#It's good on first glance but DAMN it sure got boring just hiding and hacking everyone to death repeatedly.

[dogstomp]

Dogstomp #2871 - November 16th

Patreon / Twitter / Discord Server

[anoctoberpepper]

Can we Stop with the Laughing

Whumptober 2021 Day 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But... taunting | insults | "who did this to you?" Star Wars: Sequels Poe|Finn|Rey TW: taunts, panic attack

@whumptober2021 @whumptober-archive ------

“Can we stop with the laughing?” Poe huffed a breath and tried to hide his embarrassment behind a stern face and hands on his hips.

“No.” Rey and Finn answered together, almost gasping for air, “No chance.”

Poe looked back at the mechanic shop. His speeder was in there, getting a once over by some hack in a polo. City shops were the worst. He wanted his bay back, with Rose in coveralls giving him shit for his latest stunt. More importantly, he wanted his own tools and his own kriffing replacement parts so he could fix his own damn speeder. This was an insult to his whole being. 

"Poe, you alright?" There was still a goofy grin on Finn's face when he asked. 

Poe grumbled. 

"He's fine." Rey spoke up for him, "just worried about Black Baby."

"Not her name." Poe said under his breath, though to be fair he had painted the tiny speeder black and he had added an orange stripe and maybe he did slip up sometimes on the bad days and call it Black One. 

"I'll go check on her." Finn put a warm hand on Poe's shoulder as he walked past, headed for the open bay doors that Poe didn't feel comfortable getting near. Clean garages just reminded him of… well let's just say he didn't much like breaking down in the rich suburbs of Yavin Four. 

Finn walked back to the garage, while Poe and Rey waited out in the lot out front. Clean washed speeders zipped past while along the sidewalks people with fresh clothes and data pads walked purposefully by. He tried to tell himself that no one was watching them. No one cared about two people waiting in a speeder repair lot. 

Rey yawned, unconcerned with looking as out of place as a tonton in a flower shop. Poe tried not to look around and just focus on getting out. He had called Rey and Finn as soon as he realized he couldn’t fix his speeder without a lift rig and a new part.  They could have picked one up at Zez’s shop not far from his dad’s farm, but the lift rig would still be an issue. 

Breaking down outside a city built by imperials and invaded every few years by grand admirals and yuuzhan vong and moffs was never good. It was especially unpleasant when you looked as ragged and rural as Poe and Rey. He hadn’t wanted Rey and Finn in the city with him. He just wanted them to know where he was, just in case… He didn’t expect them to drive out to Yasil to make fun of him. 

Poe kicked his toe into the hard ferrocrete and scanned the lot they stood in. There were trees lining one side of it. If he and Rey were strategic they could probably hide themselves from passerbys. It shouldn’t take long for them to replace the auxiliary converter (which to be fair had become the primary converter at some point). 

Rey stepped from foot to foot clearly bored now that the initial amusement had faded. Her hand eventually went to the stick at her back like it always did. Before she could pull it off to spin it lazily, in that way she did, Poe grabbed her wrist. Rey’s face twisted in confusion and Poe dropped his hand the second he realized what he had done. HIs heart was racing, why was his heart racing?

“Not here.” he managed to cough out. He waved a hand  vaguely at her stick like it wasn’t a big deal but his eyes scanned the sidewalk and road again. He shook out his hand, like it was the thing that betrayed him and not his mind. 

He took a steadying breath and Rey relaxed back into a bored stance. Poe needed Finn back. Finn usually wore clothes that would be accepted here. Finn had an accent learned from imperials, he could fit in. Protect them. 

No.

It was fine. They were fine. Poe turned away from the sidewalk. He was sure now that they were getting looks. Kriff, did he have to look so much like one of the rebels who had taken over Yavin Four. Did he have to look so much like a nerf herder all the time? He knew better. He should have dressed up. Combed his hair at least. . . 

Finn walked back from the bay doors and Poe’s head snapped up.

“How long?” he asked, hoping Finn got some information. 

Finn looked as confused at Rey did when he had grabbed her wrist. 

“Said you’d have to wait,” Finn answered. He covered the last few steps to their small group with a bounce and glanced around. Poe felt ice running down his back.

“How long?” Poe repeated. He purposefully didn’t look over his shoulder. He could feel people walking past. Staring. They had to be staring now.

“Said …” Finn looked uncomfortable for a minute. Then like he was trying to remember the exact wording of something said, “They said ‘the banthafucker could wait a few minutes for his piece of shit to be fixed, not like he’s doing anything important in the sticks anyway.’” 

Poe’s stomach tightened. Kriff. Kriff. Poe knew it. He knew when he pushed his speeder to the nearest shop it was a bad plan. He should have walked to the next shop or the next. Or walked straight out of town, left Baby Black on the side of the road. Maybe his dad could have figured out a tow. Maybe. . Maybe…

“Poe?”

It took a minute for Poe to feel Finn’s warm hand on his shoulder again. That was weird. He loved Finn’s warm hands. 

“Poe,” There was his name again, in a voice he loved, “breathe” 

He did. He tried, but the names, the words, damn he had heard them hurled at his father, and then when he was older at himself every time they had to make the trip into the city, and now Finn and Rey would have to hear them, and god forbid if the names turned into a back alley and…

“Poe.” One warm hand turned to two. 

“Hug him.” Rey’s voice lilted into the mix. They must have exchanged a worried look because Rey added “works for the nightmare stuff.”

Poe tried again to find air, to pin down his spinning thoughts long enough to wipe them from his mind, but Rey and Finn were there and he had to keep them safe too. 

“I’m going to hug you, Poe. Keep trying to breathe, we’re safe for now, and no shop of city kids can hurt us while Rey is here.”

It was supposed to be a joke. A bad one. Poe could almost hear that, and then Finn’s arms were around him. It blocked his sight lines, and he couldn’t hear when people walked by anymore. He didn’t like that. He jerked in Finn’s arms for a moment then heard his rumbling voice remind him, “Rey’s on guard. She’s got this. You’re safe.” 

It took a minute, then another for the words to sink in. Rey had watched his back 1000 times before. Yasil was overrun with scum, but nothing worse than they’d already seen. He was a different person than he was when he was a teenager, heading to the city for a show, or shop, or a bad drink in an expensive bar. He reached a hand up to press on Finn’s chest. Finn took a soft step back, keeping a hand around Poe’s shoulder. 

“Hate it here," he mumbled, when he could get the words sorted in his head. 

“You’ve mentioned it,” Finn said, rubbing a circle on Poe’s back. 

“A lot, actually,” Rey added. Poe looked over and was relieved to see her scanning the sidewalk and the road and the buildings in the same way she would a First Order ship. 

“What did they do to you?” Finn said. Rubbing another circle. Around and around on Poe’s back. 

Poe didn’t answer, he suspected it was a rhetorical question anyway. A way for Finn to say the situation sucked without saying it. 

He didn’t want to tell them anyway. The universe was still so new and amazing to them, and he didn’t want to ruin that. He loved that about them. There were things in the city he still wanted to show them, on the good days, on a safe day. 

“Poe you better?” Finn asked. 

Poe nodded. He felt tired. Kriff, he felt tired, but better. He just wanted this day to end already. 

He took an unsteady breath. “Can we move to the treeline?” He finally asked. He wanted to be hidden, at least from one side, from eyes of people who saw him as an outsider. As dirty, and foreign, and lesser. 

“Yeah, let’s move over.” Finn guided him to the treeline with a hand on his back, Rey trailing behind watching their backs. 

[shadowtarot]

CHM: I am just using Sho as a Red Herring/Living Inciting incident FYI. Maybe he contacts Ryuji again, following a fight possibly, he tells him to tell his leader (how he knows about Ren in Inaba? who knows.) to go to Junes and stick his hand in the big TV in the Elec. Dept. just avoid the mascot and manager (Yosuke). Sho is just causing stuff for shits and giggles. Plus it’s a way to rope in P4.

Chariot's Mystery Part 18

Following that fiasco in the messed up Metaverse, Ryuji's been on edge. Despite the fact that Ren gave that threat to Kirijo, they now had to capture Sho as a show of faith. Or as it actually was, work with Sho to try and further expose Kirijo. That meant that he was bait for the red-haired manic. His mind goes back to the conversation that happened directly after school that day: "ARE YOU INSANE?!" Zenkichi says in the video call. "Sending Ryuji on his own to lure him is suicide. I had a first hand experience with him, and despite his looks he could easily break my damn sword if he wanted. At least...that's what I could tell at least." The Trio were in the warehouse again, given it was the only safe spot at the moment to discuss these things. "Buuut, we don't want to send you and Doc out there. You're both Newbs! Sure you've had a little experience in combat, but Ryuji's had his Persona longer than most of us! ...excluding Mona." Futaba plays with a Jaggriko in her hand as Yusuke sketches in the background. "Well I'm at least gonna stay on standby, I'm not about to let this get deadly if simple discussion goes south." Zenkichi folds his arms, looking at everyone seriously. Sophia's tiny icon bounces on the screen. "I can try to look up information on him while we do these dealings. Perhaps find any report of crimnal history?" Makoto nods. "That sounds good. Now Ryuji, Ren showed you how to make Thief Tools during our roundtrip right? We don't know Sho's elemental affinity...if he even has one. I'd make a few elemental rounds for each element. Just to be safe."

"Right." Ryuji nods, glancing over at the spare set of tools Ren gave him. Suddenly, Ryuji's phone alarm goes off. It was time for him to start heading down that same alley way as before. Zenkichi and Maruki were watching from a safe distance. All Ryuji needed to do was get Sho's cooperation. And as if on cue, Sho appears. "Seriously? The same damn alleyway? You're not supposed to be predictable in your line of work, dumbass." Sho's getting dangerously close, but Ryuji's hand is firmly in his pocket, thumb hovering over the Broken Metanav. He doesn't say a word as he activates it, dragging Sho into the Metaverse with him. Taking a deep breath as Skull opens his eyes to the glitchy Metaverse, he draws his weapon. "Sho, yeah? Look we both hate Kirijo, but we need a way to get closer in to dig more dirt on 'em so-" But Sho's already drawn one sword, pointing it at Skull's neck. "Blah blah blah. I'll listen to whatever the hell you got, but I ain't listing to SHIT until you fight me." Now that there wasn't several Persona users around him, Skull could better judge Sho's aura. There was no way in hell he'd win in a fair fight. Good thing he wasn't planning on fighting fair.

I gotta fight him just enough to figure out his weaknesses. Time to make him show his hand!

Skull charges at Sho, not even summoning William, choosing instead to just strike at him with his club. Sho just casually blocks it with his short sword, drawing his full length and striking him hard with the blunt end. "Did you seriously already forget how I was armed? Or are you really as much of a dumbass as I had you pegged for?" Sho mocks charging at Ryuji while he's stunned. He was fast, too fast to react to. But he needed to space himself somehow! Skull begins to scan the buildings, looking for a safe path to jump and scale. Unfortunately, while a path was found...a Curse attack had already hit him the moment he took his eyes off Sho. "Gah!" Ryuji winces. Curse didn't do a whole lot to him, but at least he could hopefully figure out his weakness now that he knows his affinity. Moving fast, a Bless Round is loaded into his shotgun as he aims...but looking down past the barrel...he sees Sho yawn as he puts his weapons away. "You space out in combat, then point a gun at me? Come on...at least make it interesting. Look, if your goal was to bore me with piss poor fighting you did it. Congrats, loser." Sho leans up against a wall though goes back to standing up once he notices the wall cease to exist. "Your group has a leader, and I know pretty damn well that none of you three bozos are it. Nooo, you gotta be special beyond special to lead a group. At least that's what those damn people in blue seemed to imply...." Sho mutters to himself. "Give me a way to contact him." Putting the shotgun away, Skull stares right at Sho. "You'll be contacting Joker in that case. I can't give you direct contact, but we have a sorta...uh...secure network we use to relay information and-" "And? You need an access point to ping me, yeah? Here." Sho takes out a slip of paper. The stuff written on it is foreign to Ryuji, but all he can gather is...Sho was already prepared for this. This might be why Kirijo counts him as dangerous. Three Hours following this exchange, Futaba is getting the link all set up for Ren. "Is it illegal to hack someone if they've given consent, Zenkichi-san?" Haru asks as the team has one last meeting. "If permission was granted, it'd be the same as hotwiring someone's car to save their life, yes? The act is frowned upon, but if there's no bad intent then it shouldn't have issues." Yusuke interjects. "Hey-let me at least answer the question!" Zenkichi sighs. Everyone laughs, only for Futaba to suddenly cheer. "Everything's all set up, Ren! Now whenever you use that access point we've been using to contact someone outside of the team on your cell...the voice filter should still work."

"Great. I'll be contacting him solo. I'll try to get any intel out of him I can." Ren nods. "I'll talk to you guys tomorrow with what I got." Once the team logged off, Ren contacts Sho. "So you actually called, huh? Guess you guys do some things right after all." Sho's snark can be felt on the other end of the line. "Joker right? Why are you guys so hellbent on contacting me for?" "We want to strike a deal with you. We need an in to get on Kirijo's good side and expose what they have done in better detail. But to do this, we need your help. You know a lot about the group, correct?" Ren choses his words carefully.

"...yeah I do. Hell, they hide so many damn secrets, it's clear they're planning SOMETHING. Did your little data dig give you info about the TVs?" Sho's question is sudden.

"TVs?"

"Yeah. In a small town called Inaba, there's a TV in the local Junes that never gets sold. They use it as a normal TV for customers. But...if you touch that TV, something strange happens. No one in the town knows about it, so it's 100% a cover up." Sho's smirking on the other end of the line. "Confirm that rumor for me, yeah? ...and don't let the bear or the brunette see you."

Sho suddenly hangs up at that point. "TV in Junes. ...there is that outdated TV in the home appliances section." Checking the time, Ren makes his way to Junes. He had a few hours before they closed, should be enough time to see if it was BS or not. The store's huge, weaving and maneuvering around different isles until he finally reaches that section. "Hm...so if I touch it..." Ren says quietly, extending his hand to the screen only to see it ripple like water. "That movement....it's not dissimilar to how the Meta Nav takes you in. ...can I stick my hand in it...?" The moment he does, however...two pairs of eyes have already locked on to what he's doing. He forgot to heed the warning....

[lo-mindpalace]

26 - Walk of Shame

Alternative Universe: The characters are young adults and they are studying in The University of Kansas in Lawrence.

 (SAM’S POV)

I looked at my watch. He was late. My brother was always late and it was annoying me. It was the last year of College for Dean, he was studying Mechanical Engineering. He was more interested in his drawing class and practicing sport rather than the studies but he was good at it anyway. As for me, it was my first year at College, I was in Law School and it was exactly how I imagined it. I was really enjoying this campus and student life, far away from my parents. I was sharing a big apartment with Dean and Charlie – our best friend, but Dean was often outside, dating girls, having one-night stands, … My brother was very popular, he always was. In high school, now in College. And I am known as “Dean’s smart brother” or something, but I don’t really care.

Dean, Charlie and I were supposed to eat together every Tuesday and Friday noon. This Friday, Dean was late and didn’t even text me. I looked at my lunch and sighed again.

“Hey Sam!”

I raised my head and saw Charlie sitting in front of me, in the campus yard.

“Hello, Charlie. How was your morning class?”

“Meh. I was a bit bored so I played League of Legends.” Charlie pouted.

I shook my head. Charlie was doing a bachelor of science in Information Technology. She was very, very talented with computers. She could hack a system in only a few minutes. Somehow, I was proud of her but she scared me sometimes. We met in High school with Dean and since that day, we’ve been best friends. She is such a wonderful person, always here to help. She is very attentive and such a geek. My redhead friend looked around and raised an eyebrow.

“… Where is Dean?”

I sighed and shrugged. Charlie seemed to think and then made a little “Oh.”. I raised an eyebrow, not understanding what was going on. She nodded to herself and looked at me.

“We are on Friday right?”

“Huh… Yes?”

“He was supposed to have a date with Mister Cute Guy yesterday.”

“Oh.” I said. “Castiel.”

We both looked at each other and sighed in amusement. Right. Of course, Dean was late. It was logical now. Dean met Castiel last year – when my brother was in second year and Cas in first year, and in the last five months they were turning around each other, flirting from time to time. My brother figured out he was bisexual when he was at his first year of College. He never really dated a guy, just flirted with them. He always said it was different with a man, he preferred doing things slowly whereas with a woman, he was always ready for a one-night-stand. Maybe he was afraid of judgement? I didn’t know. But the good thing was that no one mocked him for who he was, because Dean was so confident and cool. At least, that’s what Dean wanted to show. I knew the real Dean, the real anxious and vulnerable brother. But even if he was anxious and not self-confident, he was still a cool brother and a good friend.

Castiel was a Western guy, from San Francisco. He had a rich family with a lot of brothers and sisters and cousins. He always had what he wanted and had always obeyed to his parents. After High school, when he was awarded his diploma with high grades, he said no to his parents for the first time ever. They wanted him to become either a vet or a high-ranking business man. But he didn’t want that. He had always had a passion for art and science. So, he left his family to move to Lawrence and start his studies in the Liberal Arts & Science school. His family was against it at first but they didn’t have a choice. Moreover, Castiel’s older brother Gabriel did exactly the same, and the other brother Balthazar moved away one year after Castiel as well. He was a passionate guy, doing History and Art History studies but with many options such as Ecology, Foreign Languages, Anthropology and even Philosophy. This guy always wanted more and more knowledge. He was such a good student as well. His parents sent him money every month but he gave half of it to charities. Castiel didn’t need money thanks to his parents, but he wanted a normal life so he was working at the campus library.

He met Dean when Castiel was trying to find his Art History class and ended up in the Drawing Class. Dean helped him and then my brother offered Castiel to help him for his first year, showing him all the buildings in the campus, even some good spots in Lawrence, and so on. They gradually became friends, obviously, and I became friends with Cas. He was so happy to have friends. He always had either rich friends who were uninteresting, or fake friends who were taking advantage of him just for his money. Dean and I were from a modest family. Our father, John was part of the United States Marine Corps before becoming a mechanic in a garage in Lawrence. The garage was one of Singer’s branch. Bobby Singer was a good friend of John and we considered him as our uncle. Our mother, Mary, was a housewife when we were little and now, she was working at a Café. I guess it was pretty different from Castiel’s former “friends”. But he was happy and I was glad to have a friend like him. He was always embarrassed about his family and situation so he never talked about it, and we respected that decision. But I could see that sometimes he felt uncomfortable when someone was talking about money issues.

Dean and Castiel kissed each other five months ago during the Halloween party. They were both drunk but they liked it and they couldn’t stop thinking about this moment afterwards. So, they were flirting a bit from time to time, analyzing the other. I became tired of their games and Dean knew what I was thinking. So, when he said Cas and him were going on a real date yesterday, the only word that came to my mind was “Finally.” I remembered my brother rolling his eyes, blushing a bit. I didn’t want to know what they did because it wasn’t my business but when I finally saw my brother in the distance, I was certain about one thing. Someone got laid. I nudged Charlie so she could look at this funny show. Dean was walking weirdly, wearing the same jeans and the College jacket, shirt but this scarf wasn’t his. I smiled even more when he saw us and walked toward our table. Gosh, he was so tired, dark rings under his eyes, his tousled hair. He sat next to us and yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He said with a husky voice.

“Hey Charlie, did Dean just do the walk of shame or am I dreaming?” I said with a hint of amusement.

“Nah, you’re right Sam. I think he did.” Charlie smiled widely.

Dean looked at us with wide eyes.

“Is it that obvious?!”

“Well, first of all, you are wearing the same clothes as yesterday except this scarf.” I said.

“Then you look so exhausted as if you had a partied the whole night.” Charlie said.

“Can we talk about your messy hair?”

“Nah, dude. Can we talk about that big ass hickey?” Charlie said.

Dean blushed beet-red and tried to hide the hickey.

“I… Uh… Well I spent a good night with Cas…” He said with a sudden shy voice.

“Well, I’m sure about that, and I’m sure all the people that saw you coming here are aware about this too.” Charlie said with a chuckle.

“What do you mean?” Dean said.

He looked around and saw some of his friends, the quarterbacks and some of his class winking at him and nodding like the proud friends they were. Dean swallowed hard and gave them a little smile before turning his face to us again. He closed his eyes and mumbled something. I wanted to add something just to annoy my brother but I saw Castiel with a classmate going to a building. He saw us and waved at us with a shy smile and Dean looked at him. They both glanced at each other, Castiel blushing and making an adorable face. Dean smiled and winked at him. Cas entered the building and Dean was still smiling like an idiot before noticing that Charlie and I were staring at him. He cleared his throat and took a sandwich I bought him. He began to eat without saying a word. I rolled my eyes.

“Tell me, Dean. Tell me you are finally officially dating Castiel Novak.” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

Dean swallowed what he had in his mouth and looked at me and Charlie.

“What a pain in my ass you are, Sammy. Yes. We are officially dating. Now, give me a break. I need to properly eat, drink water, take a shower and go to class. And then, after all this, we can talk about that.”

Dean made a surprised face when I high-fived Charlie. Our redhead friend gave me a bit of money while chuckling.

“Damn, dude. You rock!” She said to me.

“You guys had a bet?!” Dean said.

“Yup. I bet you and Cas would finally officially date and get laid. Charlie didn’t believe me because, well, you took so much time to ask Castiel out.” I said.

“Your brother was right. Congratulation, Deano!” Charlie said while patting Dean’s shoulder.

My brother pouted and shrugged. He made a little amused smile after all, our good mood was too contagious. He blushed a little, probably thinking about his wonderful night and I chuckled while rolling my eyes. I swear… My brother is something. We ate happily until it was finally time for me to go back to class, leaving my best friend and my mushy older brother.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hope you liked it :)

[shigarakis-fifth-hand]

Yandere! Shigaraki x Reader; All An Illusion

❤️ Enjoy the series! one two

Y/n Kayama, the class president of her middle school all three years, straight A+s, the school's star athlete and of course, the one with the most volunteer hours. She lived a perfect life, almost too perfect. There was something she was hiding, and I needed to find out. Ever since I saw her win at the recommended students' application exam for UA, I knew I needed to keep up with her and that she would be valuable. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

"Now Shigaraki, All Might will be watching on security cameras, so you cannot get near the students," Toga spoke into my earpiece. I looked out onto the 5 students in front of me. The son of Endeavor with red and white hair, a blue-haired girl, a guy who controlled wind, a shape shifter, and someone who controlled vines from his hands. These were the kids that were the best of the best and recommended for having a greater chance to get into UA. 

The headteacher Aizawa was having them race for their first test. All of the guys looked at each other confidently, ignoring each other except when they gave each other looks of disgust. The girl, on the other hand, walked around nervously, looking up at people with her eyes down. She was the shortest in the group, and the guys kept smirking at her behind her back. She was a joke, and I couldn't help wondering what she was doing here. Someone really recommended her?

"Have a good target Shiga?" Toga asked as I could tell she was excited to have someone. I didn't even notice the stupid nickname, I was too wrapped up. "No, the best one I can see is Endeavor's son, and even he is boring. I don't know why we need to add a child to the all they do is cause trouble.", I could hear Toga gasp, and I laughed, knowing that these kids were her age. 

"Anyways, I'll look into the son once they're over. I'm recording now to show All-For-One." Toga had hacked into the school cameras and was watching the cameras from afar. She had made me come to get a better look at them, so here I was, hiding in the bushes, watching a bunch of kids. Sure, they were 18, but they all had baby faces that made me feel weird.

"Thank you for waiting!  Now head to the starting line. Surely all you know how a race works! Run to the end of the line and run back. Your body and any effects of your quirk must stay in your lane, and not interfere with other contestants. Any willing to do so will get you immediately disqualified." Present Mic told the kids as they nodded. "Don't think too much about it. Use your quirks as much as you can. The first person to cross the finishing line wins. Now, wait until we say go." Aizawa instructed before giving a nod to the blue-haired girl. What was going on there?

 As the counter started to go down from five, I watched the girl breathe in and out before getting ready. Suddenly, she was confident. Once the mark said go, it was a flash, but I saw everything. The girl froze the path with a step of her foot, using wind to push her self to the end of the lane and back in an instant. her feet barely touched the ground, but when they did, the ice slid her faster and faster. Before any of the boys, she was done. She began breathing heavily, sinking to her knees in exhaustion. Seconds after her, the guys finished in surprise. "What?! How'd she win?" The plant controller walked up to her angrily. 

"She crossed the path before you Haruko, now step back," Aizawa growled protectively as Haruko's face turned red. "Hell no! I'm not letting some girl win!" Immediately vines sprouted out of his hand and wrapped around the girl's throat and lifted her off the ground. The drama was getting good... 

Immediately, Aizawa and Mic began running towards the fight while the girl choked. You could see her face becoming pale as the guys behind Haruko started yelling towards him. But then, plants sprouted out of the girl's hand, pushing Haruko far from her. The vines crumpled down back into the ground as the girl began to breathe. Everyone grew silent as they stared at her. Did she just use that guy's quirk against himself? "Haruko, Nezu's office. Now!"  

Haruko stared at the girl in disbelief as he walked off. "Y/n!  Are you okay? I should have disabled his quirk but I was too in shock and I'm exhausted from all our training and-" The girl smiled at Aizawa. "You should have seen the look on his face! I can't believe I won!" She jumped up and down in glee like she forgot what just happened. She turned towards the boys as they all bowed to her. 

"I think we are all deeply sorry for not stepping in. Not to be rude, but your win caught us off guard. I hope you accept our apology." The shapeshifter apologized as the wind-controller spoke up. "Yes, we are in the wrong as well. I hope you can accept my apology." She smiled at him, then looking at Endeavor's son. She just looked at her in disbelief. "You... used all of our quirks in the race, and then used his against himself. How did you do that?" 

She just smiled and shook her head. "It was nice meeting you guys, but I am going to see my mother after this. I hope I meet you all someday. Good luck with the academic exam." And with that, she stepped away, grabbing her bag and walking away, leaving all the guys in shock, glancing at each other with confused looks. "Boss? Hello? Did you see that?! She's awesome! She can use other people's quirks! Did you see that Shiggy?" I nodded, staring at the girl who walked away. "She's perfect." And I began to make our plan.

I had the League start following her around from that very minute. I watched her walk to school in the morning, had Dabi watch her walk to her volunteering center, had Twice walk with her to her house, and I even watched her sneak out from time to time to go to parties and such. That's when I started listening to her conversations with her friends. 

I did this for months straight before she got into UA. I remember I sat on her balcony, knowing the UA results were coming that night. That's when I heard her cheering, and watched her spin around her room in happiness. Even though I heard All Might's gross voice congratulating her, I was still happy. That night was the first night I snuck into her house to see if I could find anything to reveal a dark secret. Nobody was that perfect. 

From the moment I started following her, I saw how she was treated by her parents. I saw how she cried whenever she was alone. I saw how she made herself throw up, and how she would train all night and then not eat the next day. I saw how she counted calories, kept a pocket knife in her locker behind her mirror, and looked so sad sometimes even though she always gave a fake smile.

The way her parents treated her was the worst part though. When she hurt herself, I knew she'd get over it. But her parents were a whole other story. I was there the day that her mom was taken to rehab. Poor Y/n had to sit there and watch her mom be taken away.

"You bitch! You made your father do this, didn't you? You want me gone, don't you? Think you run the world, now don't you? Just you watch, nobody will be there to keep your father from smacking the shit out of you whenever he likes! Think you can take him because you're in UA? Well get ready you motherfucker, you'll regret it! You'll r-" And then the car door slammed shut on her face. I wanted to kill her at the moment, but I knew that she wouldn't be able to hurt Y/n anymore. 

Nobody knows this, but I'm the one that called the rehab center. I had been watching the family for months, and I had plenty of pictures and videos of her getting drunk and high off meds day after day. Y/n thinks it was her father, and I'm going to keep it that way. I can't have anyone hurting the next member of my League.

But then there's her father, the worst man alive. They say villains are the worst, which is wrong. From when I watch Y/n at their school's swim practice, I can see the scars from years ago are still very visible. I've seen the way he yells at her, smashing beer bottles on her head, threatening her, chasing her, and beating her, I want to kill him. It would be so easy to slip my wrist and decay his whole face. But to only bring more issues into Y/n’s life would be hypocritical. 

That's why I sent an email to Aizawa, full of pictures of him hurting Y/n. She thinks that he just figured it out, but it was me. That girl doesn't know it, but I'm the best thing that's ever happened to her. And she will realize it whether she wants to or not. I might not be in love, but damn she's nice to look at.

Lately, the plan has come all together. We have recruited everyone for the League... except Y/n. We need her to be complete, and then we can bring the entire world its knees. If we can get her to steal All Might's quirk and use it, then possibly we can beat him using his quirk. All of us agree that she will be valuable to the league. Now, all we have to do is infiltrate using Kurogiri, grab her and then get the hell out of dodge. So here we are, watching the USJ and all the students in front of it.

"Look, that's the files of all the UA students! We can find Y/n's if I'm fast enough!" As Thirteen led the students inside, Toga ran to get a file. "Here ya go! They won't notice if one student’s files are missing." I smiled, inserting the paper into my pocket. "Okay Toga, go meet up with Kurogiri. I'll send an alert if something goes wrong." She nodded and skipped away as I sighed. Damn, it was happening. I had dreamed about it ever since Brother gave me the idea. So here we were, about to kidnap Y/n from her whole life. 

Honestly, she should be thanking us. I just couldn't wrap my mind around what she was all about, and honestly, I didn't trust her one bit. I would keep my eye on her for a while. I didn't trust anyone else's judgment but my own. Dabi was driven by sex, and Toga and Twice were driven by the possibilities of friendship. Kurogiri was too damn respectful to ever suspect a woman, and Mr. Compress didn’t like to “interfere” with girls. They had no idea the kind of girl they were dealing with.

I walked around the side of the building and peeked through one of the windows. Y/n was in the mountain area, but Kurogiri and everyone else already knew that. I hated that I had to hire so many random guys for this job, knowing that they just liked looking at teenage girls. Her hero suit showed off all of her legs and was skin tight to where you could see her chest and waist. These guys were surely jerking off to her in their free time, knowing what kind of people they were. 

Such creeps. 

I didn't even like talking to them, and I didn't want them touching her. Working in the villain area made you work with the scum of the Earth, the type that raped girls and sold them to each other for profits. I despised them with a passion, but it was the only way we would be able to hold off everyone until we got Y/n.

And then, I saw the portal open inside the center of the USJ. I smiled, watching the heroes and students so surprised. Immediately, most of my men and then Toga ran to the mountainside, leaving the Nomus and a few of the guys to fight off the students and teachers. I watched from afar as this tye-dye haired freak propelled him, his green-haired boyfriend, and Y/n up in an ice tower for safety. Slowly I saw the teachers begin making their way closer and closer towards the mountains. I growled in anger. 

I thought the Nomus would be enough, but the teachers must be too concerned with the students to bother. Especially Aizawa, the black-haired gay one who took care of Y/n before the dorms became a thing. He had taken care of her sister too and had become so much more protective of her.

That's when I saw Toga grab Y/n and hold a knife to her neck in front of those two spike-haired freaks. I knew she was doing it for the show, but I hoped she wouldn't hurt our new member. Y/n will have a hard time befriending Toga if that's how she sees the bubbly, murderous blonde. I could see the fear in  Y/n's eyes too. I see Aizawa running towards them and they and Toga do too. Then she does something that neither of us talked about. She throws Y/n off the cliff and into a portal. I can hear her scream from here. I rest against the window and sigh, looking up into the sky. I smile happily, thinking about our accomplishments. "Now onto step two."

Ignoring the crying and yelling of the students inside, I stroll inside a portal peacefully. "Stop villain!" I look up to see Tenya Iida. I know his father, Brother once fought against him. "What have I done to classify me as a villain? Huh?" The boy is lost for words since he has been gone this entire time to get help. "Y-you're Tomura Shigaraki! I know you!" I just shrug as he looks at me bewildered. He has no idea I took his classmate, and am leaving the scene. "Exactly, now please, if I may." I turn around as the portal closes. 

"Oh, and I'll tell Y/n you said hi." I smile as he begins to run towards me. Luckily, the portal closes just in time. I happily stroll into our hideout. Looking out, I see the beautiful kitchen. Ever since Dabi robbed the bank, Kurogiri spent his time remodeling. That man dresses to impress, and I appreciate it. It looks nice, nothing like a villain hideout at all. It's more of a mafia castle than villain hideout at this point. A nice condo at the very top of a nice complex. Of course, nobody goes through the main lobby without a disguise, so Kurogiri comes in handy on the daily. Toga did get tan once and dye her hair, so she did the grocery runs for awhile. 

Maybe someday (y/n) will be trusted enough to go get groceries and come back. One day I'll destroy the world, and she'll be there to watch the world burn.

I sit on one of the bar stools and wait for everyone to come back. "How'd it go?" Dabi asks, walking in from the staircase. "Successful of course. I would have let you go, but I don't trust you so I didn't want to." I laugh at my joke, which he just snickers at. "I can't believe you trusted a random guy with Y/n. You should have seen how he threw her down the stairs. I think I heard her in pain." He grins at the thought of her getting hurt. The sadistic freak.

 "What? Someone threw her?! I told those guys to be easy on her or else they were dead! If she gets hurt, our entire plan is ruined! I'll have that guy's life in my hands if he ever shows his face here." I angrily storm downstairs to see his friends. Just a bunch of muscular guys, but with no quirks. Not much of a threat, so I won't care when I kill them all. No witnesses are the way to go for me. "Which one of you dealt with the captive?” I asked as one of them raised their hand, as if they were proud of it. “Great. Thank you.” I walked back upstairs, trying not to disintegrate them there.

I just hope Y/n doesn't get terrified of everyone here. It'll be harder to get her to agree with us and work with us. I know she'll try to run off, but I'd rather her not get away. I step up the stairs and into the main room again, where Dabi has another drink in his hand. "So he just threw her down there? What about the bed I put down there?" I ask as he laughs. "Yes, he threw her down there carelessly and she landed on the bed." He laughed as I walked by, smacking him in the back of the head. "Don't be a dick to her, alright?" I exclaim, opening the door and beginning to walk down.

Immediately I see her, sleeping on the cold hard floor in a position as if she has been thrown. I growl, extremely annoyed. I tighten the blindfold around her eyes. She can't use her quirk if she can't see, so she'll be keeping this on for a few days. I pick her up like a feather and put her on the bed against the wall. I tie her arms and legs to the bed, making sure she can't escape. There's a pain killer, a note from Toga, and a glass of water beside her, just so she doesn't die before we can even do anything. I sigh, walking back up the stairs slowly. In the back of my mind, I can still hear her soft breathing.

Shutting the door behind me, I make eye contact with Dabi. "How does she look? Any head injuries?" he asks as I just shake my head. I already don't like how concerned suddenly he is for Y/n. She's not a play toy, she's going to be our next weapon. "Now what?" Dabi asks as I nod towards the door. "Well, you kill the guys downstairs, I get my hands on the guy who threw her, and then we discuss the plan at dinner. I want to talk to her tonight, to calm her. I'm holding myself responsible for keeping her in the basement all night. I don't trust any of you with that task." I explain to Dabi as he nods, only half listening from what I can tell.

 "She just needs to keep that blindfold on. I'm looking over her profile and-" I rip it from his hands. How dare he read about my girl?! "Let's see that. Straight A+s, third in the class, went to a private middle school and was voted Most Likely to Succeed in her 8th year. That's not hard to believe. Her teachers all say she's a good student, and she was expected to win the Sports Festival by 54% out of her entire class. Wow. Sadly, she won't be able to participate, but it'd be fun to see her beat up all those guys in her class." Dabi smiled as he looked at her profile picture.

"Buzz off loser, I thought I put this in my pocket ya thief. I know all of that, I've been keeping track of everything." I fold it back up and put in in my pocket. "Dabi! Shigaraki! He's here." Toga opens the door, followed by another quirkless, muscular dude. It must be the guy who threw Y/n down the stairs. "You're the one who handled Y/n when she came into the building from the portal, right?" The guy smiles and nods proudly. I want to smack him immediately, but I have a better idea. "Well thank you." I reach out my hand as he takes it to shake. The moment he touches it, he screams before turning into dust within that second.

 "Good. Now go down and finish all of them Dabi. Thank you Toga." Toga smiles as she takes the spiral staircase to her room. I look outside to see that the sun is setting. What a day.

I smile and begin to make my way down to Y/n. Picking her up, I carry her upstairs to the main room and tie her into a chair. I remove the rag from her mouth and tighten the cloth on her eyes. I sit there, staring at her as the rest of the League comes up to join me. We all sit on the couch until Toga hops up with the knife in her hand. "Get ready!" She smiles, overly excited as she cuts a slit into Y/n’s arm. Immediately she starts squirming until I can tell she is fully awake. “Hey! Cut it out!” I tug the knife away from Toga, feeling sorry for Y/n.

 "Hello?" Her voice is dry, and from the wet cloth on her eyes, I can tell she has been crying. She's so pathetic, we can shape her into a real villain. "Hi Y/n~Senpai! Remember me?!" Y/n immediately flinches before realizing she is tied up. "W-what?! What's going on? What do you want from me?!" She yells until I put four out of five of my fingers on her neck. "How about you tell us about your quirk? What is your weakness?" I ask as I see her bottom lip quiver. How pathetic. "Tell me, or else I put all five of my fingers on your neck." I tighten my grip on her neck. She gasps, sucking up all the air she can. "Shigaraki..." She whispers in fear.

"My quirk is Theft. If I look someone in the eye, I can steal their quirk for 24 hours. If it's a quirk that is hard to control, sometimes I can't use it without messing up. I use a contact on my right eye to block my vision whenever I don't want someone else's quirk. I've used a lot, from Mt. Lady's to Aizawa's." I smile, letting go of her neck. She bends over in pain, gasping for air. 

"What's your blood type Y/n? Have you met your soulmate, or in a relationship? Anything tracking your location? Any metal implants or anything in your hero suit that is magnetic? What about flammable?" Kurogiri asks as she shakes her head no, writing it all on a clipboard. "No soulmate or relationship? But you're so cute! We should get milkshakes when all this drama is over w-" Dabi shushes Toga, stopping her from rambling. 

"Now for the important part. We want you to join us. We won't hurt you unless you resist. Now, are you going to fight us, or be with us?" Dabi asks as I hear Y/n sniffle. "I'll be with you. J-just don't hurt me." Toga bursts out laughing. "I would never hurt anyone!" We all roll our eyes as she giggles. Twice tries to make her stop.

"Okay, that is it for today. It's getting late, you need to stay here. We all will take turns watching you tonight. All you need to do is sleep. You've had a long day." Kurogiri's words are strangely comforting as Y/n nods. Slowly, I can hear her breathing slow and realize that she's fallen asleep. 

Slowly, everyone else leaves to go to sleep. The first hour is my shift. I sit on the couch playing video games with my headphones on until I can't do it any longer. I rest my leg on her foot and drift off into a light sleep.

[ussgallifrey]

America's Suitehearts

✦ Summary: Life on the run rarely lived up to the glamour that was portrayed.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Minor violence, basic medical procedures

✦ Word Count: 3.5k

The mission went south almost immediately after the doors to the abandoned warehouse were opened. Life on the run rarely afforded the luxuries of such insurance as having readily available back-up. And while one half of the team remained in the public eye - or under house arrest in two cases - you valiantly remained at his side. And that was the Achilles heel of the situation.

Louisiana summer rained down with a vengeance that a New York upbringing left you rather unprepared for. The open windows of the beater truck - with its broken air conditioning, of course - drove over the hazy black-top rivers of backcountry vastness. Kicking up dust and rocks as it sped through empty farmland. Natasha and Sam had dipped over to New Mexico for intel while you remained at his side.

And you certainly hadn't planned on anything happening in their absence - hoping to reclaim a moment of reprieve, if you will, between running and fighting and clawing to survive. But between the diner off the main road and the blatantly out-of-place men congregating in the corner booth, his mind had easily been made up.

Scarfing down the greasy breakfast behind a low baseball cap. Your legs propped up on his lap under the table. Swirling the straw through the ice water - droplets forming on the side of the glass and running down your finger as you glanced up at your companion behind hooded eyes. Sugar-sweet syrup coating the tongue that poked out to swipe your lips.

His demeanor gave nothing away, though he was clearly listening in on their conversation - super-hearing comes in handy more often than not. And with the group abruptly leaving, it only took a moment to throw some crumpled-up dollars down and head to the door. 

Under the pretense of looking at travel brochures and carefully displayed pies under the fingerprint-smeared glass case, you were able to follow the car's path. With enough distance put in place, you hopped in the passenger seat and took off after them. The ride was silent outside of the steady thrum of the tires and occasional creak of the engine.

Words, conversations, long heartfelt declarations were rare and far in-between these days. There was no need, let alone time for them. If the split hadn't happened, maybe you would be on a date in the park. Hands looped around his waist as he drove through the streets of the city on his motorcycle. Lounging happily on the plush couch at the compound with the rest of the team. 

But that wasn't your life anymore.

And he felt that guilt every day with it. Despite your reassurances those first few weeks, the wall had slowly slipped in place. Now, almost a year into this vagrant nomadic lifestyle, it was rare to see that golden-haired man you had first fallen for. Summer love and cherry-sweet as innocent touches and flirtations grew. Turned to magma, gunpowder, tantalizingly ice-cold bitter love.

His stoicism hides the grief well. The guilt that eats away at him each night, with a burn only you can soothe with feather-light fingers on his brow and lips. Occasionally his gaze will be drawn from the road to you and then you might see the spark in his eyes, but only for a flash of a moment. A hand might dare to squeeze your thigh, but not much else.

Darling, sweetheart, babydoll. Puppy dog love, teasing cautious going steady cupcake baby love. No more.

Before this, he would have demanded a larger team for the mission. But now, now he was reckless. Even where you were concerned, despite his best intentions. And with no shield to his name, it was even more disturbing to witness. The fearless charge of Icarus and Ares. Out for blood and flying too close to the sun, to a death, he seemed to welcome more often than naught.

The sure thing, across all lines of low-level criminals, is their repetitive nature. Barely ready guards at the entrance easily pushed aside. The next, startled shouting and untrained shooting. It doesn't take much to disarm them at this point, not with all the practice you've had lately. Even tiresome in some regards. How boring, only AR-15s? Surely, even these guys could manage something more interesting - something more challenging.

And of course, after wading through a group of guards, there's the split option. Left or right, up or down. Either way will lead to something of value - their boss or their goods. Sometimes illegal arms, sometimes drugs, and the worst of times people.

This is not one of those times, luckily. He takes the upper floor on a hunch of finding the man in charge. And you descend the rickety metal steps to the basement without so much as a spare glance each other's way. There'll be time for that later, in a motel off the beaten path, bandaging each other up, trading long kisses and reassuring caresses.

Under flickering caged lights, you find the cargo. Spilling over, barely contained or organized. Three pallets in total, probably worth a pretty penny to a crime lord higher up on the food chain. 

An easy anonymous tip to local authorities will have it cleared up by the weekend as most cases went for you these days.

Barely subtle footsteps have you pivoting and ducking a badly thrown punch. The guard stumbles with the momentum of his swing, at least a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle on you. But you're quick on your feet in comparison, darting around him in such a way as to wear him down. Any punch you deliver will be worthless on his mass anyway.

He lunges forward, trying to sweep you up into his arms. You jump onto his forearm and wrap yourself around his back, arms going tight around his neck as you settle on his broad shoulders. The guard flails, trying to bring you down, but you just hold tight.

This leads to you being pounded into a wall. And somehow, he has enough air left to fumble for a broken off pipe, which he then tries to hit you with but to little avail.

Finally, he succumbs and slowly collapses forward onto the dirty concrete floor with a heavy thud. Standing with a stretch, you feel the bruises already forming and hope to god that that'll be the worst of it. Giving the unconscious man a kick in the head for good measure, you're ready to wrap this up and meet up with your partner when you hear it.

A distant little puff of air. Followed by creaking and groaning and then -

You run for the stairs as the illuminated hallway starts to cave in from the explosion. The walls crumble and break as the dust flies Your heart races with adrenaline as you slide towards the metal staircase, only for it to collapse in a heap of rusted iron. Who the hell has a self-destruct button anyway? It was almost comical. And maybe you'd laugh and scoff if the roof and upper floors weren't starting to fall down.

As sheets of metal and concrete cascade in an ungodly horror, bits of wires and metal and wood coming down on top of you, blinding your sight with clouds of debris. You scramble, coughing and hacking, trying to find your way as quickly as possible. If you can make it to the doorframe, a support beam. If you can just -

"Agh," you gasp, only to struggle to even cough. 

You can't see anything and your chest aches, you can't breathe and you're struggling, you can't - oh, it hurts. It hurts so damn bad.

Asses, goddammit, remember your training.

Unable to see, feeling trapped under a heavy blanket of darkness, you reach out, only to immediately come in contact with something solid. You try to push, with your hands, with your chest, and even with your legs - but nothing happens besides a sharp shot of pain. Burning like molten metal as it sears through your arm. Traveling right through your veins, screaming ahead like a locomotive before colliding with your brain as fireworks and shrapnel explode behind your eyes.

You try to call out, but it feels like you have a mouthful of dirt. Spitting furiously, you finally manage to croak out, "St-eve."

Hoping, praying that he's okay, that he can hear you at all.

"Steve!" Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Concrete crumbles and breaks off in the distance, something muffled and far away. A sense of being underwater, at the bottom of the ocean. Drowning, down down down. And then -

"Sweetheart?!"

Your senses flood with relief, head falling back to the ground as you attempt to scream back, "Steve!"

Sheetrock and slabs of concrete are pulled and thrown until a halo of sunlight breaks through the darkness. You shield your eyes from the onslaught as a sigh of relief catches your attention. Carefully squinting against the light, his face comes into view. Bloodied and bruised. Blue eyes shining with something desperate and wide with terror.

"Just a second, baby. Almost got you."

He grunts and heaves until he's down at your side. And from there, he pushes against the slab that has you pinned down. Groan turning to a feral scream as he shoves the broken-off piece of flooring from your aching body.

And then he's kneeling at your side, assessing the damage. Fingers tracing your face with absolute fear.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he crumbles with a drop of broad shoulders, head bowed in anger. But not at you - never at you.

"Hey, Cap," you manage with a weak smile. Your mouth stings with iron - thick and heavy as it coats your tongue. 

He resigns himself with a nod, hands moving under your head and legs as he lifts you up - cradling you carefully against his chest. 

You hack and wheeze as more debris flies, filling the air with clouds of dust. It stings your senses, blinds your vision even further. 

Steve tucks your head in closer to his chest, "Come on, baby. Let's get you out of here."

The journey to the truck is a complete blur. But the wail of sirens in the distance spurs him on as he floors the gas. Your head jostles roughly against the window as the smoldering warehouse disappears in a plume of smoke in the mirror.

And then you notice the hand holding yours. Fingers entwined, resting on your leg. Gaze traveling up the dirty arm, past the open cuts, to the concerned face of your love. Eyes focused on the road, but every ounce of fear still gracing his features.

From there, things get even hazier. There's a voice in your ear. But it's distant and far too insistent. The dark seems welcoming and easier, tugging you down into the depths of unconsciousness. Into the void where even nightmares can't reach you.

"Hnnng."

You feel immediate agitation as you try to snuggle further into the pillow. Another tug on your arm has you groaning, but it's quickly followed by a sudden yelp as your eyes shoot open and you struggle to sit up.

"The fuck was - what are you doing?!"

Steve eyes you carefully before giving a gentle push on your shoulder, forcing you back down onto the bed.

"Stay still," he murmurs. Gathering the rag in his hand as he gently blots at the festering wound on your left arm. One you hadn't really had the chance to notice earlier.

You watch him, methodical in his movements. All of you were, unfortunately, rather used to home-nursing by now. Evac wasn't an option on your table anymore. The best you could do sometimes was a bottle of whiskey and a makeshift tourniquet until a real professional could be sought out. Not that you minded when it was you, of course. But being on the other end, watching the one you love being treated? It was a completely different battlefield.

"What happened?" Your voice comes out sluggish and rough.

Blue eyes briefly meet yours before dabbing the rag in Isopropyl alcohol and continuing on with the deep cut. Hands moving slowly, feather-light as you wince from the sting.

"Homemade bomb."

You grind your teeth before managing, "No shit?"

A sliver of a smirk appears. And then you spot the needle in his hand.

"Oh, come on. How bad is it - "

Sitting up to bring your arm into view - oh, yeah. It was that bad. Without another word, you lie back down.

He's efficient, you'll give him that. Suturing like a pro, tying it off in a small knot before dropping a kiss to the untouched skin right next to the stitches.

As he moves on to other, far smaller cuts and bruises, you're able to take in the room. Another motel, another day. Bright orange walls with grungy white popcorn ceilings. And you swear the picture by the bathroom was in a place you stayed at three weeks back as well.

"Where are we?"

He doesn't even look up from where he's examining your ankle, "Thirteen miles from the Texas border."

Giving a little nod, "You made good time."

Your foot is carefully lowered onto a stack of folded white towels, elevated enough where it isn't uncomfortable. And then he's moving up your body, hovering above you with hands positioned on either side of your head.

"Well," he starts. "I had precious cargo."

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, "Still cheesy. I appreciate it in these trying times."

His eyes flicker with something reminiscent of easier times. "Thought you would."

Warm lips, chapped lips, scabbed over and still holding a hint of blood, meet together. Careful, veering on gentle. Desperation slowly slips in. Fear bubbling up from the mission rears its head as Steve takes the lead in deepening the kiss. Tongue darting out to pull the pain from you. Mingling and twirling with your own. Hands eager and ready to roam and claim. But as you go to reach up to his hair, a sharp inhale has you reeling.

The welcomed weight and warmth of his body is gone in an instant as he sits up, carefully holding your arm in the palm of his calloused hand.

He studies it for a moment, "Wasn't sure if it was - " a slight pull has you wincing with a wave of pain.

Sitting back, Steve rubs at the back of his head, " You, uh, wanna take a shower?"

Strong and demanding gives way to strangely innocent at the mention of you being unclothed. But you take it in stride. Beckoning him back with your good hand.

"Only if you help me, Captain."

In simpler days, it was fun. Something exciting and bold and downright erotic. Now, it's convenience and comfort. Slipping out of torn and bloodied clothes, easing pants down and toeing off boots. Watching each other undress down to the barest of forms. The shapes and grooves never change. The injuries do, spackling the skin in strange new patterns.

Steve, as always, looks worse for wear underneath his civvies. He'll heal by tomorrow, where you'll have a nice limp for a few more days. A sling for much longer.

He gets the water going. The old faucet groans and creaks as a dribble of water trickles out. The shower pressure isn't right, but it's hot and he's there helping you into the tiny white tub. Holding you steady by the waist as he takes the first burst of water.

You let your good hand wander up to ruffle his hair - so much longer than you had ever seen before. It grows dark under the pelt of the showerhead. Droplets cascade along the edges of his face, dripping down his beard, before landing on your nose.

He takes great pleasure in the feel of your hand on his scalp. Working a lather in with the complimentary soap, digging your fingers in to get the remaining dirt and debris from his golden mane. 

His head dips back into the stream. Your fingers travel down, following the bulge of shoulder and bicep. The swell of forearm, the broad plain of chest. And then you're spun around and a wave of pleasure falls over you with the spray of water.

A bottle uncaps and then strong fingers are easing their way through your hair. Gently pulling and pushing and digging a lather in. Your head falls to his chest as he holds you against him. Soapy hands press in along your back, easing the aches of the mission from your body. Leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulders.

You linger as long as the water allows. And then Steve's helping you back out onto the cold white tile floor. Carefully drying your body down with the scratchy towels. He does a quick dry for himself before scooping you up and carrying you back into the main room. You feel lightheaded by the action.

Another version of yourself might have blushed. Another version of Steve would have found the entire thing downright scandalous to be walking around like that. Completely naked with his girl in his arms. My how the times had changed. As if this was the most daring thing you'd done together.

He pulls the sheets back on the bed before setting you down. The comforter, which had a few fresh bloodstains mixed in with the hideous floral green print, is quickly rolled down. With your back against the headboard, Steve props your right leg back up on a pillow. Fingers careful and light trace the smooth skin of your bare leg. Lips press down on your knee, calf, the top of your foot, trying to ease that pain in the way only a lover can.

Steve momentarily gets up in search of his duffle bag. A bit of rummaging produces the roll of bandages and medical tape. The entire experience of watching your partner wrap your ankle is something that just warms your very soul. It's so incredibly domestic and sweet. Domestic for you two, that is.

Your arm will have to wait. He'll, no doubt, be making a supply run after you fall asleep. Some quick meals, a sling, more condoms. Definitely more of those.

He finishes with a kiss to the fresh wrapping.  Sliding down the bed, pulling the pillows with you to rest your head on, Steve moves in beside you - pulling the covers with him.

It's still early enough in the night for the setting sun to break through the white vertical blinds. You leave the TV off for the meantime. Mr. Serious will be keeping a more watchful eye as you recover and therefore will force himself to stay away from the news (in your presence, anyway).

The thrumming AC is welcome in the humid room. Between the lingering heat from the shower and the near-constant furnace temperature radiating from Steve. The sheets are crisp and cool, the twinges of pain fade as the comfort of having him right there, holding, caressing, bringing you down.

"'m sorry," he admits with a whisper against your neck, nose nuzzled in tight.

Your fingers glide slowly up and down the forearm draped across your stomach, "Hush. I'm not accepting apologies for things out of your control right now."

You can feel his eyes open, he's probably trying to stare you down, but you remain happily in the dark of your closed eyelids.

"Sweetheart," it's deep and throaty, a heavy husk of gruffness trying to break the spell.

There's a quick pinch to his arm and a following hiss of displeasure. 

He's unrelenting in his unending self-guilt, so you force your eyes open and catch the worried sea of blue.

"I mean it, Steven. You're gonna give me a headache. So, can you just shut up and hold me?"

It's like an order. And he only takes them from one person now, so he obliges. Framing his body around you, but being mindful of your elevated foot and pained arm.

You can't stand to see him so stuck in his own neverending thoughts, the worry sits right on his brow for all to see. With your right hand, you drag a fingertip over his cheek. Along the curve of his lips, the rough hair of his beard. The damp mane of gold deserves the carding of your fingers. He relaxes into it, the tight stretch of lines ease on his face as you feel the thrum of his heart.

It's comforting as always. It sings, I'm here and I'm not leaving you. For now, it's something to focus on. Something to draw you down into the heavy drape of sleep. He'll be here when you wake, probably fully healed too. But he'll watch after you, care for you until it's time to move on. Another city, another mission.

But it's just the way your lives run now. And you wouldn't trade it for anything. So, with the warm musk of your golden hero love settling in, you allow yourself the luxury of falling asleep in his arms.

Permanent Tag List: @buckybarneshairpullingkink​​ | @diinofayce​ | @lambs-to-the-cosmic-slaughter​ | @majesticavenger​ | @s-trawberryv-eins​ | @slowly-drifting-again​ | @weasleyworshipper​

Want to be added? Send me an ask ❤

[werewolfdays]

Going Under

thought I’d give ya’ll a break from Nadya’s family drama to bring you some emo angsty shit. Six months before Homecoming and what it was like for my soft gays to lose each other - 

Dread crept its way up my throat like an approaching monster, making my heart pound almost painfully. Somehow, I felt like something was going to go wrong tonight. I couldn’t explain the bad feeling, but it disturbed me. So, before I headed out, I pulled Toby aside. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone.”

“Yeah, sure.” He agreed with an odd look. 

Skye was sitting cross-legged in the back of the car, too busy typing away on her laptop to hear or care about what I said, but Nadya caught it. She was leaning against the car and her head tilted to the side slightly, giving me a look similar to Toby’s. 

To reassure her, I forced the most relaxed smile I could manage, squeezing her arm and placing a quick kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.” 

I couldn’t stop the knife from piercing my side. The silver blade was buried almost all the way to the handle. Immediate and immense agony exploded throughout my body, causing me to cry out, blurring my vision and making my knees buckle. 

“It didn’t have to be this way, you know.” The soldier said smugly while he held me up. “You could have just surrendered.”

I could barely maintain eye contact with him. My breaths started to falter. “Fuck you.” I spat out.

He sneered and twisted the knife. The pain was so bad that my eyes started to water and my whimper turned into an outright scream. At that, he pulled the knife free and shoved me back, the force of his push making my body crumple to the ground. 

My ability to fight or run just became impeded. Plus, I was losing blood now. The wound was well placed to incapacitate me. I knew my chances of survival just plummeted, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. 

Summoning whatever strength I could manage, I called on my wolf to give me a desperately needed boost. The world cleared as my eyes turned from dark blue to glowing amber. Familiar tingling prickled along my skin and made my blood hot. My strength and senses increased. Unfortunately, this caused my adrenaline to rush and I felt my wound begin to bleed even more. 

“That’s not gonna help you now.” My opponent stated.

I didn’t even have a chance to react as his boot smashed into my face. Stars were dancing in my eyes, I could feel the new split in my lip and the blood pouring from my now broken nose. Then he stepped onto my side, putting pressure on the fresh knife wound. I growled in pain and frustration. There was nothing dignified about this. The bastard was torturing me. Making sure that my end was as agonizing as possible. It was making me furious.

“What do you need to talk about?” Toby asked once we were out of earshot.

“Well, it’s more I need to ask you to do something for me.” I said. The heavy feeling forming in my gut that was making me second guess this, but I knew there wasn’t a choice here. No turning back. “I can’t ask anyone else.”

There was a clear distrust in Toby’s dark eyes. “Okay…” 

“Given what we’re heading into…” I took a deep breath. This was harder to say than I thought it was going to be, “If something happens to me, we both know Nadya won’t let me go. It won’t be easy for Skye either, so… I need you to make sure they get out safely.”

“What are you talking about?” Toby started to raise his voice, either offended or in disbelief at my request.

My arm wrapped around the soldier’s leg and I whipped him around with all my might, knocking him off his feet. There was a satisfying smack as his head hit the pavement. It gave me the opportunity to stand, but I knew I couldn’t fight in my condition. The best chance I had was to run. 

But I only managed to stagger a few paces away when I heard a loud BANG. Searing pain suddenly spread out through my back and out of my chest. The bullet went right through me and I collapsed on the ground again. 

“Look, I don’t have any delusions about my chances of survival. With the life I live, it’s not if it’s when. I’ll be damned if I drag anyone down with me. So, please, I need you to promise me.” I thought admitting this would make me feel better, knowing that the people I care about most would be safe once I was gone, but it only made me feel worse. Made me feel… afraid.

Toby blinked at me, utterly exasperated. “Are you listening to yourself right now? How do you think Nadya and Skye would react to hearing you say this crap?” 

Shame made me sigh and squeeze the bridge of my nose to lessen the pounding of my head. “I can’t think about that, Toby. And you’re not going to say a damn thing to them.”

The pain blinded me enough that all I could do for a few moments was writhe on the ground and struggle for breath. It didn’t take long for the metallic taste of blood to fill my mouth. The bullet pierced my lung. I was going to die from drowning in my own blood. If I was lucky I’d bleed out before that.

“That was a good try.” the soldier remarked. He used his foot to flip me on my back, placing each leg on either side of me and kneeling down to straddle me. “You have been a pain in my ass for years,” his fists grabbed the collar of my jacket, shaking me roughly, “I wanna see the light leave your eyes.” 

I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction if it’s the last thing I do, and it looked like it was going to be. The gun had been placed on the ground beside us, he must’ve thought I didn’t have the strength to reach for it. That would be his last mistake. I worked up a mixture of blood and saliva in my mouth and spit it in his face. The soldier recoiled in disgust for just a second, but that was all I needed. Quicker than either of us thought I was capable of in this state, I grabbed the gun and pointed it right at his head. The trigger was pulled before he could do anything about it. 

“So, let me get this straight.” Toby started with venomous sarcasm, “First, you want me to just let you die.”

“Toby, that’s not what I’m saying—”

He held up a finger, “Then! Then, you want me to, what, throw Nadya and Skye over my shoulders while they kick and scream? Dragging them away so we can leave you behind?” 

“Toby.” I said forcefully, summoning an authoritative voice, “I’m not planning to die, okay? But I will be in the most danger. These people have wanted me dead or captured for years, I’m not invincible. If- and I do mean if- something happens to me… you guys are the only thing that matters to me and I can’t go down knowing that you will suffer the same fate. So, please. I am begging you.” 

With a weak grunt, I shoved the body off of me and stood on trembling legs. I took a couple of steps before I wound up on my hands and knees again, struggling through wet, pained breaths and coughing up blood. This was it. I was alone. I was dying. I have thought about this exact moment many times over the years. Waiting for it. Accepting it. But now that I was here, now that I could feel myself start to drift away, all that was left in me was fear. 

And the only thing I wanted for my last moments was to see Nadya one last time. To hear her voice. Feel her warmth. Smell her scent. Tell her how fucking sorry I was for it ending this way. Tell her I tried to fight. That I tried to stay. That I wanted to stay more than anything. 

I didn’t know which direction she was in, but I had to move somewhere. Listening to my instincts, I picked a path and painfully forced myself to my feet again. There was so little left in me though. I blinked and I was on the ground again. My head was swimming, barely getting any air, the agony so terrible that I couldn’t even think. 

“If…” Toby sounded a step closer to considering my request.

I grabbed his hand. “If you know, in your heart, that there’s no saving me...” my voice started to shake. Even with all my strength, I couldn’t hide how afraid I was. “Just please make sure you guys get out safely.” 

It felt like minutes passed as Toby’s eyes bore into mine. “I’ll do what I can.” He finally said in a quiet tone, “But Jayde… If you’re always expecting to die, how do you live?” 

“Nadya.” I choked out, like there was any way she would be able to hear me, but I was desperate for even just a glimpse of her to take with me to whatever was next. 

With everything I had, I crawled forward. It wasn’t much. Each inch was more agonizing than the last. I couldn’t breathe. And my vision was fading. My fight was futile, but I couldn’t bring myself to give up. At least I did everything I could. I hoped she would know that. 

I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t feel anything. All that remained was the faint beating of my heart. Beating fainter and fainter… 

——

Skye wasn’t much of a conversationalist at this moment, she was too immersed in hacking her way through traffic cameras in the area, so I remained silent by the car while keeping watch. Quiet Skye was a bit weird to be around, but she was doing important work. We needed a way through that would give us our best chance against the facility and all its soldiers. Then we would need an escape route if we were successful. 

I always viewed myself as an optimist, but there was something… off. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and Jayde’s behavior was just odd enough to make me think my concerns weren’t misplaced. 

I glanced in the direction that she and Toby disappeared in. Whatever she was talking to him about, she didn’t want it to be in front of me or Skye. That only fanned the flames of my suspicions and caused a feeling of dread to constrict my throat. 

Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should convince Jayde to call this off. 

She reappeared from around the corner with Toby lagging behind her. He had a deep scowl on his face, and Jayde looked equally as disturbed, though she did try to hide it once I came into her view. 

“Jay…” I started as soon as she got to me, feeling shameful about what I was going to say next, “I… I don’t know if we should do this.” 

Her shoulders slumped with a sigh, “Nadya, we agreed to do this.” 

“I know, it’s just…” I shook my head, struggling to explain the feeling I had gnawing in my gut. 

Jayde placed her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye, “This is our chance. I’m tired of seeing you deal with running and fighting. Tired of seeing Toby and Skye deal with it too. All I want is to know what it’s like to have a life with you and them where I don’t have to worry about it being taken from me.” 

“I know, Jay. So do I.” 

Her hands gently cupped my face, and I took some solace in the comfort her touch granted me, even if it was just for a moment, “Will you trust me, then?”

I nodded, reaching up to wrap my hands around her forearms, “I trust you.” 

“I got a route,” Skye spoke up from the car, “You’re gonna have to go now though. Before the patrol returns.” 

Jayde nodded at her younger sister, then she smiled at me. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Perhaps even some fear. And her eyes carefully scanned my features like she was committing them to memory. I didn’t like that strange look one bit, but she pulled me in for a kiss. I thought about resisting it, try talk her out of this one more time, but the sensation of her sweet cadence pulled me in. Though I easily got lost in the kiss, it couldn’t fully banish the fear lingering in the back of my mind telling me that this was more than just a goodbye for now. 

She pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, “I can do this, okay? I’ll see you soon.”  

“Okay.” I breathed, willing myself to believe her words. 

We fell into an embrace that I never wanted to let go of. I gripped her jacket in my fists and buried my face in her neck, taking sanctuary in the warmth of her body. In just how much I felt at home in her arms. Jayde was unusually tense, which agitated my anxiety, but she started to soften against my form after a moment, allowing herself the same comfort she gave me. 

“I love you, Nadya.” She whispered into my ear. 

“I love you too.” I replied. 

“We need to find Jayde and get the fuck out of here.” Toby said as we hurried through the backstreets and alleyways, trying to avoid the lingering soldiers and approaching sirens. 

“The gunshots.” I reminded him, using all of my willpower not to panic over the possibility that it could’ve been Jayde that received them. 

Toby remained oddly silent for nearly a block, I noticed how his jaw was clenched tighter than normal. “We’ll find her and meet up with Skye and get out of this shithole city.” He mumbled like he was saying a mantra to himself. 

The gunshots, a voice repeated in my mind. I never should have let her go off by herself. That strange look in her eyes haunted me. Each step we took made my heart pound even harder. All I could picture was that look on her face. All I could hear in my head was the echoes of those gunshots going off and the fact that I didn’t know where she was. Fear crawled its way up my throat from a large pit in my stomach. A deep fear that was thick and tar-like, filling my veins and making my limbs feel heavy. 

I didn’t even realize I had started to jog until Toby’s footfalls sounded to catch up with me. I need to get to her. I need to find her. The gunshots I had heard echoed in my head again, so loud that it made my brain hurt. I wondered if I had actually imagined them. Maybe someone was shooting at us right now. It didn’t matter to me either way because I just needed to find Jayde. 

We came out of an alleyway that went into the street. The only lights were coming from the streetlamps. There weren’t any people around that we could see, probably due to the fact that it was late and there were obvious signs of a shootout. But this was where the gunshots were coming from. I started jogging down the street a little more, searching for anything that would tell me where Jayde was. My desperation nearly convinced me to call out for her. 

The tar in my veins turned to ice when I saw it. A body lying in the road. Even mostly cloaked in shadow, the nearest streetlamp made it impossible not to notice the familiar blonde hair. The hair that I’ve run my hands through. The hair that I’ve brushed back and that tickled my face when I hugged her last. 

Without telling it to, my body went into a full-on sprint towards her. I barely even registered Toby quietly shouting my name after I took off. The closer I got, the more my panic seemed to pull me deeper into a black abyss. 

“Jayde!” I yelled recklessly, not caring if the soldiers could hear me. She remained unmoving on the ground. 

I skidded to a stop beside her, my knees scraping against the asphalt and ripping through my jeans, though I barely even registered the stinging. Please don’t do this. Anything but this. My line of sight caught the massive dark stain on her back, the way it was sleeping through her jacket made it impossible to dispute it as hers. This isn’t real. I carefully flipped her onto her back and was greeted by the horrific sight of even more blood. A wound in her side, whatever it was penetrated through her ribs. Something vital. Worse was the hole in her chest. Maybe that one had gone through the most vital of all…

The street beneath her was drenched in deep crimson. It already coated my hands as they ran all over her body in utter panic. A panic that I’ve never felt before in my entire life. My limbs were trembling violently. I couldn’t get enough air. My heart pounded so hard that it shook my entire being to the core. All of my medical training disappeared. The only action I could muster was to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Okay, okay,” I muttered to myself, frantically pressing my hands into her wounds, ignoring just how bloodless her beat up face already looked. “I can fix this.”

I heard men shouting orders not far from us. Calling to one another. Get her out of here. I need to get her out of here. The blood wasn’t stopping. It was hard to tell if she was even breathing because my eyes became too blurred. Through the pure terror I was already feeling surfaced a new fear. Hardly important and only noticeable because I needed it to save Jayde’s life, but why was my vision going now, of all times, when I needed it the most? When it was absolutely vital to keep the person I love most in this world from leaving me. Why am I going blind?

Then I realized it was just my tears. I was so stupid. My hand wiped them away and I could feel that I just accidentally smeared her blood on my face. It made me want to retch. I was losing it. Rationality was fading away with the love of my life. Reality would surely follow if I couldn’t save her.  

“Toby, I-I can’t carry her, I need you to carry her.” 

There was no answer. 

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Toby was completely pale, looking down at Jayde in a blank horror. If he loses it, then we were doomed— Jayde was doomed, and I could not allow that to happen.

“Toby, please! Help me!” I shouted to get his attention and turned back to try and staunch the constant flow of blood from Jayde’s wounds.

“Nadya,” Toby prompted in a hollow tone, “Nadya, we have to go.”

“Just pick her up.” I instructed again in a voice I couldn’t keep from trembling. She’s a werewolf, she can handle losing this much blood. But I was too afraid to check for a pulse. 

The soldiers were getting closer. I could hear their heavy-booted footsteps. 

“Nadya,” Toby repeated, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I ignored him. If he wasn’t going to help me, then I just had to find a way. I will not lose her. Not like this. 

A part of me knew it was futile, but I did my best to cradle her, resting her head on my shoulder, and attempted to haul her up. But I was only human. Even if I could lift her in my arms, I wouldn’t be able to hold her weight for long. And she was limp, which just made things more difficult. I let out a frustrated cry, laying her back down and trying to think of another solution. Dragging her crossed my mind, but there’s no way I could move us fast enough. Soldiers will be here any second. The dawning realization that there was no way out of this was starting to hit me with a fresh wave of hysteria. 

Not like this. 

Toby’s firm grasp locked itself on my upper arms as he began to pull me to my feet. 

“What are you doing?! Get her!” I yelled, trying to shake him off.

“There’s nothing-” Toby choked on a sob, wrapping an arm around my waist when he stood me up. “There’s nothing we can do, we have to go.” 

I realized what was going on once he started pulling me away. “I’m not leaving her!” I desperately tried to break free of his grasp, but I simply wasn’t strong enough. 

“They’re coming, Nadya, we don’t have a choice.” 

He was right about one thing, a group of soldiers were approaching. All armed. All ready for the kill. I knew if we stayed, we would be murdered or worse. Leaving Jayde guarantees her death, but staying wouldn’t save her either. There really was no way. This was it. Being dragged away from her felt like falling into the blackest, most endless pit that exists. Every foot away from her was the most agony I’ve ever felt, like my very soul was being ripped from my being. 

I still couldn’t bring myself to give up on her. Desperate for any sign of life, I started screaming her name. Screaming it so loud that it felt like I was tearing my throat. Anything. Give me anything. I blindly fought Toby’s grip with everything I had, swinging my elbow back and striking him hard in the face. He grunted, his grip loosening, but he caught me back in a vice before I could break free. All I could do was scream for Jayde as I watched soldiers bare down on her. 

Don’t do this to me, Jay. 

But I knew there was nothing. Nothing I could do. Nothing left to fight for. Just nothing. And as I slumped in Toby’s arms and watched the one person I thought would always be there disappear from view forever, I couldn’t help but feel like I was dying too. 

Eventually, my legs ran with Toby’s help, but I couldn’t tell where we were going. I could see my surroundings enough to avoid basic obstacles, but I couldn’t actually see much of anything. My mind completely shut down. I was numb from head to toe. The world sounded like everything was underwater. If I could feel, I was sure I’d be grateful for Toby holding my hand and leading me through this maze of a city. I was like a rat in a trap, there’s no way I would be able to get out of here on my own. A part of me wasn’t sure I even wanted to.

There was a car in front of us, Toby opened the backseat door and helped me in. He even took the time to buckle my seatbelt for me. It wasn’t until he got into the passenger’s seat that I noticed Skye was in the driver’s because she spoke. 

“Where’s Jayde?” Skye asked, her voice already so tense that I was expecting her next sentence to snap like a cord. 

I couldn’t look up at her. My hands were in my lap and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the blood staining my skin and clothes. No doubt Skye could smell it.

“Go, Skye.” Toby said tersely as he slammed his door shut.

“Where is she, Toby?” 

“Skye—” 

“Where is my sister?!” Skye yelled loud enough to make me flinch. 

Her terrified and pained tone cut through my already bleeding heart and I leaned forward to close my eyes and press my forehead against my clenched fists. This is just a dream. Jayde has horrific nightmares all the time, maybe I’m having them too. 

“Skye, go!” Toby bellowed. 

There was a long moment of silence, but Skye must’ve understood because she finally started driving us out of here. 

Terrible, awful quiet blanketed the car like an ominous shadow, filling the air with a suffocating sorrow. I was fully consumed by that shadow. The world clouded in inky blackness as it clenched around my heart like a spiked cage. Leaving me utterly lost.

I couldn’t say for certain how much time passed, I honestly didn’t care, but we eventually made it to some seedy motel to rest for the night, which wouldn’t be long considering the sky was starting to turn gray. Once we got to our room, Toby led me to the bathroom with a bag in his hand, speaking the first words anyone has said to me in hours. 

“You should take a shower to get all that… to get clean.” He still sounded hollow and he set the bag down on the bathroom counter and turned the shower on. “There’s clothes in there. Can you wash yourself?” 

All I did was nod.

“Okay,” I noticed that Toby’s eyes barely ever left the floor while he was talking to me, just like mine. “We’re just gonna get a few hours of rest here. Then we’ll head home.”

Home? I wanted to ask. Home died earlier tonight. The Lodge wouldn’t feel the same. I was sure that nothing would ever feel the same, but I simply nodded again and Toby closed the bathroom door on his way out. 

Making myself go through the motions of taking a shower was surprisingly easy. Even though that emptiness in my chest remained, my body could still live off of auto-pilot. For how long, I wasn’t sure. For now it would do. I stood under the steaming hot water and watched as streaks of red traveled down my body and swirled into the drain. The last bits of her. It was sickening to miss it. 

The image of her lying in the street came back to my mind, striking me with intense nausea. I had to brace my hand against the tiled wall to keep from falling as I failed to hold back bile. Suddenly the sensation of having running water against my skin became too much and I frantically shut it off. All the blood was gone now anyway. I just wanted to get out. I carelessly threw the clean clothes on, not bothering to dry myself because the steam was making it too hard to breathe. 

I opened the bathroom door and saw my two remaining companions dealing with the night’s events. They were sitting on the ground, their backs leaning against the foot of the bed, and Toby had an arm around Skye while she wept into his shoulder. I could see now that I left a pretty noticeable black eye on Toby from trying to fight him and felt the urge to apologize, but also knew that nothing meaningful was capable of coming out of my mouth right now. 

They both looked up at me when they heard the door open and I could clearly see the immense heartbreak in both of their shimmering eyes. It was the same as mine, and their expressions caused me to fully break down. 

Toby reached out a hand to me when I choked on a painful sob and I collapsed on the ground in my own grief, leaning into him to allow myself desperately needed comfort. None of us said a word. Probably because we knew there wasn’t anything any of us could say to make this situation better. 

We all suffered a tremendous loss tonight. Not only did I lose the love of my life, but Skye lost the only blood family she had left, Toby lost a surrogate sister. The pack we had built for each other just had its heart ripped out, leaving the rest of us bleeding and suffering. Meanwhile that black abyss was feasting on me still, so I clung to Toby’s shirt and just let myself cry harder than I have ever cried before. 

Skye eventually cried herself to sleep, but Toby and I remained awake, staring blankly at the wall in front of us until the sun’s rays peeked through the blinds and bathed us in chopped gold. I couldn’t feel it like I used to. Honestly, I hated it. Hated that the sun had the audacity to ever rise again. I resented the world for going on like nothing had happened, like I wasn’t feeling terrible agony and emptiness. The very earth itself should be screaming in pain like I had screamed for Jayde. But outside our motel room, birds still sang their songs, and cars still drove down the street, and people still laughed and chatted. It disgusted me. 

As soon as my fury at the world rose like an incoming crashing wave, it dissipated to the hopelessness that had rooted itself in my chest. There was no point in being angry because she was gone. There was no point in fighting because this wasn’t a dream. It was real, real enough to feel unreal, making my nerves completely shot and my mind completely numb. 

I looked over at Toby with his ashen face and bags under his bloodshot eyes, and Skye who was too drained to be conscious, but still cried in her sleep. Even in this horror, I couldn’t help but feel some gratitude for not having to suffer through it alone. 

——

The woman’s thick-soled footsteps came to a stop beside the body of the dying young woman she spent years trying to find. This girl grew to be more of a challenge than the woman expected, she was almost disappointed that her hunt had ended. Even more curious was the screams of another girl, shouting the wolf’s name in utter despair. The woman watched this strange girl disappear around a corner, being dragged away by another werewolf that was more than likely on her hit-list as well, but she halted her soldiers. They made a mess of this city enough for the night and they got their prize.

“She’s on her way out.” One of her soldiers said with pride as he kneeled down and checked the young she-wolf, “All we gotta do is wait.” 

“Goddammit,” Another soldier swore as he looked at the other body lying on the sidewalk not too far away, “She got Jimmy.” 

“Well, at least he took her down with him.” the first soldier replied and the others murmured in agreement, scowling down at the bloodied werewolf. Her last moments were to be a spectacle. 

But something tugged at the back of the woman’s mind. She contemplated the direction that the other girl and her companion fled and turned her attention back to the Thatcher wolf. This werewolf was a young purebred, it was a shame when they lost her the first time. The woman’s gaze went back to the empty street. She also must have connections. Must know many others like her, possibly multiple packs of purebreds. And the girl that was screaming for her… you don’t scream like that unless you love someone. A potential started to bloom in the woman’s mind. Maybe she could still get some use out of the young wolf yet. 

“Save her.” she ordered her soldiers.

The conversations suddenly stopped. “Ma’am…?” One of them asked hesitantly like his superior lost her mind.

She fixed her charges with a level stare. “Save her.”

[slashthedice]

Had this prompt in my head. Normal girl from Dallas, living her best life. One day, she finds herself in a bar, people listening to country music, drinking, dancing, having fun... the sound of a chainsaw catches her attention. The door of the bar is swiftly destroyed, a hunky man swinging a chainsaw around. Another man comes in, talking about revenge on the bar owner, laughing maniacally... the hunky man notices you, and your heart starts beating faster. Maybe Bubba Sawyer x reader NSFW? :3

Yes please! ♥(ﾉ´∀`)  I am so here for this.This one ended up being quite a bit longer than originally intended so uhhh I’m splitting it up. Second part will ideally be finished and posted later this week and will contain the NSFW bits. Might end up crossposting this one to ao3 as well. Soundtrack for this one is this which I was introduced to by @slashers-hell (＾ω＾)

It had been a wild night. None of your friends had been available to go out, but that hadn’t stopped you. You were young and looking for action, excitement, something to spice up the humdrum of everyday life. You found yourself at a small bar that you didn’t typically visit.

It was late, certainly later than you had planned to be out by yourself. Last call was breathing down your neck, and you could tell that the cantankerous proprietor and acting bartender was chomping at the bit to kick those of you still finishing your drinks out. Any minute he would tell you to settle your tabs and clear out.

You looked around the small bar, better able to take it in now that your inebriation had dulled to a slight buzz. It was all old wood panelling and aged furniture. A haze of cigarette smoke seemed to hang in the dimly lit space despite the numerous No Smoking signs posted on the walls and doors. A single light above the jukebox flickered on and off as the machine spun out the mellowed jazzy sound of a guitar that hung in the air thicker than the smoke.

The remaining patrons of the establishment were a motley crew, each varying levels of drunken and haggard, and each sure to be sporting a fierce hangover in the coming hours. You found that you were the youngest person left in the bar, and the one that fit in the least. You were a young woman looking for a good time and rounding out her night of bar crawling, not a hardened alcoholic looking for an escape amongst strangers.

The space had gone through quite the shift over the course of only a couple hours. When you had rolled up to the bar, the gravel parking lot had been packed with cars. Those populating the building were a mix of regulars and people drawn in by the flickering of the near ancient sign illuminated by neon letters. You recalled thinking that they had to be breaking some sort of fire code when you had forced your way into the middle of the mass of bodies dancing to the twangy notes of some southern songstress on the dancefloor. You had danced and laughed and drank, making new friends for the night with the girls exchanging drunken compliments in the bathroom as they did more harm than good while trying to fix their makeup in the tarnished, cracked mirror.

Your fleeting friends had long since disappeared into the night, and now you sat alone at one end of the dingy bar with one hand propping up your chin and the other wrapped around the once cold glass of a half-finished beer mug. Your arms and legs felt heavy, and your skin was coated in a layer of dust and dirt adhered by your own cooled sweat. You didn’t dare even glance towards any reflective surface, sure that what had once been an alluring smokey eye now gave you the appearance of a raccoon and that your hair was a tangled mess. You knew that you should settle up and head home, the softness and warmth of your bed calling to your exhausted body, but you couldn’t bring yourself to motion the barkeep over.

The relative quiet stillness of the bar was shattered by what sounded like a chainsaw revving outside the door. Around you, the barflies all looked up. You weren’t familiar with the area, but you had a feeling that chainsaws weren’t an average occurrence at this time of night.

“What the hell is all that racket?” The gruffness of the bartender’s voice cut through the roar of the unexpected saw.

He rounded the bar, brushing by you and making a beeline for the door. The thump of his boots covered both the din of the mechanical growl and the already drowned out lilt of music. All the patrons were silent, watching with curiosity and confusion as the old man went to confront whoever was disturbing the tenuous peace that can only be found at the end of a long night. The chainsaw had only gotten louder as the moments rolled on, and as the proprietor drew closer to the door it sounded like whoever was wielding the dangerous implement was basically already inside.

You watched the old man’s sure steps falter as he neared the door. The initial rage he had felt must have died when he realized the implications of facing an unknown person with a potentially deadly weapon. He hesitated, hand reaching for the knob but frozen mid air. The bar itself seemed to hold its breath with anxious anticipation of what would happen next.

Then the door exploded.

A shower of wood and splinters flew through the air, pelting the old man and startling everyone. Someone dropped a glass, but the sound of it shattering was masked by the roaring buzz of a chainsaw that echoed through your head and vibrated through your body. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you watched him fall to the ground and debris fly through the air.

The man that stepped through the ruins of the door was massive, easily nearing six and a half feet tall. He loomed over the now terrified old bartender with the chainsaw you had heard prior raised above his head. He appeared to be wearing some kind of mask. There was little time to consider him further before a smaller man scampered in behind him. This new man seemed jittery, twitchy and somehow scared you more than the one with the literal chainsaw.

The chainsaw ground to a halt, and the bar was suddenly almost unnervingly quiet. You, along with the other patrons, were frozen with shock as this all played out before you. The small man stood over the old man, tittering excitedly and pointing what appeared to be a bent metal coat hanger at the prone male.

“Do you remember me?” He seemed to struggle with the words, stuttering slightly. “You kicked me out after taking my money. I was just trying to listen to music, man!”

The bartender seemed to remember his prior rage, though he seemed much less intimidating on the floor. “Yeah, I remember you! You almost broke my damn jukebox!”

“Music is my life, man, and you were disrespecting it!”

The old man began to attempt to struggle to his feet. “I’ll kick you out again! You and whatever the hell that is,” he growled, jerking his chin in the direction of the mountain of a man that now cradled the chainsaw with a surprising amount of delicacy.

Faster than your eye could follow, the jittery man pulled a ball-peen hammer out of thin air and with a loud crack! he brought it down hard on the other man’s balding head. With this single violent action, the entire bar erupted with activity. You sucked in a harsh gasp, hardly able to grasp what exactly you bore witness to. The men a little ways down the bar from you shot to their feet, moving to assist the man that was now under attack. This prompted the grinding growl of whirring teeth as the chainsaw was coaxed back to life.

“Get ‘em, Leatherface!” The rat-like man howled, shaking the bloodied hammer in the direction of the bar.

You were on your feet and running for the back before your mind could catch up with your instincts. You sprinted towards the cramped hallway that housed the bathrooms and what you had assumed was a back door. It was mere seconds before you heard screaming and the horrible wet sound of flesh being carved through. You whimpered as you threw yourself at the back entrance, becoming more and more desperate as you realized that it wasn’t budging.

To your horror, as you examined the door, you found a thick padlock sealing it shut. You pulled uselessly on it, knowing that it was futile but not knowing what else you could hope to do. The screaming quieted to moaning, which died into silence in the main bar room. Your struggles with the lock grew more desperate, but were still just as ineffective.

“Where’s the girl? Go get the girl!”

Your heart was in your throat when you heard those words from the strange man. An affirmative noise came from the other man. You were crying then, though you tried to quiet your sobs. The lock was going nowhere and your only option was to hide.

You ducked into the bathroom, cursing the way your boots slipped against the smooth tile. You ran to the last stall in the row, closing the door behind you, locking it, and balancing on the edge of the toilet seat with your knees pulled up to your chest. You knew it was silly, that the large man with the chainsaw would find you easily and hack you to bits, but you were scared, still slightly intoxicated, and completely out of ideas.

You heard the bathroom door slam open and had to stifle a whimper with your trembling hands. The chainsaw was turned off, and the only sound was his heavy footsteps on the dirty tile. There was a loud bang! as the door to the first stall was thrown open. The same happened with the second, then the third, and then you could see his boots underneath the door in front of you.

He pushed lightly on the door, probably expecting it to swing open as easily as the others had. When it didn’t budge, he pounded against it with a single meaty fist. The flimsy lock did not stand a chance. You yelped and tried to push yourself even further back, coming dangerously close to tumbling into the toilet bowl.

As the stall door slammed against the wall, you got a good look at the large man for the first time that night. The fluorescent bathroom lights haloed his bulky form. He was dressed up in a nice black suit, white button up shirt soaked with sweat and dust from his destruction of the front door. You realized with a sick jolt that what you had thought was a halloween mask of some sort appeared to be a second face worn over top of his own, a human face.

He pulled back on the cord of the chainsaw and it made a grinding sound but did not start. You knew that you had reached the end of the line. If he could get the mechanical tool going, you would become quickly and intimately acquainted with the acute pain that the whirring metal teeth of the saw could cause. As a last ditch effort, you did the only thing you could think of.

“Stop that!” You said as sternly as you could, trying to look as confident as a person cowering on a toilet was capable of.

He looked at you with more than a little confusion, but he didn’t pull the ripcord again. You took this as a good sign. You swallowed thickly, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins and fear tingling across your nerves.

“What’s your name?” Your voice sounded tremulous in your ears.

He looked around in a way that almost seemed nervous. He half shrugged and fiddled with the chainsaw. It seemed like he wanted to answer your question, but that he couldn’t find the words.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m [Y/N],” you continued, not wanting him to get upset.

He lowered the bloodied chainsaw a little further, and hope swelled in your chest. He babbled something that was near incomprehensible, but the more optimistic part of your brain translated it as a repetition of your name. You smiled and nodded with more force than was necessary.

He seemed conflicted, shifting his weight and glancing back and forth between you and the door. When he was looking at you, you could feel his deep walnut colored eyes travel over you. He seemed particularly appreciative of your bare legs beneath your denim shorts when you slowly lowered them to the ground to steady yourself, as that was where his hesitant gaze lingered the longest.

Finally, he seemed to decide what to do with you. He dropped to his knees in front of you, motioning for you to stay where you were with one upheld hand. He yammered and babbled at you, and while you couldn’t understand what exactly he was trying to say, you could surmise his general intent and stayed put. Even kneeling, he was nearly eye-level with you as you sat on the edge of the toilet seat.

Maybe it was the alcohol still left in your system or maybe you were finally losing your mind, but at this proximity you could make out some of his features beneath the stolen face and you found yourself admiring what you saw. He had wide, dark eyes that followed your every move and searched your face. You could just see the shape of his mouth through the hole in the mask. Every time he babbled at you, you were granted a glimpse of misshapen and misaligned teeth. However, his lips were full and plump, glistening where his pink tongue darted out to lick nervously.

You watched him peel off his black gloves. His hands were much like the rest of him, meaty and strong. His fingers were short and stubby, but nearly as thick as two of your own. You nearly slapped yourself when you caught your mind wandering to how those fingers would feel against and inside you. All you could hope was that he wouldn’t notice the way your face suddenly reddened. You needn’t have worried, as he was focused on his new task. He dragged those same fingers you were admiring across the bloodied guide bar, collecting the cooling red substance on their tips.

When he reached towards you with his now blood-soaked hands you fought against all of your instincts that screamed for you to recoil. You could not suppress, however, the shuddering breath that left you when you felt the odd sticky warmth of blood smeared across your face. You wanted to grasp his wrist, to stop him, but he looked at you with such focus and intensity that you did not. Once your cheeks, forehead, and chin were sufficiently covered, he collected more of the macabre paint and spread it over your neck and chest. You whined in protest when he smeared the crimson over your shirt, surely ruining it, but he cut off your complaints with a huffed noise of warning.

Once he was done, he took a moment to sit back on his heels and admire his work. You were sure that you were now just a bloodied mess of gore and viscera. He nodded slightly before standing and lifting the chainsaw once more. You watched with confusion as he fumbled with it for a moment before yanking on the ripcord. You screamed then, sure that after all the hope and whatever had just happened, he was going to kill you anyway. He yelled too, waving the tool above his head before swinging it back and forth.

The whirring teeth never found you. He destroyed the wooden stall doors and broke the porcelain tiles. Your screams quieted as you watched the swathe of destruction he cleaved through the space. You realized he had no intention of hurting you, but that he was making a show of it for someone, probably the other man out front. Finally, when he was content with the scope of his demolition, he let the motor sputter and die. Then there was silence with the exception of his labored breathing.

He made a series of hurried motions which you somehow understood to mean “play dead”. Your intention was to slump back against the back of the toilet and go limp, but before you could do that one of his muscled arms found your waist and he was hoisting you over his shoulder. You nearly shrieked at the sudden motion, but remembered just in time that you were supposed to be dead. You let yourself go slack, arms dangling down his back as your knees pressed into his chest and his shoulder dug into your midsection.

He carried you from the bathroom and back into the bar. If he bumped your pliant form into a doorway or two, or if the steadying hand on your thigh was just a bit higher than you suspected was necessary, you didn’t say anything. You squeezed your eyes shut so that you would not have to see the carnage that you were sure was spread across the dancefloor. Your willful blindness did little to prevent the assault of the scent of copper from invading your senses, you could all but taste the blood on your tongue.

“Bubba!” So that was his name. “You got her?”

You felt the man– Bubba– nod.

“I got mine too! Let’s get ‘em in the truck.”

You kept your eyes clamped shut and your extremities limp for the entirety of the process. You were laid gently on the hard surface of what you surmised was the bed of a truck, followed quickly by a number of heavy thuds and disgusting squishing noises. You felt the vehicle shift under the added weight. Idly you wondered how they planned to dispose of the bodies. That was what you assumed they were planning, to hide the evidence of their crimes.

Blood pooled as it spilled from the multitude of wounds on the corpses, spreading to where Bubba had placed you. The warmth of it seeped into your clothing and hair, you fought the urge to gag. Someone patted your leg comfortingly before a tarp was thrown over the grizzly scene in the back of the truck, trapping you in with the smell of death. You were too afraid to open your eyes even when the engine started and two doors slammed shut.

The vehicle jolted forward, across the gravel of the parking lot and out onto the open road. You did not think to pay attention to the direction you were travelling or the number of times the truck turned. For the most part, your mind was blank. There was only one thought repeating itself in your head:

This was not the kind of excitement you had been looking for when you left your home earlier that evening.

Part 2

[artificialqueens]

(Love)Sick Overseas (Phianca) - Albatross

AN: Phi Phi is feeling a bit under the weather but determined not to let it ruin her vacation. And who should she happen to run into on her way back from picking up cold medicine but Bianca Del Rio?

Just a short, fluffy little Phianca sickfic. And yes, I do think they’d be cute together and no, @VeronicaSanders, there will be no Bitney sequel. No Bitney, ever.

Getting sick in the middle of his trip to the UK had certainly not been part of Jaremi’s plan. No, he had been looking forward to this excursion for months and he’d be damned if something like the sniffles was going to stop him. At first it wasn’t even anything too serious; just a sneeze every now and then or a runny nose in the morning. But by the fourth day it was clear the symptoms were not going away…if anything they were getting worse.

But Jaremi was stubborn, if nothing else.

A bit of cold medicine until it all passed and he’d be fine…at least, that’s what he told himself.

Now here he was, returning from his second trip to pick up some OTC cold remedy and his nose was already protesting mightily. Even his throat was starting to feel scratchy but Jaremi was determined to continue his vacation plans uninterrupted. So what if his head was a little foggy or he was slightly unsteady on his feet every now and then?

Drinking had the same effect so all was good to his mind.

With enough effort he could remember his way around the city and all the places he wanted to visit and that was fine with him. Once he returned to the hotel with this last batch of cold medicine, he’d be off for a bit of shopping around town. Who knows? He might just find some new inspiration for his drag looks while he’s out there. That’d certainly be a plus.

As he was pondering over which stores he wanted to stop at first, a vibration from his pocket captured his attention. Curiously, he pulled the phone from his cargo shorts and felt his heart jolt a little as he recognized the name flashing across the screen. No other than ‘Roy/Bianca’ along with a small icon showing a fully beat and smiling face of the queen in question.

Somewhat amused and certainly wondering as to what his long-time friend could possibly need, Jaremi answered the phone on the fourth ring with a pleasant, “Hello?”

“Turn around, bitch,” came the joking voice on the other end.

Almost painfully, Jaremi instantly twisted himself around at Roy’s insistence and found the older queen speedwalking to meet him. The sharp turn caused his head to spin a little more than it ought have but Jaremi pushed the feeling aside as he greeted his close friend with a bright grin. Before he could even ask what Roy was doing here, he felt a light and friendly rap to his arm as the older queen bitched him out, “I was calling your name for the last two minutes. Looked like a fucking idiot with you ignoring me! You got earbuds in or something, bitch?”

Scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, Jaremi admittedly vaguely that he had just been lost inside his own thoughts for the last block or so. Rolling his eyes, Roy accepted the answer and asked what Jaremi was doing all the way out here.

“Vacation. Sightseeing,” the younger queen replied. “Just relaxing for once. What about you? Got another show out here or something?”

He knew that answer was unlikely. Not that he stalked Bianca’s tour schedule by any means, but he often made sure he was at least up to date on known shows and as of two days ago he was sure Roy was still tucked away somewhere in the US doing god-knows-what for his next tour. So it came as little surprise when Roy replied with a shrug of his shoulders, “No, just on vacation, too, I guess. If you could call it that. Courtney has some event next week and asked for my help. Figured I’d make a real trip out of it in the meantime. Relax too, you know?”

Nodding in perfect understanding, Jaremi knew all too well what Roy meant. After all, he was one of the hardest working queens in the business. He hardly ever took time off for himself. Even when he wasn’t touring, he always had his hand in something whether it was for a future project or just to help another performer. It was admirable but often Jaremi wondered if Roy would eventually burn out going on like this. It wasn’t his business but he did worry from time to time. More than he’d ever admit verbally to anyone. 

Even now Roy seemed a bit anxious just to be doing something and seeing Jaremi must have felt like a godsend as he immediately proposed that the two head out for lunch and catch up. Jaremi could see that he was itching to talk about something of substance and didn’t have the heart to say ‘no’ or even to delay until later in the day. So he simply followed Roy in a state of reluctant obedience as he eagerly led them off down the street to a cafe he’d spotted the day he arrived. Roy had already been on his way there when he found Jaremi so it almost felt like a sign from the universe to invite the younger queen…if Roy believed in that sort of thing.

Though their styles of drag were quite a bit different, especially with Phi Phi lending herself more to cosplay as of late, there were still a number of similarities the two had bonded over. Whether it was creating new and unique looks, comparing tips on how to overcome certain costume design challenges, or just an easygoing kiki with one another as they gossiped over whatever drama had recently been stirred up in their drag centered universe. There was never a lack of topics to discuss, though today Jaremi seemed a bit out of it.

Normally he had a sharp wit, far more than what he’d normally dare say around most other queens, yet this afternoon he wasn’t nearly as quick with the shady remarks. Instead he let Roy dominate the conversation almost entirely rather their typical back and forth. Despite how much Jaremi had tried to hide it, he could feel his mind growing increasingly cloudy as their meal went on. He wished at the very least he had taken some of the medication he had brought but it almost felt a little rude to do so. If only he could subtly sneak off to take some of the pills but even going to the bathroom whilst carrying the bag would have been suspicious.

So all he could do was suffer in silence as his nose began to clog up and his throat felt increasingly dry in spite of however much he drank. And though Roy didn’t comment on it, he had certainly noticed the change from their typical kiki sessions. At first he thought Jaremi was simply tired, and once or twice he worried he was actually boring him, but still Jaremi was trying his hardest to pay attention, not even sparing a glance to his phone, so Roy figured it had to be something else.

One of Jaremi’s usual habits was to go all out on desserts, sampling at least one or two with every meal in a foreign country, but today he declined to even look at that particular menu. It was then that Roy knew for certain something was definitely off with the younger man. As they awaited their checks, he questioned his companion quite bluntly, “What’s up with you, queen? You’ve been out of it since we got here.”

Jaremi faltered for a moment before immediately trying to defend himself but Roy’s withering gaze stopped him mid-sentence. Ashamed, he reluctantly admitted that he was getting sick and hadn’t had a chance to take his next round of medicine before Roy had caught him on the street. He expected Roy to withdraw in concern for his own health because after all, his voice was his money maker, but instead Roy did something quite unexpected. He actually scooted his chair closer and around the table as he touched Jaremi’s wrist in concern. His brows knit together in sympathy that sharply contrasted his exasperated voice asking, “Why didn’t you say something? We could have done this another day! Or even just waited until we got back to the states!”

Shrugging Jaremi tried to play off the situation as though it weren’t as big a deal as Roy was making it. His voice was quiet and starting to show evidence of his illness as he replied, “It’s fine, really. The symptoms aren’t too bad. And it’s been awhile since we talked…It was nice just to catch up by ourselves.”

Shaking his head, Roy muttered, “Idiot.”

The statement would have been more scathing had it come from anyone else but Jaremi’s heart felt like fluttering again as he heard Roy state quite definitively, “Let’s get you back to your hotel.”

Their checks arrived at that moment and despite how usually he’d do anything to keep himself from acting like a child in front of strangers, Jaremi couldn’t stop himself from whining, “I have plans!”

“I don’t really care,” Roy declared apathetically with his trademark glare. “You’re going back to your hotel even if I have to walk you to your room myself.”

The pair stared each other down and if Jaremi had any intention of disobeying Roy’s demand, he ought to have pretended to give in right then but the silent argument went on long enough for Roy to figure out that he’d better follow through on his initially empty threat. Otherwise Jaremi would be back on the streets as soon as his back was turned, probably hacking up phlegm in just a few hours to boot. 

No, if he wanted Jaremi to rest, he’d have to escort him back to his hotel and wait until the younger man fell asleep. Which shouldn’t be too long considering how heavy-lidded his eyes already looked.

Much like a rent-a-cop on duty, Roy ushered the protesting queen back to his hotel room. To his surprise it took little more than a sharp glare and a few cutting words to convince Jaremi to take his medication and at least sit on the bed. Beyond that, Jaremi utterly refused to do anything else to indulge Roy’s unwanted mothering. He was all but pouting and nearly on the verge of a temper tantrum that would have rivaled one of Alaska’s yet Roy stood firm with remarkable patience.

“Sleep will be good for you,” he reasoned in as best of a persuasive tone as could be managed, “You already look like you’re about to drop from exhaustion anyway.”

Jaremi couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling at the statement, however true it might be. His muscles were starting to give out and probably the only thing that kept him going right now was his desire to defy the older queen at every turn. But Roy was determined to outlast him. Despite how eager he was for something meaningful to do earlier; getting a sick Jaremi to relax and go to sleep seemed far more important. Deciding to take an approach he had followed a number of times before, he made a shooing motion with his hand and told him to lie on his stomach.

Skeptical, Jaremi only gave him a brief glance, essentially saying, ‘The fuck?’

Rolling his eyes once more, Roy urged him, “Just do it. I’m not gonna do anything sketchy or weird.”

Still, Jaremi was unconvinced…at least until he heard a quiet, almost suspiciously gentle attempt at persuasion, “I promise….Please lay down?”

It was highly unusual to hear such a tone from Roy. Typically he’d just give up after awhile or make some sort of scathing remark but today he was actually being…soft. It was a little off-putting but Jaremi found that he genuinely liked seeing this more caring side of his friend. Thinking at the very least he trusted Roy not to do anything unwholesome, Jaremi relented and laid on his stomach in the middle of the bed while his head rested on a pillow.

He turned to look at Roy as he carefully set himself down on the edge of the mattress so as not to cause it to dip any more than necessary. Just as the younger man was wondering what he planning, he felt the light trace, almost scratching of fingertips running across the expanse of his back. An involuntary shiver rose through his spine at the sensation but much to his surprise he found himself almost leaning into the touch for more.

His voice bordered on a happy purr as he admitted, partially muffled by the pillow, “That feels really good, actually.”

Practically hearing the smirk Roy was undoubtedly wearing, the older man mentioned, “Yeah, Adore loves it when I do this whenever she gets sick or hungover.”

Then almost immediately thinking better of it, he quickly added, “That doesn’t leave this room.”

There was an edge to his voice that caused Jaremi’s stomach to turn but all he gave Roy in response was a content nod. As was the Roy’s intention, the body beside him was slowly relaxing and drifting off to a lazy lull of a sleeplike state. Almost as an afterthought, and perhaps mostly influenced by his sick addled mind, Jaremi found the courage to ask, “What is going on between you two any way?”

This was a common topic of debate amongst the queens and fans alike but no one really had a satisfying answer. Figuring now was as good a time as any, Jaremi took his chance to ask Roy directly. Sounding quite used to the question, the older queen replied with a chuckle in his voice, “What do you think?”

He genuinely wanted an answer, Jaremi realized, and would wait very patiently until the younger man gave him one. Almost guiltily, he forced himself to examine both his own feelings and what he’d observed first and secondhand of the two queens’ atypical relationship. Sounding unsure yet still a bit hopeful, Jaremi answered softly, “I think…you’re just really good friends.”

He turned his head up to face Roy and study his reaction yet much to his surprise, he found a calm, pleased smile waiting for him. The elder queen nodded his head in confirmation and it was there they let that particular conversation drop. Burying his face into the pillow for a minute, Jaremi couldn’t deny just how light and happy he felt. His heart was racing and he was sure his illness had nothing to do with it but either way, he was satisfied with what he had learned.

He was almost at the point of falling asleep when Roy drew back his fingers. Jaremi’s drowsy eyes reopened and he turned to look at the older queen once more. He was mildly surprised to find Roy sliding fully onto the bed to lay beside him.

Trying not to let on just how happy was, Jaremi slowly drawled out, “Gonna stay here till I fall asleep?”

There was a hint of a smirk resting on Roy’s lips as he replied casually, “Maybe a little after that too…Is that alright?”

Feeling like a child who’d just gotten everything and more that they could ever want for Christmas, Jaremi nodded his head and bit back a quiet yawn. 

Roy’s eyes had gone noticeably soft as he gazed down at the half sleeping form beside him, still struggling futilely to stay awake. He almost chuckled at the fruitless effort but hid it behind a fond smile instead. He raised a hand to ruffle Jaremi’s hair and urged him once more to finally go to sleep. This time there was no protest, no argument as the younger queen nodded and nestled himself snugly amongst the pillows. 

In another very un-Roy-like behavior, he leant down and pressed a brief kiss to Jaremi’s cheek. In truth it was just a little too close the lips to have been accidental but Jaremi was all too willing to let that slide for the time being. All he said in response through his bright grin was a sing-songy declaration of, “You’re gonna get sick tomorrow.”

Shaking his head, Roy laughed softly and affirmed quite adamantly, “I’m not gonna get sick.”

“You’re definitely gonna get sick,” Jaremi mumbled half into the pillow as his eyes slid shut.

Whatever Roy said in response was muffled and unheard as Jaremi dozed off into a content, dream-filled state. True to Roy’s assertions, the next day he felt perfectly fine. Not a trace of Jaremi’s cold to be found in his system. The day after however…that was another story.

[ximaginedreamsx]

Unbound

Chapter 6: The Mystery of Takuya

Restless tension hung heavily in the atmosphere of the room as everyone attempted to absorb the sudden, disturbing bit of information they were just given.

Urahara's gaze shifted back to Grimmjow after a few moments. "You're saying that Aizen is plotting to come after Orihime? And you're absolutely certain of this?"

The Espada's scowl deepened. "What reason do I have to lie?"

"You have EVERY reason to lie!" Rukia snapped suddenly. "How do we know that you're not the one Aizen sent to capture her in the first place?!"

Grimmjow cast a bored glare at the ranting Shinigami. "As boldly stupid as ever... Do you ever use that useless chunk of dead weight you dare refer to as a fucking brain? Tch...if I were the one sent here to complete such a boring task, I would've done it long before now. Aside from that fact, I'm pretty damn sure that arrogant bastard wouldn't have sent someone he himself was trying to kill to do his dirty work."

"Hmmm...he has a valid point..." Uryuu reluctantly agreed. "That and he just doesn't seem like the type that Aizen would send in for a task like that."

Ichigo looked over at Grimmjow. "So then who would he send to complete that sort of task?"

"His emo clown lapdog, Ulquiorra." Grimmjow replied. "He sends that son of a bitch to do everything."

"...That guy..." Ichigo muttered, remembering his confrontation with the green-eyed Espada.

"While that is a good thing to keep in mind, our main focus as of right now should be what we're going to do to prevent it from even occurring." Urahara stated; he then looked back toward the auburn-haired girl. "Orihime, I'd like for you to stay here with me the time being. I'll have Takuya and Renji go with you to your home to pack anything you may need."

Orihime nodded an "ok," her own mind still trying to process the details of her sudden possible endangerment. A hand suddenly came to rest upon her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. She turned to see Takuya looking at her, a hopeful smile on her face.

"Don't worry, ok?" she spoke reassuringly, giving the girl's shoulder a squeeze. "Your friends are here for you, and I'm sure everything possible will be done to make sure that you are kept safe."

"That's right." Ichigo piped up in agreement. "You don't have to worry about a thing, Orihime. We've got your back!"

A smile slowly returned to Orihime's face. "Yeah...thanks guys." she said quietly.

"Alright, you three should probably head out now for the sake of handling things early." Urahara suggested. "And Renji...it'd be best if you changed into a shinigami just in case."

"Right." Renji said as he stood to his feet. Ok you two, let's get going."

The two girls stood up as Renji changed into his shinigami form, and exited the shop shortly thereafter. Urahara watched until they were out of the shop before turning back to the rest of the group.

"Well, I suppose we won't go into anything further until they've returned." he said, opening his fan. "Until then, how about we have some more tea?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The walk to Orihime's apartment was quiet and uneventful, much to Renji's own relief. Once inside the apartment, Orihime immediately began packing up clothing and other such necessities into a large suitcase with Takuya's help, while Renji stood outside and kept watch. Within fifteen minutes they completed their task; Orihime took a few extra seconds afterwards to double-check and make sure she had everything she needed before the two headed out the door.

"Okay, we're ready." Orihime said as she locked her apartment door behind her.

"Alright then. Let's head back." Renji said, taking the suitcase from the auburn-haired girl as they began their trek back to Urahara's shop.

Only a minute or so after the trio began their short journey, Renji suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing the two girls behind him to bump into him slightly. Orihime cast a nervous glance up at the red-haired man.

"Renji? W-what's wrong?"

"...A hollow." Renji muttered, his hand immediately going to his zanpakutou. As if on cue, a loud howl erupted from somewhere a mere few feet in front of them. "And from the sound of it...it's pretty big."

Takuya's eyes widened in fear at the revelation, and she suddenly felt as if she couldn't move as horrid memories that had been successfully locked away in the back recesses of her mind came flooding back to the surface. Her steady breaths transformed into shuddering gasps in that instant, drawing the attention of both Orihime and Renji.

"Takuya?" Orihime called softly, turning to face the panicking girl. "Takuya...it's gonna be -"

She was abruptly cut off when the hollow stormed into view. As Renji had guessed, the creature was huge, standing about as tall as a three-story building. Its legs were short while its arms stretched down to the ground, and its mask was oblong in shape; a hollow hole decorated the center of its reddish body.

Raucus laughter echoed from the creature when it spotted the trio. "Hah, I thought I smelled an extra tasty snack around here. Seems my senses weren't fooling me after all." it bellowed.

"The only thing you'll be tasting is my Zabimaru as it hacks you to pieces, you bastard!" Renji yelled as he charged forward. "Roar, Zabimaru!"

His zanpakutou instantly extended into a long, jagged whip, and hurtled viciously toward the hollow. Just as the first segment reached it, it vanished seemingly into thin air. It did not escape Renji's senses, however, as he immediately charged in the direction it landed a second later. It growled loudly in newfound frustration, pausing only for a moment to glance at the slice wound on its shoulder before it suddenly began charging toward Takuya and Orihime, howling as it did so. Orihime quickly stepped in front of Takuya and activated her Santen Kesshun.

"Stay away from them, dammit!" Renji yelled as he hurriedly moved to impede the hollow's path.

"I must have it! Such deliciously rare and unusual spirit energy...it MUST be MINE! No one will stop me from having what I have sought out for so long! You can hide from me no longer, girl! Surrender yourself now and become one with my flesh!"

The hollow was mere inches away from Orihime's glowing shield when Zabimaru wrapped itself around the creature and dug its spikes into its body. Then, with a power tug, Renji forcefully retracted his zanpakutou; with a screeching cry, the hollow was destroyed, evaporating into nothing. With a collective sigh, Renji sheathed his weapon and Orihime dismissed her Santen Kesshun. Immediately afterward, the auburn-haired girl turned to console Takuya, who was trembling like a dry leaf in the wind. A second or so later, Renji joined the two girls.

"Are you two ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're just fine." Orihime replied with a slight nod. "Takuya's just a little shaken up is all."

Renji turned his attention to the ebony-haired girl, who stood there with her eyes closed taking deep breaths...an attempt to calm herself, he assumed. After about a minute, her trembling had completely stopped and she reopened her eyes.

"Are you ok, Takuya?" he asked.

"Yes, I think I am now." Takuya answered as she looked up to meet the red-haired man's gaze. "Thanks for saving us."

She then turned to Orihime. "My thanks to you as well. Maybe one day I'll be able to return the favor."

"No, no, you don't have to worry about anything like that. I'm glad to have been able to help." Orihime chimed, grinning goofily.

"Well, let's not waste anymore time." Renji said, picking Orihime's suitcase back up. "We need to hurry and get back to Urahara's before anything else decides to show up."

"Right." Takuya and Orihime agreed in unison.

With that, the trio resumed their trek back to Urahara's shop, this time electing to run the rest of the way to get there quicker. As they ran, Renji momentarily glanced over at Takuya. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked away, only partially giving away his concerned curiosity.

She says she's ok, but I still saw a glint of fear and helplessness in her eyes. And then there's that weird spirit energy...I wouldn't have even noticed it if that hollow hadn't mentioned it. There's definitely more than meets the eye with this girl...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Grimmjow sensed it before it even reached the shop - the incredibly bizarre spirit energy that had snapped him out of his tired trance. His eyes shifted over the group around the table.

Tch, seems Kurosaki and his friends haven't noticed a thing...but Urahara and that other guy seem to be all too aware...

HIs permanent scowl deepened further as he determined the source of the energy - Takuya. Nothing about the ebony-haired girl had seemed even remotely out of the ordinary to him. From all appearances, she was nothing more than a lowly human...or at least she was until now. Confusion buried him deeper in his thoughts.

That energy...it's nothing like that of a hollow, nor is it anything like that of quincy, and it only vaguely resembles that of a shinigami… Just what the hell is this girl?

The sound of the door sliding open drew him back into reality, he and everyone else looking up as Renji, Orihime, and Takuya walked into the dining area. He immediately trained his gaze on the ebony-haired girl. The unusual energy still lingered in the air around her, but was slowly disappearing and becoming untraceable.

"Welcome back." Urahara greeted casually. "I'm glad to see you've all returned safely, despite the hollow you encountered."

"Yeah, thanks." Renji muttered.

"Orihime, why don't you and Takuya go ahead and get your things situated in the room you'll be staying in?" the shopkeeper suggested. "It's down the hall, the second door on the right - next door to Takuya's room."

Oh yeah, good idea." Orihime said. She then retrieved her suitcase from Renji and shuffled down the hallway, Takuya following behind her. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, Urahara turned his attention to the rest of the group.

"There is something we need to discuss, as that sudden hollow attack has made it unavoidable." he spoke quietly. "It is the issue of Takuya."

"The issue...of Takuya? What, like something's wrong with her?" Ichigo asked.

"No, that's not it at all." Urahara replied. "I'm about to give you the particulars on how we met her. It's actually quite interesting."

Ichigo gave the shopkeeper a suspicious look. "Ok...?"

Urahara cleared his throat before he began. "We met Takuya exactly three weeks ago this day, ironically enough...when we rescued her from a hollow attack that destroyed her home."

Silent shock descended upon the group as they slowly registered what they'd just been told. After about thirty seconds, Tessai began to speak.

"On that day, a group of four large hollows were making an adamant attempt to reach the girl, who was trapped beneath some of the debris of what remained of her home. They were so fixated upon reaching her, in fact, that they did not even notice our arrival on the scene, which allowed us to make quick work of them and free the girl from her entrapment. She has been staying with us ever since then."

Ichigo traded glances with Renji before shifting a glare to Urahara. "What's your point in telling us this?" he asked, anger surfacing in his tone. "What the hell's so damn interesting about hollows destroying someone's home?!"

"Now, now, calm down Ichigo. We haven't even told you the interesting part yet." Urahara said.

Ichigo huffed as he waited impatiently for the shopkeeper to continue, a frown settling on his face.

"The interesting detail in all this is not simply Takuya's miraculous survival of this ordeal, but the manor in which she was able to survive." Urahara explained. "Spirit energy unlike anything we've ever felt radiated from the spot beneath the debris where she was trapped, and it had covered the debris on top of her in a faint blue light...almost like a shield. This energy was generated by Takuya herself, though we soon discovered that she is completely unaware of it."

"...Wow." Chad remarked.

"Wow indeed." Uryuu agreed. "A shield strong enough to thwart the simultaneous attacks of four large hollows... This must be some serious power."

"Why didn't you tell us about this before now?" Ichigo asked. "Why keep something like this a secret?"

"Shortly after we rescued her, the energy she emitted faded into nothing and did not resurface again...until today." Tessai replied.

Ichigo arched an eyebrow. "Today?"

Urahara nodded. "That's right. However, the only ones of us to sense it were Tessai, myself...," he paused momentarily as his gaze shifted over to the wall where the Espada sat in silence, "and Grimmjow...which, now that I think about it, doesn't surprise me at all. We also assume Renji picked up on it as well, due to that hollow attack."

Renji nodded in confirmation.

"We've yet to determine the nature of this unusual energy of hers, nor do we know the true measure of its strength." Urahara commented, snapping open his fan. "I suppose that will remain to be seen, should it ever resurface again."

"So even with all this, you would still entrust her safety to a hollow?" Rukia asked suddenly. "Why don't you just let one of us protect her instead? It's our job as shinigami after all..."

Urahara sighed. "You have a different set of problems to concern yourself with now. Takuya isn't in any immediate danger, but we can't say the same for Orihime. Protecting her is your top priority now. Takuya is well taken care of."

Rukia frowned. "But -"

"Shut it, Rukia." Ichigo muttered flatly, abruptly cutting the girl off. "He's right. Quit trying to refute everything for once."

Rukia shot a death glare at the orange-haired boy, but did not speak again. Silence once again overtook the atmosphere of the room, leaving everyone to ponder about the long and difficult road they had ahead of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nightfall had descended upon Karakura, covering the town in a cloudless, midnight blue blanket speckled with millions upon millions of tiny points of twinkling light and a nearly full moon at the center of it all. Takuya sat in silence on her bed, her knees hugged to her chest and her tired eyes trained on the sky. She could not see the moon from the small window above her bed, but the glittering beauty of the stars was enough mesmerize her and draw her mind away from the day's events.

A small sigh escaped her, and shortly thereafter a broad yawn. Sleep called out mightily to her, urging her body to succumb to its need to rest...but she willfully resisted for fear of the nightmares she knew would immediately assail her the instant she closed her eyes. They had been seemingly endless the first time she'd endured a hollow attack. For an entire week, her subconscious mind was tormented with horrifying dreamworld scenarios in which she was chased down and almost eaten alive by hollows, resulting in several sleepless nights...

That is, until the final night she'd been swept into yet another nightmare...when a mysterious hero appeared out of nowhere, saved her from the encroaching hollows, and then vanished without even the slightest utterance.

The nightmares ceased after that - much to her great relief - but it left her wondering about her mysterious dreamworld savior. He brows furrowed ever so slightly in thought as she hugged her knees closer to herself. All I could make out was a black silhouette...never an actual face or anything. Hmmm...maybe it was a shinigami or something...?

"Hey...girl..."

The sudden sound of the male voice at her room door startled her greatly; after a second or so, however, she relaxed a little, recognizing who the voice belonged to. She slowly got up from her bed and silently padded to her room door. Sliding it open, she stuck her head out and immediately saw him leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the door.

"...Grimmjow?"

"I know what happened to you know...you were attacked by hollows in the past." the blue-haired Espada said. "The reason why that crazy ass shopkeeper would still task me with guarding your life in spite of that knowledge...is unknown even to me."

He then turned to look at her, intensity of his cerulean gaze not allowing her to look away. "Know this, though...while I will always loathe the shinigami with the passion, and despise the humans for their naivety and ridiculous feelings, you are the only one among them all...who can say you needn't fear me. I am indebted to you...and I intend to return the favor."

Takuya gasped inwardly, and her gray eyes widened as her brain began registering what was just said to her. Grimmjow looked at her for a few seconds longer before pushing himself out of his leaning position and turning so that his back faced her now.

"And that is something that you shouldn't take lightly."

Those final words hung in the air as she watched him go back down the hallway and into his room. She pulled herself back into her own room a second later and slid the door closed, her eyes still wide with mild shock. The Espada's words had finally begun to sink in as she walked back to her bed; moments later, the fear shrouding her heart receded, and a small smile found its way to her lips at the sudden reacquiring of her desire to sleep. She then proceeded to climb under her blankets and close her eyes.

"I don't have to be afraid..." she murmured into the air. "...Everything...will be alright..."

And with that, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[itsallavengers]

Avengers Heist AU

So I had ideas for a new story last night. What it says on the tin, basically. This comes in at about 3k.

“Anthony? Can I speak to you in my office for a moment?”

From his desk at the back of the room, Anthony Edward Stark could just about make out the overly large outline of his boss above the cubicle walls and indoor plant decoration that littered the company office floor. It was instinct more than anything that had him glance upward, over to the reflective black panelling that lined the ceiling, just to get a glimpse of the guy’s face. It was 8am on a Monday morning- if it was an Angry you’re-in-shit-for-doing-something-I-didn’t-ask-again Face, then Tony wanted to mentally prepare himself for it at the very least.

But it was’t. There was just mild concern, perhaps even pity, there. Which was slightly confusing. 

Standing slowly, he peered above the cubicle walls and looked at Scott across the room. He’d done the background checks months before coming here- pretty boring guy, no wife or kids, history of heart problems in the family that was undoubtedly going to bite him in the ass one day. But he did an okay job of running the IT firm, so Tony could deal with having him as a boss until he found something better. When he caught the guy’s eyes, he got another weirdly pitiful look sent his way, which only deepened his confusion. But he tamped down on it and quickly slipped out of his little cubicle, making his way over to the office on the other end of the room. 

The office itself was almost as boring as the man who owned it. Beige and grey and boring, with a small green plant thingy in the corner to try and give the impression that at least something lived in here. It didn’t quite work- the leaves were yellowing in the corners, and seemed as weary as everything else in the room. After a quick observance, Tony sat slowly in the chair opposite Scott’s desk, looking at him neutrally. “So- what’s the occasion?” He asked, pressing the tips of his fingers together and trying to feign some grain of interest.

Scott opened his mouth, and then pressed it shut again with a sigh. The pitying look was back. “I received a phone call just now. It was... it was from your sister.”

Well that certainly gave him a pause. 

Okay, so he could admit, his first instinct was to tell Scott he didn’t have a sister. So sue him, but he was rusty- he’d been out of the game for a long time. Of course, it was only a brief flicker of a notion.  The thief in him knew that mistakes of that calibre were rarely coincidental, and often parts of larger plans. So he kept his mouth shut on that front, and instead cocked his head and blinked once, conveying his own sense of confusion. “Oh? Which one?” He asked instead, because if he had a sister now, he might as well try and get her name.

“Natalie,” Scott smiled sadly, fiddling with his hands. “She said you weren’t answering your phone, so she called me instead.”

Tony felt his eyebrows raise, just a fraction, and his heart sped up two or three paces. Natalie. Goddamn it- Natasha, what the fuck was she doing calling? He’d made them promise to leave him out of it all. They’d agreed. He wasn’t a criminal any more, he was good, he didn’t want mixing up in any of that- they’d promised that unless it was an emergency-

Oh.

Oh, shit.

“What did she say?” He asked slowly, sitting straighter. Just like that, his internal switch had been flicked- this wasn’t Anthony Edwards, 29 year-old tecchie from Massachusetts anymore. It was Tony Stark, billionaire art-thief and hacking genius. And it looked like he was in trouble.

Scott sighed, leaning back on his chair. Knees spread, attempt at openness. Head cocked, eyebrows drawn. Empathy. “It’s your mother. She’s been taken seriously ill this morning- they’re taking her to hospital now, but-” he paused, sighing again. Faked sadness to convey emotional support. “I’m so sorry, Anthony, but Natalie said that she may not make it.”

Now, anyone who knew Tony knew that his mother had died when he was seventeen in a car accident. “Oh my God,” he said in horror, a hand going to his mouth as he jumped from the chair. “Oh, oh my... Scott, please, I know I’m on shift right now, but-”

“Of course, of course,” Scott waved him off, smiling sadly. “You need to go and see her. Take a few days leave- I can imagine you’ll want to spend them with family in these trying times.”

Tony pursed his lips, nodding softly and then sniffing. It had been a while since he’d tried to fake cry, but... yeah, yep, he still had the knack. A single tear slipped from his cheek, and he nodded again, stepping backward out of the room. “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you, I... thank you, Scott. I need to.. yeah-”

“Go, go,” Scott made a gesture to the door, “your sister said there should be a taxi waiting at the front for you. I- I’m so sorry, Anthony.”

Tony smiled wetly, and stumbled out of the room, wiping his eyes. He clocked the nearest exit- not via the elevator, but down the little stairwell at the end of the room, leading out to the back alleys. Being inconspicuous was key here. Stopping briefly at his desk, he grabbed the jacket hung over his chair and then opened his drawer, picking out his keys whilst tucking his semi automatic into the folds of his coat. The message had been vague, and not one of their old codes- Tony had no idea what the situation was, and whether or not he was in danger. Better safe than sorry, really.

He slipped quietly down the stairs, head down, shades on, but eyes searching. The jacket was clutched to his midsection and hiding his gun, just in case of a confrontation on the stairwell, but he doubted that would happen. Natasha wasn’t going to let him just walk into danger like that.

The air outside was cold- a brisk November morning. He looked both ways down the alley before stepping out of the door, and then turned out onto the main road. Of course, parked right outside the exit was a sleek back car. Tony’s sleek black car, for that matter. He was going to have to have words with Romanov about stealing other people’s things in order to make an entrance.

And of course, she’d known this was the route he’d take out onto the streets. They’d worked together for ten goddamned years, after all- the whole team undoubtedly knew how his mind worked by that point, even after he’d split off. With a small sigh, he hurried forward, boots splashing in the puddles. He watched as the backseat window rolled down, revealing curly red hair and a massive pair of shades, finished off with a crimson coloured smile that still managed to make Tony fear for his life a bit. Seemed she hadn’t lost her knack- doubted she ever would, to be honest.

“Brother,” she declared, without turning to face him. “We need to hurry. Mother doesn’t have long left.”

“Oh, this is terrible,” Tony lamented without changing a single expression on his face, folding his arms and looking at her from across the sidewalk. “Truly, truly awful. I cannot believe mother is so ill, this was so sudden and completely out of the fucking blue-”

She finally turned to him then, and even without the eyes on show, she still managed to look at him with a very unimpressed glare. “Just get in the damn car, Tony.”

“Anthony.”

“What?”

“My name,” he said gruffly, stepping around to the other side of the car and then opening the door to slip inside, “is Anthony now. You know that.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then pulled off her glasses, revealing those piercing eyes. “You fucking hate it when people call you Anthony.”

“Well I obviously don’t, because that’s what everyone knows me as now.”

Natasha raised a single eyebrow, before turning back to face forward. “A Monet from my personal collection says you still call yourself Tony in your head,” she stated, the tiniest hint of smugness in her voice.

Tony stared at her. Then he folded his arms and turned away. “Do not,” he muttered, and both of them knew it was a bald-faced lie. “Anyway, you don’t even have the Monet any more. Don’t make bets you can’t keep.”

“And how do you know I don’t still have it, Anthony?”

He grit his teeth and huffed, choosing to ignore the question that could be answered simply with ‘I hack in and monitor how you’re all doing every month to check you haven’t died yet’ in favour of asking his own question. “What am I doing here, Natasha? You know I’m out. I don’t steal shit any more, I don’t counterfeit or hack or commit fraud or con people, I am on the straight and fucking narrow, so let me tell you, this better be fucking good or I’m gonna-”

“It’s Steve.”

Anything else Tony had been about to say died spectacularly quickly on his tongue, and his face froze up.

Steve.

Steve.

...Fuck.

“What,” he asked, voice wavering at the end as his mind ran through a hundred different variations of terrible situations. “Is he- he dead? Did someone- what-”

“Not yet,” she said grimly, fingers smoothing out the folds of her slacks, “but he is in trouble. Which is why we’re calling you in.” She turned to him, her face just the slightest bit sympathetic. “You know we wouldn’t ask this of you if we had any other choice. But you’re the best, Tony. We need you back. He needs you.”

Tony spasmed a little, and then shook his head. He’d goddamned promised himself that he wasn’t going to... this was in his past- Steve was in his past, and it had damn near broken him the first time around, he wasn’t sure he could handle that again. 

But if what Natasha was saying was right, then Steve was in trouble. And God fucking dammit, Tony could never, ever just walk away from that. “What the fuck happened?” He hissed.

She pursed her lips and then breathed heavily, shaking her head. “He was going for the Mona Lisa,” she said shortly. “Not the fake in the Louvre, obviously- the one in Jonah’s personal collection.”

Tony gaped at her, and then his head fell slowly into his hands. God, of course Steve would’ve wanted that. He hated Schmidt more than anyone else in the damn world- the guy was bad. And not just in the way Tony and Natasha and Steve were bad, but he was... bad bad. Steve had always planned to get into his private collection and take all his shit- of course, what with him being a moral bastard and everything, he’d been planning to sell it off and use it to fund the art-school down in Brooklyn, rather than just keep it for himself. He’d told Tony as much himself, when they’d been...

Yeah. Anyway.

“Did they catch him?” He asked quietly, curling his hands into fists and ignoring the small way in which they were beginning to shake.

She looked at him, and then shook her head. But Tony didn’t rejoice just then- she’d still brought him in for a reason. “No. But they found out he’d taken it. And they’ve given him a week to return it, or they’re coming for him and everyone he loves.” She raised an eyebrow to Tony, and then gestured to the car. “Which is, of course, another reason why you’re here. There’s no-one he loved more than you. So you need to go into hiding now, too.”

Tony shut his eyes, ignoring the way her simple words still managed to send his heartbeat into overdrive, despite the fact it had been a year and a goddamn half since he’d even seen the guy. God, he shouldn’t still be this hung up. “Sarah?” He asked tightly, thinking of Steve’s kindhearted and quick-fingered mother who’d taught Tony everything he knew about pick pocketing- now in terrible danger from a man with more power than sense and more money than either.

“Already at the safehouse,” Natasha answered, “which is where we’re headed too. The whole team’s there, ready for you to make a plan of action.”

“Here’s a plan of action for you,” Tony gritted irritably, “how about you just have Steve give up the fucking painting, hand it back, and then we can all fucking go h-”

“Of course, that would be great- except for the fact that Steve can’t even get to it right now,” Natasha cut in sharply, turning to him. “He stored it down in the safe in Switzerland. Which is currently where about a hundred of Schmidt’s men are just waiting for him to arrive so they can get the damn painting and then kill him on the spot.” 

She ran a manicured nail over the arch of her eyebrow. Even she looked tired, which was saying something. “Tony, Steve’s on the run. He has to stay away from us so that we don’t get caught in the crossfire, but we can’t just leave him to die.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Tony asked helplessly, waving his hands in the air. “Natasha, I haven’t stolen a single thing in over a year-”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure that Fabergé egg didn’t just roll itself out of the Met last month.” Natasha cocked an eyebrow over to him, and then smiled when Tony looked sullen.

“I was bored, oh my God,” he muttered, folding his arms again. “And I gave it back.”

“Tony,” she said, her voice soft, actually genuine desperation in there. “Please. We’re good- but we’re not you. We can’t do this without your help. Steve’s in trouble- we promised we’d always have eachother’s backs.”

“Yeah, when we were nineteen and stealing shit from supermarkets to feed ourselves, not goddamn Da Vinci’s from the personal collection of known maniacs,” Tony snapped, before cursing under his breath and leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees. Natasha was looking at him with a gentle face- of course, she already knew his answer. From the moment she’d said his stupid name, she’d known. 

“You got any ideas of what to do?” He asked her tightly, staring at the headboard of the driver’s seat.

Small smile tugging at her lips, she ran a hand through her hair. “The fake painting is good enough to fool 99.9% percent of the entire world. And Schmidt is no art freak. He just wants the prize. It’d fool him, too.”

“Right, and you think he wouldn’t think anything of the fact that a few days before he’s given his precious painting, the fake in the Louvre gets lifted?” Tony asked, because really? Natasha couldn’t be that dense, surely-

Except she just smiled again, turning to him with a knowing look. “Yes, well, that’s the issue, isn’t it? Unless, of course, the fake was temporarily replaced with the genuine article, and then kept there until the fanfare has died down...”

Tony looked at her blankly. She remained stoic and silent, staring right back without fear. 

“So you want me,” he repeated slowly, shutting his eyes, “to first, break into Steve’s safe under the gaze of a hundred armed thugs, and take the Mona Lisa out. Then you want me to break into the highest security gallery in the world, and swap the fake out for the real. Then you want me to go and give Schmidt the fake, before re-stealing the genuine copy from the Louvre again?”

“Yep.”

“That’s absurd and absolutely, laughably impossible.” Tony told her incredulously, shooting her a truly scathing look.

Except she just laughed, and patted his leg. “Tony Stark, the laughably impossible and completely absurd is exactly what you specialise in.”

He watched her move, tapping the partition once and then sitting back as the car began to move smoothly. His mind was a whirr of thoughts and options and memories- of the life he’d given up in the hope of going straight, in the family he’d left because of the accident that had torn everything apart.  He’d promised himself he’d never go back. That that was it, he was done. 

But Steve needed him. God fucking dammit, Steve fucking needed him. 

“He used to be more careful than this,” Tony murmured five minutes later, looking out of the tinted windows out into the streets of New York. In the ten years he’d known Steve, he had never once seen the man get caught. This was uncharacteristically careless of him.

Natasha just sighed, looking out of her own window. “Well, he used to have you.”

Ao3 /// Donate to my ko-fi!

[synnematic]

DAY 2: In Bloom

for @saboace-week

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037066 fff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12876532/1/In-Bloom

Day: Love at First Sight Word Count: 4096 Warnings: Fluff | So much fluff

Summary:

There was a man perhaps no more than twenty feet from him, half hidden behind the front counter. Sabo didn't know how he had missed him, so distracted by the plants themselves that he must have merely skimmed over him, drawn to other things. Now, however, with his full attention riveted on the man, it seemed foolish. He was easily the most stunning thing here. 

There was coffee in his veins. It surged under his skin and beat behind his eyelids—or maybe that was the migraine. It was hard to tell, admittedly. At some point he had lost track of time, of even the date, hours marked in coffee stains and empty mugs balanced atop each other like an abstract depiction of art around his desk. His laptop was dusty, screen smeared where his hands had brushed against the glass, fingerprints standing out in the glare of the overhead lights. He hardly noticed, used to it by now.

Koala would call him a slob, but at least he got his work done. Even if it meant multiple all nighters and a possessive claim on the coffee machine closest to his desk. It had gotten so bad that Hack had even printed out a new sign to hang above the counter. It read: Beware Rabid Chief, and Sabo couldn’t even deny that it was fitting, maybe even a little accurate.

For a group of journalists, they took their job seriously. Sabo even more so. He was the Editor in Chief, second only to Dragon within their publishing firm. Realistically, he could have sat back and enjoyed the lessened burden the position offered him, but instead he pushed himself even harder . They were making a difference, slowly but surely, working to peel away the veil the government cast over civilian eyes, and they were damn good at their job, but Sabo still wanted to do more. He was already in charge of their budget, their personal image on the internet in the harsh world around them, as well as being their primary hiring manager, even if he left most of the actual scouting to Ivankov. More than that though, he made it his personal mission to read over every single report before they landed on Dragon’s desk, as well as taking the time, occasionally, to write his own additions as well.

And he was exhausted.

A political scandal was in the works and Legislation was working overtime to bury it and kick it under the rug. Which, of course, meant that their entire publishing department was working overtime as well. But at least most of the staff still slept .

Koala wasn’t the only one that noticed Sabo’s late hours turned into early mornings, and the way many would come in to find him in the same outfit as he had been the day before. She was, however, the only one that harassed him about it. Among other things.

“You look like a raccoon that crawled into a tailors, robbed them blind, and then got run over. Twice.” Standing in precisely the wrong spot, in between Sabo and his closest source of light, Koala’s shadow stretched over him ( and his keyboard), her arms folded and eyebrows drawn. “Really, Sabo, it’s no wonder that you’re still single. Have you even   eaten since I last saw you ten hours ago?”

Thoughts slow to process and left to blink at the sudden difference in light now that his face was cast into shadows, he was sluggish when his hand rose so that his gaze could fall on the beaten watch at his wrist. The timepiece blurred in his vision, numbers dancing in tangent with each other. He couldn’t really pick out the exact time down to the minute, but it was enough to realize that it wasn’t the same day anymore.

“Oh,” he paused, voice rough with disuse. “It’s morning.”

Koala gave an exasperated sigh, hands unfolding to reveal a small pastry bag which was promptly dropped onto his desk. It smelled of blueberries and his mouth watered. He was already reaching for it when a hand smacked gently at the back of his head, nearly dislodging his glasses from where they sat at the bridge of his nose.

“This is the third day in a row , Sabo. You’re no help to us like this.”

There was an arm in his vision, but he paid no mind to it until his computer screen went black. The whine, when it left his lips, was muffled by muffin crumbs but still just as pitiful.

“No, don’t even start with me right now,” Koala chided. “You’ve hardly moved in days, barely eaten, and I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep any more than that two hour period on Tuesday when your head hit the desk so hard it nearly gave Bunny Joe a heart attack.” She pulled at his chair and the wheels rolled back without complaint, Sabo’s outstretched hand, however, gave a futile struggle, his outstretched hands far too delayed. He sat back in the chair, arms crossed and pouting as she wheeled it away from his desk, out of his office and down the hallway, only stopping when they reached the front desk.

“Koala,” he whined, her name dragged out, eyes pleading . “Just let me at least finish the report I was working on. It’s almost done and I—”

“Nope! Don’t care. You’re going to run some errands for me instead. When you’re done, and only when you’re done, you can come back.”

She moved around to the front of the chair, pulling him to his feet with that damn monster strength of hers. His knees wobbled, just a little bit, but he remained standing on his own.

His lips parted to speak, but again, she beat him to it, her eyes sharp when they bore into his own. “Don’t even think about pulling rank on me, Mr. High and Mighty. I already got Dragon’s approval, so you don’t have a choice anymore. Besides, you’ll thank me for this later.”

Mouth snapping shut again, he scowled but it was halfhearted at most, the expression of a petulant child put into time-out. Koala pat him on the shoulder once and it felt onlymildly condescending before there was a folded piece of paper stuffed into his loose grip and he was abandoned with only the elevator as company.

He glared at it indignantly and took the stairs instead.

The list, when he opened it later, was annoyingly simple, but tedious all the same.

Go home.

Take a shower.

Get at least a four hour nap.

Eat a full meal. No, microwavable food doesn’t count.

Go on a walk. Outside.

Go back to sleep. Yes, before midnight. Yes, I will know if you don’t.

Sleep in, even if it just means staying in bed but not actually getting up.

It went on, of course. He did say that it was tedious after all, even if it was basically just telling him to do normal things like sleep and eat and not hide away inside his house for hours on end. Mainly, he was just annoyed that it was going to prevent him from working at all for the rest of the day. Koala hadn’t even let him take his laptop with him, so he wouldn’t be able to continue unless he went out and bought another one and by some miracle found a way to transfer over all of the files.

Fine, whatever, he could take a day off. It wasn’t that big of a deal, right?

Honestly, the only item on the list that really confused him was the last one. There was just an address there along with a shop name: Hibiscus Dreams. From Koala’s insistence that he find a plant that he couldn’t kill with neglect or accidental coffee consumption, it was safe to assume that it was a florist of some kind. She had also demanded that he bring back ‘ apology flowers ‘ for the office, so he would certainly hope that that was the case.

He was in no rush though, so he didn’t go that first day. Instead he sulked and followed the rest of the instructions begrudgingly and tried to ignore the way he did feel better after some proper rest, new clothes, and fresh food. Take-out—obviously. No point in burning down his kitchen and adding more things to the list.

When the following morning came and he was refreshed for the first time in ages, he was up and out of bed before seven. Koala may have demanded that he sleep in, but the multitude of hours in one place was already starting to drive him insane and he had gotten the rest she wanted him to. Besides, one quick google search had been enough to tell him that the store opened early, and the earlier he could get there, get the plants and leave, the sooner he could get back to work.

There was a website attached but he hardly glanced at it, just enough to confirm that it was the right address and nothing more. There was apparently a tiny cafe next door and it would be a decent enough breakfast to start the day, and his caffeine consumption.

Half an hour later, with a nearly empty mug of coffee in hand, Sabo stopped in front of a small, colorful shop partially hidden under the shadow of a nearby building.

Or at least, he assumed it was colorful. It was hard to actually pick up on beneath the plant life. Greenery had devoured the shop whole, vines crisscrossed along the brickwork, nestled into every crack of plaster and stone. There was a small awning over the doorway and archway just underneath, laden with flowers, blossoms of every color that spread out and multiplied, stretching dainty stems towards the sky. There were two trees nearby, close enough for the vines to have spread to them as well, climbing up the trunks, the branches strewn in white lights that caught the morning light like drops of dew. Most notable were the large flowering bushes planted just outside the shop itself, surrounding the edge of the building with wide green leaves and multicolored flowers larger than his fist dotted among them in the way blotches of paint met canvas.

Hibiscus, if the painted visage of the flower on the sign was any indication. Well, at least the shop was aptly named.

On the door itself was a small chalkboard, weather worn and chipped at the edges, the scratchy, bold lettering of OPEN smudged, but handwritten. A soft scoff left him at the messy handwriting, providing a brief distraction before his hand fell onto the handle to push inside.

There was a chime, bright and musical when the door swung inward, a far cry from the mechanical ding he was more accustomed to and it drew a brief flash of a smile to his features,  the wind chime out of the corner of his eye made of tarnished copper and half hidden by leaves. And speaking of leaves —the entire shop was filled with them. Plants of all sizes and shapes overlapped amongst each other, layered into a rain forest of scents, a mountains face saturated with color and life.

His first thought was cluttered , but it was impressive all the same.

Even from where he stood, cerulean hues scanning over the room as a whole, it was easy to see how much care had gone into it all, a careful planning that situated certain plants in clusters together. And they were truly everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, stacked upon shelves, small pots nestled in between larger ferns and shrubs. Flowers were situated in a cluster of pots to his right, the arrangements beautiful and eye catching. There were even trees , some seemingly planted directly into the earth itself which was bewildering given that meant the owner had pried away flooring and concrete just to—what? Complete the look? Baffling. Why would anyone go that far? What kind of morondecided that was a good idea?

“Hey,” a voice spoke up, making Sabo startle. “Welcome in! Can I help you with anything?”

Sabo was already waving his free hand in denial, embarrassed that he had been caught in the doorway as his gaze shifted towards the origin of the greeting. “No, it’s fine. I’m just—” Whatever else he had been about to say died on his tongue, the last few syllables drawn out and fading to nothing on his lips.

There was a man perhaps no more than twenty feet from him, half hidden behind the front counter. Sabo didn’t know how he had missed him, so distracted by the plants themselves that he must have merely skimmed over him, drawn to other things. Now, however, with his full attention riveted on the man, it seemed foolish. He was easily the most stunning thing here.

Light streamed in from above, but it was only now, left to admire the way sunlight framed the stranger’s face like a lover’s caress that he even processed the existence of a skylight. Dark hair fell in a halo around his face, warm skin speckled in stars, creating constellations along the line of a strong jaw and neckline. And his smile— fuck —the way those silver eyes crinkled at the edges, a sign of how freely given the expression was, it was dazzling. Sabo was helpless in response, desperately taking in each feature, every small detail. There was a pocket of air lodged in his chest that refused to budge, thrumming with something terrifyingly warm that spread from there outward like melted honey or liquid gold.

He felt heavy with the sensation, weak to it.

Flowers seemed brighter besides the other, as if soaking in his presence, thriving. There were other things too, of course, wind chimes and trinkets that he caught at the edge of his focus, but Sabo couldn’t will himself to look away and take in anything other than the male himself, the way he shone as if illuminated from within. Dazzling. This guy was dangerous .

“You okay over there man?”

Sabo’s eyes focused all at once, the return of that voice enough to slap him from the dream like state he had lost himself into. Pulled back so forcefully, he snapped back to attention in the way a rubber band did, just shy of breaking.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

The man’s eyes were on him again, but the smile had faded, expression still soft but those hypnotizing eyes of his muted with concern and confusion.

Shaking his head frantically, Sabo snapped shut his lips that had parted in awe, eyes wide and color slowly creeping up his neck as that embarrassment from earlier came crashing down once more, submerging himself in it. He almost hoped that he could drown in it and put himself out of this misery.

“No! No, I—” He had just been standing by the door like an idiot, a gawking, moronic idiot, and now he couldn’t even talk without fumbling words and flailing hands. The coffee cup slipped from his hand and clattered against the floor, the meager remainder trickling out even as Sabo dropped to retrieve it. The movement caused him to step away from the door and it shut behind with with a creak of hinges, trapping him inside. “ Fuck, sorry I-I’m not normally like this, I swear.” Salvaging the cup, he was relieved to find that only a little had escaped to splash across the laminated floor. “Do you have a napkin or something? Ah—a paper towel maybe?” Standing up again, his back rod-straight, he was startled to find that the other had moved closer to him by now, away from the counter where flowers rest abandoned, mournful of lost company.

There was a small towel in his hand and Sabo’s attention only flickered to it when he leaned down to wipe at the mess on the floor, the stranger’s laughter soft like bells. “It’s fine, it’s fine. No harm done,” the man said. “This shop’s been through worse, so don’t worry about it.”

Frozen in place, he could only watch, mortified.

When he rose to his feet again and turned that same blinding smile back towards him again, Sabo swore that his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m Ace, by the way,” the stranger— Ace spoke, a hand held out in his general direction.

Up this close, Sabo could pick out each individual freckle, admiring the way his eyes glimmered with remnants of mirth and genuine benevolence. Suddenly self-conscious, he worried about his own appearance. Even after a day of decent rest, there was sure to be evidence of bruising under his eyes, beaten into him through extended neglect. He was too pale, the tan of his childhood faded with shadows and fluorescent lighting. Did he brush his hair this morning? He couldn’t remember in his rush to leave . God he hoped so; his bed head was atrocious. At least he was dressed nicely, right? Yes, of course he was. It was the one thing he was proud of.

And then there were the scars, the rough skin he didn’t bother hiding with makeup on days spent in the office. He winced at the thought, the reminder of his past, his upbringing. Fire. His hair wouldn’t be enough to hide the evidence of trauma on his face. It was harsh compared to pale skin. Ugly.

Realizing that he was staring once again, his arm jerked forward to grip at Ace’s before the offer could fall away, his grip maybe a little tighter than he intended. “Sabo—I’m Sabo. Sorry, again, about the, uh, coffee. I…” he cleared his throat, distracted by the warmth of the male’s hand in his, the way he could feel how calloused they were. Hard-working hands. He dropped the contact in another quick movement, wiping the lingering sensation off on his pants. “Uhm…”

Ace’s smile was gentle, understanding when his own hand fell away, the dirty rag hanging limply from the other. “Sabo, I already told you, it’s no problem. Seriously. The plants do worse everyday. A little coffee is nothin’ at all.” He stepped back a step and Sabo followed as if drawn in through magnetized force.

“Just here to take a look today or is there something in particular you were looking for?”

Right . He was here for a reason—not that it really mattered to him anymore. Koala’s list, even work was nearly forgotten.

“Flowers. Apology flowers?” Sabo wet his lips, his words hesitant as he followed Ace further into the shop. He cradled the remains of his coffee cup tightly at his chest, absently pressing his fingers into his earlier blunder. “Sorry, I’m not really...used to this?”

Ace only hummed in response, eyes cast about the room, glancing in the direction of the clusters of flowers Sabo had noticed before. “Don’t worry about it. Multiple I assume, or are you just lookin’ for one?”

That was at least an easy question to answer. “Multiple. Definitely multiple.”

“Bouquet?”

“Uhh...yes?”

Silver eyes were on him again and Sabo lost himself in argent pools, drowning. Again. There was laughter there, even in his gaze, but it was soft and lacked the edge of mocking he half expected, absent of judgement. He hadn’t known that metal could appear so warm and inviting.

“You don’t know a single thing about plants, do you?”

Sabo flinched, taken aback by the blunt statement. Surprisingly, he wasn’t offended. In the same way Ace’s eyes conveyed warmth, his words came off as gentle, consoling. Grip tightening a little further around his cup, he shook his head in silent admittance.

Ace nodded, expression almost fond before he turned away from him, heading towards a doorway at the back of the shop Sabo hadn’t noticed before. “Well, that’s fine. You’re actually here at a good time of year, now that I think about it.” There was a rustling from the other room, Ace’s voice a little muffled. “A few more weeks and I wouldn’t have hyacinth’s anymore.”

Despite himself and the knowledge that he probably shouldn’t , Sabo found himself moving again towards the far doorway, his steps hesitant but too curious to resist. As it turned out, the shop was longer than he first assumed, a separate room set up past the wall that opened up into a greenroom, complete with glass walls and everything. And, despite the seeming impossibility, there were even more plants crammed into this one space than the entirety of the first room. Trees and shrubs and vines clustered within every available space but they were nothing compared to the sheer number of flowers. He could likely name on one hand the species he actually recognized and the rest were beyond him.

And there was Ace, in the middle of it all.

Framed by plants on every side, with dirt smudging his hands and shoulder length hair pulled back into an unexpected ponytail at the nape of his neck, he appeared as a wood nymph must, or some other type of mythical creature. Sacred and wild.

“Probably safe to assume you don’t know the language of flowers right,” Ace spoke, eyes still on the flowers though his voice was obviously directed at Sabo. “Hyacinth, especially purple hyacinth like these, are the absolute best if you’re trying to apologize to someone. They literally mean ‘please forgive me.’ Seriously, how awesome is that? Flowers are great.”

His hands were unexpectedly dainty as Sabo watched his fingers skim over damaged petals, working through the collection of tight knit purple buds and snipping those that passed whatever inspection he was conducting, collecting the chosen few in one hand. It should have been boring to watch, but just seeing Ace’s soft expression was enough to keep Sabo entranced.

“White tulips are a must too,” he continued as he moved about the space, unhindered by Sabo’s gaze on him. “Another one that means forgiveness. A little bit of lavender, some violets and lily of the valley aaaand final touch—there!”

The flowers were held out to him in a flourish, dark purple, violet and pale whites twining together artfully with a small write ribbon wrapped around their middle. Sabo had been so focused on watching Ace that he had hardly noticed the actual design that had gone into their placement. They were beautiful.

“I—thank you. How much…?”

Ace was already wiping his hands off onto his pants, the evidence of a repetitive action painted in smudges of dirt against dark jeans. It was endearing.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. First time here, right? I definitely would have remembered you if you’d been in here before.” He moved past him and into the larger room again. “First bouquet is on the house! Besides, it’s supposed to be an apology right? I figure you’ve been put through enough already then, huh?”

Sabo gaped after him, nearly tripping over his own feet in the rush to follow after him, the flowers held with a gentle grip normally reserved for brittle glass. As if they might shatter in his hold.

“I can’t possibly just take them. You said it yourself. You won’t have some of these flowers anymore soon, right? That means they’re valuable,” he sputtered, eyes tracking Ace as he moved behind the counter again. “At least let me tip you or something— please .”

Ace leaned over the counter, arms folded and smile slight but sharper this time, sly . “If you want to pay me back, you’re just going to have to come again then, huh?”

Sabo flushed, heat returning to his cheeks in a rush that left his lips parted on soundless words. It probably wasn’t meant to come off as such an invitation but he was selfish enough to think it that way, to hope that Ace was asking him to come back as more than just a returning customer. And perhaps it was just a little cowardly to nod and flee, but there was laughter at his back when he did and the other’s smile emblazoned in his mind.

Later, when there were flowers sitting in a vase at his ( miraculously clean ) desk, Koala chided him for forgetting one, very important thing with a knowing smile and mischievous eyes.

He never did get that desk plant.

[khymer-vulture]

Happy Halloween everyone! got a holiday related fic for everyone! Hope you all are having a good one! :D

Set after Covering Our Tracks

The season felt so much colder than it needed to be, with a couple periods of cold snaps on a few nights, Zack could sense that it was going to be a very cold winter when it arrives. Though him and Ray had already made plans on what to do when winter came, he just hated when it showed signs of an early arrival – it was only October, for goodness sake.

The two had arrived into town last night, but now they’ve gotten full glimpses of the place to figure out what kind of town they were in, it seemed like one of those community type towns, given the team effort in keeping the place clean. Zack seemed to notice the place was heavily decorated, banners, window decals, and pumpkins all over the place. He’s seen them time and time again, but never really knew why, or even bothered to ask anyone.

“Huh…this shit again…” he mumbled aloud.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“The shit people put all over the buildings, I see ‘em every fucking year,” Zack said.

“Oh, the Halloween decorations. Of course they’re everywhere, it happens every October…and tonight is Halloween,” Rachel replied.

“Th’ fuck is that?”

“Halloween? It’s this silly holiday, kind of horror themed, if you want to put it simply,” Ray said, “I know you wouldn’t care to hear the details of the history, but people like to decorate their homes as scary as possible. Others dress up in costumes, while kids go door to door to get free candy.”

“…Wait…kids just randomly show up and get candy? Shit, why haven’t I heard of this when I was a little brat?”

“Well, you do get candy now,” Rachel teased.

Zack’s retort was to mess up the girl’s hair. As the girl tried to fend him off, a thought came to her mind.

“Hey Zack, this may actually be a good thing,” Ray said, “on Halloween, everyone is going to be walking around in all sorts of costumes. The police won’t pay attention on looking out for you. That means tonight you can freely blend in and walk the streets instead of sneaking in the back alley.”

Zack raised a brow, “What are we going to do? I mean, yeah that sounds kind of sweet, but I’m gonna be surrounded by dumbasses and their fucking smiles.”

“Some of them will wear masks,” Ray said, “don’t worry about them, I was thinking maybe we’d spend this time to hang out, and not worry about hiding out or anything.”

“We pretty much hang out every day,” Zack grumbled, but Ray seemed to give him a pleading look. It was kind of annoying, but it was slightly cute, and it was enough to break down his mental wall of stubbornness, “Fine, fuck! I’ll fucking humor you, jeez.”

“Thank you, Zack. I know we’re together a lot, but I thought taking advantage of a situation like this would be interesting, “Rachel said, “just one night to roam about and be a little carefree.”

Even if it was just for one night, at least he didn’t have to worry about scouting for cops, or hostile strangers, they’ll be wandering the streets with other people – despite everyone getting all dressed up, it was almost like being normal. Damn, why didn’t he learn of Halloween sooner?

As soon as the sun set, the streets were getting filled with different people, many in different outfits and costumes. There were the small sums of families taking their children to get candy or visit haunted houses, while the more grown Halloween goers were finding different spots to congregate and party. Rachel stepped out, with no one giving her a second glance, but Zack seemed a little hesitant to walk out into the public. Slowly, he put one foot forward and emerged from the back alley, like Ray, no one really stopped to look at him.

“See? We’re blended in,” Ray said, then took his hand.

“I guess, it still feels fuckin’ weird,” Zack replied, “so, where are we going?”

“Let’s walk downtown for a while, maybe we’ll find a place to call it a night when we’re done,” Ray said.

It felt incredibly awkward to pass by so many crowds in the open, while the entire populace remained blissfully unaware that an actual killer walked among them, and not in some silly outfit. It was different, and a little nice to walk freely, but there was so many tempting faces to hack down. Ray sensed a firm squeeze in her hand, so she squeezed right back to bring Zack’s attention to her.

“Relax, Zack…we’re just walking.”

“Easier said than done, Ray…these peeps are like fucking sheep in front of a hungry wolf, ya’ know?” Isaac grumbled.

“Want something to eat to get your mind off of it?”

“Food sounds pretty fucking awesome right now,” Zack said.

There were some shops taking the opportunity for customers during the holiday, definitely a change in something else besides convenience store snacks for the night. Ray got something simple, like a sandwich, but she let Zack pick out whatever he knew would fill his belly. She quietly giggled to herself when she took notice that he avoided pizza, then again, she was to blame for that.

“Not going to give it a second chance? It’s not going to be spicy,” she teased.

“Hell to the fuck no, fool me fucking once, Ray,” Zack growled before chowing down on a burger, “that fucking slice was like biting into actual hellfire itself.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Ray said.

“Meh, it’s back then…don’t care about it now…”

They decided to stand there, next to the window of the shop, watching different people pass them by, the smiles did get on Zack’s nerves a little, but he was too preoccupied to really give a huge damn about it. Ray seemed pretty calm the entire time, observing the different costumes from the creative to the simple, and even pointed a couple to catch Zack’s interest. There were even some props that appeared stationary at first, but would spring to life when motion was detected, and it scared some people senseless. Watching the passerbys jump or scream from surprise made Zack let out a laugh, they could see much scarier things because of him, but for them to cower so easily was amusing.

“They don’t know what it’s really like to be scared,” he murmured with a sinister grin. “Will gotta admit though, this night ain’t too bad. Sure, peeps are agitating to look at, but actually roaming around instead of skulking has been pretty awesome. Watching ‘em get scared shitless is a plus.”

“Yeah, some people scare others or see if they can tough out being scared on Halloween,” Ray said, “that’s why some places make haunted houses. You’ll get bored of them though, everything is props and the shock value is nothing you’re already used to.”

“Saves us both some wasted time,” Zack said, then stood straight up. “Hey, let’s head back in the alley real quick. Need to find a spigot to wash up real quick.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you want to find a hotel instead?”

“Nah, just need to wash my hands and face,” Zack replied, “hands are a mess, and my scars are feeling a little agitated.”

Fair enough, Ray and Zack made their way to the back alley once more to locate a water spigot on one of the sides of a building. They managed to locate one in between a couple buildings, with part of the alley leading back out. Isaac was ready to turn the faucet, but he was uneasy of random visitors sneaking up on him.

“Hey, Ray. Do me a favor and keep an eye out, don’t want some asshole showing up unwanted,” he said.

“Got it.”

Rachel stood by the entrance of the alley to keep an eye out, she leaned against one of the buildings, as she could hear the water begin to run and the familiar rips of the fabric bandages being torn off. She’s already seen his scars before, and still remains unbothered by it, but she knew it was other people that were not to be trusted.  Isaac held his hands under the water and splashed some of it on his face, letting the cool liquid soothe his skin and clean off any grime.

“Feeling better, Zack?”

“Yeah, fucking refreshed,” he shouts to her, “just gotta cover up my ugly mug again.”

“Oh stop, you’re not ugl-” she said, with her sentence being cut off. Someone stood right in front of her and slightly towered over Rachel, with a hand propped at her side, as if to cut off any retreat.

It was a man, almost about Zack’s age, and from the familiar stench he had, he was wasted. Even in a cheesy Viking costume, she could see the hazed and inebriated expression on his face, but also predatory.

“Hey, what’s a cute thing like you doing alone? The back alleys are dangerous and no place for a young lady such as yourself.”

Rachel’s expression was flat and emotionless, she was not amused or interested in this stranger and his obvious intentions, judging from his body language.

“I’m aware, but I’m not interested in your company,” she said in a firm tone.

“Aww, come on, don’t be that way.”

Rachel was ready to smack away any face and limb to come in her direction.

“Is someone there, Ray?” Zack calls out.

“Unfortunately…”

The man’s demeanor began to change, she could see a growing jealousy in his expression, “Who the hell was that.”

“My company, now go away.”

The man huffed, he glanced ahead of Ray to see Zack wrapping a scarf around his head, and stand up to inspect what was going on. Isaac carried his scythe beside himself as he walked forward to Rachel and saw the man hovering slightly over her in some attempt to make him feel domineering. Zack growled to himself, he’s seen the body language before, but seeing it being displayed to Rachel, made his blood boil.

“Th’ fuck do you want? She ain’t interested, now piss off.”

Alcohol was the obvious decision maker for the man, tossing away all common sense to size up against this potential rival. Isaac was unintimidated, more annoyed, than anything else. Whatever punch the man was going to swing, he could block it or dodge it without a single care in the world. Like an open book, the man quickly began to try and throw punches in Zack direction, only for him to quickly move out of the way or bring an arm up to shield himself.

“Is that really how hard you can hit?” Zack taunted.

“Fuck you, asshole, why would anyone want to be with a skinny loser like you?”

He may appear thin, but there was a lot more to Zack than meets the eye, Isaac dodged one more punch from the man, but quickly grasped his arm to pull the man close and swiftly slammed his head against the drunk’s, then watched him reel back in pain.

Ray was ready to tell Zack for them to find another place to go, but the drunk quickly got back to his violent senses and charged at Zack, to try and tackle him to the ground. The impact made him drop his scythe, but his feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, he held the man with both hands to try and topple him onto the concrete and get them off. Isaac angrily growled as he roughly shoved him back and readied a fist for a vicious punch. The drunk reacted within seconds by grasping Zack’s scarf around his face, then was knocked back by the fierce blow. The punch knocked the man onto the ground, but he managed to get himself to sit back up, and noticed the shredded cloth in his hand.

Zack was stunned, the man ripped open a means of keeping his face concealed, and left his scars exposed for all to see.

“What in the hell?” the man muttered, “Christ, you’re a fucking freak.”

Freak.

A familiar insult Zack’s heard time and time again, not only has this person seen his face, but also insulted it and showed disgust. This infuriated Zack, he felt the stir of painful memories flood his mind, but also a strong desire to shut the drunkard up for good. Zack quickly lunged at the man before he could rise back to his feet, using one hand to pin him to the ground by the shoulder, and brought his arm back for an even stronger blow. There was no time to grab his scythe and eviscerate him, he wanted the guy to suffer for even exposing his appearance to begin with.

Blow after blow became much more brutal, he swung so hard that the impact even caused his own knuckles to bust and bleed. Rachel wanted to look away, and even heard a loud snap coming from the man - Zack had punched the man so hard, that he broke his jaw. The man was broken and bloodied, his eyes were even bruised and swollen from each swing.

The streets were still crowded, there was no way the two could hide a corpse, and Ray needed to stop the fight before a lethal blow was dealt. She rushed up to Zack’s side and quickly caught the man’s arm before he could swing once more, Zack glared at what stopped him, but he could see the pleading expression in her eyes.

“Zack, enough. Your point is made.”

“No, fuck that…I wanna kill him!” Zack hissed. He had that murderous gleam in his eye. “I’m not letting this fucker live with what he said.”

Soon, he felt Rachel’s hand on his cheek to keep his attention on her, such a warm touch on his skin made him freeze a little.

“I understand your frustration, but we’re still in the public. There’s no place to hide him. You knocked him out, he’s drunk, and I’m pretty sure he’s got a concussion now,” Ray said, “he’s going to forget. Leave him and let’s go.”

To ease his frustration, she took off her over shirt and handed it to Zack for him to use as a temporary face mask.

“Let’s hurry before others get curious and find out he’s not a prop,” Ray said, “I need to patch up your knuckles too.”

Isaac glanced at the battered and unconscious man, then grumbled to himself, if he wasn’t a wanted criminal, then he’d gladly finish the prick off. He tied the piece of clothing over his face, then walked over to retrieve his scythe. Zack even noticed the toppled headgear that belonged to the man during the scuffle, he huffed and scooped it up to place on his head.

“Mine now, fucker.”

Rachel took Zack by the hand to make their way down the street, it was starting to get late and the heavier crowds were dispersing - it was time for the duo to find a room to retire in for the night. Zack didn’t even have to really hide himself this time, the proprietor of the motel just assumed Isaac’s appearance was mostly a costume, and allowed them to book a room without question.

Zack was still agitated by the ordeal, but most of his frustration was being calmed from Ray nursing his wounds. His knuckles weren’t too bad, just a couple splits in the skin from rough impact, nothing an extra padding of bandages wouldn’t fix. He even allowed Ray to rewrap his face, feeling that strong sense of trust to allow her to see his appearance again.

“That hat looks ridiculous on you, Zack,” Rachel teased, as she took it off.

“Don’t hate, it’s my trophy now, and I’m gonna wear it proudly.”

Ray lightly rolled her eyes with a smirk, then carefully applied the wrappings over his scars, but she felt him lightly grasp her wrist.

“Hey, don’t wrap the whole face up tonight, you can do that later.”

“Okay…by the way…sorry tonight took a pretty heavy turn,” Ray spoke.

“Why are you sorry about it? It wasn’t your fault, it was that asshole trying to act all big,” Zack replied with a huff.

“I-I know, but I’m still partially at fault, that jerk did it to get my attention.”

Zack had a growl in his voice, “He shouldn’t have even tried, you’re still a brat, and whatever he wants with you ain’t his business. So, it ain’t your fault, he’s just being a nosy shit…plus, I could sense you were gettin’ uncomfortable, if he didn’t throw the first punch, I sure as hell was going to.”

“My hero,” she giggled, then felt him quickly bonk her on the head.

“Dumb shit…” Zack gruffly replied, then realized something, “Fuck, that guy…what if he doesn’t forget and tries to snitch about what happened tonight?”

“You broke his jaw, Zack…I don’t think he’ll be talking for a long time,” Ray replied, “then again, he was talking more out of his ass to begin with.”

Zack was silent for a moment before letting out an amused snort, followed by a snicker. He rarely ever heard Rachel swear, but her comment just now tickled the hell out of his funny bone, and immediately let out a hearty laugh.

“Holy shit, Ray…god damn, that was a good one.”

Ray began to laugh as well, she had to admit, it was pretty clever, then felt the man drop the plastic costume headgear atop her head.

“Alright, I’ll have to admit, the whole Halloween thing was pretty sweet. First time to roam around the place without folks staring at me or getting scared shitless. Back alleys are still a home turf for me, but trying something different was alright too,” Zack said, “Next time though, we’re getting candy - no ands, ifs, or buts.”

Ray quietly chuckled, “I’ll scope out for candy bowls, I really can’t see you going door to door and saying ‘Trick or Treat’ beside a bunch of little kids.”

“You’re supposed to do that?”

“Not really, but it’s still a funny thought,” Ray replied, keeping an amused grin.

Zack lightly rolled his eyes, “Whatever, smart ass. Get yer’ butt to bed.”

Rachel stood to her feet to go wash up and prepare herself for bed, Zack felt like saying one more thing to her.

“I guess you could say I had some fun, even if we didn’t do a hell of a lot, it’s still better than loafing around in a room and watching nothing on the TV, ya’ know?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, maybe we can do something like it again, no interruptions this time.”

“I’ll sock ‘em before they get a chance to,” Zack said with a devious grin, “but yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

He finally let Rachel go about her business before he would eventually hop into bed as well. The pair were always together during travel or camping out for the night, but the two haven’t casually hung out to unwind. Zack felt a strange level of comfort to accompany her under a different circumstance, even though it ended rather abruptly. He did seem interested how the next time would turn out.

Zack would also have to admit though, this supposed holiday did seem to be right up his alley, and was glad he got to experience some of it.

[kahnah23]

October Prompts IV

The next prompt fill for my lovely @catboysam

Rachel:

RtW!Ray

35 "You’re hot, shame about the personality.”

This was stupid!

With a huff, Ray stabbed the straw doll in the chest. Those things were for training purposes and he had put some up without really knowing why. It was something for children to train their first stabs and slashes with, but right now he didn't have anything else.

Dignitaries from a neighbouring kingdom were visiting, and he had been promptly banned from the throne room.

Apparently he wasn't social enough. Lindsay's words, not his.

Fine, she was right. Gavin and Ryan stayed with her instead, and he had to admit that those two were more charming than him. They also knew what to talk about with strangers, but Ray had that dark, quiet, and menacing standing behind the throne thing down, alright?

He could've done that!

And this whole situation wouldn't even be that bad because Michael had also been promptly sent away by his wife. Not that Michael was awfully saddened by that; he tried to avoid any social situation he could with his new rank as Prince Consort. Not that he had a lot of choices in that matter.

But this time it had worked, and he and Ray wanted to get some training done or something.

Only problem was that they hadn't really started before the knights of the visiting kingdom had joined them, and now Michael was over there, wooing the masses.

Oh, and he had been such a dick about it, proud and bigheaded as he showed knight after knight up. Ray had watched for a while in bemusement before the game got boring. With all eyes on Michael, nobody took a second glance at the lanky knight at the side who couldn't beat the Prince Consort in the first place.

One day he would kick Michael's ass, he was sure of it. He had been awfully close before, but Triella didn't really help in that matter.

Stupid shields! By now those were the only things he had met that even Sichora's strings couldn't cut through, and what kind of bullshit was that?

He beheaded the straw doll with a simple slash and watched the head roll away listlessly.

So now he was here on the training field that was usually reserved for knaves, but at least it wasn't crowded like the other place. He wouldn't go back there and let Michael beat him again with his cheap tricks!

Grunting, he bent down to pick the head up and stuffed it back on top of the doll.

"I like your sword!" a voice called from above and Ray turned around. Up on the audience stands a stranger sat, clad in the yellow of the other kingdom, and rather awkwardly Ray averted his gaze.

As far as he could see this guy was the only one around and was watching him hacking down on straw dolls like a reluctant child. Fuck, and now he was even coming closer, entering the training field and just like that Ray was aware how truly socially awkward he was.

He didn't know how to talk to people, didn't have to anymore because everyone outside their tight knit group would ever dare to look at him, least of all strike up a conversation. He shuffled with his feet uselessly, gripping tightly the sheath of his rapier, and watched in the corner of his eyes how the stranger came closer.

"It's a diamond one," he said excitedly, and Ray just nodded. "I never saw one up close before! Like our highest ranks have some but for us normals? No way, that would be a waste of diamonds!"

He stopped right in front of him, and Ray was pretty sure the other was grinning. He couldn't bring his eyes to move up to check.

"It's not like we're the one saving their asses in a fight, but who cares." He lifted his hand and Ray had to fight not to shuffle away.

"I'm Deven by the way."

Oh fuck. This guy actually expected an answer, or even a conversation!

His own heartbeat picked up no matter how ridiculous it might be. He had talked to other people before, of course he had! He had traveled far and wide and had lived through so many things that this shouldn't be a challenge, but right now he couldn't even remember the last time he had a conversation with a stranger.

No, he always kept in the back, and even if someone approached him, Gavin was usually next to him, taking over so he didn't have to, and that was good, that was what he was comfortable with.

Not this.

Deven's hand slowly sank, and wow, that somehow made it more awkward. Swallowing Ray forced himself to open his mouth.

"Ray," he managed to say and took his rapier into his left hand to shake the other’s. "Sorry, you kinda... startled me."

"Oh it's okay. You were so invested in your training that I shouldn't have bothered you," Deven assured him quickly, and that was bullshit. Ray hadn't been concentrated, had just been taking his frustration out on some straw, but he appreciate the try.

"I figured it would be less crowded here and I was right," Deven went on, and Ray couldn't help the soft snort.

"Michael is showing off," he said and wanted to kick himself. His own voice sounded foreign and nervous to himself and he felt a blush creep up his face. Deven threw him a glance but thankfully didn't comment on it.

"Well I'm glad I came here though. Otherwise I wouldn't have met you."

Huh?

Startled Ray looked up to the other who smiled at him like it was the most normal of things to say. What was that suppose to mean?

He didn't know and he shuffled with his feet as if he could bribe the ground to open up and swallow him whole. It didn't happen and so he just cleared his throat.

"I'm more the big sword kind of guy," Deven blabbered on, and maybe he had noticed that he made Ray awkward because he now crouched down to check on his rapier. "But I can appreciate something beautiful."

"Our old blacksmith crafted it," Ray explained, and at least that topic was more familiar. He knew about his weapon, and thinking about it, it had been by his side for so very long. Back then Jack had given it to him to beat Ryan, and it had.

On that night moving in the shadows, the sword had gotten the first taste of blood and certainly not the last. Diamonds didn't stain like iron or gold, but no matter how often and thoroughly Ray cleaned his blade some of the evidence never faded from the pommel. He moved his hand a little to hide the signs now but Deven only had eyes for the blade.

"My sword is made out of iron," Deven went on. "After each damn battle it bends and I have to get a new one."

Ray frowned. His iron rapier had been bent before, but certainly not after each battle. Clashing swords together could do that, yeah, but you weren't supposed to go for the sword, you went for the neck or the chest. A bent sword often meant that either the knight fought a formidable enemy or that he just wasn't good.

Considering that this Deven was talking about every battle Ray was pretty sure to which kind he belonged, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Your kingdom doesn't have a steady supply of diamonds then?" he asked because that was the only thing coming to mind. Fuck, he sounded like Ryan, because he actually didn't give a shit about this other kingdom and also he already knew the answer.

Lindsay was sure that they were visiting because of that very reason, to trade minerals with them.

"No, it's up in the mountains and so mining is quite risky and dangerous," Deven explained, and then actually reached out to touch his rapier. Instantly Ray took a step back and gripped his weapon tighter. He didn't like people touching his rapier, least of all strangers. It was especially designed for him and nobody else.

"Calm down," Deven laughed and reached out again. "I just want to take a loo-"

"Don't," Ray told him and felt his own heart thump. In the back of his neck, right beneath his hairline, he felt Sichora, and that wasn't good. He took another step back and Deven lifted his hands in defeat.

"Sorry," he said as he stood up. "Didn't think you would be a bitch about it."

Ray frowned again but kept his mouth shut. Sheathing his rapier before he did something stupid, he turned around. He would put the straw dolls away and then go back into the castle.

"I'm done with training if you want to take a turn-" he began, but Deven's hand shot out to grasp his wrist.

"But we're not done talking."

"I am," Ray insisted and tried to pull free, but the other was strong. Of course he would be as a knight, and now Deven even laughed at his struggle.

"Cute," he just commented, and Ray felt blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Let me go," he demanded and pulled again. Deven just laughed and pulled back, trying to trip him so he would literally fall into his arms, which would absolutely not happen.

Fuck this guy and all he stood for, and Ray knew he could get out, he could fucking cut this guy's hand up, could rip him apart in a second, but he didn't want to. He was getting better with Ryan's training and Gavin's iron control, and not only that, this guy was a knight of a visiting kingdom.

It took a long time before other kingdoms even considered trading with them again, because the rumors coming from here were horrible, and Ray knew that a lot of them actually originated from him. Sure, some were far-fetched, but most were just simply true. No need to add to those.

There was a real possibility that he could fuck things up big time for the kingdom right here, and he didn't want that.

He tried to pull his hand free again, but before the other could jerk him closer he kicked him in the chest. The grip loosened instantly as the other stumbled away, winded and surprised, and Ray felt quite accomplished seeing him like that.

"I said let me go," he repeated and also stepped away. Deven threw him a poisonous glare but Ray just put a hand on top of his rapier.

"You have no clue who I am, don't you?" he asked, because otherwise this guy wouldn't even be here, wouldn't dare to approach him, because he did have a certain reputation.

"You're hot," Deven spat, and Ray felt himself blush again. "Shame about the personality though. I just wanted to chat with you and you gotta be a bitch about the whol-"

"Fuck you," Ray told him pointedly and turned around to get out of here. Fuck this guy, he wasn't going for his nice guy act. No way, he wasn't stupid!

He heard the steps following and was ready to turn around and either hit or kick him right in the face. If he hadn't made himself clear before that would surely drive the point home.

But before he could decide on his next move he could hear Deven yowl in pain and spun around.

"Fucking rat," Deven spat and kicked at what certainly wasn't a rat, but Triella.

Ray hadn't even really noticed how sharp and quite how many teeth the cat had, not until they tore through Deven's leg armor with ease, drawing blood.

Ray stood there, unmoving, because there was something oddly satisfying about that, even more so when a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Is there a problem here?" Michael asked, and when Ray glanced at him he even had his crown on.

Triella let go before the knight could kick after her again and quickly hurried towards them to brush against Ray's legs.

"I think Deven just wanted to go," Ray said quietly, and again the guy glared at him, at least until he recognized Michael.

"Yes," he just grunted through his clenched teeth and slowly turned away. He was limping a bit and the fabric of his pants was stained red, but neither of them found any pity for him.

"Might wanna get that checked," Michael just called after him. "Dunno what a demon bite will do!"

He turned to Ray with big eyes.

"Seriously, I hope Triella isn't poisonous or something like that."

"We'll make it look like an accident," Ray assured him and didn't even flinch as Triella jumped on his shoulder. The demon had a strange fascination with him, even though Sichora didn't like her. Maybe because of that actually.

But it was reassuring when Triella rubbed her head against his cheek, and he reached up to pet her.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked and pulled him a little tighter. "I was wondering where you went off to and this guy looked like trouble."

"I'm fine. He was just an asshole," Ray assured him, and couldn't help but smile when Michael pressed a kiss to his hair before letting go.

"If you say so." He called Triella back with a shrug. "You know, I kinda heard some of the bullcrap he said and this is just a thought but you should totally tell Gavin about it. He will be all over you for dinner trying to make limping-ass jealous. Might be funny."

Ray snorted and clapped Michael on the shoulder.

"I'll think about it."

[redjayson]

I just thought about what if Jason accidentally fakes his death? Like the batfam thought his still in a warehouse or something when it blew, and his comms destroyed so they can't call him, and he just went to a safe house after to sleep and like he doesn't know until a few weeks later when he shows up at the manor to meet up with Alfred for tea.

would it be better or worse if he wasn’t even really getting along with the rest of the family at that point? either way you play it, jason has a bunch of redundancies for his safe houses, and he was trained just as well as any of them. there has to be at least one or two he’s managed to keep secret from the rest of the bats. 

jay doesn’t really make a habit of carrying explosives in his helmet anymore; that was really more of a one-off when he first came back to gotham. since then, he generally just carries more explosives with him to make up for it. because of that, and because he’s usually fighting standard-grade humans, it’s not all that likely that he tosses his helmet aside in the middle of a fight.

a warehouse blows. red hood was in it, they know that (it all but had “This Is A Trap For Red Hood” written all over it), and when searching it, the bats find the badly burnt remnants of hood’s shattered helmet. no body, but –

it’s easy to assume the worst. it’s already happened once, after all. they hold on to hope for a week, but they haven’t been able to find any sign of jason. he can’t be raised on his comms, he hasn’t been in any of the safe houses that they know of, oracle couldn’t find any sign of him on cameras. 

no sign of him in a hospital or even leslie’s clinic, no body matching his description in the morgue. (that last doesn’t mean anything. no body at the warehouse, but someone had set the trap – they could have easily dumped it somewhere else.)

there’s no sign of him, living or dead, anywhere in the city so far as they can tell.

red hood’s been throwing himself into ever-escalating fights since he came back to gotham, and finally they have to assume that this time, his luck didn’t hold long enough for him to get out. 

the family sinks into some kind of shock. it’s impossible to believe that they lost him again.

it’s not something that can even be explained to the public. how do you explain that you’re in fresh mourning for a son and brother that was declared dead over half a decade ago? 

then again, all the bats are good at hiding how they feel. 

they mourn quietly, but they mourn.

what happened is this: 

jason walks himself straight into a trap. he usually ascribes to obi-wan kenobi’s philosophy regarding them, but this time –

it wasn’t a good idea to spring the trap.

there are more men than jason realized there would be. one of them gets a lucky shot, glancing off his helmet and leaving him staggering long enough for another to slam his head down against the concrete floor. jason sweeps his attackers legs out from under him and rolls away, taking cover behind a crate, but his helmet is cracked and partially shattered all along one side.

jason really regrets not having explosives in his helmet anymore, though given all the different kinds of explosives he can see scattered around the warehouse, that might not be a very good option right now anyway.

(why in the hell do they have so many explosives–? but he doesn’t really have time to think about it.)

jason pulls his helmet off, because blood is dripping steadily down from a cut above one of his eyes, where the helmet splintered inwards, and at this point it will only hinder him. 

these henchmen, though. they were just paid to make sure that he stayed in the warehouse long enough. as soon as he walked in, the timer was counting down. when jason ducks back around the crate he sheltered behind, they’ve scattered. 

jason swears when he sees the flickering red numbers. it’s not a scream; he can’t waste the breath. it’s one quiet invective and then he’s running for it, the way that he hadn’t been able to in ethiopia. 

he grapples up and slams through a window, scattering glass everywhere, just as the timer hits zero. the bomb goes off. the very edges of the explosion catch him, flinging him away.

a moment of free-fall, a terrifying reminder of ethiopia when he feels the heat of the blast, a brief thought of no, please no, not again–

jason rolls over onto his back, coughing. blood is still trailing down his face; he has to rub it off one of the lenses of his domino mask. he’s pretty sure he has a concussion. he tries to sit up and he definitely has cracked ribs. 

jason gets up carefully, trying to make sure nothing is moving around in his body where it’s not supposed to, and then he staggers away. he’s not staying around to give them a second shot at him. 

it’s instinct to avoid the cameras. there aren’t as many in this part of the city anyway, and jason likes it that way. it’s near one of the few safe houses he’s sure hasn’t been compromised, and he’d like to keep it that way.

he’d definitely like to lick his wounds in peace. 

it’s not that he thinks any of the bats are going to come after him. he doesn’t even think about the fact that they’ll probably know that he was at that warehouse. he just doesn’t want them butting in on his business, which they’ve done a couple of times at some of his other safe houses.

jason does cursory first aid when he gets back to his safe house. he pays more attention to re-arming his security, and by the time he gets around to dealing with his body, he can tell he’s probably about to pass out. he’s got a bunch of scrapes – nothing too bad, though a few are deeper and bleeding more than he really wants to deal with right now – and he’s pretty sure none of his ribs are out and out broken. he should probably get medical attention for the concussion.

he’ll drop by leslie’s clinic tomorrow, if he really needs to.

jason gets his armor off, makes sure all his guns are unloaded, and then he’s in his bed and unconscious.

he’s pleasantly surprised to wake up in the morning. looks like he didn’t overlook anything life-threatening. 

he’s still kind of a mess, though. the ribs alone are going to take a week at least before he’ll be able to go back out on the street. he could push it, but between the threat of breaking them for real and how much pain he’s in just getting up and going to the bathroom, he’ll allow that in this case, healing is the better idea. 

he doesn’t even think about the bats. their relationship is still rocky at best, though at least it no longer involves any murder attempts. he was given comms to talk with them, but he hasn’t used them very much. 

(he didn’t notice the earpiece getting busted at the warehouse the night previous. he varied between carrying them around in his pockets in case he needed them and actually wearing them, even if he didn’t use them, but he’d been more concerned with saving his damn life than thinking about where he had placed fragile machinery. 

when he finally notices, a couple days later, he figures he can ask barbara the next time he swings by the clocktower. she’s infinitely easier to talk to than any of the other bats are.)

jason’s safe house is well stocked. he doesn’t need to leave for a good while yet. there’s a reason this is his favorite – and most well hidden – safe house.

after a few days, though, he starts going stir crazy. he can’t go out and do anything, but he’s dying by inches in here, waiting to be able to draw a full breath that doesn’t leave him wheezing in pain. there’s only so much daytime tv he can watch, and even when he concentrates on combing through gotham news and networks, it’s to find that a) there’s nothing big happening because b) the bats have been coming down hard on criminals this past week, and c) on top of that disappointment, jason can’t get at his damn contacts to tell him what’s happening on the street level but d) it looks like bats have been prowling along his patrol routes anyway, damn them, and e) apparently it was a good idea to hole up in his best safe house because f) he’s gotten alerts from at least two of his safe houses that they’ve been broken into by people who can only be bats. he assumes more than just the two of them were broken into, but the last one they must have been able to disable his security. 

he spends a pleasant time trying to redesign his security systems when he can’t see what the bats avoided or tripped up on. it’s something else to pay attention to, anyway.

he wonders why exactly they’re trying to find him, but since they’re the ones that broke into his places, he’s not really inclined to give them a response. they can call him if they really need to get into contact with him.

(it’s about then that he realizes the comm was destroyed, and that the only phone number he gave them was to a burner that hasn’t been charged in a week and is currently lying abandoned in his second-favorite safe house.

he doesn’t care that much. 

they’re not a real family. they haven’t been for a long time, if they ever were.)

“fuck,” jason hisses on the ninth day, staring at the date on his phone and the reminder that’s popped up. 

tea with alfred, because that’s one relationship jason is willing to cling to, and it’s fun to hack into bruce’s schedule and figure out what times he’ll be out. jason doesn’t want to have to chance running into him at the manor. he sets the most likely dates in his calendar and goes if he’s feeling up to human company.

jason is definitely up for human company after this week. he’s so damn bored. and honestly, he would love nothing better than to drink tea with alfred and talk about books the way they did when he was younger. 

(being laid up means he’s been reading a bunch of books in his endless free time. he’s just finished frankenstein and he has opinions.)

jason cleans himself up. he tries to make himself look presentable, not like he’s spent a week convalescing after a stupid mistake. he doubts it will fool alfred, but he has to at least try. 

it’s a slightly uncomfortable ride to the manor, but jason grits his teeth and bears it. he parks his bike in its usual spot just outside the manor boundaries, and then he sneaks in. he could blatantly show up, let himself get caught on camera and everything, but that would defeat the whole purpose of constantly hacking bruce’s schedule and only swinging by when he was gone. 

jason walks into the kitchen to see alfred dismally staring down into his tea cup. alfred looks up, something tired and old and sad in his eyes, and then he stands so abruptly that he actually knocks his tea cup off the table. 

jason automatically tries to catch it, but his ribs yell so loudly at it that all jason accomplishes is an aborted motion and a barely-stifled sound of pain. 

“master jason,” alfred said. 

ow, fuck, jason thinks. “you need company for tea time?” he asks, only in part trying to cover that betraying wince. tea and company is what he’s here for, after all. 

“you,” alfred says severely. “need to answer your comms when you find yourself in a bad situation, young man. at the very least, you might find it in yourself to tell us that you are still amongst the living!”

then alfred’s stepping around the table and grabbing jason in a hug. 

“ow, fuck,” jason says, out loud this time. it’s kind of the only response that he can make to that statement. and the hug. 

alfred draws back, eyeing him narrowly. “how badly are you injured?”

“it’s fine,” jason says dismissively. alfred gives him a look. “i busted up my ribs, but i should probably be fine in another week or two.” most everything else has healed up, or at least healed up enough that alfred can’t question him about it.

“the warehouse was quite obviously a trap,” alfred says. 

you might find it in yourself to tell us that you are still amongst the living!

“oh,” jason says. he understands now. his shoulders hunch a little, defensively. “it’s fine. i’m fine.”

“yes, so it appears,” alfred says. “however, we did not know that.”

jason hunches even more defensively. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. 

alfred sighs. in that moment, he looks all his years. “please,” he says. “we lost you once. don’t make us believe it’s happened another time.”

“sorry,” jason says. his eyes drop to the floor. there’s some kind of skewed humor, being back here and apologizing like nothing has changed in the time between, even if the apology is for accidentally faking his death rather than stealing cookies when he thought he could get away with it. it’s not very funny.

“would you care to join me for tea?” alfred asks, after a brief pause. 

“yeah,” jason says. he looks up. “i would.”