary shudder. 

He’s never said so outright, but Tony knows Steve has a doctor phobia--a result of chronic illness--and it seems exacerbated by a needled doctor. His eyes track the needle as she approaches. They fill with water, red rimmed and terrified.

“Hey, Doc,” Tony calls out, trying to break whatever spell she has over Steve. “Whatcha got in there? Because if it’s heroine, I’ve got a crisp hundo in my pocket that--”

Steve gives a soft laugh, as if despite himself. Tony is so surprised--Steve never laughs at his jokes--that he trails off.

The doctor ignores them both and plunges the syringe into Steve’s neck. Just in the soft hollow below his jaw. He cries out, but it’s just a bare, singular yawp before his throat smothers the sound and then his whole body goes slack. Immobilized.

“There we go,” the doctor croons when the syringe is empty. She slips the needle free and turns to her tools laid out on a table. The saw she goes for is as large as Tony’s thigh with teeth as thick as fingers. A bone saw.

Don’t panic, Tony thinks and it’s in Pepper’s voice. Don’t panic, he needs you. 

Steve is clearly paralyzed, but his chest is heaving. Tony wriggles his hands up, the metal of the cuff cutting into his forearms, but if he strains, he can just barely work his fingers into Steve’s. They’re not really holding hands so much as hooking fingers, but Steve’s heaving chest slows. His head rolls towards Tony  and they stare at each other as the doctor sterilizes the bonesaw.

“I’m right here,” Tony says, a promise. “Whatever happens, I’m right here.”

[starlightshadowsworld]

Behind the Hockey Mask

Saw this scene on tik tok

And just

Raph standing up but immediately pushed behind Casey.

Casey standing between Raph and Splinter like a great wall.

Shielding Raph and holding him with one arm.

And meeting Splinters anger with his own.

Part of him is shaking.

Part of him is afraid.

But Casey won't let that stop him.

He glares at Splinter, taser in his hand that no one saw him grab.

"Stand down"

"Casey Jones you will cease this at once, I am talking to my son."

"Talking my ass, you know exactly what the fuck your doing... Stand down and I won't shove this thing so far up your arse you'll be able to taste it tomorrow."

They are all looking at Casey but he doesn't see it.

He's mapped an escape, his whole body is on high alert and yet his arm around Raph is gentle.

Splinter takes a step forward but Casey is faster.

He's pinned Splinter to the ground with his taser at his throat.

"I warned you"

It's only because Raph is begging... Actually begging him to get off his dad that Casey does so.

Splinter stays sitting down, taking a few calming breathes before saying their conversation will happen later.

He leaves.

Casey doesn't take his eyes off him till he's gone.

Before holding Raph, squeezing his shoulder with a smile that is nothing but kindness.

The change is instant.

It reminds Raph of Leo.

"Case?"

"No one gets to use intimidation tactics like that...and call it a lesson." He says, sitting down beside Mikey who shuffles closer to him.

Casey rubs his head like he would ruffle Angel's hair.

"Anger can be self destructive no shit. Any emotion can be if you let it get too far. Love, you could love someone so much it destroys you from within because you forgo everything you are to keep them happy... And than they leave."

Casey gazes up at Raph "your hot headed but you know when to cool your self down. Your not self destructive Raph, your protective. Your kind, your an arse hole and a brother...You don't got nothing to worry about."

Raph blinks, a small smile making it to his face "thanks man."

Casey nods, looking at the door where Splinter left "man needs to remember he's not just your sensei..."

Maybe Splinter was ill too?

Casey hoped not but if it came to it he'd look after the turtles too... April if he had to.

No one got hurt on his watch.

He would destroy himself before the ones he loved were hurt.

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

“We’re Gonna Play a Game”

For @whumptober2020 

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

Light glints off the bullet as the Winter Soldier holds it between his fingers. There’s a smirk on his face. It’s wrong. All wrong. It deepens when he fits the bullet into the chamber of the revolver he holds in the other hand. The metal one. 

Once the bullet is snug in its home, the Winter Soldier jerks the cylinder closed and spins it.  

“We’re gonna play a game,” he says setting the gun on the table between the two of them. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Steve...” Bucky whispers when the Winter Soldier aims the barrel of the gun right between his eyes. A bead of sweat crawls down Bucky’s face. “Please. You don’t have to do this.” 

He isn’t sure how he got here. Wherever here is. A Hydra base, he assumes. One of their interrogation rooms, probably. With both him and Steve in folding chairs and one table between them. Last Bucky remembers, he was fighting with a muzzled Winter Soldier in D.C.. Natasha was shot. Sam had taken the high ground to give them cover. And when that fucking mask fell off and when Bucky saw the face behind it, well.

He froze. He just stood there, too horrified, too shocked, too dazed to do anything other than stare at the Winter Soldier. Fast. Strong. Metal arm. Steve Rogers. 

Maybe they tasered him or maybe Rumlow hit him on the back of the head or, fuck it all, maybe he just fainted. However they did it, Bucky’s here now. In this room made out of stone and concrete. With just two chairs, a table, and a gun. Alone with Steve.

They haven’t even bothered restraining Bucky. 

That isn’t any wonder. He was never a match for Steve, never worthy enough to take his shield and Captain America mantle. 

Right now, Bucky’s fairly sure if his ribs aren’t broken, they’re at least bruised. His ankle definitely has a sprain and the gash across his forehead is still bleeding, blood drying to the right side of his face. 

This is a nightmare.

One he can’t wake from.

One where Steve Rogers is the fucking Winter Soldier. The cold-blooded assassin most of the intelligence community doesn’t even believe exists. Credited for more than two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. More kills for Hydra than anyone. 

The man Bucky and the Avengers have been hunting for the past six months after he shot Nick Fury. Fury survived but only a handful of people are privy to that information. 

“Here’s how we play,” Steve begins. “First, I ask a question--”

“Please...”

“--and if you don’t want to answer it.” He puts his index finger against his temple and mimics pulling the trigger. “I’ll let you give the cylinder a spin between questions so you have a sporting chance. One in six odds isn’t so bad, is it?”

His voice is all wrong. Gone is that warmth and tender kindness. That inspiration that clung to every word whenever he spoke about something important. The one that made Bucky fall in love with him when they were a couple’ve punks runnin’ around the streets of Brooklyn. Now it’s cold. Calculating. Sadistically pleased with the way Bucky squirms across from him.

“Steve, please, don’t make me do this.” 

Bucky closes his eyes when Steve picks up the gun again and cocks the hammer. The sound it makes is nauseating. A tremble shoots up Bucky’s spine and makes his head spin. The chair feels unsteady beneath him. He might fall off of it. 

“You are going to pick up this gun, Captain,” he says. Almost cheerfully. “You will put it against your head. And you will either answer my questions or pull the trigger. Your choice.” 

“I don’t understand--”

“I find the rules to be quite simple.”

“--what happened to you?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions, Captain. But, if you prefer to start that way, I suppose I can allow that. It isn’t what happened to me but rather what didn’t happen to you.” 

Eyes drifting down to the gun on the table, Bucky quickly calculates the odds of him grabbing it before Steve can. But then what? Does he shoot Steve Rogers? Can he shoot Steve Rogers? Probably not. In his current state, Bucky would be no sooner able to get the upper hand than he could convince Steve that they were in love once. A lifetime ago.

“The doctor,” Bucky whispers, gaze still on the gun. “Dr. Zola. He found you, didn’t he? After you fell from the train.”

Steve had shoved Bucky out of the way and took the brunt of the Hydra weapon’s blast. He’d saved Bucky in doing so but.

They looked for him. Bucky didn’t need to convince anyone to try. They’d’ve never left Captain America to the icy depths of that canyon without at least trying to find him. If only it’d had been Bucky who fell. If only.

“That’s right,” Steve answers with a sneer. “Oh...” he breathes, “the things he did to your friend will keep you up at night for weeks and weeks. Just like him. Kept awake for days at a time. Starved. Beaten.” Steve huffs a snicker. “You said it once to him, didn’t you? That you thought he liked being punched.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, but he put up a good fight,” he says. “That should make you happy. But eventually...eventually, they broke him. Crushed his spirit. Cut into his head. Scrambled everything about while he could feel it, hear it, see it. And how he cried for you to come save him.” 

Those cold, hard eyes lift and glare into Bucky’s. They once held sunshine. All the warmth Bucky could ask for. They’re ice now. Frozen over by time and pain and Bucky’s failure to him. 

“I didn’t know,” Bucky whimpers. “If I’d’ve...I’m so sorry, Steve.” 

“Stop calling me that,” Steve snaps, his lip curling over his teeth. “That is not my name. I have no need for a name. I am a soldier. I am the Soldier.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “You’re not. Your name is--”

“Steve Rogers, only child of Joseph and Sarah Rogers, born in Brooklyn, New York on July 4th, 1918. History of chronic illnesses, shall I name them all for you? No? Good. Because he’s gone and he’s never coming back.”

“Steve--”

The Winter Soldier moves so fast that Bucky barely has a second to register the fact that his metal arm has bunched in his shirt. When his brain finally comprehends this fact, Steve is already dragging him across the table and holding him a few inches off the floor.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Before Bucky can respond, Steve hurls him across the room. Bucky slams against the stone wall and falls into a heap of aching muscles on the floor. He spits the blood from his mouth and tries to push himself back up but can’t. Not just from weak, shaky limbs but because Steve’s knotted fingers through his hair and forces him to his knees. 

Once he’s up, Steve punches him back down again. And then once more for good measure.

“I can do this all day,” he growls and then drags Bucky back to the middle of the room. But Steve doesn’t throw Bucky back into the chair. Instead, he keeps him on his knees and shoves the gun into his hand. “Now. Tell me, Captain. Where is Nick Fury?”

Breathless and shivering and nearly beat, Bucky knows that in order to survive this entire ordeal he first has to survive this game with Steve. He lifts a trembling hand and presses the muzzle of the gun to his temple.

One to six odds.

Steve’s right.

That’s not so bad. 

[bookofjudith]

I received this LOVELY ficlet set in the same AU as ‘a cardinal hits the window’, and it made me cry. thank you so much anon for sending it to me!

                                                 _________

Hi! So. I love your fanfic so much. And I was reading through the comments/threats posted on “Cardinal” and saw one that made a suggestion for a fic set in the same universe that involved Zuko. And the plot bunny attacked. So here it is; self-indulgent and un-edited. Please don’t feel obligated to post this at all! It’s just a thank you for all you’ve written. On the other hand, please feel free to throw this up wherever you want, and to make any changes at all to it. From this point on, it’s fully, 100% yours to do with as you please. May your weekend be lovely!

Warnings: Brief mentions of past character deaths, mentions of injury, mentions of surgery and other hospital things, mentions of child abuse.

It always took long enough for Iroh to register that he was hearing his own mobile phone ringing – there was just always so much background noise in the Jasmine Dragon that he had learned to tune everything but the landline and the words ‘excuse me’ and his name out completely – that it stopped before he got to answer it. Usually, when that happened, he let it be; there was no point dropping things to dive for a call he’d already missed, anyway. But, that afternoon, the phone started up again almost as soon as the last call had died down, and the ringing was close enough to the first that he noticed. Still, by the time he’d carefully set the trays down and fished the device from his pocket, it was silent again. Iroh peered at the screen and felt his eyebrows raise even as his heart clenched suddenly. He had no fewer than eleven missed calls – four from Sokka, and seven from Katara.

The landline rang, but Iroh called for Jin to please answer it, his fingers slow but determined on the phone screen before him. Something was wrong; he could feel it in the very blood his thudding heart was pumping around his body. Something was wrong, because Katara and Sokka wouldn’t be that adamant to get hold of him if it wasn’t. And, oh, hadn’t he had a premonition of ill omens the evening before, when Zuko had asked him to swap out his shift at the Dragon last minute but then had been cagey about why? He should have pressed for more information; should have forced Zuko to tell him why he couldn’t meet his eyes as he mumbled out weak excuses. Meeting somebody who can only make that time Zuko had said. Katara’s coming with. Iroh shouldn’t have let that appease him; shouldn’t have been mollified by the young woman’s presence just because she and Zuko had made such surprising, strong friends in the past few years after their initial rocky start. He should have done more than warn Zuko to take care of Katara, not yet fifteen and therefore more Zuko’s responsibility than any of his other friends, and should have not been so easily reassured by Zuko’s offence at the insinuation that he wouldn’t do all in his power to ensure all those he cared about were safe, but especially the younger ones. He should have –

“Iroh!” Jin stuck her head around the door. “The phone’s for you. It’s Katara. And it sounds urgent.”

Iroh abandoned his attempts to call one of the siblings back and instead half ran to the phone. “Katara?”

“Uncle,” Katara sobbed, her breathing harsh and full of tears. Ice began filling Iroh’s veins as sweat broke out all over him. “Uncle you – you have to come quick.”

“Katara, what happened?”

“You have to get to the h…hospital,” Katara sobbed. “It’s Zuko.”

Iroh’s heart nearly stopped beating on the spot, and he hung up without a proper goodbye.

***

Iroh’s heart didn’t stop beating. But Zuko’s had. If Katara, with her first aid certification, hadn’t been there… If the ambulance hadn’t arrived before he’d crashed a second time…

He’d promised himself, when he’d lost Lu Ten, that he’d never take for granted the spaces a beloved son filled inside his heart and his chest. Never again would he only notice how full he had been because there was suddenly emptiness there. But, despite his promises, he must have still forgotten, because sitting in an uncomfortable waiting room chair while Zuko’s life hung in the balance of the spirits’ and the doctors’ hands, all he could see was the approaching emptiness. What life would be like without Zuko. And he was too numb to even cry.

From Katara, he’d learned this: Zuko had made plans to meet with Azula, to try and convince her to leave Ozai to come to stay with them. He’d been hopeful enough to drop everything to see her, but wary enough that he’d brought Katara along with him as backup. It had started out almost hopeful; Azula had swung between scorn and doubt, between spite and near-broken uncertainty, and Zuko had seemed to really be getting through to her, for once. And then something had changed, and she’d gone on the offensive, dragging Zuko into a fight that had grown worse and worse until Zuko had firmly chosen to walk away. He had told her, out loud, that he was not going to be the person Ozai had tried to make him, that she could contact him if she needed anything or if she was ready to talk, and had begun to walk away. Azula hadn’t liked being left behind. Something in her seemed to snap, and she kept trying to force Zuko to stay. Katara had stepped in, realising it would be easier for her, an outside party, to respond to Azula than it would be for Zuko. Azula had been merciless with her, but Katara had stood her ground. And then Azula had, so quickly Katara still couldn’t understand how or why, brought out a Taser. Zuko had done what he always did – what Iroh had known he would do without thinking about it even as he’d reminded Zuko to take care of Katara: he’d stepped between his friend and harm.

Zuko had gone down, and hadn’t gotten up again, and Azula had zapped him once more in her rage. Katara had shoved Azula off and somehow disarmed her and then fallen to Zuko’s side and had found him unresponsive but panting. And then… then there had been nothing. She couldn’t tell Iroh exactly what had happened after that, but somehow she’d called Sokka on autopilot, and he and Suki had dropped everything to rush over, calling the ambulance as they came. Azula had… disappeared. Katara thought she remembered yelling at Azula to call somebody, and seeing only a face white with shock and horror, staring at her brother’s fallen form. But she couldn’t be sure what had really happened in those moments.

From the doctors, Iroh had learned this: much of Ozai’s complaining about how Zuko was never as fast or strong or energetic or full of endurance as Azula was down to a congenital heart defect. Nobody had picked it up (or so they said, but in Iroh’s head rang Ozai’s voice spitting that Zuko had been lucky to be born) and it had steadily worsened over time, never getting bad enough that it was more than an inconvenience. He would have had mild heart palpitations from time to time, the doctors said. Probably not painful if Zuko had never said anything, the doctors said (but Iroh knew better, he knew his nephew he knew and, oh, Zuko, what more suffering had been kept a secret?). They couldn’t know for sure without a diagnoses, but the worse symptoms would have been that he tired easily, got breathless and/or lightheaded occasionally and had a slightly more rapid heartbeat. Inconvenient, but not truly dangerous. Not until the Taser had been applied directly to his chest.

From the kind nurses he would have flirted with, slightly, if his world wasn’t on the brink of ending, he learned the following: they were doing all they could to fix the underlying damage as well as the damage the Taser had done. They’d tried doing a non-invasive route, first, but had had to resort to opening up his chest. They’d tell him once they heard any other news, they promised.

Katara, Sokka and Suki had been there for an undetermined bit of time at the beginning. Katara, despite being tear-swollen and devastated, hadn’t wanted to leave until she was sure Zuko would be okay, despite the nurses trying to gently but firmly tell her only family was allowed. He is family, she’d snarled at one point, and Iroh had almost had the energy to side with her against the nurse, who hadn’t understood just how true Katara’s words were. Eventually, it had been Sokka who had convinced his little sister to leave. Iroh hadn’t seen it at the time, but sitting in the aching, black eternity of waiting, he suddenly put together the clues he hadn’t recognised before: this hospital haunted that young man in a way that was still viscerally painful. Too much time with his friend who had only recently passed. Too many ghosts, and far too much pain, and his inability to stay, even for Zuko, had finally broken through his little sister’s stubborn fear-love enough for her to agree to leave for the time being. Iroh might have imagined it, but they could possibly have said they’d gather the whole group together in order to wait for news.

It was one of the most coherent things Iroh thought about in that ceaseless agony. The rest of his thoughts were far more incoherent, with only brief flashes of lucidity. No, don’t call his father, I’m his guardian. I will not let his father near him, was the longest sentence he said out loud. The rest were monosyllabic responses coaxed out of some automatic part of himself while his true nature hunkered down like a wounded animal, believing that if he was just quiet and still enough the pain wouldn’t find him a second time.

That wounded animal also had teeth, however, and it bared them in his mind. Why hadn’t a single doctor in the burn unit picked up the heart problems? Zuko had been in their care for months. Why hadn’t Ursa? Why hadn’t Iroh himself? Why hadn’t Zuko just said something? How often had he said I’m tired and meant that his body was unable, unable, unable to do what the world was demanding of it? Why had Zuko gone to meet Azula in the first place, with only Katara with him? Zuko should know by now what a poisonous woman Ozai had made his daughter into. A Taser. Her own brother. Could he arrest her for it? Could he make sure that Azula never again hurt another person? Could he punish her for what she’d done, the way Ozai had punished Zuko so many times?

Shame made him lucid. Shame and guilt and a bowed head of silent apology to his niece. But, even as he meant it, he also did not. There would be time to truly repent for the things he felt toward Azula in those long moments, but that time would come after. He simply… did not have the capacity to forgive and see reason and compassion for his as-abused niece while his nephew – his son, his Zuko – possibly lay dying. Those moments turned him back into the man he’d spent years growing away from after Lu Ten’s death, because, as much as he’d genuinely changed and fought for that change, he was only human. More than that; he was Ozai’s kin.

That shame in him made him think, as the tired doctor walked toward him, that the universe would punish him the same way twice. And all he could think, distorted and desperate, was, please don’t kill him for my transgressions. Nor for Ozai’s or even Azula’s. Please. You’ve done enough. He’s paid enough. He’s done enough reparations for himself that he doesn’t deserve this.

From the tired doctor, Iroh learned this: he was still allowed to keep this son.

Crying loudly in the middle of the hospital was not one of the things Iroh would feel shame about in the days to come.

***

Sweet talking and bribing all the nurses not only meant that Iroh could stay past visiting hours but that he could sneak Zuko’s friends in past the family only rule. Zuko would only be kept in the hospital for a week before being discharged to heal at home, but the kids couldn’t wait that long to see him, and Iroh understood their anxiety. They’d been told to limit it to two at a time, and Katara was almost always one of the two. Some of her tenacity being at Zuko’s side was born of guilt and processing the trauma she’d been through, Iroh knew, but most of it was that near-nameless understanding that had dropped between the two of them, sometime Iroh hadn’t been looking. Suki was second most frequent, Aang and Toph were tied and Sokka… Sokka barely came. Iroh was nearly as anxious to get Zuko home for Sokka’s sake as he was for his own and Zuko’s, because it was obvious that Sokka wanted to be there for Zuko, but just as obvious that the hospital killed him inside.

“It… smells the same,” he’d confessed to Iroh, looking haunted and on the verge of tears.

Zuko whispered something similar to Iroh when he was most inhibited; when calm and focus couldn’t stop the memories of the burn unit from encroaching. That morning, Iroh had found his nephew in one of those moods – anxious enough he was making the nurses frown at his heart rate and anxious enough to snap and snarl to try and get them to stop poking, stop demanding, stop keeping him there – and so he’d made a big show of going to get Zuko his favourite food. It hadn’t helped, much, but it had helped Zuko get his tongue under control a little bit more. Iroh returned with the food to hear murmurs from inside Zuko’s closed curtains, and so he paused and took a peek inside before entering.

Katara was on Zuko’s hospital bed, curled carefully on his left side so that she didn’t jostle or lean on Zuko’s still very broken sternum. One hand was in his hair, and Iroh realised that she was guarding his weaker side as Iroh himself had subtly tried to do countless times. Having somebody trusted there helped Zuko to relax more, and she knew this. Sokka was the other one in the room, and, although he was still in a chair, it was pushed so close to the bed his knees were up to his chest. He was holding Zuko’s hand, and looking utterly unperturbed by that fact.

The most surprising thing was that Zuko was the one speaking; murmuring reassurances and comforts to both of them in a voice still weak and breathy and more raspy than usual. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re both okay. Thank you, Katara. Sokka, buddy, hey… Hey…

Iroh backed away. It wasn’t for him to see. It tasted bittersweet in a sharp way he wasn’t sure he’d ever really experienced, before; Zuko reassuring a friend who had saved his life and a friend who hated hospitals because he’d lost love slowly, painfully, inevitably inside of one. Zuko, surrounded by so much love, this time around, when the first time he’d been so alone and small and quiet and heartbrokenly enraged in a similar bed. That young boy hadn’t even had the pieces to comfort himself, let alone others. And here Zuko was now, being comforted and giving out comfort. Without tripping over himself, without second-guessing, without embarrassment, because that love had become second-nature.

In that moment, Iroh truly began to repent for what he’d thought about his niece. Because he understood all too well why Zuko had gone to meet Azula, and why, even after all this, he’d never stop trying to coax his sister into a proper home.

***

The tense, anxious mood relaxed slightly when Toph began to cackle out of nowhere. “How much does this suck, eh?” she giggled at Zuko.

Zuko rolled his eyes, even though she wouldn’t be able to see it, pinned between Suki and Sokka, who were each gripping an elbow, and hemmed in by Iroh and Katara in the front and Aang at the back, ready to catch him if he fell.

“If I ever coddle you like this, push me down these stairs,” Zuko grumbled at her.

“It’s a deal,” Toph said, cheerfully, even as Suki gently – very gently – flicked Zuko with her free hand.

Katara put her hands on her hips. “Say that without panting or wheezing and when you don’t look white enough to pass out and it might have more weight,” she said, primly.

But they did all ease up some as they continued to slowly shepherd Zuko to Iroh’s apartment. There was no elevator, and the stairs were steep, and despite the fact that they might have been a little over-protective, it was hard going on Zuko’s broken chest and still-healing heart. And so they all stuck close, and caught him when he staggered a little, very careful of his broken bits, and finally managed to ease him down onto the sofa. Zuko’s eye widened a little as he looked up and caught them all looming over him, very close, all huddled together.

“Holy shit, you guys – ” he started, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, okay, yeah, back up and give the dude some space.”

Everybody shuffled maybe a step or two away. Suki kept her eyes carefully on Zuko’s face, noting the things Iroh himself was picking up. Suki met Iroh’s eyes and pursed her lips a little before venturing forward with, “Hey… if you want us to rather go and come back tomorrow…”

Zuko blinked at her. “I thought we were watching shitty movies,” he said, in confusion.

“Yeah, but… if you’d rather sleep,” Katara said, catching on.

Sokka let out a rude noise. “Then he can sleep. But, dude, Movie Night Rules apply to you, too, so if you’re the first to go you know you’ll wake up with a Sharpie ‘stash.”

“As long as Toph doesn’t draw it,” Zuko said, and Toph happily flipped him the bird.

Still, Suki met Iroh’s eyes one more time, seeking permission. Iroh smiled warmly at her and made a gently, slowly motion with his hands where Zuko couldn’t see. And so the group arranged themselves, snacks and extra pillows – most of them for Zuko – and set up Toph’s state-of-the-art laptop. Sokka sat to Zuko’s one side, Suki on the other with her leg casually over Zuko’s, both of them as close as they could be without hurting. Toph and Aang sprawled on a futon nearest the laptop, while Katara had a beanbag chair set up so that her back could press against Zuko’s legs while her legs could be used for Aang to lounge against.

Iroh persisted until he captured a great photo of the moment, because he wanted to remember what quiet, strong love looked like for many days to come.

“Who wants tea?” he called as the opening credits started, and he knew their grunts enough to know who had answered and what, exactly to get each of them.

He, just like Zuko, was also no longer alone.