#a cure!! He wants to find something that hes finally content with. Killer just listens to Nightmare instead and goes on a rampagw

[victorthesilly]

Translation for the text behind him:

YOU GOT THE MEDICINE, YOU GOT THE MEDICINE, YOU GOT THE MEDICINE, YOU GOT THE AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

Song by Beatnik Killers by 0.8BuyoutSyooogeki!!!!!!! Go check them out!!! I love their music SO much I don't CARE if I can't understand it they have GOOD MUSIC!!!!!

[wallwriterstuff]

Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!human!fem!reader where she’s Bella’s younger sister, and when the Volturi come for Renesmee, the Cullens tell her to stay with Charlie, since they had a bunch of vampires with them plus the Volturi showing up, it’d be bad with a human in the mix. Being related to Bella (haha) she doesn’t listen, choosing to hide behind a tree to try to see how Bella and her family are (she was worried what the Volturi would do). I’m sure everyone would realize there’s a human there, and Aro sends Demetri to check it out, who finds Y/n, and quickly realizes she’s his mate. Ooo that would be nerve racking to Bella because she’d see Dem speed her younger sister over to where all the Volturi are. I’m sure she’d have to go back to Volterra with them, and she’d be a little freaked out. Awhhh it’d be so cute to see them bond, and on New Year’s, she wants to watch the ball drop (because it’s a tradition), and when it’s the New Year, she kisses Dem for the first time!

Little Red Riding Hood Part 1 ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 2: The Big Bad Wolf 

Part 3: What Soft Lips You Have 

Part 4: And They Lived Happily Ever After 

Warnings: None, just Aro being a manipulative little meanie 

Words: 4793

Summary: Against her sister’s advice, Y/N Swan sets off on a one woman mission to protect her family, unaware of the price she will have to pay to do so. 

One of the worst habits you had was wondering the house late at night when you shouldn’t be. It wasn’t your fault really, insomnia didn’t have an easy cure and your sleeping medication was…well, when you woke up in the morning you felt drunk, they weren’t really something you enjoyed using. It had been an innocent quest really, a simple mission – get a warm mug of milk to go back to bed with. If anything, you were perfectly in the right to go wandering your own home. It should have been safe, even at 3:24AM.

Riley Biers shouldn’t have been there.

But he was.

In your living room.

And so were you.

Until you weren’t.

Alice had seen it all in advance of course and whisked you out of that room so fast the venom hadn’t even had time to properly enter your system after Riley bit down. Charlie hadn’t even been woken from his slumber by the time you were whisked into the depths of the forest to a nice little clearing where you could scream to your hearts content and nobody would hear you. Carlisle had saved you that night, sucking the venom out as quickly as Riley had injected it. The night that had followed was a surreal, whistle stop tour of the vampire world and its laws, laws you were technically breaking since you knew about the Cullen’s now. Of course, that meant you knew about the newborn army to, but you decided to stay out of that one. Some things however…some things demanded your attention, and whether you were human or not you simply had to at least see your family would be okay.

After a whirlwind few months your sister was saved, married and knocked up. Come Christmas, your hybrid niece was looking to be nine years old and your father was suspicious but none the wiser to the world you knew all too much about. You had carefully hidden your bitemark with polo necks, a sudden and bizarre choice your father had commented on once but quickly dismissed after you spouted some fashion facts Alice had prepared you with – fashion and Charlie did not mix and he dropped that conversation faster than one might drop a saucepan on fire. Of course, Renesmee (who you had created a variety of nicknames for just to tease Bella because otherwise you…well you’d have to call her Renesmee, and that was just cruel) was unique in every way, and unique and unknown equated to threat and danger in many minds, many minds the Cullen’s had slowly swayed over the few weeks since Alice had informed them of their impending death sentence.

You hadn’t been allowed to visit since the nomads and covens had started arriving, and though you understood the reason it didn’t make it any easier to know your sister, your niece, your extended family, were all in danger and you weren’t getting to spend what might be their last moments with them. It was only made worse when Bella and Edward had brought your father tickets to go fishing out of state, and tried to do the same to you. You loved your TV shows, truly you did, so for them to somehow get you backstage passes for Supernatural of all things was…immense. What you hated the most was how tempted you were to go. Who would say no to a long stay in a five star hotel, all expenses paid for and any bills you accumulated paid for by a Cullen, bottomless credit card?

When Edward and Bella had dropped you at the airport, part of you really had been ready to say goodbye to them, but as you stood in line for the gate the heavy weight of guilt settled in your gut and wouldn’t stop squirming. You had to turn back, you had to go. Nobody knew when the Volturi were going to land exactly, but you knew the day, and with Charlie and Sue gone for their fishing trip you would have nobody to stop you doing the incredibly dumb thing you had set your heart on. The taxi fare home had been extortionate but you couldn’t exactly have called anyone for a lift could you? You called the hotel and told them you were cancelling your stay, having to push your backstage pass for the Supernatural set deep into the depths of your bag to manage the grief of missing that opportunity, but family came first.

A restless night’s sleep later and you were dressing for the snow. It had fell fast and thick since Christmas day, so you had to set out early if you were going to get anywhere fast. Bella was your sister and you loved one another dearly, so of course you had spoken all about the upcoming battle, her hopes and her fears, her plans.

“There’s a clearing to the North of the house, we’re hoping if we engage them there it’ll be far enough away from people to stop anyone else getting involved by accident.”

Clearing to the North of the Cullen residence, right. With your Grandfather’s old compass you had set out, bundled in your thickest woollen coat and decked out the whole nine yards with scarves and hats and gloves. The air was freezing, nipping harshly at your exposed skin till your ears and nose were tinged red. Sniffling, you trudged through the layers of snow, stumbling over your own feet once or twice in the hereditary Swan way before regaining your footing and ploughing on. The trees seemed never-ending, an identical blanket of white on each and every one that towered above you, encroaching from all sides and making you lose all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the compass in your hand you could have easily gotten lost in the winter wonderland, but a break in the treeline finally made an appearance. Numb as your extremities were, you forced your tired body to cooperate and propelled yourself forward, stumbling towards a tree you might be able to see past.

The forest was eerily silent, not a single scuttling animal or twittering bird to be found today, and the clearing itself was so large and the covens spread so far apart you could barely see a thing either, not with your dull, human eyes. A swarm of black gave away the Volturi, the mismatch of beiges and neutral tones on the left letting you know your family had yet to be taken down. A sigh of relief escaped you and you clapped a hand over your mouth in alarm, heart skipping a beat in your chest. Vampires had extremely sensitive hearing, there was no way somebody hadn’t heard you, and if it wasn’t the sigh that gave you away then it would surely have been the sound of mitten slapping flesh. Pressing into the bark you peeked around the tree trunk, heart hammering in your chest now as you tried to establish what was happening. You couldn’t hear a thing, could barely see. Ness sat atop Jacob, his russet fur glinting in the bright white of the snow-covered landscape.

“It all looks so terribly interesting from this distance does it not?” the smooth voice was right by your ear, and you screamed louder than you ever had in your life. Whirling around you shrunk back from the vibrantly red eyes of an admittedly handsome man, his expression devoid of any emotion as he looked you over. He had boxed you in against the tree trunk, his cloak billowing about him, the shiny, golden ‘V’ hanging around his throat making your chest constrict. Volturi, he was a Volturi guard. With wide eyes you stood in a silent stare-off, unable to decipher the emotions flickering through his eyes as he stood a step toward you.

“Stay away from me!” you cried, cringing back into the bark behind you. His head tilted.

“You came to spy and did not expect there would be consequences?” he asked, not stopping till he was almost on top of you. Your breath hitched. He had the most gorgeous looking face but you could identify the features of a killer in it. The glowing red irises didn’t look at you with malice however, more…confusion. His sharp, pearl white teeth weren’t bared to take your throat out but carefully sealed away behind plush lips. You could almost believe he didn’t intend on hurting you if his hands weren’t still reaching for you.

“You’re here to butcher my family, I had to…” you trailed off, because in reality what could you do? What could you possible say to this vampire that wouldn’t make him laugh? You were human, you stood no chance. He had paused, waiting patiently for your answer, yet when you gave him none he proceeded to pick you up like you weighed next to nothing, your feet being whisked out of the numbing snow to dangle over his arm. His eyes never left yours.

“Hold tight little one.” He suggested, his voice devoid of any emotion. If there had been any part of him you might have been able to appeal to before it was gone now, hidden behind a stony exterior. The world blurred around you and the jarring movement thew you off balance as he set you on your feet again, your body tilting in a way it shouldn’t till he was forced to grab you and hold you steady. Nausea rose quickly in the back of your throat, the world still spinning and blurring your eyes. You could see the edges of black cloaks swirling in your vision as you fought back the urge to be sick. There was no way to hide your anxiety now, your heart hammering away for all to hear, your breathing too quick to be normal.

“You seem to have distressed our dear friends, Demetri.” The smooth voice was sickeningly sweet, entirely false to your ears. Trying to take a steadying breath, you forced yourself to look up at the three imposing figures before you. A giant stood behind them, two young twins to their right. The three were quite obvious to you form the stories you’d heard, and your shudder had nothing to do with the cold this time. Demetri, the man holding you, had yet to let go of your waist, and his hands felt strangely soothing, their firm grip something that felt grounding and reliable despite your terror in this moment.

“An intruder who has already seen too much, end her now as yet another of the Cullen’s mistakes.” The blonde sneered. You swallowed, mind spinning. You were dead either way, right?

“My niece is not a mistake.” You retorted. You were proud that your voice didn’t waver once, though the grip on your waist tightened slightly and you weren’t sure if it was to warn you or scold you. Caius hissed, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare.

“Your niece? May I, my dear?” Aro stood before you, taller than you had expected with hair almost as long as yours. You knew it wasn’t a request, but you found yourself desperate either way to avoid touching him and shrank back from his extended hand, straight into Demetri’s chest. His hand was hesitant, but it lifted from your waist to lightly skim down your arm, his lips close to your hairline as he whispered, “Do as you are told now, little one.”

He carefully extended your hand for you, noting the tremor in it once more as Aro’s eyes flickered between you. He removed your mitten with a flourish, your hand immediately clenching and unclenching at the sudden blast of arctic cold it had previously been shrouded from. Aro’s skin was somehow even colder and your shivering grew in intensity. Very vaguely, you could hear Bella shouting something, but the distance was so great and the clearing so vast it swallowed the sound. His eyes flickered over yours, completely pinning you to the spot, and then they looked past you to whatever was happening behind you. Demetri was blocking your view when you tried to see what Aro was seeing.

“Sweet Y/N, your bravery in coming here is applaudable. I can only hope our own dear ones are as dedicated to our family as you are to yours.” Aro sighed, a hint of melancholy in his voice. You flinched, knowing the next words from his mouth would most likely be spelling out your death sentence. The sound of the breeze was all that filled your ears for a moment, the anxiety and anticipation growing in your stomach making it difficult to hold onto the meagre breakfast you’d forced yourself to eat. It occurred to you in that moment that this would be your final moments with your family, your last chance to say goodbye, and they could hear it. Squaring your shoulders, you held your head high.

“I came because I love them, and I don’t regret that. You can’t destroy my family, their witnesses are proof of that. My niece was created out of love and the legacy of love they would leave behind will be far too great for you to overcome. So go ahead and do what you have to to me, if I can die with half their grace then I know I’ve done them proud.” You clenched your fists at your side, prepared for the bite that Aro would deliver, maybe Demetri. Caius looked most upset by your little speech, hissing quietly and looking prepared to spring towards you. More muffled noise from behind you let you know your family had heard, even if you couldn’t hear their goodbyes you felt them in your heart.

Aro’s head tilted slightly, his expression cold, and then his mouth opened slightly and he was leaning forward. You closed your eyes, flinching as you braced for the pain of a bite you knew well, but instead you felt cold air, and when your eyes snapped open you were shielded from Aro’s bite by a tall, lean body, one strong arm curled backward to keep you caged against his spine. Demetri.

“Master…please.” He extended his hand, ripping off his glove with his teeth as he went. Aro eagerly took his hand, probably as desperate as you were to know why one of his most treasured guard would so openly defy him. Some of the Volturi’s people were starting to whisper behind them but a lethal look (from the giant of a man you guessed was Felix from Bella’s stories) silenced them. His grip on your hip tightened for a moment, the silence deafening before Aro chuckled.

“Ahhh…così si forma un legame eterno.” he murmured. You scrunched your nose, having no idea what he meant since you didn’t speak Italian. When Demetri carefully moved aside, giving Aro as slim a chance to access you as he possibly could, and your heart twisted with gratitude that he would even bother to try. You swallowed, doing your best to keep your fear from your face.

“Aro.” Caius growled. Aro held his hand up, forcing his brother to heel even if he couldn’t placate him.

“You are intriguing, Y/N. The Volturi do not offer second chances, but for the sake of our dear Demetri we are willing to bend the rules just this once,” Aro smiled, a shark-like grin that made your stomach sink, “You have a choice before you. Your family are quite innocent in regards to the accusation against your niece, for that we will deliver no justice-“ there was some uncomfortable shuffling behind him Aro dutifully ignored, “-however you are a law broken, yet another example of the Cullen’s inability to guard our secret from humans. An example must be made, you must be dealt with appropriately. Either you turn here, now, or you come with us, and we turn you.”

It was a Hobson’s choice. What Aro was really asking was how dead did you want to be? Dead dead? Or undead dead? If you let Carlisle bite you now in the clearing there were so many unpredictable nomads around. Bite your wrist and it would take forever for the venom to reach your heart and really start the change, you would be tortured right in front of them, a punishment for them all no doubt. Bite your throat and blood would spill, blood so many of those nomads wouldn’t think twice about feeding from in any other situation. So, what did you do? Did you choose the option where you ended up far from home but safe? Or did you choose the option that did not guarantee your safety but did guarantee your family would suffer watching you suffer?

For the first time since you entered the snow you felt warm, warm with so many eyes on you. Swallowing thickly, you tried to will your mind to work faster to outwit the vampire before you. In the end, you could only think of a compromise.

“My father’s not home right now. If I chose to come with you, could I have time to pack some clothes?” your voice was slightly weak, your heart aching in your chest. Your father would never see you again, he’d have to believe you just ran off, that you were the same flighty woman your mother was. Bella might never get a chance to see you again either, an eternity of knowing you would never lose your sister, but that you would never be reunited. It was painful however you spun it. Aro’s smile only widened, knowing he had successfully backed you into a corner.

“But of course! Such a…noble, sacrifice, must be rewarded. You have earned that much my dear. Demetri will take you now.” Aro gave his tracker a nod and Demetri seemed to relax, swiftly turning on his heel to march you across the snow. His hand was gentle on your arm, but the speed he set almost had you running to keep up, like he was desperate to get you out of there lest Aro change his mind. As you were escorted out of the clearing, you dared a single glance back at Bella, her face the very picture of horror as Edward held her back. All you could manage was a weak smile as your sister disappeared from view for what was possible the last time.

Once you were far enough into the trees that the clearing was out of sight for you, Demetri suddenly came to a stop, exhaling sharply and dropping his hand from your arm. It ran through his hair but barely ruffled it. Whatever he was thinking, you weren’t about to be privy to it as he slung you across his back with ease. You gasped, clinging on tight.

“Hey! What are you doing!” you protested.

“Taking you to your home. You are slower than I am.” He retorted, his voice quiet and his grip on your thighs firm. You held on tight, heart rabbiting in your chest.

“You don’t even know where I live.” You squeaked. Demetri chuckled, the sound vibrating through your gut.

“No, but I know where the Cullen’s live, and I find it hard to believe that in all this snow you walked all the way here. Now hold on tight and try closing your eyes, it may help with the nausea, cara mia.” He gave you seconds at most to bury your face in his shoulder before he took off, maybe…or not? You weren’t really sure but you didn’t dare lift your head to look. He made sure his gait was smooth, every stride flawless so he didn’t so much as jostle you, and by the time he gently encouraged you to unwind your legs from his waist you were in front of the Cullen’s house. The only reminder you had ever ran anywhere with him at all was the windswept state of your hair – it was unfair his still looked perfect.

He had been right of course, you had driven to the Cullen’s today. It was hard to imagine him sitting beside you in your small car, his cloak about him and his outfit all…well, what even was he wearing? Why did that even matter when this Volturi guard was escorting you to pack things that would be your only reminder of home? Demetri was quiet, watching you carefully as you stared at your car. Nothing made sense. Why had Demetri saved you when he was the one who hauled you out in front of Aro? Why had it felt like he was protecting you? Why was everything so…comfortable? Being around him was like being in the company of an old friend, it was familiar and warm, inviting, the silences felt natural.

Demetri quietly called your name, his expression questioning, but you didn’t bother to give him an explanation, simply pulled out your car keys and got into the driver’s seat. The radio chased away the silence, your fingers clenched tight around the wheel as you tried to figure out what to pack.

“Where are we going?” you asked him finally. Demetri kept his eyes on the horizon.

“To our home, to Volterra. You will be joining us in Italy.” He answered. Italy? You didn’t know the first thing about Italian culture. What was the food like? The people? The language? You’d need to pack warmer clothes, and they didn’t accommodate turtle-necks – not that you needed to hide a bite from vampires. It wasn’t really until you pulled up in the driveway of your home that it really struck you, the weight of the deal you made hanging heavy on your shoulders as you idled in front of your childhood home. In your mind you could see yourself running up the drive, your suitcase abandoned for your father to pick up as he welcomed you to stay for the summer. Other winters where you had opted to spend Christmas with Charlie over Renée flashed through your mind next, dilapidated snowmen and strung up lights over the porch flashing bright. Tears stung your eyes.

“I’m never coming back here, am I?” you whispered. Demetri remained silent, and you were grateful for it. There was nothing he could say to make this better and you suspected he knew that. Furiously wiping at your eyes, you rummaged for your house keys and cleared your throat. “You should wait until I open the front door, it’ll look suspicious if you follow me in and any of the neighbours see.” You muttered, already climbing out of the car before he could argue. It was a slow walk up the drive, a walk where you desperately tried to imprint the bumps in the concrete, the muddy smells of the forest surrounding you, and the awful netting in the windows’ you father hadn’t changed since your mother moved on, into your memory.

The smell of stale beer from the cans in the recycling box beneath the sink hit your nose as the door opened, the familiar smells of Charlie’s aftershave and Sue’s perfume coming next. The house was cold, quiet, desolate even. Demetri was in front of you in the blink of an eye as you shut the door behind you, nobody would have seen him enter for sure. He glanced around himself, obviously curious at the choice in décor and the photographs along the walls – you couldn’t bear to look at them. With a soft sigh, you left him in the living room, knowing he would do what he liked anyway regardless as to whether or not you invited him upstairs.

The suitcase you had packed for your trip would need to be unpacked, some of your jumpers and long-sleeved shirts would not be needed in Italy after all. It would be hot, and heat was not a friend to wool. Your wardrobe doors flung open, you were contemplating what to put back when Demetri interrupted you.

“Vampires do not feel temperature the same way humans do. When you turn it will be no issue to wear jumpers, if they are what you prefer.” He said. Brows crinkling, you subconsciously lifted a hand to your throat.

“It’s not really a fashion choice,” you murmured, “But I guess I don’t need to really hide a bitemark from a bunch of vampires, do I?” Just like that the air changed; you no longer felt comfortable with Demetri, not when he was giving off such a sour energy. He radiated danger, anger. He took a breath to visibly compose himself, but his eyes were still darkened by anger, near black with the rage he radiated. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he clenched and unclenched his fists. You took a step back from him, biting down on your lower lip as your heart skittered.

“Show me,” he said, eyes blazing. You shook your head. “Show me.” He growled, stepping forward this time. Gulping, you reached up with a shaky hand to pull the turtle-neck down as far as you could, thankful the material stretched slightly. Demetri peered past the fabric to the silver crescent shapes of Riley’s teeth, emblazoned on your skin until Volturi venom decided to buff out that imperfection. He hissed quietly, his fingertips tracing the mark and sending shivers down your spine. He was freezing cold, cold as a corpse actually since that was technically what he was, so why did his fingers leave a blazing trail of fire across your skin?

“It’s just small, it’ll go away anyway if-“

“It will not, go away.” Demetri ground out, his eyes fixated on the scar. He looked genuinely disgusted and you couldn’t tell if it was at you or the bitemark, you couldn’t tell quite why it bothered you so much either. Why did you care so much that this upset Demetri?

“It won’t?” you asked weakly. He winced a bit, letting his hands drop and looking away. You counted ten whole seconds before he dared turn back to you.

“No, it will not. Venom is what will immortalise you, petrify your system, it has had a chance to do so to those cells it has touched already and they will be forever changed by it. My only hope is to bite down there, that by breaking the surface with my teeth it heals over with my venom.” He almost growled the word at you in his frustration and you swallowed, blinking in surprise.

“You’re going to be the one that turns me?” you questioned. Could he even do that? Did he have the self-control? You had thought Aro would do it if you were honest, though you couldn’t say you were over the moon to have that old coot’s teeth in your throat it was guaranteed to at least be safe. What right did Demetri have to steal your life? Why was he so angry over the thought of another vampire biting you? Had he claimed some weird sort of vampire dibs?

“Of course. The Volturi have laws they enforce but when it comes to affairs between mates, they leave well enough alone.” He informed you, head tilting. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Mates?” you whispered, mind reeling.

“You do not feel the pull?” he asked. He had yet to step back from you, unbearably close and yet somehow not close enough. For a moment you couldn’t say anything, simply trying to desperately scramble to think coherently enough to consider answering.

“I don’t…I barely know you, you can’t just…say that.” You stammered. Demetri very gently grasped your chin between his fingers, tilting your face upward so you were forced to maintain eye contact with him. You weren’t sure what he was searching for, if he found it or not, but he dropped your chin with a sigh.

“Pack, tesoro, we have little time.” He murmured. You were relieved when he stepped back – it gave you a chance to breathe.  Mate? Demetri thought you were his mate? You knew what that meant, Edward had explained to you what his connection with Bella was like after Riley had introduced you to his world, trying to help you understand how awful the months leading up to Bella’s running away to Italy had been for both of them. Is that why he had been so protective of you on the field? Is that why he was so furious another vampire had dared mark you? It crossed your mind then just how selfish your decision actually looked to the outside world. In your head, you had been saving your family from suffering, but to them it probably looked like you had chosen to run off with your mate because you didn’t trust they would take care of you. How were they ever going to forgive you for this?

[mvrtaiswriting]

Your writing is so beautifully done! I feel like you really capture your characters’ personalities. Would you consider writing a scenario where reader was part of the Crusaders and is reconnecting with part4!Jotaro after his recent divorce. It’s awkward dating at first, but Joot’s heart melts every time he sees reader and Jolyne getting along so well.

Are you even real? - Jotaro Kujo.

HELLO HELLO HELLO and thank you so much for waiting so long! Writer’s block has been a pain BUT this one actually carried me away and helped me get through it.. so thank you for requesting it! Gotta say it: timeline of jojo’s event is not accurate, but it does include everything you asked for!! I don’t wanna bother you anymore so please enjoy! I hope this meets your expectations!! 

Neutral reader x Jotaro Kujoh.

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond Is Unbreakable & Stardust Crusaders

Timeline of Jojo’s events (mostly jotaro’s fatherhood) is a bit bizzare

SFW

Trigger warning: usual jojo’s violence

Words Count: 2631

Song suggestion: Are you even real? by James Blake

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© bearing in mind everything I post/write is my intellectual property so please don’t steal/copy and paste and post it as yours.

Jotaro was about to throw what would have been his last punch to Kira when he was interrupted by the manifestation of a familiar stand. Was he hallucinating? Did he lose too much blood to imagine things now? While he asked himself this questions, resting his back against the wall trying to preserve the few energies he had left in his body, he looked around looking for the owner of the stand that just came to his rescue. His eyes scanned meticulously the area; he was sure you weren’t far – of course, if all of it just wasn’t a massive joke made by his tired mind.

But you were there – you were really there. And you were beating up Kira so bad, making it look so easy. He widened his eyes open, forcing himself to remain conscious. Josuke would have arrived in matters of minutes and he would have cured all of his injuries.

Jotaro closed his eyes, and the next thing he saw was you and Josuke leaning over him. You smiled when you noticed he was regained energy and health, looking into his beautiful aquamarine eyes for some seconds. You really missed them, you missed him.

“Getting old?” you said laughing, offering him a hand to help him stand up. He shook his head while a soft, almost imperceptible smile formed on his lips as he fixed his hat onto his head as per usual.

“What are you doing here?” he said, opening his arms and implicitly inviting you into a hug.

You smiled, hugging him tight. You guys hadn’t seen each other in so long, and being in each other’s arms just felt like coming home.

“Guess this is your way to say ‘thank you for saving my ass, nice to see you again!’” you said laughing.

Behind you, Josuke’s and his friends’ all had riddled expressions on their faces. Seeing Jotaro so outgoing surely was something unexpected – so much that Kira running away didn’t seem to matter at all.

Jotaro nodded at your words, breaking up from the hug and taking a good minute to look at you. He still was much taller than you, and you didn’t seem to have aged a bit. You were as beautiful as he remembered you. What he didn’t remember was all the complicated, little emotions he felt every time he was next to you that were now coming back to surface. You always held a special place in his heart. You two always shared a particular bond that never got the chance to really develop. During the crusaders days, you were too busy fighting and looking for Dio to get involved into emotional relationships; and following the final battle, after losing Kakyion, Avdol and Iggy, Jotaro didn’t think it was appropriate to actually confess you his feelings. All of you were mourning the deaths of your companions, and although Kakyion would have encouraged Jotaro to actually tell you about how he felt, in that moment, it just didn’t feel right. So he let you go, and everyone just returned to their own lives. He had moved on since then or at least he tried to do so; he was now a father with a failed marriage, but he never really forgot you. Afterall, no one ever forgets their first love.

“Joseph called me a week ago. I’m sorry I came late but it was the best I could do!” You answered Jotaro’s previous question. “He told me you guys needed a hand and that my degree in criminology would have been useful. He explained everything to me and.. here I am!” you continued.

Jotaro’s expression seemed surprised. He didn’t know his grandfather was still in contact with you. At first, he started to ask himself why didn’t Joseph tell him years before. He could have had a chance with you – he would have followed you wherever you were. His jiji knew what he felt towards you, how could he just stay silent? Those questions were quickly followed by doubts: what was Joseph planning? Did he call you because they really needed you there or because he was just trying to help Jotaro overcome his divorce and find someone to help him with Jolyne? All these doubts clouded Jotaro’s mind, leaving him silent.

After you were introduced to everyone, you and the rest of the guys went to a coffee bar to discuss how  investigations would have been organised and what methods would have been more successful in finding Kira’s new identity.

Jotaro kept his eyes locked on you while you professionally explained to Rohan, Koichi and the rest of the boys what to do. A part of him was busy studying every little detail of your face. How you still did the same facial expression you did 10 years before, how your smile still managed to lighten up everything around you. It was so strange how much time passed by, how many things changed during these years; yet  things stayed the same between the two of you. He still felt the same way he did when he was just a boy, you guys still related to each other the same way you did when you travelled around the world.

Jotaro’s posture was much more relaxed now that you were around. His face had a more relaxed expression, and you gladly found out that he became a bit more talkative than he was in his younger days.

Joseph found you a room in the same Hotel where him and Jotaro where staying in while in Morio-cho, leading the two of you to spend an incredible amount of time together.

As time passed, you and Jotaro grew closer and closer. You quickly learned about his love life and that he became a marine biologist, something you would have never expected from him. He was very curious about your life too: he was eager to know what happened to you during those years – he wasn’t able to find you when he tried, and now that you were right in front of him, he wanted to make the best out of the time he got to spend with you. He wanted to know if the person he always loved was taken, and what happened to them during all that time. However, he never directly asked you any private question. He learned that you had an important relationship at a certain point, which broke your heart and made you afraid of love, but only because you and Joseph talked about it.

He thought it was ironic; he had a similar experience.

Searching for Kira’s new identity was tiring. You were all doing your best, and were using every resource you could. You in particular were really involved with the whole research project– it was the main reason why you were there. Every time there were news, whether they were minor or not, you were always the first one to be notified.

You were busy examining some of your notes and the pictures Rohan took when Jotaro knocked on your door. You sent your stand over to open the door, focusing on your studies. It was only when you smelled Jotaro’s sweet perfume filling the room that you finally lifted your eyes up from the books and the various pics in front of you. You greeted Jotaro with a weak smile, as he sat down next to you.

“Thought you could use some coffee.” He said, leaving a fuming cup in front of you.

You thanked him, and proceeded to take a long sip from the cup.

“How is it going?” he asked.

You sighed, running an hand through your hair as if that gesture could help you reorganise your thoughts. You explained everything to him, ranting a bit about how stressing the whole situation felt. Every time you thought you got closer to finding Kira, something happened that forced you to start all over again. He wasn’t like every other serial killer you studied about; he was always a step ahead of everyone.

Jotaro listened carefully to your words, nodding sometimes to let you know that he was really paying attention to what you were saying. Once you finished, he looked a bit perplexed and offered you his insight regarding the whole situations. You trusted his words more than anyone else’s – you knew he had great analytical skills, you would have trusted him with your life. Something you already did in the past.

The two of you spent the night together, smoking some cigarettes while discussing about every possibility regarding Kira’s escape. He sat exactly next to you on the sofa, reading some documents given to you by the Speedwagon foundation when you tiredly rested your head on his shoulder.

This gesture made his muscles contract for a second, catching him out of guard. He turned to look at you, your eyes almost closed because of your tiredness. Without saying a word, Jotaro leaned his lips against your head, leaving a soft kiss on it before continuing reading his documents as if nothing happened. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep. When Jotaro noticed it, he wasn’t sure about moving. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he knew that wasn’t the most comfortable position for you to sleep in. He slowly lied on the sofa, letting you rest your head on his chest. He put his white coat on you, deciding to stay there for the night.

You woke up next to him the following morning, your bodies completely intertwined. You were confused, as you didn’t remember falling asleep. Also, you didn’t really want to bother Jotaro this much, and immediately felt bad about it. You slowly got up, leaving the beautiful man sleep on the sofa of your hotel room. After a quick shower, you headed towards the hotel’s canteen to buy some breakfast for both of you.

When you finally returned to your room, you saw Jotaro stretching up, standing tall in the middle of the room. “Morning” he whispered in a low, raspy voice.

Smiling as if you were a teenager in love, you replied and offered him a donut.

“I’m sorry for yesterday. You could have woken me up.” You said shyly, doing your best to avoid eye contact.

He hinted a small laugh, messing your hair with his hand.

“No need to apologise, silly. It’s fine, I fell asleep too.”

-

Days passed by, and you knew you were getting closer to find out Kira’s identity. Your days however, weren’t made up solely by studies, researches or fight. Most of the time you found yourself spending time with the Joestar’s family: you would usually have dinner with Josuke, Jotaro, Joseph and Josuke’s mum, spending quality time together and hearing funny anecdotes from Josuke and Joseph. You also had the chance to meet Jolyne a few times; Jotaro drove you out of city because he really cared about letting the two of you meet. And it was a good thing: you and jolyne relly got along with each other, almost as if you had been friends in a previous lifetime.

Although Jotaro was never vocal about it, he was important to him to see how  along you got with his family. He loved seeing you playing with Jolyne, and he knew how much you appreciated and respected Joseph. It was also nice to see you getting along with Josuke – both of you had a lively personality, and he grew affectionate towards you really quickly. Sometimes, Jotaro would find your bond a bit irritating – but he knew Josuke was only a 14 y/o boy. He was also conscious about how irrationally jealous he could become, so he never really spoke about it.

As time passed, Jotaro became more and more aware of his feelings towards you. He never forgot you and now every emotion he felt in the past was simply coming back.

 The two of you spent an awful amount of time together, always finding new excuses to do so. Whether it was to investigate over Kira, training to prepare for the final battle or simply visiting some new places, there wasn’t a moment when you weren’t with him; and although he felt incredible bad for thinking about it, Jotaro hoped to find Kira as late as possible.

He needed more time; more time to fully understand what was going on inside his mind and his heart, more time to find the right words to explain everything to you, more time to understand whether his feelings were reciprocated or not.

It was during the final battle with Kira that he finally had the responses he needed.

Seeing you covered in blood made his heart beat incredibly fast. For minutes that felt like an eternity he did not know what to do, how to act - something which was very unusual for him. Jotaro had always been the kind of person to think rapidly, without letting his emotions overwhelm him. But this time it was different. He left you and Josuke fighting alone against Kira for too much time and now the both of you were in danger. It was something he already experience before in Egypt, and he wasn’t willing to lose anyone else.  You kept one of Josuke’s arms around your shoulders to help him standing, the young boy still towering you even if his figure was arched over you. Both of you were covered in blood and with various injuries over your bodies. You were still able to stand on your feet, looking angrily at Kira who was grinning in response. Your breath was heavy and you didn’t have much strength left in your body, but when you saw Jotaro, you knew you had to hold on.

You gave him a quick look, his face covered with worry and fear. “I’ll cover your back but you'll have to be quick.” you said, summoning your powerful Stand once again. Jotaro understood your plan, and without losing anymore time he started walking towards you, becoming close enough to use Star Platinum against your enemy.

“Star Platinum. The World!” he said, stopping time and letting Kira have a taste of Star Platinum’s punches.

Before he let time flow again, he gently picked your body up in his arms and stepped far enough from the explosion Killer Queen would have caused moments later. Shielding you with his own body, time started to flow again. You looked at him smiling, gratefully crouching yourself onto his chest, trying your best to recover some energie and enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Thanks for always being my hero.”

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile hearing those words, shaking his head in response.

“I just returned you a favour.”, he added.

-

Two weeks passed by since the defeat of Yoshikage Kira.

You and Jotaro decided to stay in Morio-cho a bit longer than what you originally planned. The time spent together allowed you to discuss your mutual feelings and, after a long night of passion and love, you started dating.

It was awkward at first. You and Jotaro never really officialised your relationship; you just let things between you evolve naturally, preferring a physical love language over words – what united the two of you wasn’t something that could have been easily described. However, he eventually confessed you that he had loved you since your trip in Egypt, receiving a: “I did too, idiot.” in response.

As time went by, you and Jolyne managed to build a strong, beautiful bond – so much, she’d start to refer to you as a parental figure and nothing less. Jotaro loved seeing the two of you together; you were the people he loved the most, and he was happy his little daughter liked you as much as he always did.

[writing-frenzy]

Care to Make a Wager? (SVSSS Fic)

Summery: No System AU: In which Airplane finds he has a new lease in life, but of course it would have a cost. Of course, being the creator of this world gives him quiet the price cut. Not to mention the untended bonus content.

Still, he did not expect the direction his life would go.

(Warning: mentions of death, violence, and most stuff you could find in SVSSS Canon. You should be good, but here is a just in case.)

---

When one Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was reborn, he really wanted to curse his lot in life. Sure, he had been born into a rather well off Merchant Family, but when the Lord of the Family has two Official Wives and a crap ton of Mistresses on the side, things were bound to get crazy.

Luckily one Shang Huan had one hell of a Mother; in another life, Airplane might have described her as a ‘killer queen or a ‘boss ass bitch’, but as his mother, he just thought of her as the most amazing woman on the planet. As it was, She alongside a whole bunch of tutors taught him everything he needed to know about the world and then some. 

(Sewing was a bitch to get right.)

But with those lessons, it didn’t take long for Shang Huan to realize he was in his own fucking novel; it had not been a happy realization, making him break out into a truly childish tantrum, filled with screaming and tears that only calmed after he was given some delicious melon seeds.

(Luckily it had been attributed to wanting a snack after a morning full of lessons, otherwise he probably would have gotten the switch for it...)

But with all this knowledge of his place in life now with him, Shang Huan needed to start planning; good thing that was one of his specialties.

Noting down every bit of information he could, Shang Huan mapped out as much items and cheats he could afford to take from the Protagonist, as well as places he could and couldn’t go, hazel eyes narrowed as he messily scratched out his plots with his trusty quill and journal. The many lessons he Mother made him go through only helped to sharpen him, as well as learn the world’s common sense.

He was having a good go at it, building himself up as much as he could before something completely from left stage truly changed his course.

“There is a legend of Dreaming Glory, said to be a treasure to ensure great health and excellent rest. Though be cautious, for it is guarded carefully by the spirit of a Felled Divine Beast, angry and resentful of the betrayal it had faced.” was a tale a wandering storyteller spun, a group of children ooooing and awwwwing at the right places, even as Airplane felt his jaw drop at the information, focusing more on those words then the candy his mother allowed him to buy at one of the festival stalls.

See, while the Legend of the Dreaming Glory was definitely right at home with this world, it actually hadn’t been anywhere in Proud Immortal Demon Way; it had been in one of his earlier short stories, where Airplane had been practicing with the Xianxia/Xuanhuan genres (and didn’t need to rely on it, dreaming more of the theater then writing). (Until a mugging gone wrong and dreams cut short-) 

This... opened a few more roads then expected, especially if all his fantasy stories came into play, as there had been a lot of experimentation with plots and ideas until he hit his cash cow with PIDW. After all, taking something from the protagonist was always going to be a risk of somehow getting his attention, no matter how much the man wouldn’t actually need it.

(After all, showing off had always been a part of Luo Binghe’s character; showing that he was no longer the penniless street kid, no longer the weak disciple, no longer the one who was always pushed around, but now the one who can take.)  

It also meant more research; thankfully, his Mother was one to always encourage more in the way of learning, thankfully humoring all the ‘trips’ he wished to take.... In hindsight, he probably should have questioned why she was always willing to take him and go, but at the time was just thankful that he could indeed confirm places he would need to visit later and squirrel away items that were within his reach. (An actual legit Cultivation Manuel, even if it was only directed for growing crops and alchemy, was still his most proudest find, only needing a riddle to get and easily hidden in his pouch with his other learning books. Being an Author only got him so far, as every little detail was needed to ensure one stayed on a steady path, though did provide it’s own little boosts here and there.)

------=------

One day, when Shang Huan had been 13, sneakily already past the first part of Cultivation Qi Refining and entering into the first stage of Foundation Building, found his Mother to be ill, no Doctors seeming to be able to cure her (or willing too as he saw a servant of the Second Wife slip a few gold; he got his revenge in the end), Shang Huan took a deep breath and buckled down, doing all that his Mother said to do with the time she had left, learning as much as he could before it would no longer be open to him. 

(Like he could stay here in this den of vipers, without his Mother’s protection and love; there was nothing else for him here after all.)

In that time as his Mother stubbornly clung on, he listened as she mourned his chance to enter into the prestigious Cultivation Sect of Cang Qiong like the First Wife’s Third Son, Shang Shaoqing. She apologized greatly that she could not fight for him to get that chance, like so many of the other Mistresses did for their own children.

‘Huh,’ Airplane couldn’t help but think, ‘looks like I just dodged a arrow.’ though it was good to finally know just what the timeline was for the story; Shang Shaoqing was to be a certain traitorous Peak Lord after all.

As it was, his Mother showed her determination and spirit greatly, lasting till he was 16 before she finally past away, a smile on her face as she did, her son long gone with his inheritance and her blessing of broken ties, carrying her name meaning of Shang instead of his Father’s.

(If the night before, Shang Huan had decided to tell her of his other life, told her how this was a story he had happened to read, showing her a few of the treasure he had gathered, how he cried when Shang Wenyan had only smiled with a few too many teeth, her voice fierce as she praised her son with all her heart, hugging him close with what remained of her strength as she told him her last words.

“Live life however you want my child, live and dream and hope, do not be afraid to destroy any your way, and know I will love you always my greatest pride and joy.”

Well... no one needed to know about that.)

But with this new freedom came it’s cons as much as it’s pros. As he was stuck at a bottleneck in Foundation Building at Middle Stage, there was still a number of things outside his reach until at least Core Formation First Stage...

------=------

It was during his wandering, selling talismans he could make at his level, along with tales he made up that he finally got his big break.

He first heard tales of a powerful Resentful Spirit that was residing in a broken land near the Borders, no one from Demons to Humans wanting the land as it was deemed useless for all the resentful energy there, and no one bothering to pay a sect for what they considered a waste of money and time.

Shang Huan saw this, and wonder if it was what he recognized... Taking in more details and scoping out for any information, Airplane couldn’t help but wonder how lucky it was; this was indeed a spirit from one of his very first stories in fact. He knew exactly what to do.

Instead of fighting the Resentful Spirit, Shang Huan brought it pure cave water and incense, smelling of ash and jasmine. 

This certainly got the Spirit’s attention.

“What do you want Rogue?”

“I want for many things to be honest.” the brunet Cultivator smiled, not showing any teeth so as to make it look falsely gentle, “But for now, I admit I do desire your land.”

That got a huff for his efforts, the spirit a mass of negativity and ire, but actually still listening.

“You have provided the right offering, so I will give you a chance; bring me wine of the Soothing Jade Flower, the Broken Sword of Chun, and a branch of Deathly Yew... You get me these three things, and the land will be yours.” And with that shopping list given, the spirit was gone, even as the energy seemed thicker then before, the incense and water gone.  

And with an absolutely evil grin, Airplane was off; he had already remembered the Wine and branch, had even gotten them first as he had plans for them, but he had not remembered the broken blade.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too hard to find; he had written that the blade had been struck with a heavy stone in a battle between Demons and Cultivators on the borders of the land, where it would lay forever. And lo and behold, there was only one ancient battlefield it could be abandoned in, as this was PIDW.

There weren’t many left over from the borders after all, most of them being purified already. And as he thought, the Bloody Sword Grave was still around, a testament to just how much the resentful energy had soaked into the ground, demons and cultivators alike avoiding the place like the plague, even as bloody rusted swords stayed stabbed into the ground, their thirst and hatred still felt even to this day.

Couldn’t be compared to Xin Mo of course, but for being swords on the surface they sure were impressive. Ignoring all these deadly, intact blades stabbed into the ground, Shang Huan covered his face with a scarf drenched in purified Qi infused water, even as the talisman he sewed on for defense and purity glowed the more he traveled through.

He finally stopped at a blood splattered rock, digging carefully around it as he did, before he managed to pull out four broken pieces of what had once been a beautiful blade, but was now nothing but shambles and rags.

Having what he needed, Airplane made his way back to the spirit and their lands.

------=------

(This deadly spirit of a truly terrible Cultivator, who had been feared and revered for being a monster on the battlefield... cried as they saw the items laid out before them.

“Ah, no my Han-Er, my beloved figher... why you stupid, loveable fool...” The Spirit sobbed, easily using his energy to clean and reformed the blade, manipulating the energies of the other two items to aid it, ensuring the sword would still be pure, hugging it close even as it seemed to damage them.

“... He tried, to come back to you; his fellow soldiers betrayed him... He loved you so much... still does.” Shang spoke, watching as the spirit that laid resting in the blade finally came out with this truth, purifying the other as they did, along with most of the land around them.

The brunet had to look away from their reunion, their emotions a bit too much for him... This had been one of his first tragedies he had written, a solider and their beloved separated because of jealousy and hate, doomed to wait for each other forever, the solution to be so easy to have, if someone had given them a bit of kindness, to discover the truth of their separation, though never given the chance in the end... He never mention just what the Beloved’s gender was, made it ambiguous, but had in his mind of minds always thought of them as a man...

Maybe he shouldn’t have put too much of himself into his work, but a habit is so hard to break.

“... We truly thank you; as promised, the land is now yours to do with as you see fit; all you need to do is put your name on the deed and your blood into the ward stone. All the treasures inside are now rightfully in your ownership, so mote it be.” was announced, making Shang Huan turn to see two beautiful and handsome men smiling at him, before they bowed seeing they had his attention.

Airplane could only bow back, biting on the words of how he owed to them to do this at least.

And with that, they were gone, to enter finally into the cycle of reincarnation, together at last...)

------=------

Having his own place was wonderful; a lot of work, but wonderful all the same.

The wards around his land ensured no one with malice could actually enter it, along with protections against thieves and robbers like most noble Sects had. Shang Huan even went as far as to make sure he owned the plot of land in the official records, having everything stamped and recognized, even as he made sure no one actually looked too closely at what land it actually was.

He even made sure to pay his yearly taxes to the Emperor on time, making sure everything was nicely recorded and logged. (And seeing as he didn’t live in any town or such, he didn’t have to bother paying anything to any Lords for protection! How nice was that?)

But having a base of operations, one with land rich in Qi and perfect for Cultivating on, it not only gave Airplane security, but many other advantages as well.

He now had a place to securely put all the treasures he had gathered, which was a lot considering it was a variety of weapons, valuables, and even priceless seeds to plant. He could be completely self-sufficient as he cultivated, the spirits on the land easily convinced to do chores in exchange for sweets and treats (And being able to live in such a energy rich place). Not to mention how his Cultivation not only went up, but combined with other manuals that were treasures of the home, Shang was set on his way to being a powerful Cultivator in his own right.

And if he was feeling a bit cooped up, he could always go on journeys around his world, exploring and treasure hunting for odds and ends as he saw fit.

Soon enough, Shang Huan had managed to reach 34 years old, entering the Peak of Nascent Soul stage in his cultivation when, in a bit of boredom and interest, he bought out a debt ridden gambling house on the border of his territory, that rested in a ghost-like town on the border of the Human World and the Demon Realm.

It was, quiet frankly, just something to do to pass the time. It wasn’t too hard to fix the place up, and warding it had been a fun challenge of his skills, but he honestly hadn’t expected anything much of it, just putting a few of his lessor needed or easily replenished treasure up to be won. And making it to where anything bet could only be what one had to bet, alongside making sure others would have to honor it had been a fun spell to create, as he really didn’t want to be bothered by liars and braggarts and then having to chase them down. He even just made up some Golems and bargained with a few willing natural spirits to help run the place.

This was just suppose to be a fun little venture; he never expected it to blow up like it did.

------=------

It started slow; a trickle, with a whisper, a simple rumor.

There is a place where priceless treasure could be won; if you’re willing to bet for it that is. But be careful to not bite off more then you can chew, for it might be more then a bit of blood and coins you lose.

Some poor sods have even lost their very souls to the place, even now working where screams and laughter flow so freely to the terrible click the dice, the gentle flap of the cards.

It is a place no Mortal is safe, where no Demon has promise, where a Cultivator is honor bound to accept what is due; after all, no one has to enter the place, no one needs to keep coming back, no one has to bet their all, not all all. 

But oh, how they come; even those who dare not darken the doorway of that gambling hall come, filling what was once an empty town into one practically bustling with life. Funny, how it came about because of such a deadly place.

And oh, do not even bother messing with the Gilded Plane Gambling Hall’s Owner, a man who at first seems so weak and stumbling, so gentle and busy with their hard work, who at first couldn’t hurt a fly even as he smiles so prettily.

He’ll smile that same smile even as you sell your very soul at his tables, those gorgeous hazel eyes amused even as the crowds pant at his feet, screams all around from both terror and ecstasy.

(Shang Huan can’t help but sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he is once more offered someone’s entire being; if he’s said it once, he’s said it again, betting is at the tables, not at his feet.

Just another day it seems; hopefully there will be no explosions in the kitchen again.)  

-----------------------=-----------------------

0.0 huh, I did not expect this when I started writing; I just wanted to have Airplane have some fun in the world he created, maybe opening up a few businesses to make money on the side. I did not mean to make him into an oblivious Hua Cheng of the PIDW verse (Yes, in this verse, he will be as terrifying and pretty, I will not take criticism for it.)

Also, I was greatly inspired by Nighthaunting, though instead of ballet I have SQH as a theatre kid whose dreams got cut short due to bad luck and assholes. I love how they have built their world, and how they say that writing was probably a side thing for Airplane, which just makes so much sense. Also, I am all for Airplane being scary and fully taking advantage of his author knowledge, so haha! Hope you all enjoyed this story~

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 8

TW

Mentions of SELF HARM. Please be aware before reading.

“Yeah, in the end Jenna Rosencali decided that she didn't want to invite Meghhan Levei to her birthday party. And that's what started the water balloon war at eight in the morning.” Little Jo said as she scrunched her curls trying to get them to dry somewhat uniformly.

The poor eleven year old had walked into the shop soaked down to the bone. Her cousin had rushed her straight into the break room to have her get dry and change clothes. Even running across the street to Dunkin' and get her favorite breakfast sandwich and donut. Then Jo had come out not even a minute after he left and proceeded to tell you what happened, knowing her cousin probably thought she'd been bullied.

But you were different, you didn't see her as a target at all. She likes to think you see her as a little sister, one who enjoys hanging out with you. As much as she likes to think that she understands you probably just see her as the boss' kid that you have to be nice to. You don't immediately jump to her aid when things look a certain way, like just right now. You waited to hear what she had to say rather than assuming someone was mean to her because she was different. Jo knows her family just wants to protect her but sometimes she just wants them to listen to her like you do.

“It's always Megans. Lemme guess name spelt weird.” like right now, you heard her.

“Yea she's got two 'h's in the middle. Meghhan.” she laughs as you roll your eyes. She tics and yanks on her hair as she's scrunching.

“Ouch” stupid tics.

“I've got some shea moisture in my locker in the break room, want me to grab it for you? It'd help with frizz.” another reason she likes you, it took a few days before you stopped checking on her tics, so long as she didn't have scissors.

Even her family haven't mastered that and they've been dealing with her Tourettes for six years.

“Please.”

She follows you to the back for the hair masque. Letting her take what she needed you place the jar back in your locker. Letting her know she's free to it in emergencies like this or rainy days. It's not like your locker was ever locked with just you and Nate being here. And you're pretty sure Nate dipped into this emergency hair saver as well. You didn't have an extreme need for it here it was just a habit you've kept from living in muggy humidity most your life.

“How's your week been?” Jo asked as she finally settled her hair how she liked it, with help from the masque.

She startles at the frustrated noise you make as you both leave the break room.

“Bad?” she questions.

“Sort of...there's...this..it's...”

Shit, you hadn't thought about your response. With all the stress this week you just reacted naturally to the question. Who can blame you, what with your stalker being on your mind all week, minimal amount of sleep, plus the weird interaction you'd had with Brian at the start of it. Then yesterday you topped off your stress with a healthy portion of more frustration driving up to the lodge after work to see if Barclay would like some help with cooking or even shopping for the picnic. Stubborn man sent you off with a hearty laugh after getting you opinion on the vegetarian/vegan main course, eggplant teriyaki or tofu and pineapple chipotle skewers.

“Oooooooh a boy.~” she might not be your actual sister...but you're starting to understand the Cain Instinct.

“Half right I guess.” Jo starts bouncing waiting to hear more, she's probably expecting some juicy relationship drama. Sucks for her that you are probably the world's most boring twenty-four year old, and you're content with that.

“Barclay's just frustrating sometimes.”

“Wait! You and Barcl-”

“Nope.” you interrupt, “I asked him if he needed help with any cooking for the picnic and he brushed me off.” You know he didn't mean anything by it and from what everyone said he could more than handle cooking for the amount of people just fine on his own. You'd just thought it'd be a nice gesture to offer, though you did hope he'd accept. He'd been pretty quick to turn you down, had you been any one else you may have even been insulted by the speed of the rejection.

“That's what's bothering you?” Jo's face held a very confused expression on it. It was understandable since not a lot actually bothered you, especially something as small as this. However, it's not like you could tell an eleven year old 'Yea I'm kinda being stalked right now and this week has me looking at every shadow and movement differently but fortunately or...unfortunately no one seems to notice and just brush it off as my hallucinations.'

Yup, totally not the thing you confide to an eleven year old about. Especially now that you have your plan all figured out. You've planned to let the stalker continue stalking you, picking up clues where ever they may leave them. They're bound to slip up at least once after a month of following you through your routines. Should be able to find evidence to have Big Jo help you in no time.

“Well no...I've just had a lot on my mind...”

“We can talk about it.” kid's got a kind heart, but this isn't her problem and you won't put it on her.

“Nah, it's fine.”

There's a pause as silence settles over the shop front. Jeez how long does it take to get an order from Dunkin'? Jo is staring at you as if she can see every part of your being. Breaking open your soul so all your secrets are laid out on display for her. You really don't like it, it feels like being under the microscope and it's making your skin get that familiar itch under it.

“Stop staring.” thankfully she does as you ask.

“...you said it's fine...are you going to be ok though?” Damn Montessori schools, actually allowing children to pick up on emotions and meanings behind linguistics.

You have to pause when you go to respond with the polite 'Yea I'll be good'...because you hadn't given it any real thought. You've made up this best case scenario plan. A plan that requires time and a lot of it. But you never gave thought to the fact that you might not have much time at all. What if the situation was more dire than you thought...what if this wasn't simply a stalker but a serial killer and you happen to fit his MO. A cult who was looking for the perfect sacrifice for their god. And while those thoughts could also be far fetched so is the scenario that you've built up for this past week.

Even if this was a simple stalking case, who's to say it wouldn't escalate? You have an old steel baseball bat in the hall closet and you could use it in case things got dicey. But that would require it being on your person a lot more than it actually is. Maybe you could make it look like you took up going to batting cages...are there even any batting cages in Kepler?

'Fucking focus...stop the rambling. Am I going to be ok?' you think to yourself despite the roaring chaos of your mind. Even with all the possibilities being thrown around you don't have an answer. Maybe that's really the answer after all if you can't get even one 'yes' from any of the possibilities...maybe you wouldn't be ok after all. Maybe you weren't ok.

“I don't want to talk anymore.” It's said so plainly, in such a dull monotone that it throws Jo off.

Jo's not quite used to this but she understands from the two times she's seen it that sometimes you just shut down under pressure like this. This topic, whatever it is, must really bother you. She wishes there was something she could do to make you feel better, but you can be really volatile in this state. Easily going from shutdown mode to meltdown at the simplest action.

With a jolt joined by a 'yip-yup' she remembers something that might put you in a better mood. And if it doesn't she still needs to give it to you so you have it. Rushing off to the back as fast as her legs will take her, having the agility only years of dance can provide.

Nate comes back into the shop as she disappears to the back.

“Did you know the Dunkin' across the street does parties?” What? To the man's credit he had no reaction to your blank stare and lack of response. He clocked the eye contact aversion right away.

You've gone into shutdown mode. Sometimes you just go quiet and that's fine, you're like a robot in this state and if he sets you up with a task that should take all day you have it finished in a few hours.

Once when he asked you just said you needed to not talk at time and that the tasks were good ways to process thoughts. Nate was reasonably creeped out by this but you aren't hurting anyone so c'est la vie.

“Nate?” Jo's calls out from down the hall.

“Yea, I'm back. Brought food.” he set the bag on the counter and handed you the shitty hash rounds you like for some reason.

'It's only cuz they're bad, if they were good they wouldn't be worth eating.' you think as you pop one into your mouth.

Jo comes twirling back into the room. In a broad sweep of motion kicks her foot off the floor to do one final dramatic twirl that ends in a bow with the same leg pointed toward the ceiling. All to present to you and Nate two tickets. Tickets to what?

“Another dance rehearsal?”

“Nope actual thing this time.” she supplies passing you each a ticket.

It's such a formal looking ticket for a recital that only goes up to age twelve max. Most dancers will still be in elementary school. But they want you to treat this like the Russian Ballet. Oh it even says it's a black tie event, completely different from the rehearsals you've been too.

You aren't sure if you have anything black tie status. You'll have to make a trip further out of your normal bounds and go thrifting for an outfit. Luckily it won't be happening for another month, that gives you plenty of time to try finding something in your size that you also like. It also gets you out of Kepler and away from your stalker for a few hours. Hopefully. But there's a chance your stalker will follow you on your outings away from Kepler so you'd need to keep an eye out for familiar faces on the trip.

“YN...will you come?” Jo's looking up at you with her big puppy eyes. Unfair, even if you wanted to decline she pulled puppy eyes. What heartless monster would refuse puppy eyes.

You give a slow nod along with a smile that doesn't reach your cheeks let alone your eyes. And while Jo's a little disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm she's still excited for you to come to her recital. Nate nudges her into her personal reading nook making up a lie that you hadn't finished your task sheet today so he'd watch over her while you finished working. You'd only had vacuuming and organizing the shelves that got mussed up the previous day, needless to say you were done nearly as soon as you started. When he came back to you he had a whole stack of papers for books that would need to be input into the system. You got to spend the rest of the day on the dinosaur computer in the backroom.

The quiet was nice.

After you'd gotten off work you still weren't out of your funk. Frustrated with the idea of going home and not actually being alone with a stalker prowling around. You decided to go to the one place that can calm even your worst of moods. The stream.

There's a reason why you've never been able to do longer than a thirty minute hike through the Monongahela and that's the stream. Every time you've said you'd go further into the forest you're always drawn back into that spot along the bank right under the red spruce. It has the best smell of all the trees, you think.

Just thinking about it has you having a better outlook on the day. You hardly spare the RV a glance as you go along your usual route.

You've said it once you'll say it again for emphasis. You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. Like that cool rock right there. Picking it up to inspect it closer you note the color is a deep dark brown that it almost looks black even obsidian, it reminds you of something but you can't quite place it. It's very smooth and oddly enough fits perfectly in your hand given it's larger size.

You think you'll keep it, this is a good rock. Idly rubbing the smooth surface of the stone as you trek through your trail, you can feel the tension start to ease off of you. You found a very nice worry stone, it works amazingly well. Hopefully no one lost it and it is just a naturally occurring stone that you happened on by chance. As much as you like it you'd hate to think of the chance of someone loosing something they need.

All thoughts cease once you hear the babble of the stream. As if on auto pilot you move with a fluidity through the brush and low hanging tree branches to your spot. Right under the spruce. Just as you did the last week and every other trip before you remove your shoes and socks placing them further behind you, so you can dip your feet into the cool stream. It's very refreshing on this hot summer's day.

Lying down with your feet still in the stream you close your eyes and just loose yourself to nature. All your cares and worries getting washed away by the steady moving stream. It's strange to be here without the buzzing in the back of your head. Oh great speak of the devil and he shall appear. It's fine, after all you're used to this, it's easy to ignore.

However, what isn't easy to ignore is the snapping of a branch, from in front of you just across the stream, how cliche. Cliches aside the sound rockets you back into a sitting position as you look for the source. And you find it...find him standing just on the other side of the stream emerging from the brush on that side. Toby. And he's mask less, not a weird choice considering he probably wouldn't have run into anyone had you not decided to come out for a hike.

Great you can feel your chances at friendship slipping through your grasp just like the water slips down the bend. He's gonna think you're weird when you don't respond to him verbally. Or worse he'll think you were rude for not wanting to talk to him and then never want to talk to you again in retaliation. Whatever relaxation had once been over you quickly dissipates and you are left anxious and with a tickle at the base of your skull.

Toby hasn't said anything yet. Not even a raised hand in a half wave. You also don't see Connor anywhere. Is Toby okay right now? Fuck even with that kind of thought you can't manage to move your lips let alone actually utter a sound, even ones that wouldn't ever be counted as words by anyone who was currently living. So you take the first move, literally.

Raising the hand without the stone in a mock form of a greeting. Toby doesn't seem to quite register it or you but he copies the movement. Oh he must be dissociating either that or in a catatonic state similar to the one you'd been in last weekend. That's probably how he knew he just needed to sit you down and keep and eye on you. You could do that for him...if that's what he needed.

You wave your hand beckoning Toby to come over to your side of the stream. Toby tilts his head to the side before his arms jolt up, going across his body. You assume it was a tic because he didn't keep the pose long. Tilting your head back at him, as if to say 'You coming over?', you pat the spot next to you.

Seems he registered that because he backed up a few steps before taking a running leap to cross the stream. He lands with more grace than you'd given the lanky guy credit for, normally someone with such long limbs would be a lot more clumsy. Not to mention that was a pretty wide jump, and Toby only has a few inches on you, you could probably barely cover the width of the stream. But he not only cleared it but he gave himself a good six inches of coverage away from the edge. You just hope he didn't roll or over exert anything by doing that. With his insensitivity to pain he wouldn't feel it and if he wasn't here mentally right now it's likely he wouldn't even remember he made a jump like that in the first place.

When he just stands in place staring at you, you get a bit uneasy. What's up with everyone staring at you today? You get really uncomfortable with people's stares normally, and now you're overstimulated and stressed it's not a great combination. But you can rationalize Toby is having a moment of his own. And since he helped you the best that he could you'll do the same for him, pushing aside your own issues for the moment. After all what are friends for.

He's standing within arms reach. You don't even have to get up as you gently grab his hand and give a few light tugs. Trying your best to get across that he should sit down with you. This would probably be a lot easier if you could speak right now. Did he speak to you when you were like this?

Toby thankfully gets the message and drops into a criss-cross position next to you. You start to retract your hand, now that the need for contact is over, when Toby's rough hand closes around it suddenly. Looking to Toby he's just staring straight ahead and not at you. His eyes aren't frantic or moving in any way, like yours sometimes do when you're following a hallucination. Physical closeness must help him through this kind of thing.

As gross as the feeling normally would be for you it isn't so bad right now. It seems Toby's CIPA also affects his body's temperature and his ability to sweat. Where there's usually the feeling of burning and clammy moisture coming off of another person, Toby is just tepid and dry. If anything it feels as if you're being held by a leather baseball glove.

Toby's hands are very rough, especially his palms, maybe you should let him burrow some of the goat milk lotion Dia gave you a few weeks ago. It smells pretty good and it only takes a little bit to soften your skin back up. But as you look closer at his hands you can see the spots roughest are around his nail beds. Someone has a biting problem, maybe he needs an oral stim toy. That would keep his flesh out of his mouth, and stop him from injuring himself...hopefully. There's still a chance he'd bite through his tongue without realizing, honestly you're a little surprised that hasn't happened yet.

You had completely forgotten about the stone in your hand until you went to grab at Toby's hand that still held yours in a firm grip. Seeing the dark brown rock again you remembered what it reminded you of, Toby's eyes. They were the same shade as the rock, that's funny...anecdotally at least. This rock helped you maybe it would help calm him down some. Worth a shot.

Since your hand closest to him is preoccupied you have to reach across his body to nudge the rock to his hand. He spares it a single glance before covering it with his other hand. Mission partially accomplished you guess. Now you're just sitting here, with Toby catatonic, by the edge of the water bank. Pulling your feet from the stream you mirror Toby's pose, you'll likely be here a while.

While normally you'd love to just loose your self to the sounds surrounding the stream, in the presence of another person you're too jittery to enjoy that. If only you had something to fidget with... You wonder what Toby's reaction would be if you just... Toby turns his head to watch you when he feels a gentle smaller hand on his own. Dark eyes watching intensely as you pull his hand into your lap. Turning it over so his palm is facing up, before you start tracing patterns into his palm lines and flexing his fingers individually. He watches for a moment before turning back to his original point.

Playing with his hand you noticed a few more things about Toby. From his chipped black nail polish, a look you personally think not enough guys go for even though it makes them look more attractive and approachable. To the single string paracord medical bracelet he's wearing, metal tag simply stating 'TOURETTE'S SYNDROME'. And a little further down you see scars, a few are crescent shapes easily identified as Toby's own nails. But most are straight lines, even a few jagged cuts, that run up and along his forearm.

'Tobais...what on Earth happened to you?' just as the thought rings through your mind you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder.

Toby is resting on your shoulder with his eyes close. You can tell he's just resting them by the lack of movement behind the eyelids.  With his head being on your shoulder you can smell him, not in a creepy way but he's just so close that his scent waifs your way. He smells like fresh dirt...it isn't a bad smell. It reminds you of gardening but on an overcast day. It hadn't rained today so how does he smell like it?

Moving your attention back to his hands, and away from how nice Toby smells, you catch sight of the scars again and bite your lip. Not wanting to dwell on the scars and their implications any longer. You curl and uncurl his fingers and start a rhythmic motion of curling them individually.

'You poor sweet boy.' is the only thought you can focus on. Even though the scars may be old and those wounds long healed. Toby at one point made them and it's very apparent that he is still not in the best way mentally. Once the two of you are friends, you'll do your best to be there for him. Like you are right now...you really hope it helps.

Toby didn't make even the slightest movement until the sky had begun to bleed its deep oranges across the horizon. He pulls his hand out of your grasp. And when you try to retrieve it to keep up you activity he softly pushes your hands back to you. Guess he's done for now.

With as late as it is, you'd like to go home. And Toby seems more aware of the things going on. But it isn't until you hear a call for him behind you two and he reacts looking in the direction of the call, that you decide he's safe enough for you to leave here.

Without much hesitancy you push off of the ground and stand. Toby isn't looking at you. Taking that as a cue you head back towards the entrance of the forest. Before you leave the clearing however, you look back to Toby and notice a dark colored stone resting nicely in his palm as he idly brushes a finger across it's surface.

Yea he's going to be fine.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.81

Lance was silently fuming in his grave. He’d lost his temper with his friends, and now he’d exiled himself to the backyard to avoid them. He didn’t want to be mad at them, but when they pulled stupid shit and made jokes over becoming a vampire, he couldn’t cope. Coming home to a home that kind of no longer felt like his was bad enough. He’d hoped that what Matt wanted to show him was him kicking Pidge’s arse at some video game and Matt was simply making fun of him. Not this. Not some half baked idea of investigating Lotor. Rieva had been so scared they’d been forced to return to Platt, and now she was happily conspiring with Pidge and Hunk, like that fear didn’t matter. There was a reason hunters existed. They took care of things like this. Not two werewolves and two humans who’d only just found out that things really do to bump in the night. He wanted his life back. He wanted things to go back to hunting dumb ghosts and the occasional yucky feeling of death when they did. Why couldn’t they understand how he felt? He shouldn’t have lost his stupid temper, but being a vampire wasn’t something to joke about.

Being the light of his undead life, Hunk was the one who came to talk to him. Shovelling off Lance’s death dirt, Lance faked death until Hunk made it impossible to ignore him

“Lance... I don’t know if you can hear me... but... Can we talk, buddy? I’m not used to this... You look dead in there and I don’t like how it feels seeing you dead”

That was the nicest thing Hunk had said in ages. That he didn’t like seeing Lance laying in his shallow grave

“I’m not changing my mind”

Hunk sighed, Lance hearing the way his clothes rustled as his friend sat heavily, just short of where he’d dug Lance up

“I don’t like this either... but Pidge wanted to help... and she needs someone there to keep her grounded”

Hunk was good at that. Provided Pidge was still listening and not swept away in an investigation

“She needs to leave it alone before she ends up dead”

“But you’re dead... and you’re okay?”

He wasn’t okay. He’d just gotten very good at existing

“I’m not going to watch her go through what I went through”

“What... I mean, you totally don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I guess... maybe I don’t see the problem with you being a vampire”

Hunk wouldn’t. He saw the absolute best in everyone. Even when they didn’t see it in themselves, he kind of... brought it out of you. Lance couldn’t tell him. He didn’t want Hunk to pity him. He’d barely been able to tell Matt without Keith’s support

“I... I can’t tell you. I can tell she should fear being a vampire. If Pidge was turned, she’d never be the person we know again. That’s if she kept her mind”

“But you... kept yours? You’re not secretly a serial killer are you?”

Lance could almost see Hunk worrying his pointer fingers together

“No. I was turned young. Too young... My mind and body were more flexible. When we get older we get set in our ways. Our sense of self evolves as we grow. That’s the secret to keeping your sanity. It’s holding onto every little bit of humanity you can find”

“That had to be rough... I...”

Hunk was so pure he wasn’t seeing the truth

“You don’t know what to say. You’re cautious. I can hear the way your heart beats increased. I did everything I could to keep you out of this. But that all went up in flames in an instant. Yeah. I knew Matt was a werewolf before he came back. I prayed Pidge wouldn’t find out... and look what that got us. A whole lot of awkwardness and mistrust. You guys can talk and laugh about it because you’ve never seen a vampire properly. You’ve never seen humans paraded around as fresh meals on a lead. You’ve never felt hunger that robs you of your sanity. Pidge only saw a sliver and you were there to witness what that did to her. This isn’t a game and we can’t just drink slushies to feel better after a bad hunt. A bad hunt means you’re dead. Throat torn out for the fun of it... if you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky... it’s not a quick death”

If you’re unlucky you turn out like Adam, but that wasn’t Lance’s secret to share.

Hunk fell silent. Lance’s hearing not good enough to hear the metaphorical cogs kicking over. It was a long moment before Hunk replied

“You’re right. We don’t understand. It scared me when Matt suddenly showed us his wolf. I don’t know how to cope with any of this. I can’t even tell Shay and she totally thinks I’m flaky”

That wasn’t fair. Hunk was only flaky in the sense he was like a warm croissant

“I know. Since I met you guys... I... I was scared. I’ve never had friends as close as family before. I’ve never loved having people around like I love you and Pidge. I’ve spent my adult life trying to atone for what I am. Realistically I should have died when I was a kid. I never enjoyed lying. My ego never thought I was better than you. If anything I envied you both. You both grow old. You grow old and fall in love. You make families and you know love. When you don’t age you get to watch everyone you love grow older and die before you. I love you guys warm and breathing...”

“I don’t think Pidge is going to give up. Her... um... dad... he like knows about this kind of thing. And her mum... she’s pretty mad at both of them”

That made sense. Kind of... He’d thought Colleen and Sam had some sense that he wasn’t human. Though how they knew hunters wasn’t as clear. Platt was a big place. Most vampires and werewolves knew how to keep their heads down when they really needed to

“I love her. I love her and I don’t know if I can support this. I can barely support Keith and he’s been a hunter for years now. I don’t... I spent a long time not being part of that world for a reason. Nothing good ever comes out of it”

“Keith did...”

Touché. Keith and Shiro... they were a different kind of hunter. Eyes opened by personal tragedy that should have left them blood thirsty

“Keith... with him... it’s different. He feels like... he feels like he’s been our friend for years. He was really hurt over what happened. He’s not the best with social cues and friends. He’s been through so much and I was so happy that you guys wanted to be friends with him”

“He’s... nicer then when we met him”

“That’s because he was convinced I was a blood sucking monster that fed on you as you slept”

“That doesn’t make me feel good”

“Relax. I swear I never ever fed on either of you. I had blood bags, and I never wanted to. I wanted to be human”

“Is there a way to cure vampire-ism? Is it “ism?”. Do you guys have like a preferred term?”

“I’m fine with whatever. But no. There’s no cure. I’m as dead as I can be without being in a hole in a ground”

“Dude, you are literally in a hole in the ground”

Touché again. He was kind of cold buried up to his shoulders... His poor death soil hadn’t been taken care of at all. Stupid dandelions had invaded... He’d always kept the garden so meticulous

“I know... Hunk, I don’t know what to do”

“I don’t know what to do either, bud. What would Keith say?”

“I don’t think he’s talking to me. I told him I was coming back here today and he didn’t reply”

“Oh, man... I’m sorry... I didn’t know you two were...”

Two were what? Fighting? Lance thought they’d made up...

“I don’t think we’re fighting... he just normally answers or he’s working... or sleeping. Shiro did get slightly drunk last night”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Curtis finally took him on a proper date”

“Like in public?”

“No. They went to this underground vampire fighting ring that serves great wings. Yes, in public. Just because Curtis is slightly cursed doesn’t really mean anything”

Lance could hear Hunk scratching the back of his head

“Dude. Relax. I’m joking. Curtis’s curse doesn’t mean he can’t go out and enjoy himself with Shiro. He styled his hair to hide his horn”

“So like curses and magic are real? That’s a real thing?”

“Yeah. I only found out about it not that long ago. Curtis used to be a hunter. I suppose he still kind of is, but he works for Coran now”

“Like you work for Coran?”

Hunk was curious, yet kind of freaked. Lance could hear it in his voice. He’d come out here for peace, but instead found himself having a much needed talk with Hunk

“I don’t work for Coran. Coran takes care of like all the supernaturals and hunters in Platt. I’ve known him since I was turned. He helped me and my family out a lot with adjusting to me being the undead”

“So if anything goes wrong...?”

“I go to Coran. He’d welcome you guys too. He’s heard all about both of you”

“I don’t know how that makes me feel”

“Nothing bad. Just... you guys really mean a lot to me. You’re not the first humans I’ve been friendly with, but you’re the most important people in my life to date. And Keith. I didn’t even tell him I was coming back today. I messaged him... but he didn’t reply...”

Silence fell between them again. Lance content to let Hunk take his time, which he did, before finally starting to talk again

“Lance. Is there a reason you left Platt? If you were happy there... you could have stayed to be with Keith if you’d wanted”

“I was in Platt because Rieva was concerned for our safety with Lotor around. Lotor comes from a really bad family. Like worse than every vampire movie you’ve seen put together. His mother’s worse than Elizabeth Bathory. Hell, she probably got her twisted ways from her...”

“Or from pop culture”

Lance shook his head, sending dirt across his face. That was the trouble with burying himself. Maybe it was time to invest in a nice body bag, or a proper coffin to keep the dirt out

“She’s been alive longer than pop culture has existed. If Lotor suddenly proclaimed she was Elizabeth, I don’t think I’d actually be surprised”

“Is she really that bad?”

“Rieva didn’t tell you? The woman’s got a screw loose up there. More like she’s walked into a hardware store, pulled every packet of screws off the shelf, opened them all, then thrown them everywhere as she then bosses the staff into cleaning up the mess she’s left”

“That doesn’t sound good”

It sounded like a total chaotic shit show. Kind of like how the Blades conveniently marched to the beat of their own drum

“Not particularly. Bud, I know you always see the good in people, but you need to see Honerva isn’t a person. Those invisible lines the of law that keeps us in line doesn’t apply when you’re that powerful. Going after Lotor could bring that madness down on all of you. Not just us, but everyone you love. I’m so happy you and Shay finally started dating, and I’m not telling you to choose but if you ever feel you have to, then please choose her. You two are so perfect for each other. I want to see you grow old together... I want you both to be happy”

Hunk sighed heavily

“I... don’t know if I can ignore what’s happening... I don’t want... I don’t want to see people hurt because I wasn’t brave enough to do something”

Because Hunk loved his friends as fiercely as Lance loved them

“Then... then I don’t know. But don’t chase anything. I can let Keith know, or Coran, but I can’t lose you, even if it makes you hate me. The world is a better place for having you and Pidge in it... always remember that. I’m going to take a nap out here”

Moving seemed like effort. Inside smelt like werewolf. The gremlin was cranky. Here seemed as good as any spot to wallow

“You’re going to take a nap?”

Hunk sounded surprised. Then again, he wasn’t used to Lance napping in the ground. Lance wasn’t used to Lance napping in the ground, but the soil felt kind of reassuring

“It’s fine. I spent three months making this soil. It’s actually good for me. Helps promote healing all that... I’ll be okay”

“I don’t like leaving you in there alone”

Lance snorted, mentally imagining Hunk trying to climb in beside him

“I’ll be okay. Just don’t let Matt pee on me. I think I need some me space”

“Should... should I cover you back up?”

“If you want to. I’m pretty cozy in here”

“But... don’t you need to breathe?”

“Eventually. I breathe. But I can also hold my breath a ridiculous amount of time”

“Dude... that’s so weird”

“Welcome to having a friend who’s a vampire. Seriously though. I really love you guys. I want to be here with you... I... Thanks for coming to check on me. I know this isn’t easy for you”

“Well... like... you know... we’re like best friends... right?”

“Best friends forever, buddy”

** I can’t help it. I love our boy interacting with his besties and being friends again**

[justaghostingon]

The Proposal: The Third Attempt

Finally you get the fluff you were promised

The ring hadn’t been lost, Kodya thought as he pulled out the box in the safety of the bathroom. That was a good thing at least. Although with the water and  the geese’s attacks...Kodya wasn’t certain how a good shape it was in.

Not that it mattered, he sighed as he leaned heavily against the sink. His perfect date had been ruined. Between nearly drowning, Don third wheeling, and freaking geese, he’d never even gotten the chance to propose.

Still, he probably should open the box and check to see just how bad the damage was. Like ripping a bandaid off. He took a deep breath and leaned back, planting his weight on his feet as he tentatively flipped it open.

The ring looked a whole lot better than he was expecting, still gold and glittering in the light. Kodya held it up close to inspect it, but the only damage seemed to be a slight scuff on the edge. Huh. That wasn’t so bad. But then again, not all damage is visible on the first glance.

And then there was Nephthys, who had always been so careful not to take her jewelry to the pool. He wasn’t sure what damage water did that made her remove her otherwise constant earrings, but he should probably find out.

He pulled out his phone and hit the very familiar number. “Nephthys!” he cried as soon as he heard the beep, not bothering to wait for her to speak first. “I need your help!”

“Sure thing!” She giggled. “How’d the proposal go?”

“Oh, well.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t actually done it yet?”

“What?” Nephthys screeched into his ear. “But you had the perfect date planned and everything!”

“I know, but things went crazy, Don wouldn’t stop third wheeling, I nearly drowned, we got attacked by killer geese. Everything that could go wrong did and there was never the right time and -” he took a great shuddering breath, “-and now the ring is scuffed and wet and I just don’t know what to do!”

“Ok,” Nephthys said slowly. “I can see that a lot has happened, and I want details later, but right now tell me about the ring. It got wet in the lake correct?”

Kodya nodded. Then remembered that Nephthys couldn’t see him nodding and said, “yeah.”

“Gold jewelry isn't damaged by water itself, but impurities like salt and chlorine can damage the stuff that holds it together. The lake is freshwater, so you should be fine.” Kodya sagged with relief at her words. “As for scuffs, there are a few home cures for minor damage I can send you, anything else will have to be taken to a specialist.”

“That would be fantastic Nephthys.” Kodya sighed. “I guess I’ve got time now, seeing the big day fell through.” He could hear the disappointment in his own voice as he spoke.

Nephthys giggled. Kodya bristled, hair on end. “It’s not funny!” he snapped. He’d lost out on proposing to the love of his life on the perfect date because some stupid geese had decided to go homocidal on him... and yes it did sound kinda funny when he put it like that, but it wasn’t!

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, and Kodya huffed. “It's just that the perfect solution just fell into my lap a few hours ago!”

“Unless you found a way to time travel, I don’t see how anything could possibly fix this,” Kodya growled. “Today has been an unmitigated disaster!”

“Even a reservation for two at the Ritz for this evening?” Nephthys sang.

Kodya opened his mouth, and found he couldn’t speak. Nephthys giggled. “You...you’re serious?” he managed to choke out. “The Ritz? That super fancy restaurant that’s impossible to get a reservation on short notice? How?”

“I helped out the owner a little while ago,” Nephthys replied and Kodya could hear the smile in her voice. “Her girlfriend was so grateful she gave me this reservation as a reward. I was going to invite a friend to keep me company while you were out on your perfect date, but I had a feeling I’d need them for something else instead.”

“I-I couldn’t...it's your reward,” Kodya stuttered. But Nephthys only laughed.

“Oh please, I’ve had to listen to you talk about this boy for five years Kody. Five years! The least you could do was make all my suffering worth it by marrying him!”

“I-” Kodya started, then gulped. “Thank you! Thank you so much Neph!”

A giggle was all he heard as she hung up on him. Kodya stared at the ring in his hand. He had another chance. Maybe fate was smiling on him after all!

He snapped the ring box shut and ran down the hall. “Gyrus!” he cried out excitedly. Gyrus stuck his head out of the kitchen, a cup of yogurt in his hand and a spoon in his mouth. “Get your best suit! We’re going to the Ritz tonight!”

“What?” Gyrus pulled the spoon out of his mouth as he cocked his head to the side.

“The Ritz!” Kodya fist pumped in the air. “Neph got us in! Date night is still on!”

Gyrus didn’t quite seem to understand, but he grinned and pumped his fist in the air. “To the Ritz we go!”

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

Kodya knew, on principle, that the Ritz was going to be fancy. But he didn’t realize how fancy until he and Gyrus were following a waiter wearing a three piece suit across a fine red carpet. All around them women in fancy dresses sat across delicate tables from men with black ties and styled hair.

Kodya tugged at his own suit sleeve, a faded blue, and wished he’d decided to wear a tie. A lifetime of hatred for the glorified strangling devices seemed trivial under the weight of the heavy glances from the people around them.

As if sensing his distress, Gyrus drew closer to him. “Looks like Mr. Heartbreak steals from more than old ladies,” he muttered in his ear as the waiter ushered them into their seats.

“Shut up,” Kodya grumbled, his cheeks heating. “That is not what’s going on.”

“Oh it most certainly is,” Gyrus leaned on his elbow, a dopey smile on his lips. “Unfortunately for them, you’re all mine.”

“Oh stop.” Kodya was definitely blushing now. “If anything, they’re wondering what I’m doing with someone as gorgeous as you.”

Now it was Gyrus’s turn to blush, cheeks turning as red as a strawberry. Contentment washed over Kodya. He’d never get tired of watching the red seep over Gyrus’s skin. Absently his mind flashed to the ring, now safely stuffed in his pocket. Should he take it out? He was planning to save it for desert...

“Drinks for the happy couple?” the waiter asked dryly.

“Oh! Um,” Gyrus blinked, looking for all the world like a man coming back to reality. “We’ll have number 34. Please.” He smiled up at the waiter. The waiter raised an eyebrow, but went to fetch it.

“What’s number 34?” Kodya asked, scanning the menu.

“I have no idea,” Gyrus rubbed the back of his neck. “I panicked. But it's kinda our lucky number isn’t it?”

“How do you figure?” Kodya placed his chin on his hand.

“Oh you know.” Gyrus peaked at him through his bangs. “The day we met was the 34th boat ride I’d been on, the day you asked me out was the 374th day, the day you kissed me was the 102th day of us dating, the day you moved in was the 1,088th day of knowing each other, they’ve all been multiples of 34, so I’ve kinda always thought of it as our lucky number.”

“That’s really brilliant Gyrus,” Kodya smiled, because it was. He’d never be able to think of something like that. Gyrus blushed again, and oh wow, the lavender in his eyes really sparkled in the chandelier light. Kodya leaned forward, basking in their warm glow.

“Drink 34, two virgin pina coladas.” The waiter placed two drinks before them complete with little umbrellas. Kodya stared at the bright, childish cup, uncomprehending. He glanced up at Gyrus and saw his own confusion mirrored on Gyrus’s face. Their eyes met.

Gyrus gave a little snort. He tried to hold it back, shoulders shaking, but it did no good. “Hahaha!” Gyrus threw back his head, laughing long and loud. Kodya shook his head and began laughing along.

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

They put more thought into the rest of their meal. Gyrus got a fancy pasta whose name Kodya couldn’t pronounce, but when Gyrus held a bite up for him to try he discovered it tasted better than any pasta he’d ever eaten. Kodya’s own meal contained a really fancy stake in some of the best sauce he’d ever had. Gyrus agreed with a wide smile and sauce on his chin.

Kodya  rolled his eyes as he beckoned Gyrus closer so he could clean it up, but inside he felt warm and content. Everything was absolutely perfect right now.

He felt the ring in his pocket as he watched Gyrus mop up the last of the pasta with his bread. Gyrus looked up at him and gave a sheepish grin. “Do I have something else on my face?”

A sharp crack filled the air. Kodya jumped and Gyrus dropped his bread. What? Kodya glanced around, looking for whatever had made the noise. A crash in the kitchen perhaps?

Gyrus went still, eyes wide as he stared at something over Kodya’s shoulder. Kodya twisted in his seat just as two more cracks echoed over the room.

Three men in masks stood at the entrance to the Ritz, looming threateningly over the cowering Maitre d’. The one in the center held a large burlap sack, while the other two held guns in each hand, one of which was still smoking from where he’d shot at the chandelier.

“Everyone put your hands in the air!” The one with the still smoking gun cried. Kodya watched as the patrons raised trembling hands to comply with the man’s words. Even the waiter lifted his hands, still supporting drinks above his head.

“That’s more like it!” The man cried. “Now all you fancy rich folk are gonna put that fine jewelry in my friend’s bag here, and bring about some equality to the people, thanks to the gang of three!” He crossed his arms in triumph as his partner opened the bag wide and leered at a woman in a fine red dress.

“Really? Today?” Kodya shouted, blood boiling in his veins. “You had to do this today?!”

“Kodya stop!” Gyrus hissed, but Kodya was too furious to listen. He slammed his hand down on the table and stood up.

The leader turned the gun on him and Gyrus yelped, but Kodya ignored him in favor of shaking his fist at the leader. “I have spent the whole day trying to make today perfect for Gyrus, and you come barging in, citing some bogus excuse like equality for the people as if you’re not the ones ruining the night I’ve spent months planning for!” He slammed the fist down on the table, sending the dishing clattering.

Silence echoed throughout the room. Gyrus looked between the men and Kodya, face pale. All three crooks stared at Kodya, open mouthed. Kodya crossed his arms and glared right back. Finally the leader lowered his gun. “You ok dude?”

“No I am not!” Kodya snapped. “Everything that could go wrong did!” He held up his fingers and began to count down. “Falling in the lake, getting third-wheeled, getting attacked by geese. Geese!” He threw up his hands. “And now for the cherry on top, a literal robbery at the one good thing to happen all day!”

“Kodya,” Gyrus murmured, voice full of concern. Kodya avoided meeting his eyes in favor of glaring down the crooks.

The men looked down, ashamed. “Well geez,” the leader shuffled his feet. “We didn’t mean to ruin your day like that.” He glanced at his friends. “Should we just leave?”

“If you don’t mind!” Kodya said as he sat back down. Gyrus pulled close to him, slipping an arm around his shoulders and glaring at the crooks too.

The three thugs looked at each other. The leader sighed, and began to shuffle out. His friends looked at each other, but shrugged and followed suit.

Gyrus’s head turned to Kodya, eyes shining. “Kodya.” He beamed as he snuggled closer. “That was the coolest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Kodya puffed up his chest. “Anything for you Gyrus.”

The room erupted into cheers. Kodya feels his cheeks redden at the extra attention. But then again, he had just done something heroic. If there was ever a time...

A cry came from outside, and another shot. But Kodya was going to ignore it in favor of relaxing into Gyrus’s side. Those fools could do what they liked, right now Kodya had more important things to worry about, like the beautiful man next to him.

“Police!” An officer pushed themselves into the Ritz. “Everyone stay put! This room is now a crime scene!”

“Oh come on!” Kodya threw his hands in the air.

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

It was late by the time the police finally let them leave, but not after a hundred questions to see if Kodya had any connection to the men who had attacked. Gyrus was the only reason they weren’t held longer. He’d pointed out how absolutely stupid it was to think that Kodya was connected given how upset he’d been, and their were multiple witnesses to prove the point. If they wanted to keep questioning Kodya against obvious alibi’s they’d need a warrant or to let them see a lawyer. In the end the threat of more paperwork and obvious lack of connection had caused the police to gruffly send them on their way.

Kodya and Gyrus changed out of the fine clothes in silence, leaving them abandoned on the floor in favor of something more comfortable. Gyrus then wandered out while Kodya lingered in their room. He pulled out the ring, still hidden in the pants of his good trousers and held it up. It glinted in the light, unblemished thanks to Nephthys’s advice. It looked perfect.

Anger twisted in Kodya’s gut as he looked at the ring in his hands. A part of him wanted to chuck it out of a window and scream. His grip tightened on the ring.

But he couldn’t do that, not really. Not when Gyrus was in the next room, probably just as disappointed as he was. He slipped it into the pocket of his sweatpants with a sigh. There would be other days to propose to Gyrus. He could come up with other plans. For now though, he needed to find a place in the house Gyrus wouldn’t check.

Gyrus was in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book like it was any other, ordinary day. Kodya bit his lip as he entered, unsure if this was a sign that he wanted to be left alone, or if he wanted Kodya to come and sit by him like normal. He opted for the latter, settling himself awkwardly on the couch beside Gyrus.

“You know,” Gyrus said as he turned a page. “You don’t need to try so hard.”

“What?” Kodya jumped as his heart raced. Had Gyrus figured out he was going to propose? He’d been so careful! He searched Gyrus’s face for some kind of sign, but the man didn’t look at him.

“What you said in the restaurant, about trying to make today perfect,” Gyrus elaborated, eyes still trained on his book. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t need anything special, because every moment I’m with you is already perfect.”

Gyrus turned the page again, but Kodya could see the red on his cheeks. He felt lightheaded at the revelation. Any moment was perfect eh? He reached into his pocket to feel the velvet of the box between his fingertips.

“Please marry me!” He cried as he shoved the ring forward towards Gyrus. He ducked his head to hide the flaming blush across his cheeks and waited, body tense, for Gyrus’s reply.

Gyrus didn’t say anything. As the silence stretched on Kodya risked a peak upwards. Gyrus sat across from him, mouth open and a luminescent blush on his cheeks.

“I,” Gyrus gulped. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Oh no, Kodya’s heart sank. Did Gyrus not want to get married? They’d talked about it before and he’d seemed to like the idea. Had he done something to make him change his mind? Or did he just not want Kodya anymore? Kodya’s lip trembled. But no, Gyrus had been so happy recently. He wouldn’t fake it if his love was gone. He wasn’t that cruel.

Gyrus was still babbling on, oblivious to Kodya’s internal struggle. “I mean, It explains why you were so upset today. And I know we talked about it, but it's been so long, -“ Gyrus ran his fingers through his hair as he gasped for breath, “104!”

Kodya blinked. What?

“It's been 104 days since we talked about marriage!” Gyrus pouted. “That’s not a multiple of 34! I wasn’t expecting you make a move on a day that didn’t match!”

“Do you want me to ask again later?” Kodya furrowed his brow.

“NO!” Gyrus yelped, one hand reaching out to grab Kodya’s wrist so he couldn’t put it away. “I want to marry you!” He said, eyes softening as they met Kodya’s. “More than anything in this world.”

“Oh,” Kodya said, all coherent words leaking out of his brain in favor of re-playing the phrase, “I want to marry you,” over and over again in his head.

With trembling fingers he slipped the ring onto Gyrus’s left hand. It practically glowed against his skin, and both Gyrus and Kodya stopped to admire how perfect it looked on his ring finger.

Kodya raised his head to meet Gyrus’s lavender orbs. “I guess 104 will have to be our new lucky number.” He smirked as he linked their fingers together, enjoying the feel of metal against skin.

“I can live with that,” Gyrus grinned, and pulled him down for a kiss.

[winchester-fantasies]

90 Days - Part Four: Confusion

90 Days Masterlist

Mini-Series Summary: You’ve been hit by a curse. Now you only have 90 days to live. Sam and Dean race to find a cure while secrets are revealed and feelings are discovered in the process.

Word Count: 3741

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, smangst, danger to reader, swearing

Pairing: Sam x Female!Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     Your eyes slowly drifted open. The room was dark as the evening sun filtered through the curtains. “Sam?" you said quietly, your throat raw from crying. He stirred at your voice and straightened up.

     "(Y/N)?" Sam asked. He got up from the chair, his long legs carrying him to the bed. He flipped on the bedside lamp, your eyes closing briefly at the sudden change in light. "How're you feeling?" Sam questioned gently, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the mattress.

     You sat up and leaned back against the headboard. You shrugged, sending him a weak smile. Sam smiled back understandingly. "Are you hungry?"

     "Yeah, a little," you admitted. You hadn't eaten a proper meal in days and hunger pains had long since vanished, but with Sam there, you suddenly felt the need to eat - to get your body strong and healthy again.

     "Okay, I'll go make you something," Sam said, rising up from the bed. "Do you want to eat up here?"

     You thought for a moment and then shook your head. "No. I think I'd like to go downstairs," you said softly. You didn't want to be alone, not even for a moment.

     Sam smiled. "Okay," he said, lifting the covers away from your body as you gingerly swung your legs to the other side. You placed your bare feet on the carpeted floor as you slowly stood up. You took slow, rigid steps, your legs feeling weak. Sam walked behind you, following close in case you needed assistance. 

     As you reached the doorway, your legs gave way, your exhaustion still weighing heavily. Sam reached out, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you upright. "It's alright. I got you," Sam reassured as you clutched his forearms. "Here," he said, tucking you under his arm and bringing his hand to your side, gripping you securely. "We'll just take it nice and easy," he said as you slowly descended the stairs, taking one step at a time.

     Once you were on level ground again, Sam helped you to the living room, settling you gently on the couch. He took the throw blanket from the back of the sofa and placed it across your lap. "Do you want to watch something?" Sam asked, picking up the TV remote.

     You shook your head. "No, not really."

     "Okay," Sam nodded, putting the remote back on the coffee table. "I'll go get you some food."

     You nodded, sending Sam a feeble smile. "Thanks, Sam." Sam nodded in return, grinning gently before turning and making his way to the kitchen. You could hear cabinet doors banging as he searched for whatever he needed to cook with. After a few moments, you heard him opening a can and its contents sloshing into a pan.

     A second later you heard Sam's phone ringing. "Hey, Dean," Sam answered. His voice lowered, his words too muffled for you to make anything out. "I told you!" Sam's voice suddenly rose in irritation. Silence fell over the house once again, and you thought Sam had already hung up, when his voice came from the kitchen once more. "Yeah, I'll let you know," he said, his tone normal again.

     You heard the cabinet door close again and the silverware drawer open and close. After a few minutes, Sam entered the living room, carrying a tray in his hands. He shot you a quick smile. "Made you some soup," he said, setting the tray across your lap. Your stomach clenched at the smell, hunger suddenly washing over you. 

     "Thanks, Sam," you said, smiling in return. Sam settled in the recliner, his eyes never leaving you. You felt slightly uncomfortable with his intent gaze, but you couldn't blame him, not with what he had walked in on. 

     You picked up the spoon and dipped it in the warm liquid before lifting it to your lips. The hot soup ran down your throat and settled in your empty stomach, causing another wave of hunger to wash over you. Before you knew it, you had already finished the bowl as you all but inhaled the contents in just a few spoonfuls.

     "Do you want some more?" Sam questioned when he realized you had finished. You nodded briskly as you subconsciously licked your lips in anticipation. Sam chuckled before he picked up the tray and took it to the kitchen. He came back a few moments later, the bowl once more full. You sipped the soup, this time enjoying the flavor.

     After you were done, you took the tray from your lap and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. You turned to Sam who was still watching you from the chair beside you. "Thanks again, Sam. It was really good," you said, a genuine smile coming to your lips.

     Sam sent you a grin. "Good. I'm glad you liked it," he said. He glanced to the floor as if contemplating something important before he met your gaze again, this time with trepidation. "Listen, (Y/N)," he started out slowly, his tongue darting between his lips nervously. "I was talking to Dean in the kitchen a while ago. And...we think it'd be a good idea if I stay here with you," he said cautiously. "Just until the case is over," he hurriedly added on.

     You glanced away from him, your eyes landing on the carpet. You frowned as you slightly shook your head. "But...I'm fine. I’m better off alone," you said in confusion, your eyes meeting his imploring expression.

     Sam's eyes widened, dumbfounded at your assertion. "(Y/N)," he breathed. "You had a gun pressed to your head," Sam stressed. “You’re not okay being alone.” You flinched as the gravity of his words dawned on you. 

     You slowly nodded as you turned back to Sam, swallowing hard. "I, um..." you stuttered. You shut your eyes and shook your head, trying to collect your jumbled thoughts. "Um, yeah. O...okay," you finally got out. 

     “Okay,” Sam said with a small huff of relief. “Uh, let me go call Dean and tell him I'm staying.”

     You smiled and nodded as he got up from recliner and went outside. You could hear his muffled voice from outside the window as you looked around the living room. Your mind was still numb, and there was a part of you that was horrified you'd almost lost yourself. Even though you knew you were taking Sam away from the case, you realized you needed him. He had saved you, and he was the only one who could keep you afloat.

**********

     “Here you go,” Sam said later that night, handing you a bowl of spaghetti he'd made for dinner. 

     “Thanks,” you said, taking the bowl from him just as he sat down next to you.

     He returned your grin before turning his attention to the TV, his eyes lighting up with interest. “Oh, hey!” he exclaimed. “Is this that new Jack the Ripper documentary?”

     “Yep,” you said, grinning at his boyish enthusiasm. 

     “I've been wanting to watch it!” he said, settling deeper into the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. “Dean would probably make some quip about my “weird obsession with serial killers”.”

     You couldn't help but laugh. “Well, good thing he's not here then.”

     For the next forty-five minutes, you and Sam sat watching the documentary with avid interest as they presented the known facts about the case as well as new theories they'd discovered. “So who do you think did it?” Sam asked, once the program was over and the credits began to roll.

     “I don't know,” you said with a shrug. “There's still too little information for me to just be able to point to someone and say that they did it. I don't know that we'll ever really know.”

     “Yeah, you're probably right,” Sam said, nodding thoughtfully. “You want some dessert?” he suddenly asked, changing the subject. 

     “Uh, yeah, I guess,” you chuckled lightly.

     “I saw some canned peaches in the cabinet earlier,” he said, getting up.

     “Sounds good,” you said with a grin as he disappeared into the kitchen. You'd almost forgotten what it felt like to smile. You'd been so exhausted and depressed, you hadn't felt joy in what seemed like an eternity. But the darkness that had loomed over you for nearly three weeks was already starting to lift, just by having Sam back with you. 

     “Hey, I was thinking after this, we could go for a walk around the lake,” Sam suggested as he walked back into the living room, two bowls of peaches in hand.

     “Okay, sure,” you said. You'd not been out in days, and the thought of breathing fresh air and feeling the wind on your skin was enticing.

     Sam grinned before sitting back down beside you, bringing a peach slice to his mouth. He closed his eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Been so long since I've had peaches,” he said past the fruit still in his mouth. “Canned or otherwise.”

     “Mm,” you said, taking a bite of your own. “Me, neither. Tastes good.”

     After finishing the peaches, Sam turned off the TV and brought the empty dishes to the kitchen before helping you up from the couch. You were still weak, but eating had helped some of your strength to return, making it a bit easier to make it up the stairs. You changed into a t-shirt and hoodie and pair of comfortable jeggings before pulling on your Toms. 

     You found Sam sitting in the living room on his phone, waiting patiently for you. “You ready?” he asked with a smile, getting up when you nodded. 

     He opened the door for you before following after you. You breathed in deeply, the smell of spring in the air. It was only a few weeks until March, and you were actually looking forward to the warmth and seeing daffodils blooming.

     “Let's walk this way,” Sam said, once you'd reached the dock. He held out his elbow to you, and you took it, fitting your hand in the crook of his arm. You walked leisurely down the small trail that sat at the edge of the lake and wound through the pines and other foliage. 

     You both stopped once you reached a small clearing, two stone benches that Bobby had installed, looking out over the water and the mountains of another island in the distance. “No matter how many times I see this, it never ceases to take my breath away,” you said as you stood in awe of the beauty before you.

     “Me neither,” Sam said. Something in his tone caused you to look up, and your breath caught in your throat. He was staring down at you, a soft and almost reverent look in his kaleidoscopic eyes. 

     He shifted, your hand dropping from his arm as he turned to face you. You swallowed hard as his large palm came to rest on your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then his lips were on yours, soft yet firm. You melted into his touch as he enveloped you in his arms. 

     When he finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I've wanted to do that for a long time,” he breathed, his thumb running over your cheek. 

     “So have I,” you whispered, moulding your arm around his that was still firmly around your waist, and lightly squeezing his bicep.

     Sam smiled before turning to head back to the cabin, extending his arm to you again. You took it, laying your head on his shoulder.

     You helped him clean up the kitchen once you both were back at the cabin. You laughed and joked and even had a mini water fight. It was the most light-hearted and normal you'd felt in over a month, and you nearly forgot you were cursed.

     You had dried and Sam had just put the last bowl back in the cabinet, when he stopped and looked at you with such admiration, you were forced to look away.

     “Can I do it again?” he asked so quietly, you thought you'd imagined his voice.

     You looked up, meeting his gaze again. His eyes were swimming with want as they darted to your lips and back up to meet your eyes. 

     You nodded. “Okay,” you said softly.

     Sam closed the distance between you, cupping the back of your head and lowering his lips to yours. It was just like the one at the lake - soft and inviting.

     Sam's tongue slid over your bottom lip, and you welcomed him in as the kiss deepened. He placed his hand on your lower back, pulling you closer into him as you all but lost yourselves in one another.

     He gently turned you both around, your back coming to rest against the countertop, his large body caging you in. You wound your arms around his neck and into his thick hair as his hands came down your sides, over your hips, and to the globes of your ass.

     You moaned as he squeezed them firmly in his large palms. Your heart was racing and your breathing labored as he moved himself a little further into you, his growing length pressed against your lower abdomen.

     Without warning a sharp pain shot across your chest, and you practically shoved him away as you fell to your knees, clutching at your chest.

     “(Y/N)!” Sam exclaimed, falling to his knees in front of you. “What's wrong, baby? Talk to me. Is it another episode?”

     You nodded faintly. But suddenly another pain shot through your chest and down through your entire body. You gasped at the pain. It was stronger and sharper than any of the others before. It was almost searing. 

     “Sam!” you managed to cry out, reaching out blindly for him.

     “I'm here, baby! I'm here,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you into him. “It's okay. You just gotta breathe. Just like before.” You could hear the fear in his voice and it was all you could do not to cry.

     You found his steady heartbeat under your ear as his breaths sought to get yours back to normal. You followed carefully, fisting your hands into his shirt. You hadn't had an episode in so long that although you'd been through this routine many times before, everything felt foreign.

     You didn't leave his arms, even after your breathing finally fell back to normal and your heart returned to its steady tempo. Tears streamed down your face and stained his shirt. “I'm so sorry, Sam,” you sobbed in frustration. 

     “Shh, shh, hey,” Sam soothed. “Hey, it's okay. You don't have anything to be sorry for, (Y/N).” 

     He ran his hand over your hair and gently rocked you as you curled yourself deeper into his lap. You didn't know how long you sat on the kitchen floor before your eyes started to grow heavy. The last thing you remembered was Sam gently kissing your forehead before whispering in your ear. “I'm never leaving. I promise. I love you...and I'll wait as long as I have to.”

**********

     Weeks passed, with you and Sam living out at the cabin while Dean, Cas, and even Rowena searched for answers. You and Sam shared the bed and most nights found yourselves tangled together on the couch, stealing kisses and soft touches, although, both of you made sure not to let it go beyond that.

     But after week three of Sam arriving and nearly a month and a half of you living there, your patience was wearing thin. Dean still hadn't found anything, and you were beginning to wonder if he ever would. 

     You sighed heavily as you rolled over to your side and glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. It had been a particularly rough day, and you'd barely gotten any sleep, tossing and turning for the better part of the night. You could hear the TV still on downstairs from when Sam had decided to stay up and watch a bit of Saturday Night Live. You knew it was just an excuse; this whole situation was slowly eating away at him, especially since you both had grown so close over the last few weeks.

     You sighed again, a feeling of determination coming over you as you threw off the covers and stomped downstairs. Sam barely had time to look up at you before you walked over to him and straddled his thighs and grabbed his face, planting your lips on his.

     His hands immediately went to your waist, gripping you tightly as he kissed you back fervently. “What are you doing?” he panted once you broke the kiss, the need for oxygen becoming too heavy. 

     “Want you,” you breathed, kissing a line of kisses over his neck and rutting lightly against his already half-hard dick. 

     “(Y/N),” he said breathlessly. “(Y/N), stop,” he commanded gently, his hands halting your movements. 

     You leaned back to look at him in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his eyes blown with lust but holding concern.

      “I already told you,” you said matter-of-factly. “I want you.”

     Sam removed his hands from your body and brought them up to run through his hair. “(Y/N),” he said. “I thought we already went over this. We can't. Not with your epi….”

     “Sam,” you said, cutting him off with a gentle smile. “It's almost been three months…. It's unlikely Dean is going to find a cure.”

     Sam's eyes grew misty with your words, and you reached up to catch the tear that escaped and slid down his face. “Sweetheart,” you whispered, running your thumb over his jawline. “My time is almost up. And if I'm going to die, then I want to die happy.... I want to die in your arms.”

     Sam's eyes were swimming with unspoken words and emotions as he silently searched your face. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his. “Please,” you breathed. 

     His hands returned to your hips before you felt him nod. “Okay,” he said, his words barely audible before he closed the gap, kissing you like it was the last time. You nearly broke down when you realized, with a sinking heart, that it was.

     Sam abruptly got up off the couch, picking you up and carrying you upstairs. You leaned back slightly before shedding yourself of your shirt then your bra, letting them fall to the stairs as he walked. 

     He laid you down gently on the bed before straightening up and quickly discarding his clothes. You couldn't help but bite your lip as you took in his body - his broad shoulders, muscular chest, and toned abdomen, and finally settling on his rock hard member.

     Sam barely seemed to register your admiration as he came back to the bed and reached for your sweatpants. He deftly untied them before pulling them and your panties down in one fell swoop.

     He stood back, his eyes raking over your naked form with appreciation and awe. “You're so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his hazel eyes meeting yours.

     You smiled gently, reaching your hand out for him, beckoning him to join you. He obliged, climbing up the mattress, taking his time as he trailed a line of soft and reverent kisses over your torso, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. You arched your back into him as his lips found your breasts, sucking each nipple into his mouth and lavishing them with attention.

     “I wanted this to be special,” he said, his voice full of regret as he hovered over you, his erection gently prodding your folds.

     You reached up, running your fingers through his hair and down his cheek. “We can make special now,” you said with a sad smile, an unbidden tear escaping.

     You could see him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought to control his own emotions. “Kiss me,” you implored, your voice shaking as you cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down.

     His lip quivered against your own as he kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You felt him reach between your bodies, gripping himself before slowly pushing himself in.

     You closed your eyes, focusing on every sting and slide of his manhood against your walls. You wanted to remember everything. Every touch. Every sigh. Every feeling.... You wanted to remember what it was to be full of love.

     “I love you,” you breathed once he'd bottomed out. You stroked his back as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, littering your skin with kisses. “So much.”

     You raised your legs around his waist, silently asking him to move. He raised himself up to his forearms, his eyes concerned and almost pleading. “Don't be afraid,” you murmured. “It's okay.”

     Sam's eyes fluttered for a moment before he pulled back, almost completely leaving your heat, before he plunged back in. You moaned and gripped his arms as he picked up a steady pace. 

     He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hand came up to massage your thigh. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trailing your hands over his rippling muscles and to his ass as he picked up his pace.

     “(Y/N),” he groaned, burying his face once again in the crook of your neck. You could feel your heartbeat picking up and your breathing growing more labored as he shifted, his tip hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

     You could tell he was holding back, his eyes shut tight and his teeth biting into the flesh of his lower lip. He was frightened. “It's okay,” you said, gasping as your walls started to flutter. “Let go, baby. Just let go.”

     A wall seemed to crumble as he wrapped his arms around you, hoisting you up and kissing you with wild abandon as he thrust up into you with everything he had. You cried out as you clamped down around him and he spilled himself into you with a deep and throaty groan.

     You collapsed onto the bed. You paused as something flickered into your mind. Something was off.... Your breathing was normal. Your heart was still pounding. But not like before. Your eyes shot open, and you nearly jumped from the bed. 

     “Sam!” you gasped. He sat up with a start, his eyes wide with panic.

     “Sam,” you said again, this time quiet and unbelieving. “H...how am I not dead?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[sweetness47]

Undeniable Fatality

Pairings: Alpha! Sam x Serial killer! Reader, Alpha! Castiel x Serial killer! Reader

@deanandsambingo​ – serial killer AU

@spnkinkbingo​ – dom/sub

@spnabobingo​ – growling/whining

WARNINGS: MATURE 18+ READERS ONLY!!! POSSIBLE TRIGGERS, DARK THEMES…serial killer, smut, fingering, murderous themes, language, attempted murder, abo themes, character deaths

Detective Dean Winchester looked at the large folder on his desk, a huge sigh escaping his lips as he scanned the contents inside. The “Temptress”, an elusive serial killer, presumably female, one that had managed to so far to elude capture. She was good at avoiding cameras, and had been leaving a trail of bodies for 3 years now. She’d earned her name after noting all the victims had sex right before they died.

No motive had been established. None of the victims had anything in common. It was frustrating as hell for Dean, who’d earned the rank of Detective early in his career. His brother Sam, a firefighter, wanted to save lives in a different way. He loved the thrill that came with the danger, and he was also a hero to many he’d saved over the years. He was supposed to get promoted to Fire chief this week, and had sent invites to Dean, and to Cas, their life long friend and room mate.

Cas, a mechanic by trade, now the owner of a successful auto body shop, was taking the day off. He was at the local bar, having a noon cocktail. He was currently at a hotel room with a woman he’d met there, and they were getting naked faster than gale force winds. He growled, smelling her Omega scent, the enticing fragrance luring him to her, the need to consume her overriding all other senses. She whined, whimpering at his strength, his dominance of her, the way he took her to the bed, drove his hard cock into her.

He crushed her lips with his own, fucking her hard into the soft mattress. His cries of release mirrored hers as he knotted her, his load filling the condom he’d sheathed his cock with. Her body shook with the aftershocks of the orgasm that had swept through, leaving her purring and happily sated.

He rolled off her finally, holding her close. He never felt the needle pierce his skin, the tiny metal piece too small to be noticed. It was on her bracelet, the one she’d worn during the whole afternoon. He fell into a deep slumber, and that’s when she got up, wiping off his mouth and his fingers, his nails, and taking the condom. Every single piece of evidence that could even remotely be linked to her was removed with precision and skill.

The hotel clerk would later tell the police the woman was medium height, dark hair, bright lipstick, expensive taste in clothing. The woman who left the hotel shortly after her victim slept was blonde, wore no make up, regular clothing, hat, sunglasses. She smiled to herself as she walked outside into the sunlight. The nickname the media had given her was awesome. She sounded like a super villain. She supposed in a way she was. She never really knew why she was like this, why she liked to seduce men then kill them. She supposed it was the same reason that had her liking horror and suspense films, studying law and crimes. Maybe she thought of it as a game, like Clue, or more cat and mouse, and the thought of being hunted thrilled her to no end.

~~

Sam called Dean first. He’d gotten a call from the hospital, as Sam was listed as Castiel’s emergency contact. Dean dropped everything and met Sam at the emergency entrance. Castiel had been admitted in critical condition, his life fading fast. His breathing was shallow, his skin pale, clammy. Doctors worked around the clock trying to figure out was wrong, sending blood panels and tests, hoping to find a cure for whatever ailed their friend.

Castiel James Novak died at 12:37am, not 6 hours after being admitted. Hotel staff found his body, barely alive, and had called 911. He was naked, and the coroner confirmed he’d had sex right before his death.

Dean was furious. “Son of a bitch. I swear I will find this killer, and I will make her pay Sam. She won’t get away from me again. Not this time.”

Sam hugged his brother. “I know Dean. I know.”

They cried and hugged. They grieved and planned the wake. They were still in shock the day of the life celebration. Their friend had been murdered. And the bitch who did it was still in the city, probably planning her next kill. Did she even plan? Or was it random choosing, letting fate decide who she would poison next.

Sam left early. He was distraught. He went to the tavern next door. His plan was to drink himself into oblivion. He was about three beers and three tequila shots in when she came to sit down beside him. He found himself pouring his heart out to her, she listened as he talked about the friend he’d lost. She comforted him, bought him another round. By the time round four finished, she had him laughing, and for a small time, forgetting about the funeral, about Cas.

She helped him to a hotel room, giving him a place to sleep the alcohol off, to rest. He asked her to stay, and she did, giving him a different kind of comfort. When he growled, the strong Alpha that made her weak, she whined, submitting to her nature. He slept content after, and she quietly left, applying some heavy make up, a pink wig, and a beige trench coat. Nothing at all like the petite blonde who’d taken pity on a drunk and helped him.

The bartender went up to check on him not three hours later and found him alone, and unresponsive. Dean got the call at 3 am. His brother had been admitted to emergency, with the exact same symptoms as Cas.

She’d gotten to Sam.

Whether by accident or on purpose, he wasn’t sure. What he did know was she had made the final mistake of her ‘career’. He knew Sam had gone to the tavern next door, and Dean knew the bartender. They’d shared many a happy hour together over the years. Upon questioning him, Dean got the description of the woman who had gone with Sam. He went to the room, found the wig she’d somehow left behind, the first clue that actually might help with something.

He was given access to the security footage. She managed to avoid the security cameras, well all the ones she knew about. The bartender had installed a secret camera to keep a better eye on the liquor. In one brief frame, he caught a blonde, petite, walking over to Sam. Zooming in, he saw her face, plastered with makeup, but basic facial structure.

He knew what she looked like, well enough to narrow down the field considerably.

Watching the footage for any women exiting, the only one that really stood out was a woman with pink hair, trench coat, and different make up.

He put out a silent APB on the female. Then he went out himself. She would have to be staying close by, easy escape from the cops. There was also a possibility of her having more than one escape location. By god, he would find her tonight, and he would put an end to her body count.

And he would get the antidote from her.

She had to have one. Just in case, for whatever reason, she sticks herself with the poison, she would carry a cure. And he would get it. For Sam.

The BOLO came over the radio, a woman matching the description had been spotted near the airport. The bitch was making a run for it.

He laughed at the idea that she thought she could get away from him this time.

He made record time, pulling up to the departure section 15 minutes after getting the tip. All flights had been grounded, citing mechanical issues. It was enough. She tried to leave by the emergency exits, and walked right into Dean’s arms.

“Where is it? Where’s the fucking antidote bitch?”

She smiled. “No where you have access to dick head.”

Dean frowned. She was way too cocky. Then it struck him. “Your blood. You’re immune to the poison. Don’t know how, but it’s in your blood. So then your blood has the cure too.”

Quicker than lightning, he cuffed her and dragged her to his car. Pushing his vehicle past safety regulation, he got to the hospital, dragging her in with him. “Sam Winchester, poison, her blood has the cure.”

Doctors took her and grabbed blood samples. They injected Sam with it, studied the effects even as labs worked furiously to get it separated, analyzed.

YN was sent to maximum security women’s prison. Sam stayed in the hospital for two days following the injection. Dean was decorated a hero. It was finally over, the river of terror, Temptress was finished. Forever.

[doctor-spencer-ried]

Just a Crush V

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Hanahaki Disease AU

Summary: Tensions build and snap. Emily is a good friend.

Warning: Short graphic description of sickness

Masterlist ~ Part 5 (Word count: 1843)

A/N: In this story, the disease can develop very quickly for the sake of time and plot. Also, my knowledge of behavioral analysis is limited to this show and my Forensic class, so there may be holes and incorrect analysis.

~~~

You rush back to the hotel, not even noticing how late it has gotten, with the flower tucked safely away in a plastic bag in your purse. The team needs to hear about this. Maybe you’ll finally be able to catch this guy.

Confusion stops you when you rush into the hotel and see your team all pacing in the lobby. Your eyes gravitate immediately to Spencer who seems the most agitated of the group. He’s running his hands through his hair, face a mix of conflicting emotions.

“What’s going on?” You ask hesitantly, but everyone hears you.

Spencer’s head snaps to you so quickly that you worry he might hurt himself. Almost immediately he is right in front of you, hands wrapping around your shoulders and holding you in a deadly grip, like you might disappear.

“Where have you been?”

You peer up at him with wide eyes, worried by the sharp edge in his voice and the wild look in his eyes.

“I, I went for a, for a walk,” you answer tentatively, trying to pull away from him.

He’s not acting normal and it’s scaring you. Sure, Spencer gets worried about you sometimes, but he’s never been like this. He almost looks angry. Why?

“Why?” He presses.

“Spencer,” Emily tries to cut in.

He blatantly ignores her, “You shouldn’t be out on a walk when your sick like this. It’s too dangerous!”

“But I found somethi-“

“Something could have happened to you.”

You finally break away from his grip and wrap your arms around yourself to disguise the tremor that runs through you. A frown tugs at your lips because of his interrupting, condescending words.

“Like what, huh?” You snap back at him defensively, voice shaking, “I’m a grown woman, Spencer, I can do what I want.” Your chest aches.

He scowls at you, “We’re chasing a serial killer who’s rapidly devolving. He could have abducted or killed you.”

“That’s against his M.O. and you know it.”

“Spencer.” It’s Hotch this time, and he actually gets a reaction from the young doctor.

“She put herself in danger! She can’t work this case Hotch, she’s not in the right state of mind.”

Anger boils up in your chest. How dare he? How dare he treat you like an impotent child? Who is he to say whether or not you're in the right state of mind to be working this case? It’s because of you that there’s new evidence, a new lead! The emotions bubble up into your stinging throat.

“Stop treating me like a child,” you seethe, drawing the attention of everyone back to you. “You have no right to be acting this way.”

“I wouldn’t be acting this way if you hadn’t acted like a imcompetent, defiant juvenile,” Spencer huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

The tension in the room is palpable. You could cut it with a knife. Everyone in the lobby has their eyes on the two of you. Strangers are staring. Spencer is glaring at you. The team is shocked into silence.

You suck in a deep breath, planning on telling him off, but the only thing that comes out is a broken, inhuman sound like a guttural cough and sob combined, that you try to quiet with you hand. Tears build up in your eyes and you take a step back.

An immediate shift is noticeable on Spencer’s face. Regret and worry replace his irritation.

He reaches towards you, mouth open like he’s about to apologize, but you don’t stay to listen. You shove him out of the way as you book it to the stairs. You don’t even hear the shouts from behind you, concern from Emily and anger from Morgan.

You lungs ache as you take the stairs two at a time, already at a loss of breath from the gagging coughs and sobs that erupt from your chest. Tears blur your vision.

How could he say something like that? How could gentle, intelligent Spencer say something so stupid and hurtful? You’ve only ever been kind to him. You go out of your way to nice to him! And he turns around to treat you like this?!

You can barely still your hands long enough to unlock your room, missing the key hole a few times before finally shoving it in and twisting.

Your legs barely carry you as you stumble into the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to think. Everything is consumed by the pain blossoming in your chest and throat.

The tiles are cold under your knees as you collapse in the bathroom next to the toilet. Your entire body curls into itself as you retch violently. Your knuckles turn white to match the porcelain gripped under your fingers. You can’t breathe, like your throat is blocked. The bitter taste of iron and bile invades your mouth, burns your throat. You gag on it, stomach convulsing again even though there is nothing left.

“(Y/n)?!”

You gulp down air, feeling light headed and shaky as you pull away from the toilet, blood dripping from your lips. Your eyes drift to the side where you see a blurry figure coming closer.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” The voice is distinctly female.

“Emily,” you wheeze, more tears dripping down your chin as you reach out to her.

She crouches beside you, arms wrapping around your trembling frame. You clutch at the back of her shirt, sobs now being the only thing wracking your body since there’s nothing left to cough up.

“Why would he, why would, why would he say those things?” You ask between sobs and hiccups.

She hushes you and rubs your back. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down fully. Your breath comes in little gasps and your still shaking, but you pull away from her to wipe at your eyes.

“(Y/n)...”

You look up to her questioningly, only to see that her wide-eyed stare is locked on the toilet. Your gaze followers hers and you see why she looks so unnerved. Bloody roses and petals are scattered everywhere along with copious amounts of blood. Your pale face falls blank at the sight.

“You have-“

“Hanahaki disease. Yah, I know.” The words are hollow and raspy. “It’s progressing pretty fast too.”

Emily’s eyes snap to you, her mouth agape.

“This could-“

“Kill me?”

Your eyes meet, and you can’t help but shrug. The overwhelming emotions seem to have drained out of you, leaving you feeling exhausted. Why should you care anymore, anyways? Now you know how Spencer feels, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.

“Can you help me to my bed?”

She nods, too shocked to say anything. You flush the toilet before she leads you out to the bedroom. You’ll have to clean the rim later, but at least most of it’s gone now.

Emily finally speaks up when she eases you down onto the mattress. “How long have you known?”

“Just a few days. Since the latest crime scene.”

“And it’s already this bad?”

“It’s different for everyone. I read of one case where someone developed full flowers within hours.”

You push yourself towards the headboard, resting your head against the cool wood.

“Its Spencer, isn’t it?”

You laugh, but it’s dry and humorless. “You mean the guy who just criticized and belittled me in front of everyone down there? Yup.”

She’s quiet, which you don’t mind. Everything aches now and you really just want to sleep for once. The thought of doing anything else right now seems impossible. You allow your eyes to close, taking a deep breath. It’s easier to breathe now.

“What are you going to do?”

The words are soft, scared. Why is she scared? You’re the one who’s dying.

“Hm?”

“What are you going to do, (y/n)? We can’t let you die!”

“What do you suppose I do?” You ask her, opening an eye to a slit so you can see her.

“Isn’t there a surgery or something?”

Your eyes snap open at that and you wheeze out, “No, that’s not an option.”

“Why?” She looks at you in confusion.

You struggle to sit upright, breathing becoming unstable again, “You don’t understand Em! Do you know the side effects of that surgery?! It takes away your emotions! I’d never be able to feel this, to feel love, again! I’d rather be in pain every day than to suffer like that! I’d rather die!”

“Okay, okay! Please calm down!” She pushes you back against the pillow, eyebrows drawn up in worry and fear.

You purse your lips. She doesn’t deserve to see this part of you. She’s trying to help, trying to find a solution. You’ve already looked, and you know there’s only two. The surgery or the reciprocation  of your love, neither of which are going to happen. You know that for sure after what just happened downstairs.

“Sorry Em.”

“It’s okay,” She accepts the apology readily. “We need to tell the others, hold on, let me call Hotch.”

Just as she’s about to stand and pull out her phone, you reach out and grab her arm.

“Don’t.”

“But (y/n)!”

“He can’t know,” you whisper, looking at her pleadingly.

“But Hotch and Morgan-“

“Them either. I’ll get pulled off the team, Em.”

“(Y/n), your sick, like actually sick. You need medical help.”

“There’s no other cure. Just please, let me finish this case. I need to catch this son of a gun.”

She’s silent for many moments, and you fear she might tell them anyways. You know you’re asking a lot of her, but you need to do this. She has to understand that.

“if you push yourself too hard, I will tell them.”

“Okay, I promise, I’ll take it slow,” you easily agree..

She nods, seemingly content with the answer. You think for a moment that she’s about to leave, but instead she shuffles closer to sit beside you.

“You know, as soon as you left, Morgan started ripping Reid a new one.”

“Really?” You giggle tiredly at the image of Morgan shouting at Spencer. “Serves him right.”

Emily laughs along with you, and you relax even further against the pillows. It's nice to know she’s going to treat you the same way she always has. You were a little worried you had scared her off with the sickness and attitude. You really didn’t mean to snap at her.

“Thank you, Emily.”

She raises an eyebrow, as if my words are a surprise to her.

“You’ve done and are doing a lot to help me. I really appreciate it. You’re a good friend.” You speak earnestly, turning your body to face her. “A better friend than I deserve after snapping like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m an FBI agent, I have thick skin,” she sends you a joking wink, “I’m going to stick by you through this. Anything you need, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” You repeat softly, smiling.

Part 6

[dailyarturia]

I apologize for bothering you for your objective opinion so much, my king, but once again I need your objective opinion. This time I need your objective opinion on the Berserkers. I'm severely concerned that I have shit taste in Berserkers, and I know that unlike me you are definitely a man of culture.

very large. back from ye olde days where berserkers generally couldn’t actually communicate so unfortunately a bit lacking in complex characterisation compared to others. lovin the whole ‘made to kill his own children in rage which is what qualifies him as berserker in the first place and now gives his all to keep this singular parentless child safe despite supposedly being made into a mindless raging beast’ thing. 8/10

bucket knight. also an old school zerker who can’t talk outside kariya’s fever dreams but he does scream in french sometimes. an overly loyal knight who nonetheless put his own wishes above what he believed were his king’s once and then spent the rest of his life feeling guilty about it to the point where it straight up drove him crazy because he couldn’t understand that arturia has -15 consideration of her own wants. his kink is getting shamed and he would probably get a heart attack if arturia did that hands on her hips disappointed look pose in his general vicinity. 8/10

get OUT of my HOUSE. ugly and horrifying but could totally beat gilgamesh in a fight and the image of ol gregory getting his nuts kicked in by a metal underpants enthusiast is high quality content so he gets points for that. 3/10

this is what we in the scientific community call a daughter. a good girl who just wants to be loved but has severe trust issues after being abandoned by the person who literally created her. can in fact talk but it takes a lot of effort so she doesn’t bother because like, fuck humans right, why should she put in effort to make herself understood when they’re not gonna want to understand her either way. I’m so blessed & grateful that moriarty is her dad now. 9/10

i’ll be honest I still have no idea what his character is supposed to be like its not like he had a lot of screentime in extra and extella is very bad to its side characters. ?/10

the fucking supreme. pandered to like a dozen of my kinks and gave me a few more. my first 5*. the end of my f2p days and the start of my journey to becoming the monster god. the design. the skillset. the teeth. the c l a w s. a king despite hating kings. a machinelike killer despite living for the thrill of the fight. a man who wants to just die already yet obstinately refuses to. a contradictory mess that denounces every ideal he used to live by yet clings to them harder than ever. a monster whose personal arc after being summoned isn’t how he’s still human at heart or whatever but how he was a monster before he looked like one already so like, don’t even worry about it. his mad enhancement is EX(C ) and his material entry revealed that this weird rank is bc it’s not even actual battle rage, he’s just so fucking stubborn it gets classified as mad enhancement. EX/10 the love of my fucking life

the smile of an angel. seems completely rational at first but is still classified as a berserker with EX rank mad enhancement because of her inhuman determination to save as many lives as possible without any regard for the quality of that saved life. she’d amputate all of a person’s limbs in an instant if that’s what it’d take for them to not die. she has canonically beat people to a pulp to ‘cure’ their mental issues. completely dedicated her life to becoming a healing machine at the cost of her own health and even personhood. her profile says she doesn’t actually listen to others but in her myroom lines she takes an active interest in your hobbies and opinions and she also gets flustered when you call her an angel. i literally cannot fucking wait until ch america hits NA server she’s so fucking good and i want everyone to love her. 15/10

THIS IS WHAT A FRIEND LOOKS LIKE. the actual embodiment of “cool guy has a chill day”. a smile that rivals the sun and an attitude that turns even the most ordinary days into a grand adventure. his mad enhancement is basically just that he’s kind of an idiot. 10/10

OX MOM OX MOM OX MOM her mother got knocked up by an ox demon in a dream and had to raise her in secret, and her human father didn’t accept her until she proved to be really strong and even then only as long as she would exterminate anyone who stood in the way of the clan. so scared of being shunned for her demon origins despite being loved & trusted as leader of the minamoto clan that she straight up exorcised her demon self into a separate personality to kill it (& herself with it) and was only barely stopped by the four heavenly kings. nowadays fiercely protective of anyone who knows about & accepts her demonic side to the point of insanity, which is where her EX mad enhancement comes from. a huge crybaby but gets shit done anyway. 10/10

THIS IS ALSO WHAT A FRIEND LOOKS LIKE. someone who was labeled and locked away as something evil due to being what is by all means called a monster even though he’s got a really gentle personality and likes being helpful. really good example of the whole “heroes and villains are nothing more than the roles individual complex people are forced to take on” theme fate likes to play with. has difficulty talking but it’s easy to come to an understanding with him as long as you call him by his personal name asterios rather than the name of the monster minotaur everyone assumed he’d be and he thus inevitably became. 10/10

the only reason he’s a berserker is because his name and the word “berserker” have the same etymology and the grail had no idea what other class to put him. this is the canon reason. he doesn’t have any mad enhancement to speak of beside being a lil hot blooded and liking to fight. literally only here because he likes to throw punches. got his ass beat by li shuwen in ch america because despite loving to throw a punch he’s not actually a martial artist and can’t win from someone with actual technique. a classic ‘jack of all trades master of none’, he literally sucks at being every single class but can’t not be summoned as a heroic spirit because he’s from the oldest english epic poem and a prototype for many other heroes. a free spirited adventurer who takes things as they come but can be responsible when it matters. 9/10 

once a good & wise ruler but fell into insanity in the last few years of his rule before finally getting assassinated. loved rome with all his heart for its beauty & splendour but got overwhelmed by the conspiracies and other evils that were also a part of it until the goddess of the moon, who he was in love with, made him insane, which he claims saved him in his bond ce. determined from then on to become the ugliest most evil motherfucker in all of rome so that he could take all the nastiest parts of rome with him in his inevitable death and have his dear cousin nero live in happiness, if only for a while. summoned as a hero despite being very close to an anti-hero because the good ruler he was before going insane responded to a call to save the world and still intent to do his part by simply dragging everything evil down with him. 8/10 wouldn’t it be nice if chapter rome had actually paid attention to roman servants other than nero.

looks like a bratty child but talks like an archaic mob boss. has horns and huge claws. easily bribed with chocolate. has a huge sword but just fucking headbuts her enemies instead. 10/10

many berserkers are angry men but only he is anger man. classified as a berserker not just due to his battlefield conduct but also the insane commitment he had to the laws of the shinsengumi, to the point where he would personally execute former comrades who broke them. both the first and last member of the shinsengumi, a man who dedicated his entire life to upholding its values in a rapidly changing japan. surprisingly rational and during gudaguda 2 okita didn’t even realize he’s a berserker because he didn’t become the fanatic that qualified him to be summoned as one until after okita’s death. one of the coolest skillsets in the game and definitely some of the sickest animations. 10/10

NORMALISE

FINDING

AND KILLING

ACHILLES

10/10

my fuckign girlfriend 10/10

the cutest enabler. 10/10

please god let me meet her. 10/10

when will takeuchi die

[thecourt-rpg]

LUX EMMELINE FINTAN is a FOUR HUNDRED FIFTEEN (NINETEEN) year old FEMALE VAMPIRE that uses SHE/HER. They are known for being COURAGEOUS, HOPEFUL & APPROACHABLE. Unfortunately, they are also known for being IMPETUOUS, TEMPERAMENTAL & ARTLESS.  

Their face claim is ELIZA TAYLOR, and they currently live in THE WINTER COURT as a MEDICAL DOCTOR.

Trigger warnings for murder, imprisonment, and abortion.

The youngest child of an innkeeper, Lux is said to have entered the world laughing. The instant darling of her family, she was a pleasant, amiable child from the start, hardly ever crying, and effusive in her affections. Despite the fact that she didn’t grow up to be as purposeful and dutiful as her eldest brother, nor as beautiful and graceful as her older sister she was the beloved and cosseted favorite of all who knew her. She grew up surrounded by love and cheer, both of which she returned tenfold, her delight in life and every new day enough to lighten even the darkest mood.  

Curious and welcoming, she made fast friends with those who stopped at her father’s inn, and mourned when they left. Capricious by nature, her tantrums were just as all-consuming as her happiness, her leanings not allowing her to feel anything half-way, but those outbursts were rare, and easily fixed with a kind word and a smile, her tears wiped away by her brother who made it his life mission to keep her content.

Close to all in her family, she was devastated when her parents died in a carriage accident when she was just thirteen, leaving the inn and his younger sisters in the care of her brother, who was barely out of childhood himself. The tragic event mellowed her down somewhat, and inspired in her a spirituality that was most contrary to her free spirit. But she loved attending the sermons in her village, their priest a calm, quiet man himself, who didn’t take much joy in preaching about fire and brimstone and focused instead of inspiring love and acceptance in all. She sang the hymns, and listened to the sermons, but it was clear she wasn’t born for a monastic life, too fidgety and impulsive to stand still for long, even in her devotion. She never did quite understand when she took things too far, and she proved astoundingly obstinate in believing she was right against all evidence to the contrary – or common sense. In fact, she exhibited a complete lack of the latter. She also possessed an utter obliviousness to any social signals that her behavior might inconvenience someone. If caught in one of her better moods, simply being asked to cease would be enough for her to change tack, but if she was already feeling quarrelsome, the request would cause her to stomp off in a sulk – a turn of events not often regretted by the “offending” party.  

She spent her days helping her siblings with the inn, and others in the village, as well, and she developed a fascination with the village healer, who taught her about curative herbs. Often, she’d forget herself picking plants for cures, and come home long after the sun had set, her hair a tangled mess of briars, dress splattered with mud. Her more self-possessed sister despaired at such behavior, but her brother wouldn’t think to chastise her and allowed her every liberty she desired. Nothing bad could befall her in their tranquil corner of the world, peaceful and remote.

Until one evening, she had tarried so long in her exploration of the woods near her hamlet that by the time she startled, once more aware of her surroundings, night had fallen. Her arms full of flowers, a daisy chain hanging lopsidedly on her head, she hurried home, twisting an ankle in her distraction. Hobbling, she continued on her way back, convinced someone would come for her to help her return.

Someone did come, a guest from the inn, whose cups she had filled with the best red they had, and whom she badgered with questions of all the other places he’d visited and, thinking herself safe, she welcomed her knight with a delighted beam, trustingly leaning on his arm to take the weight off her injured foot. She wanted to tell him about her day, the things she’d seen, and point out the few constellations she knew by name, taking too long to notice that the affable man she’d once pestered for news of the world out there had turned into something darker. He had a curious looking scar on his neck, one she hadn’t noticed before, and, curious, she asked him how he got it. The story he’d told her sounded more like a fantasy, a nightmare, and Lux, thinking he was merely trying to tease a credulous village girl, had laughed, for she did not believe in monsters.

And then, he tried to bite her, just like the creature in his tale, and she screamed, fighting him, feeling his fangs tear at her skin. She tried to run, the pain her foot forgotten, but he caught her easily, so humiliatingly easily, and his teeth found purchase in her neck, keeping her in a death grip no matter how hard she thrashed against him. She had been afraid then, but mostly angry, outraged that someone would betray her trust in such a manner, and that kept her struggling for too long, pumping more of her blood in him. Her limbs felt like lead, yet she still twitched, still resisted, her sorrow at having to leave the world bitter on her tongue. She thought he was her friend, and perhaps she’d even said that out loud, one final effort that wrung her will from her, the ground meeting her for the first time feeling cold and unwelcoming, the smell of dead leaves filling her nostrils.

Dry sobs wrung from her weak chest, and she tried to fight once more when he forced his cold wrist against her mouth. She hadn’t known what he had done, wasn’t even aware she’d drank his blood in her struggle to get away, and when it was finally silent, her killer having fled in the night, she tried to crawl back home, knowing she couldn’t make it, but unwilling to give up. She had her siblings to worry about, she needed to tell them what had happened, needed to tell them goodbye, she had so much still she wanted to tell them, but could barely keep breathing.

Her brother found her with the sunrise, near death, blue with cold, and rushed her home. Her eyes burned, her skin tender to the touch, but regardless of the pain she was in, she did not die. The days that followed were lost in a haze of feverish dreams and hallucinations, Lux reliving her attack over and over again, too weak to flinch away from the creature her mind conjured, but still, she did not die.

Her sister dressed her wounds, the priest recited his prayers, her brother sobbed helplessly in a corner, and she mewled, terrified, whenever the sun shone on her bed too brightly. The pain stopped as violently as it had started, and she opened her eyes one evening and was fine. Just famished. Her stomach cramped as she tried to get out of bed, no weakness in her limbs from her convalescence.

When her sister came, she brought with her a maddening noise, a thumping, rushing sound that made Lux’s mouth water. She could imagine the path of the veins in her body, could almost see them, blue against the stark alabaster of her skin. She shied away from her, afraid to even look, and started shouting when her sister rushed to comfort her. The food she’d brought her, weak broth and some breath had no taste and did not sate her. The hunger was driving her mad, she couldn’t stand being around them, and they didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, what was happening to her.

She didn’t know herself, but knew that if it went on for much longer, she would do something horrible, so she fled from her bedroom, barricading herself in the inn’s cellar. Her brother ran after her, tried to plead with her to open the door, tried to force it open when that didn’t work, but she pushed against it and, miraculously, it held. He couldn’t come in and gave up trying for long enough for her to block the door from inside, shoving shelves and boxes against it. She could hear the scuttling of rats, and she could even see them, despite the dark, and she fell upon them, ravenous, sinking her teeth into their writhing bodies and drinking them dry. Her hunger sated, she could feel like herself once more, could feel horrified at what she’d done, at what it meant. She didn’t know what to do, and, as she always did when that was the case, she turned to her older siblings, allowing them in.

Their revulsion was a bitter pill to swallow, but they did not shy away from her. Her sister collected the dead rats to throw away, and she finally allowed her brother to wrap his arms around her. She could still hear his heart beating, the rush of his blood, but she no longer felt the urge to hurt him, and she wept, terrified of what she’d become and what she could do. It was nevertheless clear to all of them that she was still herself, that the change she went through did not take away her soul, and they decided to hide her, tell the rest of the village she had died, bury and empty coffin, and keep her contained in the cellar until they could find a solution.

Her brother finally listened and installed locks to hold her in, and she was not to be allowed out under any circumstance. When the rats disappeared, he brought her animals from outside, cats and dogs, sometimes even pigs, and she tried not to feel guilty about the effort that must take out of him. Lux could still pray, and the little cross her sister brought once did not burn her. She prayed she could feel her heart beat again, she could feel the light of the sun without hurting, she could look on her siblings without imagining what their blood tasted like, but for all the hours she spent in supplication, she was not changed back.

Her sister eventually moved away, married a rich merchant who’d fallen in love with her beauty and her even temper, and who did not turn out to be a monster like Lux’s had. Her brother stayed with her, not allowing her out, not even at night, and she never asked him to, too guilty for the burden she’d become to weigh him more. But after a few years, she insisted he move on as well, find a wife, get a new family – he needed help running the inn after all, and she couldn’t do anything to ease his problems.

Together, they decided to move her, for no one else would understand what she had become, and she followed him to her new cage, meek as a lamb, spending the rest of her days in isolation and boredom, his the only face she saw whenever he brought her animals to feed on. She’d lost count of the years she spent imprisoned, could only see evidence of their passing in the changes in his face, and she fell in a near catatonic state as he went on with his life, siring children and keeping her a secret.

Until one day, he’d brought with him another person, a young girl, barely her age when her parents died, solemn and quiet, and looking like him. His daughter, Helena, was to continue looking after her when he eventually died, and Lux flinched at the notion, trembling and enraged at this arrangement. She couldn’t continue burdening another generation, her curse had taken too much from her brother as it was, and it finally occurred to her that she had not aged a day since her attack, and that, despite her dimmed light, she could still summon up the energy to live.

She couldn’t spend an eternity in her cage, no matter how willingly she had entered it, and told the girl as much when she came to visit her alone. Together, they decided Lux would leave, rip the door off its hinges to make it look as if she escaped, and never, ever come back. She kept her promise, no matter how much it pained her, left without saying goodbye to her brother, did not go in search of her sister. She ran away like a thief in the night, and although he looked for her, he could not hope to catch up to a girl who could finally run as fast as the wind.

She hid away in large cities, avoiding small villages, prowling the streets at night and feeding off rats, afraid of other humans and what she might do to them. Until one night, a tormentor, perhaps thinking her an easy target, attacked her, pulling a mean looking knife and holding it to her throat and Lux snapped, feral and fierce and stronger than he could ever hope to be despite her numerous privations. He was the first life she took, sucking him dry and leaving him lying in the dirt, and as she looked on his scarred face, his mean, small eyes, empty of life, she felt no remorse, and no more fear. She was done being a victim, she was done being weak and frightened, and meek. He’d deserved to die for what he’d tried to do to her and she would not waste precious time mourning worthless lives.

She stopped being a waif from then on, started looking into a methods to improve her life, to become stronger. She set up a business, looking after the poor, easing ailments and even performing abortions, putting to use what she’d learned while she was still alive, and learning more so she could sustain herself. She looked into learning how to fight, arming herself with more than just her fangs, but still, she rarely fed on humans, and killed rarer still.

Moving from place to place every few years to hide the fact she wasn’t aging, she kept up a transitory, but altogether more wholesome existence. Something of her openness returned, the ease with which she liked to help others, accepting little payment in return. Her friendships never lasted long, and she never said goodbye before moving on. The world changed around her, and she adapted, and survived.

Eventually, she took up less unsavory jobs, a typist, nurse, call center operator, finding it easy to get the night shifts. Society evolved enough that she could even go to college, and she chose medicine, moving from one large city to another, where she could lose herself in crowds. She started feeding from blood bags, but stayed away as best she could from social networks, trying to keep her unchanging face off the grid. Every thirty years or so, she’d go to college again, obsessively sticking to medicine, but changing specialties with the advance of science.  

Something akin to contentment returned to her, though her soul still felt bruised, all relationships lacking luster as she exalted the memories of her siblings to icons. She had recently moved to London, ready for another fresh start, taking a day off from the madness of the city to lose herself in the wilderness of Somerset, when she stumbled upon a most unusual scene – a creature with wings, blinking in and out sight as it wound through the trees. It looked like a person, but not quite, their ears were pointed, and whenever they flashed a grin, she could see their sharp canines touching their lower lip. Intrigued, she followed them at a safe distance, silent and unnoticed and saw them vanish into what appeared to be thin air.

Desperate, she burst forth, wanting to talk to them, wanting to know what they were, and if there were others like them. She ran around every tree in the meadow she lost track of them in, growing more panicked with each second. She didn’t know what she did, or how she did it, but on surrounding an ancient oak, she suddenly found herself in a winter wonderland, the landscape around her an unbroken field of white. Lux had no idea how to get back, even though she wandered about the place she had landed in, trying to figure out what had happened. Eventually, she had to give up and picked a direction at random, in search of some sign of life. She had fed recently enough that she wasn’t too worried about it, yet, but still, she did not know how far away from civilization she was, or if civilization even existed anymore and she picked up the pace until, finally, she broke into a full run. Her trainers were not made for snow, and she’d lost count of how many times she’d slipped and fell by the time she caught sight of a settlement.

More relieved than anything else, she hurried over and was shocked to see even more of those creatures with wings, and most of them seemed to know what she was, as well. It had taken her decades to stumble upon the word ‘vampire’ and longer still to wrap her mind around it, so the casualness with which they greeted her confounded her. A kind soul sat her down and explained to her where she was, and even pointed her to a blood shop so she could feed. Having no money and very few things of value on her person, Lux accepted the first job that was offered, which happened to be in the very same blood shop she fed from. For a few months, as she settled down and wrapped her mind around the ins and outs of the Court, and tried to learn more about her new home. Although thankful for the hospitality of those who’d first helped her find her footing, she left her shopkeeper job and returned to the more familiar profession of doctor, but remained in the Winter Court, part of her scared to travel, should she take a wrong step and find herself once more in the human world.

At Least Three Potential Plots for Your Character

FIGHTING A HARDER BATTLE – Lux is impulsive and has a tendency to punch first and ask questions later. One of these days, she makes a mistake, not because her opponent can give back as good as they get, but because they didn’t deserve it. Despite her hot-tempered, prideful attitude, she isn’t one to back down from admitting she’s done wrong, and apologizing.  

TRUST ME I’M A DOCTOR – she’s always been drawn by those that are generally shunned, even if it’s often her rebelling against the norm, rather than any innate kindness – however, whichever her reasons, she is genuine in her desire to help all those who ask for it. Whether it’s to lessen a pain, or stitch a cut, her attention is easily caught and does not look to help only those who can repay the favor.  

DISTRESSING DAMSEL – Lux had always loved physical activity, and she keeps a steady workout regime, even though she doesn’t really need it. She goes for runs daily, at unusual hours, either at the crack of dawn, or in the middle of the night, following the winding, difficult trails in the winter woods. One time she crosses paths with something dangerous, only to have it turn out that they aren’t quite as dangerous as her.  

[victorianwallpapers]

Happy Endings For Everybody!

“Nothing But A Happy Ending” Endings

(Super Long Post)

Because apparently Moffat and Gatiss can't write their way to a decent finish with literally both hands and a map...

I tried to pick longer fics, and while there is drama and angst in many of them, I tried to keep the fics with at least hopeful endings and in this case, have tried to avoid total AU's. Small world changes I've included but completely different settings have been excluded. Also have avoided WIPs.

Gen-Fic/Non-Pairing

The Green Blade

verity burns

Rated T, 75 k

As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit. 

Friendship only, lovely case fic for those of you who enjoy that.

Here Be Dragons

Winter_of_our_Discontent

Rated T, 16 k

Sherlock is Merlin, powerful, immortal, and bored out of his skull (both of them) waiting for King Arthur's return. John, on the other hand, is completely average. Sure, he's had odd dreams his whole life, and a bit of an obsession with Stonehenge, and now ravens are visiting him...but he's still a completely ordinary bloke. Really.

The King has returned, and London wakes.

Sort of Pre-Slash, I suppose, but a very enjoyable read if you like mythology.

Johnny Blue-Eyes

navigatio

Rated T, 87 k

A burglar with a conscience sends DI Lestrade something obtained in a break-in: a box of homemade videotapes recorded by a paedophile with his victims. Sgt Donovan, assigned to the case, thinks a child featured in one of the videos looks familiar... 

Lovely John and Sherlock friendship in a very intense case fic, with a very nice supportive Mary, and one of the best depictions of Sally Donovan that I've ever encountered. This was incredibly depressing to read, but very well written.

Sympathy for the Devil And Mycroft Holmes

scifigrl47

Rated G, 17 k

Mycroft has always protected his younger brother, but there are some things he just can't control. Sherlock's relationship with John Watson is one of them. That doesn't mean that he's not going to try, but in the end, sometimes Sherlock makes his own choices.

And John Watson might just be a match for Mycroft when it comes to protecting Sherlock.

Can be read as friendship or pre-slash, I think, and I love any good Mycroft-centric story :)

Johnlock (of various ratings)

The Adventure of the Consulting Woman

DancingGrimm

Rated E, 39 k

“So the plan is, you have until Saturday night to make that,” he pointed at Sherlock, “look and act convincingly like a woman, so she can go and be a damsel in distress and in doing so trap a serial murderer. Have I got that right?”

This is how you write a good OC. I wanted to be Kristen's friend and have coffee together. Features John and Sherlock pranking Anderson, John getting uncomfortably in-touch with his angry side, and a Sherlock in drag – for a case, of course. Believably written case included.

Against the Rest of the World

SilentAuror

Rated E, 151 k

Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. Post-Reichenbach.

This is the fic you should be reading if you crave some action-adventure and suspense in your reading. The relationship is uncertain...until it isn't, if you know what I mean. Also: Mycroft is a very good big brother.

All the Rest (of What I Want)

philalethia

Rated E, 68 k

After being invalided home from Afghanistan, John takes his therapist's advice and tries to meet people online. Specifically, he joins a fetish site, where he ends up interacting with a man called SH who keeps paying him money to perform odd tasks and seems very keen to take care of him.

Basically: slow-build daddy kink.

Hoooo-boy. Let's see, how many of my favorite things are in this story? Daddy kink, an insecure and socially awkward Sherlock, John Watson's filthy fucking mouth, bossy bottom John, generous use of sex toys, begging. What more could you possibly ask for in your smut?

Anytime

SilentAuror

Rated E, 17 k

Sherlock blinks and attempts to focus. There is a little too much vodka in his veins at the moment and it's having an unfortunate effect on his brain and retinas both. There are two Johns sitting across from him, and both of them are frowning at him.

“You're drunk,” the Johns tell him.

Sherlock blinks some more. “Says the man with Mrs Hudson's doily on his head.”

Lots of drunk sex on various surfaces, and I'm-not-gay-John trying not to give himself away. P.S. John is not actually as dumb as he looks here.

As long as it takes

PlainJane

Rated E, 14 k

Anything Sherlock wants. All night. No strings attached.

Smut, smut, smut, smut. Tasty tasty smut.

At the Edge of Desire

philalethia

Rated E, 16 k

While helping John move back in to the flat, Sherlock discovers a strap-on among John's things. He finds the discovery considerably difficult to move past.

Sherlock is so awkward and insecure throughout this entire fic, I honestly...if you want smut that makes you laugh, this is it.

Between each beat are words unsaid

darcylindbergh / hudders-and-hiddles

Rated T, 107 k

On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years.

You can see through the back-and-forth letters how long and how tenderly John and Sherlock have loved each other in this fic. So much angst! But the ending is very satisfying.

Cicatrice, Or: The Ornaments of Forgetting

hitlikehammers

Rated E, 16 k

In order to survive, to protect, to save his mind from the distraction, to spare his heart the ache, Sherlock deletes John Watson.

Sherlock deletes John Watson.

And then he comes back home.

A beautifully painful exploration behind how Sherlock's mind palace works, and the pain of John missing him. Happy ending, I swear!

Command Structure

221b_hound

Rated E, 49 k

Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty's network. He comes home to John, and at long last they start this thing between them that couldn't begin while Moriarty threatened them.

But Sherlock has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline – the whip – to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect.

John Watson is prepared to be Sherlock's Captain, but he's a doctor, too. His command style isn't about pain and subjugation. It's about care and responsibility: and those concepts go in both directions in Captain Watson's command structure.

Flavors of D/s, but this fic details a lot of the service/care aspects and throws out the punishment – with good reason. Emotional and painful. Explores the neglect and coldness experienced by both Holmes brothers, and the ways in which their parents alienated them from each other.

Common Tongues: Unassuming Brilliance

jinglebell

John may be predictably average in most things, but there are a handful of areas in which he knows he is uncommonly skilled. He can make a great cup of tea, for one. He's also good at patching folks up, putting bullets precisely where he wants them, and listening.

The one skill that John is perhaps most exceptional in, though, is language. John is a polyglot. Umm...getting turned on by a partner with foreign language skills? Yes please!

Cooperative Principle

bendingsignpost

Rated E, 56 k

As the newest instructor at St Bart's, John has been explicitly warned to never do Sherlock Holmes any favors. Too bad the sex is so good.

This is admittedly just a giant work of angst and porn. Sherlock is so slyly seductive in John's eyes that you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, not realizing what's actually going on until the moment comes. Stay all the way through the end because you get the feeling that they're both pretty okay in the last chapter.

A Cure For Boredom

emmagrant01

Rated E, 81 k

They'd never talked about sex in the year they'd known each other. Well, that wasn't quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

Do I need to tell people about this anymore? It's pretty famous by now. The fic when you want smut now, but also want slow burn at the same time (I have no idea how that works, it just does).

Dear John series

wendymarlowe

Rated E, 30 k

Podfic! By bagofthumbs

Also in Spanish

With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint it turns out to be Sherlock.)

A sexy fic that tries to explore Sherlock and John's relationship backgrounds – and will have you sweating with anxiety about John's reaction the whole time.

echoes through time

chellefic

Rated E, 21 k

Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents after the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another. A brilliantly-written crossover with the ACD version of Sherlock, very sexy and sweet.

Electrical Pink Hand Grenade

BeautifulFiction

Rated E, 67 k

Podfic! By sevenpercent

Also in Russian and French

“If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attack are an electro-magnetic pulse.” Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

Sick!fic done right! I especially love Sherlock's weird pain-induced descriptions of his surroundings.

Flash Bang

mydwynter

Rated E, 27 k

The fantasy is so affecting it pulls a whimper from John's throat.

From whimper to bang. Brighter than the sun.

An emotional exploration of John realizing what he wants from his flatmate.

Gifts from the Sea series

patternofdefiance

Rated E, 19 k

One of the few fics I've ever see that contains all of the following: consensual tentacle porn, interspecies sex, and mating pheromones.

Gold Rush

ShirleyCarlton

Rated E, 71 k

John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman's stalker, John realizes he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Yay for cool, interesting cases! Good references to ACD, too! No Mary, no Moriarty, and John deals well with Sherlock's anxiety and jealous insecurity.

A good old-fashioned happy ending

darcylindbergh

Rated E, 32 k

Podfic! By Lockedinjohnlock

And Sherlock stands there, in the middle of a Christmas market as John hums along to Silent Night, John's hand warm in his with fingertips a little gritty from the cinnamon-sugar doused churros they'd shared, and thinks, oh, that's-that's an idea, isn't it?

For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves.

The softest, fluffiest thing you could possibly imagine, including Sherlock proposing at Christmas.

The Ground Beneath Your Feet

Chryse

Rated E, 68 k

Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

This story is filled with bittersweet angst and ends in a hopeful, happy ending. I won't spoil the rest for you.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour

what_alchemy

Rated E, 30 k

“You love your mother, Sherlock?”

John watched the muscles in Sherlock's jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.

“Then we're going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Fake relationship, Mummy Holmes, and the Holmes brothers being enormous insufferable gits.

HOT DOLPHIN SEX series

cwb

Rated E, 47 k

Far from being about dolphin sex or honestly...dolphins at all, this is what happens when a great author writes Evil!Mary, and an incredibly competent John who tries to take ownership of his life.

Hounds

quietasasleepingarmy

Rated E, 21 k

Sherlock enlists John's help with a case that falls far beyond his area of expertise.

Very creepy case-fic with John realizing that his jealous and protectiveness aren't entirely platonic. Also you gotta love John going badass on the villain.

How Long?

Camerasparring

Rated E, 23 k

Not long after meeting John, Sherlock receives an email from an old acquaintance. Unfortunately, Sherlock has neglected to tell anyone he was once married. Past Sherlock/Sebastian Wilkes, emotional abuse Internalized homophobia and terrible terrible sex (none of this involves John). Sebastian is a dick and no one is surprised.

If nobody speaks of remarkable things

darcylindbergh

Rated E, 34 k

Maybe that was why: you only get the one miracle.

This fic is basically agony, but only in the best of ways.

In A Changing Age

allonsys_girl

Rated E, 15 k

Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

A beautiful and tender crossover with ACD/TAB Victorian Holmes. Very slow and lovely.

Just a Kiss

emmagrant01

Rated E, 19 k

Five times John and Sherlock kissed because of a case and one time they kissed for real.

A cute adventure featuring a very BAMF John and somewhat clueless Sherlock.

Kill a Mockingbird

GwendolynnFiction

Rated T, 134 k

John had found perhaps the only way to bring Sherlock home from his self-imposed exile after TRF. He is abducted and tortured at the hands of Moriarty's contingency plan. Sherlock hears that John has disappeared and must ally with Lestrade, Donovan, and Scotland Yard to get him home.

This story is the essential definition of BAMF!John, and also shows Sherlock dealing with the very real and terrible consequences of his decisions.

Lock & Key series – can be read individually or all together

221b_hound

Rated E, 58 k

Just love and kink, my friends.

The Military Kink series

Silent Auror

Rated E, 29 k

A sweet and sexy two-part series flavored with Sherlock of the every-body-loves-a-soldier variety and watching his Captain give orders.

The Moonlight and the Frost

CaitlinFairchild

Rated E, 77 k

Podfic! By Lockedinjohnlock

“And once again, you think you know what's best for me.”

John rises from the chair, the anger and frustration and hurt overwhelming him, bursting out of every pore, and he doesn't even know for sure if it's Sherlock he's angry at, really, but the only reason he tied himself to Mary in the first place is because the person he really loved left him behind, and the woman he married once sat in the shadows above a darkened swimming pool and aimed a sniper rifle at his heart and later shot his best friend in cold blood and cuckolded him and just gave birth to a child that wasn't his and right now he just can't do this, he just fucking can't do this anymore.

This is how you write John suffering. This story is painful to read, and not recommended if you like Mary, but the ending is hopeful and the two men seem much more healed by the story's finish.

My Phone's on Vibrate For You

misslucyjane

Sherlock texts all the time. Today's different.

Flirty and very sexy, but not too angsty. Just enough sexual tension.

The napoleon

darcylindbergh

Rated E, 24 k

Halloween, 1989: John and Sherlock both have big plans for the night, but some serial killers have the worst possible time.

Fun and sexy adventure set on Halloween. Mycroft is not impressed with your shit.

Nature and Nurture

earlgreytea68

Rated M, 203 k

Podfic! By AxeMeAboutAxinomancy

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

A slower burn fic where John and Sherlock do this whole relationship thing in reverse. Move in, have baby, fall in love, get married. (Also Oliver is god damn adorable).

Never Change a Running System

Lorelei_Lee

Rated E, 54 k

Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

“John I would be grateful if you would stop staring at my penis,” Sherlock remarked into the gaping silence, without removing his empty gaze from the window.

The doctor, caught out, couldn't do anything other than swallow, loudly and with difficulty. “Believe me...you couldn't be any more grateful than me.”

A fun romp of sexual tension, smut, and comedy of errors.

The One You Win

TheUniverseWillSing

Rated G, 17 k

In which a homeless child follows Sherlock home one day, and he isn't as heartless as one might think.

The FLUFFIEST, CUTEST FUCKING- okay, okay, I'm fine. Married Johnlock and a cute little girl who loves science that Sherlock becomes hopelessly attached to.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes

ivyblossom

Rated E, 62 k

Podfic! By cellardoor

“I had,” he said “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

- Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Speckled Band

Or: “Wow, Mycroft, You Are Such An Unrepentant Dick”. Mary is not a villain, but also just not terribly nice, either.

Read Our Futures in the Rising Steam

xzombiekittenx Rated E, 22 k

An unknown killer begins kidnapping and vivisecting men who bear a strong resemblance to one John Watson. Lestrade wants both John and a newly-resurrected Sherlock as far away from the case as possible – and not just because Sherlock is the Met's prime suspect. But this is a case that Sherlock, still feeling out the limits of John's grief and his own guilt, can't just ignore. Very possessive Sherlock, TW for references to sexual assault and torture. Points for a well-featured Donovan!

Scotland series

snorklepie

Rated E, 303 k

Podfic! By Lockedinjohnlock

The third part of this series is still incomplete, but read the first two if you haven't already! This series really does have everything I love about fiction in general, never mind in Sherlock. Lovingly written smut, suspense, a well-crafted and interesting mystery, murder, secrets, lies, interesting side characters, humor, and life-or-death situations. The podfic by Lockedinjohnlock is terrific and if you listen, please dear god give her and snorklepie some love. I have no idea how she managed to switch between so many accents and I covet her gift jealously.

Shadows on the Wall

AraSigyrn

Rated T, 18 k

Podfic! By Lunchee

Also in Spanish.

John came back from Afghanistan psychic.

One of the best magical realism stories out there, in my opinion.

Shallow Grave

SilentAuror

Rated E, 31 k

Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

Wow. Possibly the only fic that has ever made me feel sorry for Moriarty. Mary is not a good girl here.

Small Screen Valentino

DancingGrimm

Rated E, 43 k

“Oh God,” John breathed, horrified.

It took a lot to horrify John H. Watson. Worried now, Sherlock got up and stepped around the table, only to be foiled when John quickly turned the laptop so he couldn't see the screen.

“John, what is it? What did she do?”

“She put a video online...oh God...”

“What? What sort of video?”

“Our video, Sherlock! One that she and I made!”

Poor John. It really is very uncomfortable seeing him so embarrassed and ashamed of this and the real reveal over it is very sweet. And Sherlock trying to help and battling his curiosity is quite sweet.

Sonatina in G Minor

SilentAuror

Rated E, 22 k

John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request...

A lovely slow build to the romance with music and a sort-of case melded in the middle.

Spoiled Kitty series

philalethia

Rated E, 20 k

Stories featuring pet play scenarios in which Sherlock is John's treasured pet.

Very hot if you like D/s and pet play, for the kinkier among you. Do read story tags, some feature different aspects of the dynamic. Both men are clearly more into the caretaking portions of power play and neither are too interested in the punishment portion.

State of Flux

Atiki

Rated E, 24 k

John's marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they're both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

Honestly who the hell doesn't know this fic at this point?

Stick to the Script

thisisforyou

Rated E, 43 k

Maybe Sherlock should have guessed that asking John to pretend to tie him to the bed and shag him through the headboard – for a case – wasn't such an intelligent idea. Or, the one in which a femme fatale murder causes Sherlock and John to role-play sex. Repeatedly.

Not only grade-A kink, but one of the more odd and interesting cases in this fic.

Stood in History

philalethia

Rated E, 18 k

He discovered the ring in John's sock drawer.

It all went a bit downhill from there.

Oh dear. Sherlock anticipates John's proposal and has increasingly large meltdowns thereafter.

Synapses

theshopislocal

Rated E, 52 k

“Thrice”

“Yes.”

John blinks. Shakes his head. Blinks again. “Thhhhrice.”

“Yes.”

Is my mouth moving right n- “Thrice in your entire life?”

“Yess, John,” Sherlock growls, hissing like a snake grabbed by the tail. “Thrice, three times, twice more than once and once more than twice, a veritable triptych of onanism. Thrice.”

John discovers that Sherlock has only had an orgasm three times in his life and he finds this very interesting for some reason. Sherlock struggles with the aftermath of his time away from London and his repressed sexual urges, aided (or not?) by John. ANGST

This Doesn't Feel Like Falling

Dark3Star

Rated E, 148 k

When he fell from St. Bart's Sherlock knew he loved John Watson. John couldn't love him back (or so he thinks). Now that he's back from the dead things are back to normal...sort of. When a serial killer targets increasing high profile gay couples Sherlock is on the case. With a, possibly ill-advised, plan Sherlock and John go undercover as a gay couple to uncover the truth. Fake relationship, slow burn-ish with a very nice attached case fic. Does feature homophobic themes and graphic depictions of violence, as well as a few smutty scenes.

Vena Cava

SilentAuror

Rated E, 27 k

Sherlock has been shot in the chest; John has been shot in the heart. Though everything is broken, they do their best to heal the wounds that Mary left on them both.

Mary-as-villian story that appropriately addresses the anguish John feels at his friend's near death.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not

blueink3

Rated M, 55 k

“Oh come, John. Could be fun,” Mycroft taunts, accompanied by an eyebrow arch he's gotten far too good at. “Besides, it's not as if it's your first time pretending to be a couple.”

Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

I'm a huge sucker for well-nuanced side characters and good casefics, and this delivers on both. Bonus cute baby and gut-wrenching emotional turmoil, as well as all-encompassing sexual tension. Mm-mm.

A Waste of Breath

Chryse

Rated E, 95 k

Podfic! By Aranel_Parmadil and Consulting_Smartass

John had always assumed Sherlock was uninterested, untouchable, married to his work. He was wrong on all counts. But when Sherlock embarks on a relationship, John worries that he is in over his head...and this time he might be right.

Features Sherlock/Sebastian Moran. John grows slowly into his love for Sherlock but the affection is obvious even in the beginning. His patience and fondness shine through every chapter. This is one of my favorites, and John's steadily growing concern for Sherlock's safety kept me on the edge of my seat.

What Did You Think About series

Chryse

Rated E, 30 k

Podfic! By Aranel_Parmadil

A series of excellent smut with an ending twist I definitely would not have guessed was coming.

The White Lotuses

SilentAuror

Rated E, 20 k

Podfic by Lockedinjohnlock

One day John realizes that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance. A nice romantic-tension filled slow-burn story with some beautiful Hindu imagery thrown in.

Your Perfect Offering

CaitlinFairchild

Rated E, 44 k

“Sherlock,” John continues, careful and quiet. “I've seen your back. I know you were hurt. I don't want to pry, I don't want to cause you discomfort but...I'm starting to think something else happened there. In Serbia.”

Sherlock rolls away and sits up on the edge of the bed, his back to John.

“A great many things happened in Serbia,” he says, flat and remote. “None of them were pleasant.”

This shows a very painful and realistic view of trying to help someone you care about past a traumatic experience, while dealing with the hard frustration of feeling them push you away. Happy ending, I swear.

Mystrade

The Least of All Possible Mistakes

rageprufrock

Rated M, 118 k

Podfic! By Lazulus

If ever a people deserved tasering it's Holmeses.

Featuring an excellent Fem!Lestrade, this may literally be my favorite story in the whole fandom. I come back to it again and again, because it’s beauty is profound, but simple and comforting. Hilariously funny, witty, charming, and frank, I highly recommend getting the podfic if you aren't trying to read this on mobile. Also has a very emotional and well-written female friendship between Fem!Lestrade and Anthea. If you don't love this, I honestly don't know what to do for you.

So Full of Light

mydwynter

Rated E, 20 k

It seemed that Lestrade's salt-and-pepper hair grew in the same on his face as it did on his head. His beard was bristly, patchy, viscerally appealing in a way that had little to do with aesthetics and more to do with masculine sensuality. Mycroft stood rapt, conjuring up the rough brush of the beard against his lips without having moved an inch. His apprehension dropped away, lost behind a painful stab of want.

Christmas, when he and Lestrade had both been strong-armed into growing beards for a cause, proved to be the turning point for the whole desperate, shattering, uncomfortable scenario.

Or “Mycroft has the same crush on Lestrade that we do”. Also, if picturing Rupert Graves and Mark Gatiss with beards doesn't do it for you, I seriously can't help you.

Unlikely Connections We Make

Linpatootie

Rated E, 31 k

Greg's life has gone to the dogs. In a spectacular show of really bad judgment he tries to improve things by hitting on Mycroft Holmes. 

This is just...really cute? And sweet? One of the best just plain old feel-good fics.

[satire-please]

Where the Moon and Night Meet

Summary: For @the-all-seer‘s bday.  :)  Enjoy my dear, I love you to pieces.  I had this A/B/O idea for FFXV where what if the whole bloodline of Lucis were Omegas?  And what if an Omega Noctis meets an Alpha Luna for the first time as kids.  Adorable fluff with Awesome!Dad Regis and a bit of world building thrown in.

Long ago the Starscourge fell upon Eos and laid its land and people to waste.  Seeing the aftermath of the rampage, one of the six took pity at humanity scant and few on the surface.  Therefore she blessed humanity with secondary characteristics, secondary genders so they will always have the ability to multiply or prosper.  Each gender possessed a deep instinct or drive so their people could thrive.  

Alphas were to fight, protect and defend their own from all.

Betas kept order and peace throughout the land.

Omegas nurtured, gave and sacrificed what was necessary for tomorrow’s future.

Currently though as Noctis watches Prompto, he doesn’t feel really peaceful.  No, he feels like he wants to strangle the beta.  Huh, maybe then he’ll be at peace?

“So Noct are you excited to be getting married?”  The open road made Prompto excited and restless.  “I mean it’s Lunafreya.  She’s practically a goddess made flesh!” 

Noctis eyes Prompto and tries a gruff, “I guess.”  But he can’t really stop his heart from beating a little harder at the thought of their upcoming reunion.  Neither can he stop the pleased, but anxious scent that floods the Regalia.

“Awwwww, are you nervous? Don’t be!  Any Alpha is lucky to have you as their Omega.” And Prompto leans over the seat to get into Noct’s face and wag his eyebrows suggestively.  “And to think?  An Alpha putting a ring on our Noct.” 

Gladio snorts into his hand as he leans out the window, “Who knows, maybe Noct will finally listen to an Alpha for once.” 

“Ha, you wish.” Noct snaps back with a laugh. 

“Everyday.” Gladio mutters, “Every fucking day.”

“You would be surprised.” Ignis of course cannot help but add his two cents in. “Noct and Miss Lunafreya have always been quite partial to each other. Even when they first met, Noctis was very eager to most of her suggestions.”

“Ignis…” Noctis growls lightly sensing danger in the smug smell that Ignis emits.  This can’t be good.

Ignis just smirks in the rearview mirror.  “In fact, if I recall correctly, the prince even starting purring after Miss Luna suggested giving him a tour of the grounds herself.” 

Prompto whips his head around from Ignis to Noctis so fast that Noctis hopes that Prompto doesn’t have a neck injury.  Then he takes the thought back immediately when the biggest chocobo-eating grin that Noct has ever seen splits across his face.

“Oh realllllllllly.” Purring is an important sign omegas unconsciously give out only when they’re deeply content or happy about something. 

“Ignis shut up!” Noct whines.  He tries to get up to grab the driver’s shoulder, cover his mouth, or do something to shut the man up.  Anything to stop what’s definitely going to be an embarrassing, traumatic story about his early omega days.  Unfortunately, Gladio wants that hazing moment badly enough to reach over to push Noct back into his seat. 

“Sit down, and didn’t your pop ever tell you it’s not safe to disturb the driver.  Plus I desperately need to hear this.”

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose, “Of course the tour of the grounds turned into a tour of the gardens and then Miss Lunafreya stated she must for diplomacy’s sake show him around the household, which of course turned into a tour—“

“Of her bedroom?” Gladio leers at Noct and blocks the punch aimed his way.  “Look at you Prince, a real lady killer I’m so proud~”

“It wasn’t like that.  We were just kids!” Noctis hissed, his ears bright red.  And the rest of the gang coo and aww like the assholes they are at the sight.  Any time Noct shows other emotions than brooding and quiet determination is a point in their favor. 

“Indeed, Gladio. There’s no need to be crude.  Such remarks reflect poorly upon the innocence of the two that practically bonded at first sight.  But yes, a tour of the bedchambers occurred at one point.” Ignis stops purses his lips in thought. “In truth during our short yet memorable stay, Noct could usually be found in her quarters.”  

“Oh my god, you’re making things worse.” Noct groans, burying his face in his palms and tries to find a reason not to hurl himself out of the car.  As if he can find one. Noct unbuckles the seat belt and leans over the Regalia’s side.  Maybe there’s a decent warp point from here.  The whiplash is going to suck but if he can get away from the ribbing….

“Geez Noct, don’t look like that!” Prompto chides.  As a beta he starts emitting a calming scent at Noct’s caged expression.  “We’re just kidding!”

“Yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, your highness.” Gladio grabs the edge of Noct’s jacket, because he wouldn’t put it pass the idiot to trying warping when they’re going 85 miles per hour. 

“Leave my underwear out of this,” Noctis snarls, but lets the pushy Alpha tug him back into place. “And just can it okay?” 

Prompto pouts.  “But you two must have been so cute!”

“They were.” Ignis reminisces, “They still are.” 

“But that stuff, it’s…ours. I don’t want to—I don’t need to share it.” Noct glances to the three before watching the scenery rush by.  “Does that even make sense?”

“Well, you have always been a private kinda guy.” Prompto says scratching his head. 

Gladio grunts. “Ha. That’s one way to put it, but fine.  I guess we’ll lay off for now.” 

“For the current moment. A quick respite.” Ignis acknowledges that there is a time and place, “Yet the closer we get to your wedding, the loser my lips will be.  I hope you can forgive me when I crack.”

“I’ll try.” Noct say dryly.  But is grateful for the break.  He takes a deep breath and for a while gets lost down memory lane himself.  And when he met her.  

She was the shiniest thing Noct had ever seen. 

When Dad said they were visiting Tenebrae to help with diplomatic relations as well as to acquaint Noct to kingdoms besides his own.  Noct had been sullen because Dad was lying.  Again.  Noctis isn’t an idiot; he does pay attention to his lessons.  Besides everyone knows Tenebrae is infamous for its healing magics.

This was another thing to try to fix his useless legs.  To try to fix him.

Insomnia’s doctors and medics had tried everything to cure the injury to his spine and legs…but nothing. Procedure after procedure was met with failure and Noct is sick with the way his father’s face twists from hope to heartbroken disappointment every single time.  As if each setback adds to guilt Regis carries of not being there for his son when the monster attacked.    

Noctis will never forget the way his Dad tore into that creature. 

Noct knows that in other countries, people like to color Omegas as the weakest cast, but if they could only see his father annihilate the threat to his child.  How the armiger glowed and burned stronger than the fire. Or the hands pressed on his back and sides trying frantically to stop the puddle of his blood from getting larger.

The worst part was when he woke up to his Dad sobbing. The broken, “We’ll find a way Noct, I promise. I promise.” 

“I know.” Noctis had weakly mewed.  But he wishes his father would be okay if they don’t.  If Noct does have to use the wheelchair for the rest of his life. 

And he knows that Dad will still love him, but Regis can’t stop the whispers of Noct not only being an omega, but an injured one.  Sure the whole royal bloodline of Lucis have always been omegas but the council does not need another excuse to be more overprotective and smothering to its rulers. Regis already regularly duels to show his fighting competence, that yes he can leave his crown city and come back in one piece.

Noct?  Noctis doesn’t have a chance right now. 

In this instance though? His bad mood, bad thoughts fade away. Her eyes are so blue.  They match a summer sky with hair so blonde it’s like starlight that frames her soft smile.

“Hello, Prince Noctis. My name is Lunafreya.  Welcome to Tenebrae.”  The girl bends just a little bit over his wheelchair to offer her hand. 

Noctis takes it, wow she’s so warm, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat.  “Hello. It’s nice to meet you Lunafffff-, Lunafre—” He feels his mouth snap closed, his cheeks on fire.  What the heck is wrong with him?

And Noct always thought Alphas were kind of intimidating or jerks, but the girl just seems to sparkle at his response.  “The pleasure is all mine.”  She feels her heart swell, taking in the red flush spreading on the boy’s skin.  She leans closer to him, the distance between them narrowing as she lets her presence soothe any embarrassment.  “If it’s alright with you,” Lunafreya drops her voice to a whisper. “Would you call me Luna?” 

“Luna.” Noctis breathes, his eyes so lovely with her reflection and oh Lunafreya is going to keep this person. 

“I like the way you say my name.”  Lunafreya can’t help but inhale the prince’s scent.  She wants to know it, be able to find in a crowd or across the sea if she needs to.  Noctis’ smell has the tint of sweetness all omegas carry, but it’s like earth after a thunderstorm, charged with lightning and fresh with rain. 

She loves it. 

She squeezes Noctis hand, turning her hold from passive to active and spins to her Mother rapidly. Her white fur cape brushes over Noct’s bare arm and his breathing hitches.  Underneath the cloth, Luna gently grips his forearm, pressing the scent glands at their wrists together.  Their scents will mix and though Noct doesn’t exactly want to let go, he kinda really wants to see what the new blend smells like.

“Mother, may I show Prince Noctis the grounds?  I’m sure Noctis would appreciate our national flower the sylleblossom.”  She looks imploringly to the Queen.  “It would do well to show him what makes Tenebrae great.”

It’s so slight, but Regis is close enough to discern the quiet noise coming from the back of his son’s throat.   Noctis is purring.  It’s been so long since Regis heard that sound, he feels his brow furrow.  Well. This is an unexpected turn of events.

When the Lucian King looks over to Queen Sylva, another Alpha in their family, he sees that he is not the only one who’s surprised.  “Why Lunafreya, that’s a lovely idea.  Thank you for being so accommodating.” 

“How could I not Mother, which such honored guests?”  Regis will admit the girl is very eloquent for one of her age.  Almost savvy, she’ll be a political, yet polite terror if or when she takes her mother’s throne.  

Sylva Nox Fleuret gives a sweeping gesture behind her, “I can only be grateful for such a hospitable daughter.  When you are finished, you can meet us at the courtyard.” 

“Thank you Mother.”   Slowly she detaches her hand from Noctis, who gives a downtrodden look until Luna whispers something into his ear so quietly not even Ignis holding Noct’s chair can hear. Yet when she places a hand on the chair’s handlebar…she sharpens. 

“Where to Miss Lunafreya? Or shall we just follow you?” Ignis says coolly. 

“Actually, I was thinking I could take over your duties for once.  As a royal retainer, there’s so much for you to do during a trip such as this. You could dedicate yourself to making sure the prince’s accommodations are suitable if you like.   I do not mind pushing the prince around.”  Lunafreya’s words are civil, but the look she gives….is less so. 

As a Beta Ignis shouldn’t feel riled up by the little upstart, but two can play that game. “I’m sure I can balance all of my duties princess.  There’s no need for your concern.”  He smiles chillingly. 

“Nonsense.  Besides I’m certain the prince—“

“Noctis.  If I can call you Luna…you can call me Noctis or Noct.” Between the blondes, the prince mumbles.

“—I’m certain Noctis,” Luna rolls the name in her mouth like it’s delicious, “would enjoy spending time with someone closer to his age.” 

“Now see here—“

“Ignis.”  Noctis halts the tirade in its tracks.  “I-I’d like that.  Can I, I mean may I go?”   

And Ignis has never been good at denying his prince.  Ever. “Oh, alright.  I’ll expect you in the courtyard.”  The tired teenager relents.

“Thanks.” And that small appreciative smile is the reason Ignis folds like a deck of cards. 

Beaming, Lunafreya takes the handles somewhat graciously and wheels the heir away from the group. Her voice chattering in the distance, interspersed with a couple low tones from Noctis.

Regis pats Ignis’ shoulder. “Rest assured Ignis, Miss Lunafreya will give the best of care to our dear Noct.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of, your Majesty.” Ignis dares to utter as he bows to leave.  “But as the princess mentioned I have things to attend to.”

Then it’s only the monarchs with their retinues in the clearing left.  Sizing up each other, Alpha to Omega, Sylva beckons with an expression of keen interest. 

“Come, you must be tired from your journey.” She takes in how exhausted the man looks, and the instincts in Sylva growl a bit.  Surely Lucia should do better to support their omegas.  “We now have even more to talk about.”  

The halls of the Fleuret Manor ring with Regis’ clipped footsteps.  The king searches for his son as the night waxes, passing room upon room of calming tones of blue and purple.   True, Regis could have had Ignis do the task, but there is a kind of fulfillment of putting one’s own child to bed. 

Also it is an excuse to escape the Queen’s clutches. 

The woman is a kind one, yet Regis wishes she would focus more on the care of his son than him. Sometimes he swears Sylva combines the mother-hening force of the entire Lucian counsel.  Her views on the care of Omegas…are different than his own. 

But besides his health, the monarchs have started to contemplate the future of their heirs.  Regis would rather ponder about Noct’s marriage when the boy is thirty.  But it is a possible match, a possible alliance.  Even this afternoon the conversation followed different variations of:

“Truly you can see the advantages of such an arrangement, Regis.”

“Yes, but I fear the fates have a very different picture of the future than we do.”

“Then should we not press for even the scantest trace of their happiness?” 

And Miss Lunafreya and Noctis are very fond of one another. They spend much of their waking hours in each other’s company and it is good to hear Noct’s laughter again.  In addition there is finally progress with Noctis’ injuries; the healers truly have earned their reputation well.  The prince exhausts quickly, only few steps before he collapses…usually into Lunafreya’s arms. 

On that note, Regis easily deducts Noctis’ whereabouts.  

He’s about to knock on the young lady’s door, but his hand freezes at the sound of Noct’s voice. 

“This feels kinda weird Luna.” 

“You think so?  I swear I’m doing it right.”  A rustle.  “Is it a bad weird or a good weird?” 

“I’m not sure…it almost tickles?” 

“Well you let me know if you want me to stop.”  And then there’s a wet noise. 

Regis gurgles and wretches the door open.  On Miss Lunafreya’s bed the two sit side by side with Luna’s head buried into his precious son’s neck. Their fingers intertwined as the girl kittenly licks Noct’s nape as if preparing to…

The Dear Six, they’re attempting a mating bite.

“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret what do you think you’re doing?” Noctis jerks at Regis’ shout while Luna looks up frightened.

“Sir, I-I—“ Tears spring from the girl’s eyes.

“Get away from him.” The king strides forward with the intent to rip them apart.  “I cannot believe that someone of your prestige would dare—“

“Stop yelling at her, it was my idea!” Noct yells twisting his body in front of Luna’s. 

“Noctis.”  Regis stares at his son shocked. 

“We…” He looks to his friend for guidance.  “Luna?”

Softly she explains, “We overheard that it is most likely for us to be married.”

“But no one asked us what we thought.  You didn’t, Luna’s mother didn’t.  Nobody even asked us what we wanted.”  Noctis blurts out shakily. 

“So we discussed it. We desired to do something…without being told to do it.” 

“So I asked Luna to be my bride.” Noctis states with determination. 

“And I asked Noctis to be my omega.” She stares at Noctis in wonder.  “He said yes.”

A quiet smile graces Noct’s face and he takes a second to nuzzle Luna’s face. “We both said yes…but words aren’t enough.  A mark is stronger, better.  It’s something that can’t be erased.” 

“B-but a mating bite?” Regis choked out.  He had planned to have this type of conversation with Noctis later.  Much, much, much later.

“Why not?” Noctis stubbornly retorts.  He points to Regis accusingly.  “You still rub the one Mom gave you sometimes.”

“And my mother still bares my father’s mark proudly, even years after his death.” Luna adds.  From behind she wraps her arms tight around her dear one’s waist.  If the king of Lucis wishes to remove her, they’ll have to cut her arms off first. Luna will hold on, Noctis is worth it. 

“So there’s no reason for you to be mad, Dad.  We did nothing wrong!”

Regis pauses and chooses his words carefully.  “It’s not necessarily that it’s the wrong action, as it is the wrong time.” 

“What do you mean?”Noctis glares when Regis finishes crossing the room to sit on the bed. 

“A mating bite is special. It should be done after your wedding ceremony.  When you’re together for the first time as a pair, alone and somewhere private.” 

“But we were together alone and somewhere private.  Until you butted in.”

“And older, Noctis.” Regis snaps, “Much older and mature.  You are still children for heaven’s sake.” 

He can see the two getting ready to argue more and puts up a hand. “But there is something that you can do now.  Something that’s more appropriate for your age and circumstance.”

“And what would that be, King Regis?” Luna asks eagerly. 

“A bite of intent.  A bite that designates a willingness to begin a courtship.” Regis looks to his hands.  “A relationship takes time.  Time to develop, time to grow.  Even if this arranged marriage does take place I, and your mother Lunafreya, would never force you children into something you’re not ready for.”

He gets up from the bed to kneel in front of the children.  “You can take your time.  And if you change your mind, we will wholeheartedly accept your decision.  Yet for now, there’s no need to rush.”

Luna and Noctis look at each other and then back to Regis.  “Alright.  How do we do a bite of intent?”  Noctis questions.

Regis takes a deep breath in relief.  Oh, thank the stars he found the pair before anything else could happen.  “The two of you will take the other’s wrist and bite down on the scent gland there.  It will hurt and feel strange as it does create somewhat of a fledgling bond, but I will watch you to make sure it is done right.”

Noctis nods and offers Luna his wrist, Luna does the same.  Luna presses gentle kisses to light blue veins she finds while Noctis mouths the pulse on hers, but neither do anything until Regis nods.

“Ready…bite.”

In unison the two bite down hard, wincing for a moment as blood fills their mouths but soon their expression turn relaxed and sated. 

Noctis feels something snap into place. It’s like going home or seeing an old friend you didn’t know you had.  It’s Luna.  A bright feeling of happiness almost overtakes the prince, and it increases as he realizes that Luna’s emotions echo his. 

It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. 

Quietly, Regis reaches over to tug their wrists towards him to wipe off the blood, and wrap the sluggish wounds.  They’ll heal almost immediately, but they will leave a faint scar. 

All that’s left is to carry his wayward son to bed and think of ways to avoid Queen’s Sylva’s smug inquires tomorrow.

 “Now say goodnight, Noct.”  His son is getting bigger, but Regis treasures each moment he can still hold his boy like this.

“Goodnight Luna.” Noctis sends a feeling of contentment down the bond. 

The warm emotion bounces back with a peal of joy.  “May you have sweet dreams, Noctis.”

And he does.

In the present, Noctis rubs the white mark on his wrist hidden by bracelets and charms.  The bond is faint between his intended, distance stretches it as fine as a strand of hair, but it’s still there. 

Noctis feels a brush of apprehension, of excitement…of hope from her.  ‘I miss you too.’ He tries back, he can’t send words exactly but maybe the impression will be enough. 

Well at least that’s one thing Ignis can’t embarrass him with.  The memory of the ‘almost’ mating bite, their first step as a couple.  That’s all Luna’s and Noct’s.  It’s all theirs. 

‘I’m coming.’ Noctis thinks and prays.  ‘Just wait for me Luna, I’m coming…’